скачать книгу бесплатно
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Vance.”
He’d heard those simple words a thousand times in the past few weeks, yet instinctively he knew Holly meant them.
“My mother was committed to causes,” he acknowledged as he eased into the black leather seat.
“So I heard. You must have been very proud of her.” He gave a non-committal answer then said, “Better strap yourself in.” She nodded and went to her seat further down the aisle.
Pride wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of April Vance Kellerman these days. He’d buried her last month, what now seemed a lifetime ago. Unbidden, the past crowded his head with the suppressed memories his mother’s shocking confession had stirred to the surface. An urgent, whispered confession that he’d put down to the painkillers. The confession of a dying woman who’d been living a lie. One that had suddenly taken on malevolent form.
The only reason she’d confessed was fear—fear of being discovered. If Howard’s investigator hadn’t been so dogged in his pursuit, crossing state lines on the strength of speculation and hearsay to finally end up in Jake’s hometown, he had no doubt he’d still be in the dark about his true parentage.
He balled a fist and thumped it gently on the cold glass window. Like water from a cracked cup, the resentment seeped out, leaving a deep, dark emptiness in its wake.
Everything he knew, everything he’d based his life on was a lie. Yet so many things, so many oddities he’d never questioned clicked into place: Why they’d lived like nomads, shifting across state lines. Why family was never mentioned. And the nightmares that had finally stopped when he was ten years old.
Jake sighed and allowed himself that moment of grief and guilt. The two powerful emotions mingled to form a hard black lump in his gut. If he took any more time, he’d be forced to look long and hard at every choice, every decision April had made that had shaped his life.
Reluctantly he acknowledged a simple fact: April’s death had hit way too close to home. He’d already begun to reassess his life after her funeral, to silently question just who he was and what he was doing. The inevitable shadows of death had touched him deeply, the painful, scary vulnerability it wreaked forcing him to re-evaluate his ten-year plan.
That plan was close to completion: he had everything money could buy and then some. Everything the Blackstones had been born into, everything April had lacked. After this Blackstones fiasco was behind him, he could fully commit to the last on his list—get himself a wife and start a family.
He glanced back to Holly. She was staring out the window with a pair of headphones on, studiously concentrating on the tarmac as they taxied down the runway. And just like that, his whole body tightened, forcing a surprised breath from his throat.
With mounting irritation he silently admitted his plan to intimidate her—and by default, the Blackstones—with an overt display of wealth had backfired. He’d wanted Blackstone’s to be clear on exactly who they were dealing with, and what he could do if crossed. But it surprised him how calmly she took everything in her stride, from the early flight in his top-of-theline ten-seater Cessna to his subtle commands that had them winging their way back to Sydney a few hours later. She hadn’t missed a beat, answering his blunt questions with accuracy, waiting patiently while he signed off on the multiplex center.
This girl from the bush fit right into his million-dollar world as if born to it. And she was tempting, his little Blackstone’s assistant, with her snug business skirts and touch-me shirts. His groin ached in sudden painful remembrance of last night. She’d invaded his dreams and got under his skin in a way other women hadn’t. It was part desire, part knowledge of the unknown. Was she a spy? Did she have an agenda? Perversely, not knowing excited him even more.
He scowled, looking but not seeing the runway flash by as they picked up speed and launched into the air with a flourish. If he wasn’t careful, his fascination would become a weakness. He’d been stupid enough to allow one woman to break his heart then let another destroy his trust. It wasn’t going to happen again.
But damn, he wanted her. Probably, he admitted ruefully, because he shouldn’t have her.
His phone rang then, dragging him from those dangerous thoughts.
“How did it go with the Blackstones?” said Quinn by way of greeting.
“How do you think?” Jake muttered, resting the phone on his shoulder while shuffling through the floor plans of the center he’d just inspected. “The DNA sealed it. And now I have a walking, talking Blackstone’s billboard to keep tabs on me while giving the hard sell.” He eased back in his seat and the leather squeaked in protest.
“Is she cute?”
“Does it matter?” Jake scowled.
“Which means she is.”
“So?”
“A guy just needs to know these things.”
The tension in Jake’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “Right. You’re getting soft in your old age, mate,” he drawled, his attention fixed out the window, at the huge expanse of drought-stricken land rolling below.
“There’s more to life than making money.”
“Ahh, another piece of Quinn-wisdom. Next you’ll be telling me ‘all you need is love.’”
“Maybe all you need is your hot little Blackstone’s billboard.”
Jake snorted. “Forgotten Mia, have you?”
“Everyone else has. But hey, if you’re happy dragging that baggage around with you—”
“I don’t have baggage.”
“Right.” Quinn’s frustration crackled down the line. “Lucy. Your stepdad. All those shitty little towns you grew up in. You’ve got a whole bloody wardrobe, mate.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” Jake screwed up his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “While I have you here, is there any way of tracking down that missing Blackstone diamond?”
“I’ll get onto it straight after I finish building my time machine.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Laser identification wasn’t invented until the early eighties. You’d have a better chance finding Eldorado. And anyway, Matt Hammond…already…me…it.”
Jake frowned. “You’re breaking up.”
The line went dead and with a soft curse, Jake hung up.
Suddenly restless, he rose to his feet and walked the few metres down the plane to where Holly was now studiously scribbling on a spreadsheet.
When he approached she glanced up and quickly shoved a folder across the papers, but not before he caught the heading on the top. Finances.
“A bit early for your tax return,” he said mildly, and leaned against the back of seat, crossing his arms.
“I like to get on top of things.” She met his eyes almost defiantly and changed the subject. “I’ve been organising your schedule,” she said without preamble. “You’ve got a four-o’clock meeting with Kimberley, and I’ve asked our department heads for their last quarterly reports.” She offered some papers to him. “I printed out the corporate structure, along with the contact numbers of key Blackstone personnel. After five I’ll give you a proper tour of the building.”
He stood there, filling the space too well, looking far too comfortable, Holly thought with chagrin. When he leaned in to take the documents, awareness suddenly hit. He smelled warm, musky and expensive. He smelled wonderful.
She surreptitiously glanced at her watch, trying to hide her nervousness, but he caught her look.
“Would you like to join me for lunch?”
His mild question hung in the air but she swore she could see a faint flicker of challenge in his eyes. Ruthlessly she ground out a stab of desire. “No, thank you.”
He raised one brow. “Why not?”
“Because I brought my own.”
“You’d rather brown bag it than have a proper meal with me?”
She paused, weighing her answer. “Yes.”
His short chuckle surprised her. “It’s just food, Holly. We’ll use a Blackstone’s restaurant. And talk business.”
She tipped her head, considering him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you no?”
“Not if they wanted to keep their job.”
She bristled. “You’d sack me for refusing to eat with you?”
“No.” His answering grin did nothing to ease her tension. “Anyway, I can’t sack you. You work for Blackstone’s.”
“And you want to eat with me…why?”
“Maybe I just want your company.”
Holly gave an inward groan at the seductive smile stretching his sinful mouth. He might be gorgeous, but she forced herself to remember who he was. Her boss. At least for now.
Regardless of how she felt, she had to see this through. It’d do no good to stuff this up, not when she’d been backed into a corner.
She gave a curt, imperious nod, not wanting to appear too willing. “Let me make a call.”
An hour later they were guided to a private table at the back of Si Ristorante, one of Blackstone’s first-floor eateries.
“I’m surprised you have time for lunch, given your schedule,” Holly said as the waiter brought them menus.
“I always make time to eat. Good food and a bottle of wine predispose people to generosity. And I also have a weakness for—” his gaze skimmed over her face, settling on a spot a little left to her mouth “—gnocchi.”
Flustered, she busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the carafe. “And do you always treat your employees?”
“Who said I’m paying?”
Holly snapped up her eyes to meet his amused ones, and for one incredible second it felt like the world had stopped spinning.
Silly girl, Holly thought dazedly as she looked into those emerald eyes, the edges creased with uncharacteristic humour. The man had a billion reasons to smile, yet not one press clipping showed him happy. Dark, brooding or scowling, yes. Smiling? No.
I wonder why.
“Did you always want to work at Blackstone’s?” he asked casually, changing the heated direction of her thoughts.
“No.” She took his lead and studied the menu too. “But jobs are hard to come by out west so I moved.”
“Where are you from?”
She hesitated, contemplating the wisdom of giving too much information. “You won’t know it.”
“Try me.”
“Kissy Oak.” She flushed as his eyes focused on her lips for a second. “It’s a small farming community a few miles west of Dubbo.”
“A small-town girl,” he said softly. “Did you leave any small-town boys behind?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Just making small talk. Getting to know my assistant.”
When he smiled with deliberate charm, Holly’s suspicion deepened. The man obviously knew the effect he had on women. Just not this woman.
“Don’t you know already, thanks to your crack research team?”
His expression turned shrewd. “Reports don’t tell me everything.”
She noted the pointed absence of an outright denial and crossed her arms, trying to keep a firm hold on her mounting irritation. “So you tell me.”
To his credit, he looked her straight in the eye and said calmly, “You were born on the thirtieth of April, 1982 in Dubbo Hospital to Martin and Maureen McLeod. Your twin brother, Daniel, died two days later. Your parents owned McLeod Crop Dusting, serving the farming communities around Dubbo. When you were seventeen, MacFlight bought them out then went bust. You moved to the city, started at Blackstone’s in Human Resources and have just finished a Blackstone’s-funded degree at university. Your official position is PA to the Human Resources Manager but you’re currently filling a temp position with PR. Your mother is living on a government pension and your father on disability.”
Holly sucked in a breath as she shut the menu with deliberate slowness. How neatly he’d summed up the emotional roller coaster of her life, explaining away the past nine years without sensation or feeling. But she knew better. Jake couldn’t know the gut-wrenching hours at hospital, comforting her hysterical mother while waiting for her dad to come out of intensive care following a stroke. Then the months of expensive rehab, no longer covered by their expired health insurance. The day-to-day living expenses of food, electricity, rates. She’d wrestled with the worry and stress every day until it was a permanent throb of duty lodged in a tiny corner of her heart.
She flushed when she was angry, Jake noticed absently, watching the heat coloring her cheeks a soft shade of pink. And unfortunately, he also realised that her precarious financial situation put her right at the top of his list of suspects for the press leak.
She flicked her eyes away, sweeping the restaurant to study the lunch crowd. But the calculated move couldn’t detract from the struggle he could see warring on her features.
He knew she was aware of his scrutiny. And when he saw her fingers go to her earlobe and fiddle with the diamond stud there, he smiled. She wasn’t just angry. She was nervous. Interesting.
“You were working while studying part-time at Shipley University,” he stated.
To her credit, she tempered her annoyance with a small nod. “Business Management and Marketing.”
“You were profiled in the university’s journal as an exceptional talent,” he said, “after handling that ‘sex for grades’ scandal last year.”
“That’s right.”
“So why didn’t you take the university’s job offer instead?”
Holly blinked. “Blackstone’s paid for my education. Why would I take another job? Besides, the university is—” she paused, picking her words with care “—conservative. Dress code, morality clauses—”
“Blackstone’s has a morality clause,” Jake interjected.
“But only for employees working within the same department. And the pay is more, the opportunities to advance much greater. I also like working here.”
His gaze became speculative. “Working full-time and going to university part-time must’ve played hell with your social life.”
“No. I focused on work.”
Jake nodded. “So what made you volunteer to assist me?”
“I didn’t. I got seconded.”
Ahh. Jake placed the menu on his plate. Despite her denials, she was pissed. Enough for a little payback? He did the math in his head. No. The leak had been going on since Christmas, which meant something had happened just before Howard’s plane went down.
The waiter arrived to take their orders then, but after the man left, the silence continued.
