“I’m not hungover.” But he accepted the drink regardless.
She snorted. “You can shave and shower and use an entire bottle of mouthwash, but
those bloodshot eyes?” Incredibly smug, she sat opposite him. “They don’t lie.”
He bit back his first response of “unlike you,” because that kind of barb wouldn’t
help anyone. He needed to make peace, not start a war.
“Drink up. You’ll feel better.”
He muttered “know-it-all” under his breath and downed the drink.
“Better?” She smirked.
“Immensely.” He placed the glass on the table, braced his elbows on his knees, and
leaned forward. “How about you?”
“Just peachy.”
“Because a campaign the size of Kaluna Resorts is a helluva lot of pressure. Sure
you’re up to it?”
So much for not baiting her, but there was something infinitely annoying about her
imperturbable front that begged him to ruffle her.
She stiffened, the first sign he’d penetrated her nonchalance. “I’m a professional.
Something you’ll soon find out, as I’ll be your
boss
.”
He found himself grinning at her sass. “So how do we play this?”
A tiny frown dented her brow. “We don’t
play
at anything. If you’re willing to toe the line, we work together. If not, you bail
now.”
He had to admire her. She’d donned an über-cool persona, determined to demonstrate
she
was
the boss. It made him want to rattle her, see if she could relinquish a little control.
He leaned back in the chair and draped an arm across the back of it. “You seemed to
enjoy our play before.”
The telltale blush he loved so much flushed her cheeks crimson. “Our fling’s done.”
The flare of heat in her bold gaze made a mockery of her statement before she pinched
the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “Look, we’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s not
muddy our professional relationship with anything we’ve done in the past.”
He jotted imaginary notes on the back of his hand. “Got it. Sex off-limits.”
“And lose the smart-ass attitude.”
He scrawled in the air in giant script. “Must. Not. Be. A. Smart. Ass.”
He saw her struggling to keep a straight face. Good. Meant they could meet on middle
ground and work together.
“You’re flying home today, then to the Whitsundays day after tomorrow.” She picked
up her iPad and swiped the screen. “I’ll e-mail you all the details, along with relevant
subcontractor forms.”
“Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” he said, wondering if he’d ever see her
again. “Bar the important stuff.”
“Like?”
“Like us clearing the air properly. Like you letting me make it up to you. Like you
admitting there may be more between us than a few sun-filled days of island sex.”
The iPad almost slipped from her fingers and she laid it on the coffee table before
finally looking up.
Turmoil darkened her eyes to indigo. He knew the feeling. It was the same unrest he’d
been feeling ever since he set eyes on her at LAX.
He’d never experienced the mayhem and confusion this woman could elicit with one glance.
She disarmed him to the point of craziness and he knew there was no way in hell he’d
be able to get any work done unless they confronted what had happened over the last
few days.
“Your being here has cleared the air, and the flowers were apology enough for your
acting like a dickhead.”
“And the rest?”
She shrugged, infuriatingly calm. “Not an issue.”
“Bullshit.” He leaped from the sofa, vaulted the coffee table, and sat beside her.
“Look at me.”
She ignored him, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw jutted as she stared straight
ahead, pretending that he didn’t exist.
“Why did you really do it? Change your pitch?”
It had been bugging him all night, why she’d done such a thing. Because when he’d
eventually calmed down and his fuzzy alcohol-infused brain had cleared, he’d known
she hadn’t done it out of pity. At no stage in their brief relationship had she looked
down on him. So what had been her real motivation? Because no way in hell he would’ve
changed his business pitch for someone he barely knew.
“I did it because I wanted to help.” Her nose crinkled adorably.
He bristled. “So I
was
a charity case? Something you saw as broken that needed fixing?”
“Don’t be such a moron.” Her upper lip curled in derision. He found it kinda cute.
“I felt bad enough not telling you we were vying for the same account. And it meant
everything to both of us. So I did what I thought needed to be done. I changed my
pitch. End of story.”
She made it sound so matter-of-fact, when Jett knew there had to be more to it.
“You’re still lying to me—”
“I care about you, okay?” She whirled on him like a crazy woman, eyes blazing. “That’s
why I did it. I care. There. Now you know. So sue me.”
She turned away and folded her arms, determinedly not looking in his direction, her
jaw clenched so tight he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her teeth grinding.
He should’ve been glad she’d finally admitted the truth. She cared. Well, that made
two of them. But how could they ever come back from something like this, now that
she was his boss?
He needed to get their relationship—albeit for work—back on track. And the way to
do it was to revert to what they’d done best all week. Sparring.
“You’re the most controlling, confident, maddening woman I’ve ever met,” he said,
poking her in the side to get a reaction.
She whirled on him so fast he startled. “And you’re the most arrogant, cocky, big-mouth
son of a bitch I’ve ever met.” She placed her palms on his chest and shoved, hard.
However, her little display of dominance backfired as he toppled backward and she
came with him, ending up lying flush on his chest.
“I knew you still wanted me.” He grinned up at her, clamping his arms around her waist
when she struggled to sit up.
“Fuck you.”
“Only if you ask nicely.” He claimed her mouth, stifling the rest of what she’d been
about to say.
She squirmed against him to escape and he held on tight, waiting for the moment her
lips parted before his tongue swept into her mouth, deepening the kiss to the point
of no return.
Her struggles soon ceased, replaced by the soft moans he recognized, and he eased
his mouth off hers.
“You done fighting?”
She glared at him through passion-hazed eyes. “We can’t do this.”
“Sure we can.” He lifted his hips, deliberately pressing his hard cock into her. “Tell
me you don’t want this.”
She took an eternity to answer as he silently prayed he hadn’t pushed her too far.
He’d been the one to instigate this relationship from the beginning, had sweet-talked
his way beneath her defenses and bombarded her until she couldn’t say no.
He’d thought she liked it that way, thought she’d enjoyed relinquishing the rigid
control she maintained in all other aspects of her life.
But what if he was wrong?
She shook her head and her hair brushed his cheeks like soft silk. “I can’t.”
Disappointment slashed through his lust and he released her. She scrambled off him,
couldn’t get away fast enough.
He sat up and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You didn’t answer me.”
She turned away, but not before he’d seen her raise her hand to touch her lips. “What?”
“I asked you to tell me you don’t want this.” He stood so close behind her he could
feel the heat radiating off her back. “But you can’t, can you?”
“Please leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The fact that she couldn’t lie to him now, after the secrets she’d kept from him before,
gave him hope. He’d leave her alone for now. But he wasn’t done, not by a long shot.
She’d hidden her professional side from him during their time on the island but she’d
opened up to him physically, in ways he’d never dreamed possible. She hadn’t been
afraid to show him her vulnerability in the bedroom, yet maintained a control-freak
facade in the boardroom.
Which made him wonder. Who was the real Allegra?
Something he had every intention of finding out.
“Have it your way.” He touched her shoulder before heading for the door. “But don’t
say I didn’t warn you.”
She finally lifted her head, her gaze tortured yet defiant. “What’s that supposed
to mean?”
He mustered his best smile, the one he’d used to great effect to charm her in the
first place.
“I’m flying out this afternoon, but you and me? We’re work colleagues now.” His smirk
held a hint of challenge. “You’re not rid of me just yet.”
Chapter Ten
Jett had screwed up. In so many facets of his life he didn’t know where to start.
But before he flew out to the Whitsundays to start work on the Kaluna campaign, there
was someone he needed to see.
The wisdom of confronting his father after having landed in Sydney only an hour ago
following a twelve-hour flight—economy this time—was questionable, but this couldn’t
wait.
If Jett was starting with a clean slate, he needed to get a few things off his chest.
Because the way he’d lost it with Allegra in Palm Bay was indicative of a deep-rooted
insecurity he hadn’t known he’d possessed until she’d pushed his buttons and he’d
overreacted.
He hated that she’d been witness to him going apeshit during their brief relationship
and despite his best efforts to apologize, looked like all the groveling in the world
wouldn’t make amends.
That ballsy comment he’d made at the end, about her not being rid of him, was pure
bluff. Her response to their defiance-fueled kiss proved they would always have that
underlying spark of “something more.” But what could he do? They lived an ocean apart.
And she was his boss. He may have tied her up and made her relinquish control in the
bedroom, but in the boardroom? Could he be any more emasculated?
Best thing to do would be to prove he was the best in the business so she never had
a reason to question his professionalism. Focus on work. Keep their contact to the
required minimum. Easy.
So why did his gut churn at the thought?
To have her accessible professionally but not personally…when he could remember the
sounds she made when she came, her eagerness to match him move for move, her delicately
flushed skin post-orgasm…
Of course, his dad chose that moment to stride onto the patio.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Jett.” Clive Halcott held out his hand, not looking sorry
in the least, his benign expression something he practiced to hide the impatience
beneath.
And Jett. Not son. Had there ever been a time when Clive had acknowledged him by “son”?
None that Jett could remember.
“Dad.” Jett shook his hand and released it. “How have you been?”
“Busy as usual. Can’t complain.” Clive poured them ice water from a crystal pitcher
without asking, looking the epitome of a wealthy, retired barrister in his designer
golf gear with a multimillion-dollar view of Sydney Harbor behind him. “How did your
overseas trip go?”
“Good.” Jett accepted the water and drained the glass, his throat constricting at
the inevitable put-downs once he elaborated on his failure to salvage anything for
his company. “I’m doing the campaign for Kai Kaluna’s new Whitsunday resort.”
“Impressive.” Clive sipped at his water, his unwavering stare making Jett uncomfortable,
the same way his dad’s scrutiny used to make him feel when he hadn’t aced a test or
had come second in a backstroke final. “What about the rest of the resorts?”
Trust dear old dad to home in on what he hadn’t achieved rather than what he had.
“An LA-based company is doing those.”
A frown wrinkled Clive’s brow. “That seems an odd arrangement. You subcontracting
to them?”
Jett nodded. “We’ll make it work.”
“Better than you did with your last company, I hope.”
And there it was, the predictable slap-down.
Well aware his father would only get wound up the more defensive he was, Jett chose
silence as the best form of response.
“Your lawyer is sorting through the insolvency issues?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” Clive refilled his glass. “I never liked that Reeve, you know.”
News to him. Reeve came from one of the richest families in South Australia and Clive
had always fawned over him, making Jett feel second-best.
“Really?” Jett kept his voice devoid of emotion, his fingers gripping the glass, expecting
one of his dad’s infamous zingers.
“Yeah, shifty eyes.” Clive shook his head. “Any man who can’t look another directly
in the eyes is suspect.”
“That would’ve been handy to know before the prick fleeced our company dry.”
“Would you have listened if I’d said anything?”
“Probably not,” Jett said, earning a rare smile from Clive for his droll response.
“Word of advice from an old man who has seen a thing or two in his time.” Clive tapped
his chest. “I’m always available. Whether you need to discuss or offload, give me
a call or drop by.”
Jett stared at his father. Clive had never made time for him as a kid, why the hell
would he change now?
“You dying?”
His father laughed, another rarity. “No, but I’m reprioritizing, starting with my
son.”
Son.
Another shock.
Jett clutched his chest in mock pain. “Careful, Dad, I can’t handle too many surprises
in one day.”
Guilt and sadness clouded his dad’s eyes. “And that comment right there reinforces
what a bastard I’ve been all these years.”
Jett opened his mouth to respond and his dad held up his hand. “Let me finish. I’ve
been a lousy father. A demanding tyrant who expected his kid to perform like his employees
and I wouldn’t tolerate anything less.”
And the shocks just kept coming as Jett found the nearest seat and sat before he keeled
over.
“I know you must be gutted after losing your company. And I handled it badly when
you first told me before leaving for LA, sending you that short, sharp message without
any commiserations.” Clive crossed the patio to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,
son. For everything. Whatever you need in setting up a new company, holler.”
Speechless for once in his life, Jett stared at his father like he’d seen an alien.
Clive chuckled, patted his shoulder, and headed for the drinks tray, forgoing the
water this time in favor of two scotches.
Jett dragged a hand over his face, wondering if he’d dreamed the last few minutes.
He’d never seen his father anything but surly and indifferent and demanding. To have
him articulate his support was mind-boggling.
Clive handed him a shot of whiskey and raised his in a toast. “To the pair of us being
less stubborn.”
Jett clinked glasses and tossed the whiskey back, the burn of alcohol down his gullet
finally freeing his tongue. “Who are you calling stubborn?”
His dad guffawed. “Son, I’m the stubbornest old bastard on the eastern seaboard of
Australia and you learned from the best.”
Some of the tension gripping Jett eased as he handed over his empty glass. “Get me
a top up and I’ll fill you in on the Kaluna project.”
“Deal.”
As he watched his father refill their drinks, Jett wondered how accurate his dad’s
observation had been. Was he stubborn? If so, had he been so entrenched in his beliefs,
his insecurities, that he’d used them to drive Allegra away before she got too close?
By his dad’s admission, they’d had a lousy relationship. And then the one person he’d
trusted, Reeve, let him down, too.
Had he pushed Allegra away because he’d expected to be hurt? Because it was all he
knew?
He’d made a big deal out of her betraying his trust by not telling him the truth about
pitching against him. But if he hadn’t used that as a means to drive a wedge between
them, would it have been something else?
He’d accused her of being a control freak, of never letting go. Her self-admitted
flaw. But what about his?
That nothing she could’ve said or done would’ve ever soothed his insecurities. That
not having his father open up to him until now, along with trusting Reeve and losing
the company, had gutted him more than he cared to admit. Having his dad finally articulate
what he’d been hoping to hear for many years had gone some way to easing his discontent.
But what if he made the same mistake? Holding back from Allegra because he was too
damn stubborn to admit the truth?
What they had went way beyond a tenuous business connection. Now all he had to do
was prove it to her.
When Clive handed him the glass, Jett raised it at him. “Glad I stopped by, Dad.”
“Me too, son,” Clive said, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery.
Now that Jett had inadvertently fixed things with his dad, he had to figure out how
to navigate tricky relationship waters with Allegra when he’d completely stuffed up.
…
Allegra had been many things growing up, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
She’d been practical about her parents’ complete disregard for her welfare. She’d
been deceptively cool in the face of their many letdowns and disappointments. It had
made her fiercely independent and for that she was grateful. Never, not once, in the
face of their continued narcissism had she been scared. So why had she turned into
a rubber-legged chicken this last week?
Every call Jett had made, every e-mail he’d sent, every Skype session, she’d had Zoe
run interference.
She couldn’t face him, even professionally, and that didn’t bode well for her state
of mind or her stupid, impressionable heart. The heart that never let anyone get too
close. The heart she’d learned to protect many years ago.
So what was so damn special about Jett Halcott that he’d wormed his way in without
trying?
It sure as hell wasn’t his big mouth or his deliberate charm or his lack of trust.
Or his quick-fire ability to jump to incorrect conclusions. Or his deep-seated insecurities.
On the flip side, he was warm and generous and spontaneous. A skilled lover. Wickedly
funny. With an inherent ability to make her feel like she was the only woman in the
world.
Damn.
She kicked the trash can as Zoe entered their Beverly Hills office, a slow grin spreading
across her friend’s face.
“I see you’re still in a foul mood.” Zoe dumped a stack of pamphlets on her desk.
“Have you tried magnesium and vitamin B? Heard it’s great for stress.”
“Don’t need vitamins,” Allegra said, flicking open one of the pamphlets their printer
had put a rush on and scanning it with little interest.
“Then what do you need?” Zoe perched on the end of the desk, drawing attention to
the funkiest pair of turquoise cowboy boots Allegra had ever seen. “Let’s see. If
vitamins won’t do the trick, maybe a trip to Australia would?”
“Shut up.” Allegra made a zipping motion across her lips. “Don’t go there.”
“I’m not going there,
you are
,” Zoe said, speaking slowly and accentuating every syllable in a deliberate taunt.
“You know you want to.”
What Allegra wanted was to be free of haunting memories of Jett. The way he’d push
strands of hair behind her ear. The way he’d kiss her when she least expected it.
The way he’d caress her back or stroke her arm just for the pleasure of touching her.
Double damn.
“He’s done some amazing work.” Zoe jerked a thumb at the computer screen. “Did you
see the latest layout he e-mailed? Brilliant stuff.”
“I saw it,” she admitted grudgingly, and had to agree. Jett was extremely talented
at what he did, bringing his ideas to life in a way she’d never anticipated.
Ironic, that Kai Kaluna had instigated her initial plan without realizing it. She’d
thought the perfect solution to both their business woes would be for AW to win the
campaign, then offer Jett a job, some kind of freelance gig.
In a way, it had worked out well, because considering the way he’d initially responded
to Kai’s stipulations, there was no way in hell would he have accepted any kind of
job offer from her.
Not that she could blame him. Would she have done the same if their roles had been
reversed? Accept a job from a guy who’d pushed her to relinquish control in the bedroom,
then expected her to give it up in the business arena, too?
Doubtful.
She wished there was some way to bring a guy of Jett’s talents into the AW fold without
offering him a job he’d definitely turn down. Her gaze drifted to the PC screen and
the latest mock-ups he’d sent…a brilliant, succinct ad campaign that rivaled anything
she’d ever come up with. The two of them working side by side was a guaranteed winning
combination.
Side by side…
“What’s that look for?” Zoe tilted her head, examining her. “You look like you’ve
seen a ghost but want to kiss its ass.”
Allegra laughed for the first time in seven long days. “You’ve got a way with words,
Zo-Zo, and a keen eye.”
The eyes in question narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
“Not yet, but I will be. Very, very soon.” Allegra leaped off her chair and started
pacing. “You know that partnership I offered you?”
“Yeah?” Zoe slapped her head. “Damn, I forgot to pick up the papers from the legal
eagle downstairs. Give me a second and I’ll pop down—”
“How would you feel about renegotiating?”