Surrender to Chance [King's Bluff, Wyoming 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  Her back straightened. “I grew up in King’s Bluff. My late father’s family has been here over a hundred years, and we’ve always been active in the community. That connection affords me that exact authenticity you’re looking for.”

  It was what he’d expected to hear, though she delivered her speech in a forthright manner he respected. “How do you feel about travel? Our corporate offices are based in Seattle. You’d need to travel there occasionally.”

  She hesitated, letting out a small breath before answering. “My mom’s been unwell with pneumonia, and I must be honest, I’d need some warning before I could leave her right now for days on end.” Her shoulders slumped before she seemed to rally. “I mean, just in the short term.”

  If anything, he appreciated her candor and the fact she put her mom first. Family mattered. Lord, he’d learned that lesson over the years.

  He nodded. “That wouldn’t be a problem.” Especially since he and Alex were discovering how much they preferred working here and not in Seattle.

  The lodge’s calm atmosphere was a balm to the stresses of corporate life. Modern communication allowed him and Alex some leverage to work here for longer periods. Besides, they’d never fit the mold of typical business tycoons. Their renegade attitude had been a trademark of their success since they’d taken over the day-to-day running of the company a few years after gaining control of the family trust.

  He narrowed his gaze. “I’m glad you mentioned confidentiality. Your contract would include clauses requiring you to maintain strict adherence to both company policy and confidentiality at all times. Failure to do so would ensure immediate termination of agreement and if warranted, legal action against you. Considering the privileged material you’d have access to, we wouldn’t hesitate to take matters to the fullest extent.”

  “I understand.” Despite her quick swallow, her gaze didn’t waver.

  Impressive. Lesser men had withered on the spot when he’d used that voice.

  For the next fifteen minutes they covered his immediate questions. He provided a basic overview on their current difficulties with vandals. She’d asked a few questions of her own and he’d been impressed at the relevance and intelligence behind her reasoning.

  He and Alex envisaged the company to be at the forefront of sustainable civil construction in the United States and their targeted markets around the globe, mainly Asia. MacKenzie Corp had come a long way since their father had sat at the helm.

  There were two matters left outstanding, which he’d purposely left to the end. “You’ll appreciate that this position will report to both Alex and me. After this morning, how would you feel about working for Alex?” How honest would her answer be?

  “I can’t say Mr. MacKenzie and I got off to the best of starts. More importantly, I don’t know if he’d be interested in having me as a consultant. He may have other ideas.” She hesitated over her next words, as if searching for the best reply. “Public relations is about creating a favorable public image. I’m a professional, as is, I’m sure, Mr. MacKenzie. If he’s agreeable, I’ve no doubt we can move on from today’s mishap.”

  Now there was an example of the tact required for the role.

  “You grew up in King’s Bluff. So I can assume you’re comfortable with the relaxed attitude the town has to alternative lifestyles such as ménage relationships?”

  “Yes.” A soft smile lit up her face. “If all parties respect each other and are committed to the relationship, then I think it’s nobody else’s business.”

  He debated how much to share with her. She didn’t need to hear in her interview that he and Alex often dated the same woman as a ménage. Dated? That was being kind. Kane dated them. Alex had sex with them and shared the occasional meal. His brother didn’t want anything as messy as a relationship.

  “Alex and my styles can be considered…authoritative. We were both SEALs, Alex as a team leader. Both of us like to take charge.” A nice way of saying they were Doms, but he’d get to that soon enough with the issue of the Club. “Some women view us as arrogant.” Or worse. The irony being nothing was more precious to him than the trust given to him by a sub.

  A faint blush covered her cheeks. Was she thinking about Saturday night and their kiss?

  “My last boss had a dominant personality, which isn’t uncommon for a CEO, especially one at the head of a multinational organization. I’m used to having strong men, and women for that matter, expecting me to follow their instructions. Like anything, Mr. MacKenzie, it’s the way the order is given that counts. You treat people with respect, it flows back in return.”

  Touché.

  Was it his imagination or did that chin of hers lift a smidgeon higher? Damn shame Alex wasn’t here to see this. Big brother respected females who stood their ground when they were in the right. And she was in the right.

  “You know we are opening our own BDSM club here? One open to members of King’s Bluff, once they’ve passed through a screening process. Many of those staying at the lodge will also use the club.” Including he and Alex, but he guessed she understood that from the fact it was their club.

  “I’ve heard that, yes.”

  “Part of your duties will be to liaise with the club’s staff to ensure the club’s image is a positive one.”

  “I’d treat any interactions just like those from other ventures within your corporation.” She paused, her shoulders rising with her indrawn breath. “Mr. MacKenzie, all I can say to you is I’ll act professionally. Will I find something to do with the club confronting? Maybe, I have no idea. But I won’t know until I’m in that role. Anything else I say is purely speculation.”

  “Fair point. I wanted to make things as clear to you as possible before we went any further. You’ll undoubtedly get questions about the club from folks in town and maybe elsewhere.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “I’ll need some time to review your resume and check out your references. Today’s Tuesday. You can expect a call from me by Thursday afternoon.” He stood and was around her side of the desk before she’d moved.

  “Thank you, Mr. MacKenzie.” Once standing, she offered her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. A tick in her favor.

  As they entered the small, enclosed foyer, he watched as her gaze took in anything she’d missed the first time. This was a person for whom details mattered.

  Olivia turned to say good-bye. “I’m grateful you made the time to see me today. It was kind of Chloe to call you.”

  “Kindness had nothing to do with it, Miss Fletcher. Chloe understood you represented something we wanted. And make no mistake. I always go after what I want. I’ll be in touch.”

  Lunch with Alex and Quinn would have to wait. He had a resume to study and phone calls to make. Then he’d get Quinn to do a preliminary background check. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. Get all the right intel first, then decide.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia leaned into the sofa’s cushion as she glanced at the clock on her mom’s sideboard. Two-fifteen. Exactly five minutes since she’d last checked. Thursday, and still no call from Kane MacKenzie. Her sigh tickled the ears of Hercules, her mom’s rescue dog now curled in a ball on Olivia’s lap. The tan and white splotched mutt, a mix of terrier, Dachshund, and just plain ornery, lifted his head. His dark brows scrunched together in a frown.

  “Sorry, Herky.” She scratched his neck in the special way that made him lift his chin high in pure delight.

  “Stop torturing yourself, honey. He’ll call.” Her mom sipped her tea. Wearing soft pink sweats, she sat in her favorite blue velvet lounge chair. In her mid-fifties, and with the same titian-colored hair as her daughter, her eyes were blue instead of Olivia’s green and held an intelligent spark that had refused to be bowed by the pneumonia which, at its peak ten days ago, had seen her admitted to the local medical clinic as an inpatient.

  Ironic that she’d end up as a patient in the same place she worked as a receptionist.

 
While her mom wasn’t yet up to running in any marathons, the color in her complexion and her improving endurance were fabulous signs of improvement.

  “I know, it’s just…” She broke off, gave her mom a rueful smile. “I’m a worrier.”

  “Baby, you got that right. Been that way since you were tiny.” Maggie Fletcher’s eyes twinkled with a mother’s indulgence. “You said the meeting went well. All you can do now is stay busy until we hear something.”

  Thursday, Kane had said. Wednesday had come and gone but today had dragged on like a mother tugging on the arm of a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. Not much movement but plenty of tears. In this case, her tears were two cakes, three trays of fudge, and two loads of laundry, all baked, iced, or in relation to the latter, folded and ironed by mid-afternoon.

  “Yes, I know, and if I was in your shoes I’d give the same advice, but you know me. I need to obsess over every little detail, real or imagined, until I’ve given myself some sort of eating disorder, or worse, taken on a new hobby.”

  Her mom’s laugh quickly turned into a chesty cough. Olivia lifted the box of Kleenex sitting between them on the arms of the sofa and recliner.

  Maggie waved away her daughter’s concern and coughed into the Kleenex already in her hand. “I’m okay,” she said after a few short breaths.

  Hercules, front paws now braced on the arm of the sofa, leaned close to his mistress. Her mom reached out her hand and her fur-baby protector licked her fingers, both seeking and giving reassurance.

  Maggie whispered, “Thank you, Herky. That’s my boy.”

  Olivia felt her face soften at the joint display of love.

  Content his human was okay, the little dog settled on his own crochet rug that lay in a cozy puddle next to Olivia on the sofa.

  She nodded toward the untouched slice of pound cake sitting on the side table. “Come on, take a bite. You can’t let my obsessive baking go to waste.”

  “I knew by the time you were making the second cake that you’d hit panic mode.” Her mom took a healthy bite, licking the smudges of passion fruit icing from her lips with a satisfied moan. “I’ll never make fun of your neurosis again. This is scrumptious.”

  She gave her mom’s free hand a squeeze. “You taught me everything I know in the kitchen. Allowing me to lick the beaters made all the difference.” Everyone knew cookie and cake batter tasted awesome. It was an unwritten fact.

  “You’re just fattening me up so Doc Jackson will allow me back at work.” She frowned as she rubbed crumbs off her fingers. “I can just imagine the mess he’s made of my filing system.”

  “Hey, Jackson’s relying on me to get you better fast. Apparently, the nurses have been, shall we say, unsympathetic to his demanding ways.”

  Maggie chuckled to herself. “I used to babysit him as a kid. He can’t intimidate me.” She lifted her precious blue and white china cup, one of a set given to her by her late husband on their twentieth wedding anniversary, and sipped.

  Olivia guessed her mom’s job represented more than just a paycheck. It was a way of keeping her independence, not relying solely on the small annuity from her husband’s life insurance.

  The truth was her mom had her act together. Which was more than Olivia could say for herself.

  Six months ago, sticking it out in New York after her marriage split had seemed so important. Her job paid well, and pride was a huge factor. Why should she give up her career? What she hadn’t known at the time of the breakup was that some of her co-workers, people she’d considered friends, had known of Alan’s affair long before her, courtesy of the fact he’d made buddies with a couple of the guys. God, the memories of those pitying glances in the corridors now seared her pride.

  One night, when the blackness of her loneliness had threatened to suffocate her, she’d called home. After a few minutes of her overly bright declarations of happiness followed by long silent pauses, her mom had simply said, “Come home.”

  Through her tears, Olivia had whispered her agreement.

  Had that been just two months ago?

  Her mom’s sudden illness had prompted Olivia’s return a week earlier than first planned, but with everything already packed and ready for shipping, it had been more an exercise in juggling flights and getting her boss to agree to an earlier end date.

  “Have you heard from Alan?” Her mom’s mouth tightened in obvious distaste.

  “He sent me a text complaining of how he had to go to my lawyers to pick up the divorce papers.” Olivia’s laugh lacked any trace of humor. “Putting himself out was never his strong suit.”

  “Hmmph. I guess I’ll hold off waiting for my ‘Get Well Soon’ card.”

  Olivia couldn’t hold back her laugh. Damn, she’d missed her mom’s dry wit.

  The move to New York ten years ago had been for Alan’s sake. CPA’s don’t flourish in rural Wyoming, Olivia. Don’t you want me to be successful? He’d be the breadwinner, she the homemaker once she fell pregnant. How could she afford to stay at home and live the lifestyle he wanted to provide if he didn’t follow his career dream? Didn’t she want to have kids?

  Oh, yes, she’d wanted children. Desperately. She’d waited, giving in to his pleas for more time to build his career, rarely complaining about the late nights and even some weekends when he was away from home.

  Alan had ended up having a child. Just not with her.

  The betrayal still burned. She’d been a fool. A trusting, stupid fool. He couldn’t even tell her to her face. Had sent an e-mail to her at work. “It’s over. I’m done.” There’d been more. How she’d never fit in with his way of life. That she needed to understand it was for the best. He was practically doing her a favor.

  Yeah, banging a rich divorcee was so considerate of him.

  She’d rushed home to find their rented house practically empty, her clothing and personal possessions all that remained of ten years of marriage, along with an envelope containing a check for an amount of money he’d determined fairly represented her half of the furniture, electrical goods and other items.

  “Livy, let it go.” Her mom’s soft voice pulled her back. “He wasn’t the one. Your hero’s still on his way.”

  “Oh, no. I’m a hero-free zone.” She’d soar or fall by her own deeds. Not be beholden to the whims of any man. Not anymore.

  An image of a guy with finger-combed hair flashed before her. With his wide shoulders and outdoors appeal, he was one sexy male.

  “Liv, don’t say that. You’re going to turn down the chance at happiness because your first bite at the pie turned out to be sour?” Maggie’s face softened along with her voice. “If I’d held on to that kind of attitude, I’d never have met your dad. He was a prince.”

  She smiled as a light entered her mom’s eyes. As ever, the mention of Matthew Fletcher brought out the sweetest contentment in her mom.

  “He was one in a million.” Olivia swallowed past the lump in her throat. Seven years gone. She missed him as much as ever.

  “Yes, he was. And I’m lucky to have had him for those twenty-five years.” Maggie skimmed her hand along the crochet blanket covering her legs as she gazed off across the room. “Matthew walked into that diner in Montana and I took one look at him and knew he was the one. By the end of the day, I climbed into his truck and on faith alone let him drive us here to King’s Bluff.”

  “You mean drive you here.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said drive us here, but I wasn’t around yet.” Olivia smiled.

  Her mother blinked, then seemed to catch herself. “That’s right. But you followed real quick.” She giggled, showing the delightfulness that had captured the heart of the kind trucker from a quiet Wyoming town. “Boy, what a place he brought me to. Two men marrying one woman, and there was even Mr. Gantry and Mr. Bower sharing a house up on the lower mountains. I was so naïve. I didn’t know what was going on there for months. But they were good folk, joined in to help the town, and that’s what counted.”


  Not everybody understood the foibles of King’s Bluff.

  Alan had been disgusted when Olivia had told him how things were in the small Wyoming community. Raised by image conscious parents, he possessed a strict view of how the world should run. Seriously, what she’d ever seen in him while at college in Cheyenne now eluded her. Had it been his steadfast manner or his charm, which he’d had in abundance during those early years?

  Even now, as she took her first steps on her own, there was still that niggle that yearned for security and safety. Heaven forbid she confuse reality for one of the heroes found in the erotic romances that sat on her nightstand.

  Back to more important things, like taking up that new hobby. “Maybe you can finally teach me poker. That’ll take my mind—”

  Her cell phone chimed.

  She snatched it up from the coffee table, glancing at the screen. She recognized Kane MacKenzie’s number from the card he’d given her. Her stomach did a belly flop. She nodded to her mom, who raised her hand, fingers crossed. Damn, she loved that woman.

  “This is Olivia.”

  “Afternoon, Olivia. It’s Kane MacKenzie.” His rich smooth voice did nothing to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. MacKenzie.” She tensed, poised on the edge of the sofa.

  “I’m calling to offer you a contract as a public relations consultant for MacKenzie Corp. You’d be working in hand with our marketing department in Seattle, but I’d liaise directly with you in your projects.”

  No Alex? For a second the rejection gouged a hole into her pride, before relief flooded her system. Not having to deal with the arrogant older brother suited her just fine.