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

by Fiona Archer

  “No problem. I was just on my way out.” She popped her head in the door a minute later.

  “You had lunch, right?” He was only half joking.

  “I ordered a sandwich for me, too.” She moved over to the desk. Her smile reached her eyes, adding a shine to them that he hadn’t noticed before.

  He blinked, catching himself staring.

  “Great. And thanks for ordering lunch.” He studied her as he said his next words. “Even Alex was impressed by the sandwiches. Turkey club is his favorite.”

  There it was. The muscles in her shoulders tightened. She drew in a soft breath, as if working hard to hide the action. Fortifying herself against what—the prospect of seeing his brother again?

  That would not do.

  “I need to give you some background to Alex’s rudeness at your interview.”

  “Oh, you don’t—”

  “Yes, I do.” He deepened his voice, noting the way her body relaxed, her mouth opening that tiny fraction as she went silent under his command.

  Interesting.

  Except he needed to clean up his brother’s mess. He sighed. Christ, he could strangle Tasha himself.

  “Last Tuesday, the woman you saw Alex frog-marching off the premises was an intruder he found naked and uninvited in his bedroom.”

  Her eyes widened. He thought that would get a reaction.

  “Her name’s Tasha Lindstrom. Over a year ago, he’d dated her a couple of times. She became fixated with him. He realized his mistake. Ended it. After a few embarrassing scenes, it looked like she’d finally gotten the picture, went to Europe and mixed with B-grade royalty. Her visit here last week was out of the blue and unwelcome.”

  Olivia remained silent. He couldn’t blame her. What was she supposed to say? It didn’t excuse Alex’s rudeness.

  “I’m not justifying his behavior, but I wanted to give you some background to his emotions at that time so that when you meet him again, you have a clear basis to form any future opinions.”

  “I appreciate that, Kane.” She held up a pad in her hand. “Setting the subject of Alex aside, I’ve managed to speak to a few of the staff, including one of the younger guys in the kitchen. You have a trainee program here for long-term unemployed youth.” She tilted her head to the side. “There are so many good news stories we can use, Kane.”

  He shrugged. “A friend of ours manages a local youth center. Got us involved in the program.” Mike Langley had pretty much demanded they get on board, but the program’s merits had made the decision easy. “It’s not charity. Those kids have to work hard. But at least they’re learning new skills with a living wage.”

  His cell phone beeped. A reminder he’d set giving him five minutes before his video conference. He glanced back to Olivia. “You organized for the afternoon?”

  “Yes, a few more people to meet. I’ve spoken to the Seattle team about tomorrow morning. I’ll see you then.” She bestowed another smile before giving him a fabulous view of her figure as she walked out of his office.

  But now Kane had to focus on his meeting. The Rubetta Island bridge bid was a must win for them. His baby. They needed to get the last specifications sorted before they could crunch the numbers for their bid.

  For two years he’d courted the government authorities of the tiny Pacific Island of Rubetta. Their nation’s desperate need for infrastructure was now empowered by recent discoveries of precious metals on their lands, the kind that industrialized nations would pay big money to source. Finally, the islanders had the resources to build the hospitals, roadways, and bridges needed. Kane took pride in the fact MacKenzie Corp, as part of their nonprofit work with charity organizations, had taken on small jobs in the community long before the full extent of the minerals had been realized. The goodwill they’d earned had been repaid by the smiles on the faces of kids who’d been able to attend a modern health clinic and a school for the first time.

  It had been one of the proudest moments of his life.

  Some things you couldn’t put a price on.

  But even that kind of goodwill didn’t guarantee MacKenzie Corp preferential treatment at the hands of the impartial board set up by the island’s government and charities agencies who would oversee the tendering process.

  He picked up the remote and logged into the live connection from one of their Seattle conference rooms. Two men sat at a table, the backdrop of a large map showing all of MacKenzie Corps current projects worldwide behind them. Both men, aged in their mid-forties, looked up as Kane spoke.

  “Curtis, did you get the e-mail I sent last night?” he asked his long-time manager of operations. Once they agreed on an expected project schedule, they could finalize the costs.

  “Yeah, I did, Kane.” The man’s tanned face was shadowed with concern. “But we have a complication.”

  Fingernails of unease scratched the back of his neck.

  “What’s up?”

  “This arrived half an hour ago.” Curtis reached out to his left before sliding an arrangement of tropical-themed flowers of hibiscus, birds of paradise, and frangipanis into view. He opened the card. “Rubetta Island is wonderful in the summer. I’ll enjoy visiting there after my winning bid. Richard Lawson.”

  His gut tightened. It was the kind of openly provocative act he’d expect from his family’s corporate nemesis. Kane fought to keep his voice even. “Any further communication?” His instincts screamed there had to be more.

  “An e-mail arrived from the Rubetta tender committee half an hour ago asking us questions on how we procured some equipment made in India that we donated to the school. Apparently, they’ve received information those goods may have been made with child slave labor. They didn’t say who presented the accusation.”

  They didn’t need to.

  Kane’s body heated as white-hot anger surged through his veins. Not content to undercut their bid, Lawson wanted to discredit them, too.

  Donovan stabbed a finger against the table. “It’s bullshit, Kane. My team checks off those kinds of concerns before we purchase anything, especially for a nonprofit project. This is Lawson trying to screw us over with the authorities.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute, Donovan.” His team staked their reputations, and the jobs, on doing the right thing.

  “What the hell is his problem, Kane?” Curtis asked.

  This could get messy. His managers needed to understand the man’s motivation.

  “Richard Lawson attended the same boarding school as me and Alex. He’s hated Alex from the time they were thirteen for a perceived insult that neither Alex nor I can remember.” Since they had taken control of the company, Lawson had made it his life’s mission to beat them in business. He’d failed. So far.

  Kane assured his two managers he had complete faith in their professionalism, telling them to reply to the Rubetta Island board’s e-mail with supporting documentation attached.

  The meeting moved on, covering the agenda points.

  Less than an hour ago he and Alex were under attack from an unknown group of individuals. Now they were fighting on two fronts. That weakened them, left them vulnerable.

  Now, more than ever, he needed to rely on his team. Without trust and loyalty, this project would crumble, and in the eyes of his professional colleagues, MacKenzie Corp’s reputation, too.

  * * * *

  Alex sat at his desk and signed-off on Quinn’s order for additional cameras and equipment. In the twenty-four hours since the break-in was discovered, he and Quinn had toured every building on the property looking for vulnerable points. They’d have the whole fucking mountain under surveillance by the time Quinn was finished.

  Over the years, Alex had learned to never discount the potential for idiots, be they insurgents, or in this case vandals, to screw up. Maybe they’d do so here and reveal their identity. So far his, Kane’s, and Quinn’s investigations had come up empty-handed.

  With a glance at Kane and Quinn sitting opposite, he said, “I still vote we
hire a bunch of former teammates, give them night-vision goggles, and then turn the other cheek.” He slid the paperwork back over to Quinn, parting a grove in the slew of papers that littered his desk.

  Quinn snorted. “You say that now, but when I charge you extra for cleaning up the bodies, you’ll get pissed.”

  Alex chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to settle for you doing assessments on our new employees. Tax records, police checks, and the usual stuff won’t give me the same adrenaline rush, but it will have to do.”

  “We’ve become so domesticated.” Kane shook his head before his gaze turned serious. “Has Lawson contacted you since we received the flowers?”

  Alex felt the tick in his jaw at the mention of Richard Lawson. “No, but I’ve no doubt he plans to rub our faces in the mud over the break-in when he hears about it, if he hasn’t already.”

  Quinn tilted his head to the side. “He left you alone during your time in the SEALs.”

  “Attacking our company while I wasn’t at the helm held no satisfaction. It’s only been the last five years with us running things that he’s been a pain in the ass.” On Alex’s thirtieth birthday, he’d legally gained control of the trust put in place by his father, including the majority shareholding of MacKenzie Corp. At that time the business was far from the empire of today. They had stayed in the teams for five more years before taking over the day-to-day running of the company.

  “Lawson will go to any lengths trying to one-up Alex and me. Last month, he got into a bidding war with us at a charity auction.” Kane’s voice hardened with distain. “We decided to make the best of it. Kept going until the charity had half of its fundraising budget from his winning bid.”

  The charity, a network of no-kill shelters for abandoned and rescued animals in the Seattle area, received a matching check from the brothers, who swore the teary-eyed chairperson to secrecy.

  Alex sighed. “We’ll keep an eye on him but as long as we’re taking the usual precautions, there should be no risk to our bid package.” Talking about the bastard left a sour note in his mouth. He needed to change the subject. “How’s our new PR consultant doing?”

  “You could go to the spare office and ask her yourself. She’s on-site today.” Kane stretched back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head.

  Of course, Quinn couldn’t keep his trap shut. “Ah, that’s right. Kane told me you weren’t your most charming.”

  “It seems Alex has lost his way with the ladies.” Kane’s eyes glinted.

  Quinn faced Alex, amusement shining in his eyes. “You’re going to have to make it up to her, buddy, for two very good reasons. First, Reagan’s already decided to bring Olivia under her wing, so all the women of King’s Bluff will be upset with you if you don’t.”

  Kane dropped his arms back to his lap. “Oh?”

  Quinn maintained his stare with Alex. “Second, even better—Reagan told Olivia about the library’s erotic romance book club, and the girl couldn’t wait to join. Showed Regan her collection of books. Ménage, BDSM, it was all there. Told her she’s hooked on the stuff.”

  Well now, that was interesting. Alex turned to Kane, whose brow was bunched in a frown. “Seems Olivia’s got a taste for kink.” Images of the red-haired spitfire wearing their leather cuffs and secured to a spanking bench filled his head. The rich curves of her ass pushed up on display would be a sight to behold.

  “Are you going to do it?”

  Alex blinked at Kane. “What?” His tone came out sharp.

  “Apologize.” Kane’s lips twitched. Had he guessed Alex’s thoughts were focused far from the lodge’s PR needs? “I can ask her to be gentle with you if you’re afraid she’ll call you names. We could get Quinn to stand in front of you.”

  Fuck. Sometimes he wished he was an orphan.

  “I’ll see her today.” His tone made it clear the topic was closed.

  Kane opened his mouth to no doubt annoy the shit of out him, but Quinn’s phone beeped. Their friend looked at the screen, then rose from his chair. A grin transformed his whole demeanor from intimidating bastard to somewhat approachable human being. “Mike’s chasing me. I’m late for lunch. Our wife needs some spoiling. She’s been putting in long hours covering for a sick volunteer.”

  “Then go be with your little sub.” Alex stood, reaching across his desk to shake Quinn’s hand. “We’ll meet again on Friday. Bring Mike if you can drag him away from the Youth Café for an hour or two.”

  “Will do.” Quinn followed Kane out of his office, their voices fading as they walked down the corridor.

  A glance at his electronic diary revealed he had a spare thirty minutes. He rarely, if ever had free time at their Seattle office. Now seemed a good opportunity to talk with Olivia.

  She had guts. He’d seen that in the way she’d stepped into his line of fire to check on Tasha’s welfare, a woman undeserving of Olivia’s concern. His jaw hardened at the memory of how he spoke to Red. He’d been a bastard. No other candy-ass way of putting it.

  He hadn’t seen her since the discovery of the break-in yesterday. Time for him to eat his serving of humble pie.

  He reached the door leading to Red. A smile kicked at the edges of his mouth. Probably shouldn’t call her that. Then again, he shouldn’t do a lot of things.

  Alex didn’t knock on the side of the open door as he entered, enjoying her wide-eyed stare as she sat behind her desk. Her shoulder-length hair was full with soft waves. She wore a red, scooped-neck knit top that showed her curves. Classy. Feminine.

  She placed the pencil she was holding on her desk. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. MacKenzie?” Her voice was even, but he could see the way she held herself tense, as if waiting for a further show of bad manners. That was all down to him.

  “My behavior last week was rude in the extreme. Regardless of the provocation, I had no right to take my temper out on you. I apologize.”

  She blinked, obviously taken aback by his words. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to hear you say so.” Warmth deepened her voice.

  “I know when I’m wrong, even if it takes me a day or two to pull my head out of my ass.” He held her stare, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. She seemed less sure now. Whatever opinions Olivia had of him previously were maybe not so clear-cut?

  He was a Dom. In some situations, keeping a woman slightly off-kilter was deeply attractive to him, fed into his need to command and protect. Was that politically correct? Hell, no. Not everything in life was, but that didn’t make it any less real.

  He glanced at her desk. Laptop. Pad. Pens. The essentials. “You’ve got all you need?”

  “Yes, thank you. Most of my stuff is at my home office.” She stood, maybe feeling the need to not be at such a height disadvantage. “Kane’s been most welcoming, as have all the staff. You have a great team here.”

  She picked up her coffee mug, taking a sip of the contents, then scrunching her nose up in distaste.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Kane and I take pride in the professionalism of our team.” He leaned back against the wall, not making himself smaller, but showing he wasn’t a threat in a more laid-back pose.

  She went to say something, hesitated, then widened her mouth into a smile. “Let’s draw a line through what happened at our first meeting, shall we? We’re both professionals and I’m sure we can move forward.” Stepping around her desk, she held her hand out, coming toward him at a brisk pace.

  He moved one leg back to stand up straight just as her foot connected with his other leg still stuck out in front of him.

  His chest suddenly felt warm. The strong aroma of coffee hit his nose.

  First he heard her horrified gasp.

  Then he looked down.

  His white tailored shirt had been hit with a coffee grenade.

  “Oh. My. God.” Olivia stood there, hands covering her mouth, eyes the size of saucers, staring at his chest in what appeared to be fascinated horror.

  He burst out laughing at the look on
her face.

  Now this was priceless. “I guess we’re even.”

  Olivia’s gaze flew to his face. Her mouth hung open, words beyond her before she dived down to her bag, then came up with a tiny packet of tissues, pulling them out in little white clumps.

  “I’m sorry. Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” She dabbed ineffectively at the stain.

  “Olivia, it’s okay.” He gently grabbed hold of her hands, keeping them in a loose grip. “It’s just a shirt.”

  She stared at him, her face flushed. Lord, she was a temptation with her furrowed brow and eyes full of remorse.

  “I can’t believe that happened,” she mumbled. “I really am sorry.”

  “I’ve had some people get back at me over the years, but that was original.”

  Seemingly despite herself, she coughed out a laugh. “Truce?”

  He chuckled. “Agreed. And do me a favor. Call me Alex.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so easily in the company of a woman.

  “I can do that.” She paused, as if testing out the word in her mind. “Alex, if you do the same for me.”

  A sense of male satisfaction, as if the cutest girl in school accepted his date to the prom, shot through him. Where the hell had that come from?

  “I see you’ve both broken the ice.” Kane’s amused voice came from behind. Alex dragged his gaze away from Red, allowing her to pull her hands free as he did so.

  “She showed me a King’s Bluff tradition. Accept my apology, then throw coffee at me. All part of the healing process.”

  Kane snorted. “You’re just lucky she drinks her coffee near cold.” He turned back into the corridor.

  Alex glanced back to Red. She drank her coffee cold? There was so much he didn’t know about Olivia Fletcher, the things that made her smile, cry, or laugh. Something told him he’d enjoy finding them out.

  * * * *

  Olivia stared at herself in the mirror of the ladies’ restroom. Could it have been any worse? His shirt, no, make that his expensive-looking, multi-thousand thread count Egyptian cotton shirt, was stained. Ruined.