Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

“But what you’re suggesting…” She turned back to the table and picked up the floor plans. “Treatment

  rooms, mud baths, indoor spa and sauna—it would double Jindalee’s size. We’d have to apply for

  building permits, not to mention shutting the place down for months.”

  Cal shrugged, unfazed. “The permits aren’t a problem, not when we’ll be creating local jobs. And it’s

  not as if you’re making a profit, so shutting down isn’t an issue.”

  Her face flushed. “It’s not just about making a profit, Cal. This place is more than bricks and mortar to

  me.”

  With one fluid movement, he crossed his arms and put his shoulder to the wall. His long fingers gently

  tapped one defined bicep, his expression thoughtful. She could get lost in those eyes—intelligent,

  assessing eyes that constantly reminded her of the decadent hours they’d shared.

  “So let me make Jindalee into something unforgettable,” he finally said.

  She turned back to the window, placing the forgotten juice on the cabinet. “It’s already unforgettable.”

  “But not profitable, which is what you need.”

  She frowned, studying her reflection in the tinted glass. “What’s it all going to cost?”

  “Don’t worry.” She glanced back and his eyes locked onto hers. “I don’t renege on a deal, Ava. I said

  whatever it takes. This is it.”

  Before she could say anything further, he straightened and reached for his jacket. “Let’s take a break and

  you can show me the town.”

  “Tell me I wasn’t in the Twilight Zone back there.”

  Ava gave him a pained look as he guided her back up Jindalee’s front steps, his hand a now-familiar

  warmth on her back. “Welcome to my life.”

  “They’re like a bunch of gossiping high schoolers. Can’t they talk about anything else than what you did

  ten years ago?”

  “Like rising feed prices, the continuing drought…. The latest brand of stock whip? Not half as much fun

  as placing bets on what I’ll do to screw up next.”

  Her footfalls echoed on the decking as she went over to the long wooden bench. Cal recognised the

  tension pulling at her shoulders as she sank into the cushions with a sigh. She was wound up enough to

  make his own muscles ache in sympathy. Not the type of person tough enough to play out a ruthless

  game of blackmail. In fact, if he were completely honest, her whole demeanour under pressure had been

  contrary to every assumption he’d made.

  Irritated, he said shortly, “So why didn’t you leave?”

  “My father built Jindalee from nothing.”

  “That’s not an answer.” He leaned against the porch railing.

  She sighed, a deeply troubled sound. “I lived with Jill in Parkes for a few years, working at her café, but

  I still missed this place. Just look around.” She indicated the scenery with the small lift of her chin.

  “This place is…powerful and humbling. It’s extreme—flash storms one day, glorious sunshine the next.

  It’s welcoming, familiar. Beautiful.” She fixed her eyes on him, stormy and honest. “Why do I stay?

  Because of this.” Her arm swept out, encompassing everything around them. “It’s about the glory of a

  morning sunrise, when it feels like there’s no one else in the world. It’s about the tranquillity of a warm

  summer night. It’s something—” she paused, struggling to find the words “—almost spiritual.” She gave

  a small smile. “I’m not very good at describing it, am I?”

  “It’s about finding peace within the land.”

  Dumbfounded at his perception, Ava nodded. “That’s right. It’s about the land, not those people in

  town.”

  “So why not give them something positive to talk about? Let me make Jindalee that something, Ava,” he

  added seriously.

  Ava swallowed a throbbing heartbeat as her breath caught. The sheer command, the utter confidence in

  his intense gaze was dangerously hypnotic. So this is how it feels. To be rescued. Like she was a

  fifteenth-century damsel saved from marauding invaders by the powerful, heroic knight.

  All she could do was nod again until the threatening rumble of distant thunder forced her gaze skyward.

  “It’s going to rain.” She rose to her feet and reached for the door. Every inch of her skin seemed to tingle

  as he followed her in, her body leaping to life despite her desperation to ignore it.

  If the morning had been a whirlwind of emotion, the rest of the day was torture, like her senses were

  playing some horrible game of “I told you so.” When she looked at Cal, she not only remembered those

  lips kissing her. Now she recalled the way he’d used his daunting presence to preempt all those nosy

  questions in town. Staring at the conference table only brought his hands into her eyeline—hands with

  long, teasing fingers that knew how to touch, stroke. Caress. She couldn’t even block him out by

  focussing out the window because she could still hear that sinful, liquid, caramel-chocolate-honey voice,

  constantly reminding her of erotic whispers, satisfied sighs.

  The meeting finally broke up at six. With Cal finishing up in the office, Ava showed everyone out,

  shaking their hands with a bright smile and thanking them for their efforts. But the instant she closed the

  door, exhaustion rushed in.

  Cal found her there, sagging into the heavy door with her forehead against the dark wood. Her shoes had

  been replaced by comfortable slippers, her sleeves were rolled up and her lipstick was long gone. She’d

  swept her tumble of hair into a sloppy ponytail and it now dragged down her back with a few tendrils

  loose and curling over her shoulder.

  The present suddenly slammed into the past, creating a sharp, aching desire that went straight to his

  groin. He’d felt her eyes on him all afternoon, as if he were part of some intensive study. Yet when he’d

  glanced her way, she’d avoided his questioning gaze.

  “Are you okay?”

  She jerked upright, almost guiltily, before turning to him and smoothing back her hair. “Just tired.”

  “Then come and sit down.”

  She looked at his outstretched hand, then quickly back at him as if waiting for the catch. The doubt on

  her face twisted his gut.

  “Come on.”

  With obvious reluctance, she took his hand. As he folded his fingers around her cold ones, warmth

  sliced into him.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked faintly as he led her down the hall towards the living area. He could feel

  the pulse beat steadily beneath the delicate skin on her wrist.

  “Not really. You?”

  She gave him a quick smile. “Starving.”

  He made a detour and they ended up in the kitchen. Cal pulled out a chair and encouraged her to sit as he

  opened the fridge.

  “You don’t have to cook for me. I can—”

  “No,” he said with a decisive shake of his head. “I think I can manage a microwave.”

  She smiled back, an innocent response that still succeeded in kicking up his heart rate. “There’s soup on

  the bottom shelf.”

  Ten minutes later he presented her with hot tomato soup and thick toast before settling in the chair

  opposite. Since last night he’d begun to recall more things, disturbing things that were contrary to his

  original assessment of this woman. It wasn’t only the inbuilt elegance, the expressive eyes. It was in her

  tiny, unselfconscious movements, like the way she nervously shoved her hair b
ack, or when she

  straightened her shoulders in firm determination.

  If it was all an act, he should’ve seen the cracks by now.

  “Something’s been bugging me.”

  She paused, the spoon half way to her lips. “About?”

  “You.”

  She flushed and placed the spoon back in the bowl, waiting his next move.

  “Tell me about your sister,” he finally said. “What was she like?”

  Her eyes spilled sudden emotions before she efficiently gathered them back up. “Grace was…” She

  smiled. “Beautiful. Poised. Well-mannered. She wanted to be a fashion designer, a painter, a vet. She

  finally settled on psychology, of all things. And she would’ve been damn good at it, too. She radiated

  humor and joy. Everyone adored her. She was the good one, the angel.”

  By her own omission, Cal drew the assumption. “And you weren’t.”

  She stirred her soup absently. “I was her polar opposite.”

  “You got the blame for her death.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. “I wasn’t charged,” she said almost defiantly.

  He met her probing stare head-on and a moment later, she nodded, as if coming to an important decision.

  “The crash was my fault. It was dark and I was speeding.”

  Underneath her brittle expression he recognised the desperate need to belong, to be accepted for who she

  was, not defined by what she’d done or who her father had been. With a start, Cal realized that was him

  at twelve, uprooted from his mediocre life and transported into a different universe where wealth and

  privilege ruled. Yes, Sydney society had its gossipmongers, but money talked louder. The Prescott name

  demanded respect. Here they treated Ava like a misfit child, pointing out her screwups under the guise

  of humour, not allowing her to forget.

  Once he’d given a damn what others thought of him, once he’d been desperate for a father figure, to

  make his own way, to be someone. It stunned him to realize that thanks to Victor’s ultimatum he was

  still trying to prove himself.

  “My father stopped speaking to me,” she said now. “I lived with Jillian for five years until my mother

  got sick.”

  “He kicked you out because of an accident?” He scowled.

  “No, he kicked me out two months before when I refused to stop seeing a boy he disliked. The Dean

  situation,” she clarified, crossing her arms on the table. “One day I convinced Grace to sneak out and go

  shopping. I was driving her back home, it was late and we came across the back paddock after dark. I

  took a crest too fast and crashed in a ditch.”

  Ava took a breath, noting the scowl on Cal’s face had deepened, but she was too caught up to stop the

  tumble of words erupting from her mouth. It wasn’t the memories that made her sad, it was her inability

  to change them. But he’d started this conversation and she didn’t know how to stop it with anything but

  the cold hard truth.

  “I don’t remember anything after slamming my head on the steering wheel.” She rubbed her temple,

  refusing to let those gut-wrenching memories take hold. “But when I woke up in hospital I had a broken

  arm and Grace was dead.”

  “And your father cut you from his life.”

  Ava shook her head. “You have to understand that this was a man who ruled his family with loads of

  discipline and little emotional reward. He was ex-army, a man who never showed weakness or affection

  and thought apologies were for sissies. He and I clashed from the very beginning.” She gave a small

  smile. “And I did a lot of things just to piss him off. Grace…” She shook her head. “Grace was the

  peacemaker. She hated conflict and tried to convince him to talk to me. Then the accident happened and

  that was it until my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

  “He asked you to come home?”

  She nodded, the memory of her proud, gruff father brought low and humbled by the uncomfortable

  reality of her mother’s death sentence. “Whatever Dad’s faults, he loved Mum. He’d do anything for her

  and the only thing she wanted was a truce before she died.”

  The gentle ping of the kitchen clock echoed in the cooling stillness, ticking off the seconds until Ava

  spoke again.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry? Do you want a drink? Coffee?” She smiled wryly. “It’s not up to

  Sydney standards but still pretty good.” She rose to her feet but ended up stifling a gasp.

  Instantly Cal’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm. “What?”

  “Pins and needles.”

  “You need to put your feet up.” His command brooked no refusal and Ava was exhausted. She let him

  lead her into the lounge room, push her gently into a chair and shove an ottoman under her legs.

  With a deep sigh, she muttered her thanks, leaned back and closed her eyes.

  Eight

  H ours later Ava woke with a start. Someone had stoked the fire and it burned away merrily in the

  darkness. She shifted, noticing for the first time the blanket tucking her in.

  “You’re awake.”

  Cal sat on the couch opposite, firelight flickering over his broad shoulders. His shirtsleeves were rolled

  up, collar and buttons askew where he’d yanked off his tie. Paperwork lay forgotten on the coffee table

  as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Had he been watching her sleep? She felt the flush across her

  cheeks and shoved the blanket down.

  A languorous warmth spread into her legs, making them tingle as he continued to watch her. It was like

  he was trying to figure something out but the answer continued to elude him.

  “Can you stop that?” she finally said.

  “What?”

  “Staring at me.”

  His mouth spread in languid pleasure, causing her to flush again. “You don’t like me looking at you?”

  “It’s disturbing.” More than that, it aroused her. She tried to rein in the memories, refuse their hold, but

  it was like swimming through mud. She swallowed thickly, forcing her breath to even out.

  This deep, aching desire was excruciatingly familiar. It had seized her common sense once before, nine

  weeks ago, when she’d been lulled by a sinful voice and seductive eyes.

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  She dropped her feet to the hardwood floor welcoming the cold shock. “You didn’t have to wait up. I

  can show you to your room if you—”

  “Ava,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

  Confusion spread across her face but it was the hint of sadness, carefully masked, that drew Cal in. “But

  I have to.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated. “Because no one else will.”

  In the darkened room, the peace broken only by the gentle hiss and crackle from the fire, Cal rose.

  “Well…” She shoved her hair back from her face with a tentative smile that didn’t quite work. “Good

  night.” He caught her look, vulnerability tinged with steely determination, before she stood and severed

  eye contact. She looked away as if her feelings were somehow shameful, something to be hidden.

  He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He just moved.

  When he pulled her into his arms, she stiffened, resisting at first. But she was no match for his

  insistence. Her small sigh shuddered into him, contracting something buried deep inside his chest.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmure
d.

  For now. The unspoken truth lay between them, something intangible that still commanded a physical

  presence. Ava let herself wallow in the moment of weakness. It felt good to be held by a man, to have

  strong, warm arms wrapped around her. It made the world safe and right, it made her feel protected and

  loved. She wanted to stay this way forever.

  Something shifted inside, something that she couldn’t describe. For the first time in forever, she felt like

  someone else was on her side. She felt championed. Wanted.

  Ava couldn’t pinpoint the moment everything flipped, only that it did. His embrace was meant to

  comfort, and for a few moments it did just that, but when she lifted her head from his shoulder

  something changed. It could’ve been the way his eyes held hers, dark pools of intense complexity. It

  could have been her will, desperately tired of the front she’d thrown up against this emotional onslaught.

  Whatever the reason, everything shorted out as she tipped her mouth up to his and whispered, “Kiss me.”

  Her soft words crashed into his mouth, then rolled back on his sharp exhale. She barely had time to

  regret, rethink, before his groan hit her and his mouth was suddenly covering hers in deep, searing

  possession.

  Sensation collided in her brain, sparking a rush of blood through every secret corner of her body. Her

  half-groan, half-sigh against his lips only seemed to encourage him, because he angled her mouth to

  taste deeper, his tongue firmly pushing her lips apart. If it was hormones or just hot-blooded desire, she

  didn’t know. Didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and strained forward, offering herself.

  When her breasts, now full and throbbing, mashed up against the hard wall of his chest she groaned at

  the sweet, aching bliss.

  It was what she’d wanted, what she’d burned for, ever since he’d turned up on her doorstep.

  A low pulse began in the pit of her belly, fanning upwards and heating her skin. He seemed to sense that,

  because he released her face to skim his hands across her collarbone, then down her arms before coming

  to rest on her hips.

  She shivered, skin prickling with eagerness, desire making her bold. She dragged her hands across his

  shoulders, then eased her fingers under his sleeves, ending on a sigh when she encountered honed, hot