by Abby Gaines
He looked her up and down, his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. “Are you ready? The Colonel’s outside. He’ll take you to the ferry.”
Holly dragged the case off the bed. “I’m done here.” When he moved to take it from her, she tightened her grip and he stepped back again.
“I was a jerk last night,” he said.
Against her will, she admired once more the peculiar brand of honesty that enabled him to admit his faults without apologizing for them. “And a sleazeball,” she pointed out.
“That, too. But for what it’s worth, I meant what I said about wanting you.”
“That I’m the last woman you’d want?”
He winced. “Not that part. When I said…well, that I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I wanted you.”
“Wanted. Past tense.”
“Want. Present tense.”
She could see it in his eyes, that wanting. But nothing more. “When I said I love you—” she pinned his gaze with her own, but he didn’t even try to look away “—I meant it. But I was as surprised as you are that I feel that way. I’m a realist, Jared. I can see you and I wouldn’t work out. So I don’t intend to keep loving you.”
“You think you can stop just like that?”
“I’m sure of it,” she said, and she was. Though the tear-sodden pillow she’d woken up on this morning told her it might not be as easy as she made it sound. “When I look logically at what I feel, I can see it’s part sexual attraction, part excitement at being with someone so different from myself, part intellectual stimulation, part gratitude—” he frowned at that, but she was saving the best for last “—and partly because I feel sorry for you.”
“You feel sorry for me?” Jared said, outraged. He wasn’t the one who’d just spilled his heart and been rejected. He wasn’t the one who’d gone his whole life without getting laid. But he could see compassion in her gray eyes, and it was genuine. Baffled, he stared back at her. Then he figured it out. She meant Greg, his family.
He opened his mouth to tell Holly that her family situation was far more pitiful than his. But he found he couldn’t say anything more to hurt her. Instead he said, “Let me get this straight. I want you, you want me.”
“Ye-es.”
“Like you said, you plan on falling out of love pretty soon, and it sounds like you know just how to do it. So maybe we can do something about the wanting.”
“I’m a virgin,” she reminded him.
“I can handle that.”
“That’s big of you.”
Jared grinned. “So what do you say to an affair?” One that would be conveniently terminated as soon as she knew what he’d done to Keith Transom.
“I say no.”
FOR JARED, the next night followed the same pattern as the last, only without ending in an abortive attempt at seducing Holly. He had dinner with Fletcher, where he talked more baseball than he knew he could and developed an unpleasant fascination with the small balls of spittle that formed at the corner of Dave’s mouth as he spoke. Fletcher was obviously conscious of the problem, for every so often he’d run a hand across his lips and the spittle would temporarily disappear.
When Jared got back to the resort he felt strangely desolate without Holly in their room. He wanted nothing more than to wrap up this business with Fletcher and get home to her.
Home and Holly? Jared shuddered. No way.
He’d arranged to spend the following day, Friday, on a fishing trip with Fletcher. The very idea of getting on a boat made Jared queasy, but it was the only place he could think of that would guarantee some seclusion, and enough time for the conversation to turn in the right direction.
He met Dave on the deserted Palm Beach at 6:00 a.m., doped up with seasick pills and wearing sissy-looking acupressure wrist bands. The things I do for Holly. They rowed out to the hired launch, where the Colonel was on board acting as skipper in case something went wrong.
As they sat on deck side by side in an open stretch of sea where the Colonel had promised the snapper were biting, there was nothing else to do but talk. Time for Jared to reel Dave in.
The first nibble wasn’t long coming. Dave asked Jared how business was going.
Jared answered the question, allowing a hint of boastfulness into his voice. He was betting Fletcher was the kind of jerk who couldn’t let anyone do better than him.
“I had a good business of my own.” Dave jumped in when Jared paused for breath. “Accountancy practice, mainly technology clients, some real big guys.”
“Really?” Jared paused. He didn’t want to point out Dave’s error, but he deemed it suspicious not to. “I didn’t know Tulsa had many big technology players.”
Dave stuttered over his reply. “You’d be surprised. It’s amazing really, how many…”
Jared rescued him. “So you don’t have the business now?”
Dave stared at him, still thrown by the Tulsa question, suspicion in his eyes.
“You said you had a business,” Jared prompted him gently. “Did you sell it?”
Fletcher relaxed, and Jared felt his own shoulders easing. “I’ve moved on,” Fletcher said. “I’m full-time on my own investment portfolio.”
Jared gave a low whistle. “That must be some portfolio.”
The other man nodded, his confidence restored. “I’ve done pretty well.”
“My own portfolio needs a bit of work,” Jared said. “I’ve got fingers in a lot of pies, but not enough liquid cash. My businesses are all geared against each other.”
Fletcher nodded his understanding.
Jared’s line jerked in his hands, and he busied himself reeling it in. It came up empty. He re-baited the hook and cast again. “But I’m about to solve that particular problem.”
“Yeah? How’s that?” Fletcher sounded almost uninterested, but Jared, staring out to sea, sensed his watchful gaze.
“There’s a company in Hawaii. Not my usual hunting ground, but if this firm is the cash cow it looks to be, I’m willing to go out of my way. I’m stopping over there for a few days on my way back to the States.”
“You’re going to do the deal?”
Jared nodded. “But I won’t be fronting it. If the owners knew I was involved they’d realize the business is worth more than they think. A lot more. I’m meeting a colleague in Honolulu who’ll front up to them.”
That was all he said.
THE NEXT STEP was planned for that evening in the Palm Beach café. He and Dave had each ordered a beer and were scanning the menu when the Colonel rang Jared’s cell phone.
Jared pretended to listen, then cursed loudly. Fletcher looked up from his menu.
“You can’t do this to me now,” Jared said, conducting a one-sided argument with the Colonel. “I need you in Honolulu on Monday, Jeff. This can’t wait.”
He waited for the imaginary Jeff to reply.
“Of course I’m sorry about your wife, but where does this leave me?” He continued on in that vein for another minute, then ended the call with another curse and dropped the phone on the table.
“Problems?” Dave asked.
Jared grunted. “The guy who’s supposed to meet me in Hawaii can’t make it. His wife’s had an accident. She’s in intensive care.” His tone made it clear he didn’t think much of men who rated their fatally injured wives higher than his business.
“Can you get someone else to come down?”
Jared shook his head. “Not easily. This deal is…let’s say, out of my usual sphere of operations. None of my regular people know anything about it, and I want it to stay that way.” With his reputation, he knew Dave wouldn’t be surprised to hear something shady was going on.
Jared cursed again. “I’ve spent months setting this thing up. The guy on the other side is pulling a fast one over his family, and he’s already sweating about whether he can pull it off. If we don’t go ahead on schedule, there’s every chance he’ll can the whole deal.”
Silence reigned for sever
al seconds. Just as Jared was thinking he was going to have to be less subtle, maybe speculate out loud about where he could find someone who could help him at this late stage, Dave leaned toward him, giving Jared a close-up of the ball of spittle, and said in a low voice, “If you need any help, say the word.”
Jared faked a look of surprise, then gave Fletcher an appraising once-over. “It’s not a difficult job. I just need someone to front the deal, get the dotted line signed. Someone very discreet. And I’d pay to ensure that discretion.”
Dave nodded. “No one would hear it from me.”
Jared looked him up and down again. “I do these private deals occasionally. If this went well there’d be others you could help out on. I pay on a percentage basis. One percent of the purchase price.”
“And, uh, how much is the Hawaii deal worth?”
“Four mil. Give or take a few thousand.” Jared could tell by the light in Dave’s eyes that the accountant’s brain took only half a second to calculate one percent of four million dollars. Forty thousand dollars for a couple of days’ work. Jared leaned forward and injected unmistakable menace into his tone. “But if you ever said anything to anyone about it, you’d regret it.” He sat back. “You interested?”
“Very.” Fletcher took a swig of his beer.
Jared let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d known Fletcher would be desperate for the cash he needed to start a new life, but he’d played a hunch the guy would have a passport in his new name. Otherwise he would never have agreed to fly to Hawaii. “Let me tell you what’s involved.”
At ten-thirty they shook hands on the deal, agreeing to meet at Auckland airport on Tuesday morning.
That left enough time for Fletcher to run some online checks into the existence of the quite legitimate business Jared was asking him to buy. And for Jared to place a call to the FBI.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JARED DIDN’T WANT to get back on a plane, but there was no other way home. And he wanted to keep a watchful eye on his quarry, so it had to be the same flight as Dave.
Fletcher’s passport, in the name of David Jenkins, attracted no attention at Auckland airport. Jared headed to the business-class section of the plane, thankful he’d bought Fletcher an economy-class ticket on the pretext they shouldn’t be visibly associated with each other in case it jeopardized the Hawaiian deal. In reality, he couldn’t stand another minute of the man’s company.
Jared was one of the first off the plane in Honolulu. He knew Fletcher, who’d been seated near the front of the economy section, must be close behind. Jared headed into the men’s room on his way to Immigration, and waited until he judged Fletcher would be safely in the line.
When he queued up, Dave was several places ahead. To distract himself Jared fell into conversation with the middle-aged couple behind him. He sensed rather than saw Dave reach the front of the line. When there was no commotion he looked up—and saw the customs inspector handing Dave back his passport.
No!
How could Special Agent Crook have failed to act on the tip he’d received? Jared struggled to hide his dismay as Fletcher walked on through—then went weak with relief when a uniformed officer stepped forward to speak to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dave’s voice rose in panic, audible as far back as Jared.
Another uniformed man appeared and they escorted Dave into a side room.
Jared knew it wasn’t over yet. He got through passport control, only to be greeted by the same officer who had taken Dave away.
“Excuse me, sir, are you Jared Harding?”
“That’s right.” Jared smiled pleasantly.
“Could you come with me, sir?”
“Certainly.”
Jared found himself in the same room as Fletcher. He looked at the other man with disinterest.
“Jared, tell these goons I’m here with you.” Fletcher must be desperate to think that was going to get him anywhere.
“Sir, do you know this man?” the officer asked Jared.
“Of course.” Jared beamed, at his cooperative best. “It’s Dave Fletcher. I believe he’s wanted for questioning on fraud charges.”
Fletcher paled. “My name is Jenkins, you know it is. You paid for my air ticket. We’re here to do a business deal.”
Jared turned to the officers. “That’s what I told him.” He shrugged apologetically at Dave. “I lied. I’m sure you understand that’s necessary on occasion.”
After a few more questions the officers decided Jared could go, on condition he stayed in Honolulu a few more days in case he was needed for questioning.
“Harding, don’t leave me here.” Fletcher’s plaintive cry followed Jared out of the room.
HOLLY PULLED the EC Solutions files off the shelf above her desk in the penthouse apartment and tried hard to stay mad at Jared.
But it was difficult. For a start, against all odds he’d succeeded in conning Dave onto a plane and back to U.S. soil. Late the previous night he’d phoned to say Dave was in the FBI’s custody.
And that wasn’t all he’d said. When he’d finished telling her about Dave, he added flatly, “I miss you.”
“You? Miss me?”
“Don’t make a big deal of it,” he snapped. “It’s no fun sitting here waiting for the FBI to call me for an interview, and I’ve…gotten used to having you around.”
“This won’t make me sleep with you,” she told him.
He laughed. “I never thought it would. I don’t know why I said it.”
Unable to help herself, she smiled. “Thanks, anyway.” She missed him, too. That went without saying. “Maybe when I’ve fallen out of love with you and you’ve stopped wanting to go to bed with me—” he made a derisory sound “—you and I will end up friends.”
She heard the frown in his voice as he said, “I’d rather work harder on getting you into bed.”
“You’re wasting your time.” She hung up, exasperated that, where she should be furious at him, she was revitalized by the sound of his voice and foolish enough to hope that his missing her meant something.
This morning, she was ready to get back into the work that had been neglected while they’d traveled to New Zealand. She’d managed to wrap up the Wireless World paperwork before they left. Now it was time to make some progress on EC Solutions.
Next to the files on the desk in front of her was a newspaper clipping and, attached to it, a memo to Jared from his chief accountant. The concierge had handed them to her yesterday. Holly scanned the clipping. The in-house leak had been at it again, she noted grimly. Rumors of Harding Corp’s interest in EC Solutions and speculation as to the smaller company’s brilliant future had reached the press.
She grimaced. This could put the price of the acquisition up considerably if it attracted other bidders. And given that virtually no attention had been paid to EC Solutions by the media to date, it was doubly irritating. She read the memo, and saw her fears confirmed.
Jared, I hear Keith Transom is likely to bid for EC Solutions. Maybe it’s a deal we should consider ourselves.
Jared’s accountant obviously had no idea his boss was already working to acquire the company.
Keith Transom. Again. She knew from what Jared had said, and from her own recent research into the man, that Transom was drawn to anything Jared was involved in. If Jared showed interest in a deal, so did Transom. A few times he had beaten Jared to some choice acquisitions. Now he was after EC Solutions.
“Not on my watch, buster,” she attested, and her own voice startled her in the silence of the apartment. Her mind raced—what could she do to help Jared, to prevent Transom winning the deal?
Briefly, longingly, she wished she could resort to underhanded tactics—feed misinformation to the market, scare Transom off. But that wasn’t an option. She would do this the old-fashioned way, working all day and all night, every night if she had to, to put together a deal Transom couldn’t match.
She glanced at h
er watch. Nine o’clock. That would make it 6:00 a.m. in Hawaii. Not too early to give Jared a wake-up call with the bad news about Transom’s interest in EC Solutions. He would want to know.
“Hey, gorgeous.” His voice when he picked up the call was seductively sleepy.
“I hope you knew it was me—that you don’t answer every early morning call like that,” she said.
“I was just thinking about you, imagining you here beside me.”
Holly swallowed, willed herself not to respond to his blatant flirtation. Then she heard herself say, “Beside you being, um, in bed, would that be right?”
“Sure would.”
“You mean that place I’m never going with you?”
He laughed. “Wanna bet?”
“I never gamble,” she said primly. Before she could think better of it, she added, “And, er, what were we doing? In your imagination, that is.”
A sharp intake of breath at Jared’s end told her she’d surprised him. She smiled.
“In my imagination,” he said with soft intensity, “you had too many clothes on. So I took them off, one item at a time.”
Holly squirmed in her chair, her files a blur in front of her. “Then what?”
He half laughed, half growled, and went on to explain to her in quite some detail what happened next. She should have been outraged, or at least embarrassed, but by the time he paused for breath, she knew she couldn’t hear another word without exploding.
“That’s enough,” she said. “I get the picture.”
“But, honey, I haven’t even begun to tell you what you did to me…”
“Save it,” she said. “This is a business call.”
Jared groaned. “We can’t stop now. You’re killing me.”
“It’s Keith Transom,” she said in a rush. “He wants to bid for EC Solutions.” She told him about the memo.
Damn! All thoughts of Holly naked vanished as Jared took in her words. He’d been so preoccupied with Fletcher he’d completely forgotten about the work he was paying Holly to do.