“Yes,” she answered with a nervous laugh.
“Do you want me to take you back to shore?”
She scooted closer against him. “No way. I’m loving this.”
Me, too.
“Mr. Barrington, I’m covering for Ms. Cleary today.” A woman’s voice brought Lance back to the present. She was a mousy brunette with large, thick glasses. An unwelcomed unknown. His regular secretary was on maternity leave, and the temp agency had assured him the woman who had worked for him for the past two weeks would continue there until she returned. Apparently not.
“What’s your name?” Lance asked impatiently. He was already distracted enough without adding the annoyance of training someone new.
“Ms. Niarchos.”
Lance rubbed the back of his tense neck. It wasn’t her fault he was having a shitty week. “Just answer the phone for now. There should be a notebook on the desk with guest log-in information. If I need anything I’ll send you an email.”
Instead of leaving as Lance had expected, the woman walked over to one of his bookshelves and picked up a notebook. “I used to have a journal just like this.”
“Please don’t touch anything in my office.” With a few purposeful strides, Lance was beside her, taking his aunt’s journal out of her hands. Her eyes narrowed slightly, then her expression went blank again. Lance was detail-oriented. It’s what gave him an advantage with people as well as architecture. There was something about her that didn’t fit with the way she presented herself. He’d heard of architect firms planting informants in the offices of their competitors, but he’d never come across it in person. He dismissed the thought as paranoid. “I left some envelopes on your desk this morning. Please make sure they get in the post by noon.”
“Absolutely.” The woman smiled again but didn’t turn to leave. “Have you read it?”
Lance looked down at the journal in his hand. It had belonged to his mother’s sister, Patrice. Emily had read it and thought some of the entries were disturbing enough that she’d wanted to ask Sophie about them. Lance and Kenzi had decided it was better if they read the journal themselves. Kenzi said she’d found nothing but the ramblings of an old woman. Lance hadn’t read past the first few pages. He’d never known his aunt and had no interest in reading about her life. “No.” He turned and put it on his desk.
The secretary met his eyes boldly. “You should. The one I had was chock-full of scandalous secrets. I’ve always wondered why people write things down if they don’t want anyone to know about them. People can’t help it, I suppose. If they know something, they can’t keep it to themselves.”
The whole conversation felt odd, so Lance ended it. “That’ll be all, Ms. Niarchos.”
“Of course, Mr. Barrington.” With that, she left his office, closing the door behind her. Lance returned to his desk and started his computer. On impulse he opened the cover of the journal. Inside he found a black business card that hadn’t been there before. All it had on it was a white phone number. He closed the journal and strode to the door. His secretary was no longer at her desk. Irritated he called down to the Human Resources department to ask where she was. He felt an unusual sensation of unease when he was told there’d been a mix up with the temp agency. No secretary had been sent that day, but one would be there within the hour.
“Then who the hell is Ms. Niarchos?” Lance asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry, who?”
He called down to his security desk and told them that an unauthorized person had been in his office. He wanted IDs checked and a copy of the security tapes for his floor. He was even less happy a few minutes later when the head of his security informed him that there was a glitch in the camera system that morning. Nothing had been recorded.
None of it made sense. Yes, he’d just gotten a huge contract with the city of Boston, but that wasn’t a secret. He picked up the black business card and called the number on it. When he heard someone answer he said, “Who the hell are you?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter.”
“It does when you pretend to work for me. Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, but what you consider a security system is.”
“If I catch you in my building again—”
An unapologetic laugh. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Barrington. Just read your aunt’s journal.”
What the hell? “What are you talking about?”
“I’d do the legwork for you, but I’m trying not to get involved. I have to say, though, I’m a little disappointed in your family’s lack of curiosity.” The line went dead. When Lance tried to call it back it rang through to a voicemail box that was full.
He called again but no one answered. What the hell?
Lance ran a hand through his hair. If the day wasn’t already crazy enough, it had just taken a bizarre turn. He sat down and opened the journal with the intention of reading it when his phone beeped from an incoming text.
Kenzi. Having lunch at the Bancroft with Dax, Clay, and Willa. She took the job.
No. Not going to happen. Lance dropped the journal into his computer bag, sent out an email to cancel his one o’clock meeting, and strode out of his office.
He sped across town to the restaurant, tossed his keys to a valet, and only slowed his pace once he entered the restaurant. He spotted Willa almost instantly and went to the table without stopping to speak to the hostess.
Kenzi stood when she saw him, “Lance, what a great surprise.”
So that’s how we play this? Okay. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I was about to have lunch alone. Mind if I join you?” He shook Dax’s hand in greeting.
“We’d love that,” Kenzi exclaimed.
Lance pulled a chair over from another table and placed it between Clay and Willa. He accepted a menu from a server and ordered a quick sandwich since the others already had plates of food in front of them. After handing the menu to the server, he looked at Willa, but she didn’t meet his gaze. It gave him a moment to appreciate the simple beauty of her. Her hair was neatly pulled back, exposing the delicate, delicious curve of her neck. His eyes widened as he noted the delicious way her blouse was undone. From where he was he could see the curve of her breast. Would it still fill his hand perfectly as it had all those years ago?
“What brought you to this side of town?” Clay asked drolly.
Step one: keep Clay and Willa in Boston. “Clay. I’m starting a preliminary assessment of the city properties abutting the capitol building. I could use your experience with modernizing the historic ones to code.” Lance accepted a glass of water from the server.
Kenzi sat forward. “I thought you said—” Her eyes darted around the table, and she dropped what she was about to say and instead said, “That’s fantastic.” She turned to her friend. “Willa, you love old buildings. I bet you’d also be an asset to the project.”
Willa looked across at Clay. “I’m sure I’ll be too busy to add anything else to my plate yet.” With her hands still carefully folded, she directed her next comment to Lance. “I read an article about the Capitol Complex. It’s a daunting responsibility.”
“I like a challenge,” Lance said while looking her directly in the eye. The air was charged with the sexual tension that was always present with Willa. Even something as simple as sitting next to her in a restaurant was enough to set his heart beating wildly in his chest. When she shifted in her chair, her leg brushed against his briefly, and he could have sworn it affected her as much as it did him. He cleared his throat and thought about which parts of the project might lure her to it. “It’s more than just renovating buildings; it’s creating another place for people to come together. Not commercial. The city wants to celebrate the diversity of the community. My task will be to weave the past with the present in a way that showcases Boston’s history while valuing the flavor of what it represents today.”
Kenzi added, “The project could change the heart of the city for generations to come. Wouldn’t it be amaz
ing to be part of something like that, Willa?”
Willa looked down at her plate as if to compose herself then said, “I’m sure it would.”
Clay took a sip of his wine before saying, “Too bad she already has a job.”
Dax ordered a shot of whiskey.
Lance tensed, but forced his tone to remain calm. “Working for you, Clay?”
“Yes,” Clay said, twirling his glass between this fingers. “She’s my personal assistant.”
“What happened to your last one?” Lance asked between gritted teeth.
Clay shrugged. “Never had one. Didn’t think I needed one.” His eyes lingered on Willa’s face for longer than Lance liked. “Until I heard Willa was looking for work.”
Lance’s hand clenched around his napkin. He wanted to tell Willa she couldn’t take the job, but he knew he didn’t have that right. He wanted to feed the napkin to Clay, but out of respect for Dax he wouldn’t do that either. In what he hoped was a calm voice, Lance said, “I can’t imagine Willa being happy for long with something that wasn’t art related. My project includes designing murals for the community center. I was serious with my earlier offer, Willa. I could use your input.”
Willa pressed her lips together briefly, then asked, “Because I know what average people like?”
Ouch. That comment hadn’t taken long to come back and bite him in the ass. “Regular people,” he corrected. “And I meant it as a compliment.”
Clay coughed to cover a comment that was still audible. “Not better.”
Kenzi leaned toward Willa. “What Lance is trying to say is that you have a style that appeals to a great number of people.”
A pink flush crept up Willa’s neck. “I appreciate that, but as Clay said, I have a job.”
Pushing the subject further would have put everyone at the table in an awkward position. What he wanted to say to Willa wouldn’t first be voiced in public. He decided to move onto another subject that was occupying his thoughts. “Something happened at my office this morning.” He shared the story of the woman who had posed as his secretary and the odd card she’d left.
Dax frowned. “How the hell did she get by your security?”
Lance grimaced. “I never needed that much. I’m an architect. I don’t have enemies.”
When Dax arched an eyebrow, Lance added, “No offense.”
“None taken,” Dax said easily. “I assume you’ll be making major changes.”
“I’m having IDs checked and looking into what happened with the video cameras.”
“That’s not enough. I’ll make a few calls,” Dax said firmly.
“That won’t be necessary,” Lance countered.
“I disagree,” Dax said, sounding uncomfortably similar to Lance’s older brothers. He took out a phone and sent a text.
Lance almost told Dax where he could shove his phone then he saw his sister reach for her fiancé’s hand and thank him. She’d found someone who truly made her happy. For her, he’d put his irritation aside.
Sounding as if he was repeating his question, Clay asked, “What’s in the journal?”
Lance shrugged. “Kenzi read more of it than I did.”
Kenzi’s expression turned apologetic. “I didn’t get through much.” She looked at Dax, her eyes glowing in a way that made Lance look away. “I’ve been busy.”
He turned his attention to his future brother-in-law. “Did you find anything, Dax?”
Although he didn’t answer, the look he gave Lance said, “Are you fucking serious?”
“What happened to all of us reading it?” Even as Lance voiced his complaint, he knew he couldn’t blame them. He hadn’t been able to get past the third page.
“I’ll look at it if you want,” Willa interjected. “I love to read.”
Lance’s eyes flew to hers. He was wise enough to know that sometimes life handed a person an opportunity. He wouldn’t have become successful in his career if he didn’t recognize and capitalize on them. “Perfect. It’s in my office. Why don’t I drop by your place tonight? We can look it over together.”
Willa opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. He could tell she wanted to retract her offer, but Kenzi was already thanking her. “No need to go out of your way. I can pick it up on my way to work tomorrow.” She turned to Clay. “Did you want me to start tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Clay said with a flash of a smile. “How about noon?”
“Noon? Really? Where should I meet you?” Willa asked, looking confused.
“At my hotel. You could come earlier, but I’ll still be in bed.” He winked.
That’s it. Lance’s hand clenched into fists. Between gritted teeth he said, “Since you’ll be consulting on my project, Clay, we should all meet at my office. I’ll go over the plans with you before we tour the proposed buildings.”
With a lift and drop of a shoulder, Clay answered in a bored tone, “Sounds tedious, but I did agree to help you.”
In the same authoritative voice he’d used earlier, Dax said, “You’ll need a base in Boston, Clay. I have several empty offices in my building. Conduct the rest of your business there.” His tone had a warning edge to it.
Clay agreed with an amused nod.
Lance looked back and forth between the two men. Did Dax know his friend was a douche? If so, why had he allowed Clay to offer her a job in the first place?
Kenzi was staring up at Dax with blatant adoration. He appeared just as smitten with her. It was a bit much to stomach.
Lance glanced at Willa and lost his train of thought when their eyes met. There was a spark of something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Desire? Excitement?
He couldn’t say or do much while they had an audience.
But they wouldn’t the next morning.
Chapter Six
The next morning, a half-dressed Willa stood in the hallway of her apartment, wavering between her bedroom and Lexi’s. Lexi hadn’t come home the night before, but she’d texted that she was staying at Tessa’s apartment. Willa had responded that she’d taken the job with Clay. Lexi had sent back a thumbs-up. It wasn’t a fulfilling exchange, but at least they were talking.
She hadn’t said anything about seeing Lance that morning. He was still too volatile a subject with them. It was killing Willa to not be able to ask Kenzi for her advice, either. Willa had other friends, but none as close. None she would call before work and ask something like this.
What do I wear on my first day of work at a job without a clear description? And to see Lance? I shouldn’t care what he thinks of how I look.
But I do.
She thought about the comment Clay had made about giving her a wardrobe budget and sighed. She headed into Lexi’s room. She does have excellent taste.
Willa tried on what looked like a simple blue dress. It was sleeveless and from the front it had a classic, demure neckline. Her eyes popped, however, when she spun and caught a glimpse of the back of the dress in the mirror. The material clung to her curves and the hemline was short, but not indecent. She frowned. The dip in the back of the dress, however, made underwear tricky. She stripped it off and tossed it on Lexi’s bed.
She chose a cream skirt and peach blouse next. The skirt fit her well, but the blouse showed too much cleavage and made Willa want to safety pin it closed. It certainly wasn’t appropriate for a work setting.
It would certainly get Lance’s attention.
Shaking her head, Willa took it off. I don’t want that.
Do I?
Her body tingled with the memory of how he’d looked at her the night before. She remembered that look—that hunger. A much younger Lance had looked at her the same way, and she’d spent years trying to forget where it had led.
Memories flooded back. She was eighteen again, standing before a mirror indecisively. She’d spent the most amazing day with Lance. He’d taken her out on his jet ski then stayed with her most of the day. They’d played volleyball, sat next to each other during lu
nch, and taken a long walk together. Willa remembered the first time he reached for her hand. A light exploded within her—a joy beyond what words could express.
Still in their bathing suits, they walked to the end of the beach and found themselves temporarily away from the others. For what felt like an eternity they simply stared into each other’s eyes. Desire clearly burned in Lance’s eyes, but something held him back.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Willa asked and held her breath while waiting for his answer.
“No, you?”
“No one.” She didn’t think being that happy was possible—at least not for her. The man she’d spent two years dreaming about was looking down at her as if he felt the same about her.
He cupped her face between his hands. “You’re so beautiful.”
In that moment Willa felt beautiful. She was also beyond choosing her words carefully. “You, too.”
His chuckle was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. His expression turned serious. “We shouldn’t do this. I told myself I wouldn’t. I’m a junior in college, Willa. You’re barely out of high school.”
Do what? Hold hands? Date? Be seen together? His comment stung. She pulled away from him. “If you don’t want to be with me, then don’t be with me.”
His expression turned tormented, and he pulled her into his arms. Their first kiss. It blew away anything she’d experienced before. It was bold, sexual, and an expression of his hunger for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arched against him, and gave herself over to how good kissing him felt. His hands ran over her, as demanding as his kiss and just as pleasurable. His bare chest was heaven beneath her hands. She’d dated boys in high school. A few of them had gotten overly excited from kissing, and she found their lack of control scary.
It wasn’t like that with Lance. Her brain spun as every nerve ending in her body was overwhelmed and pulsed a request for more—more Lance. She didn’t feel like a virgin. She felt like a woman drowning beneath wave after wave of her own desire. Kissing him felt as essential as air.
Trade It All (The Barrington Billionaires Book 3) Page 6