Sex, Lies and the CEO

by Barbara Dunlop

  “We can do it right now,” said Shane. “We’ll go to the mansion this very minute, look through it before I have a chance to tamper with the records room.”

  It seemed too good to be true.

  “Why would you do that?” she asked with suspicion.

  “Because I’m not a liar.” He reached out to her.

  She quickly backed away. “Don’t.”

  He let his hand drop and asked, “Why couldn’t you have been what you seemed?”

  Her chest went tight with remorse.

  “Why can’t any woman be what she seems?” he asked under his breath.

  She blinked hard, battling her misery, turning away to find the rest of her belongings.

  Nine

  The wine cellar turned out to be the most convenient space to go through the records. It wouldn’t have been Shane’s first choice. It brought back too many memories of that first evening with Darci. But it was close to the records room, had comfortable chairs and a big table, where Darci was already sorting pages into piles.

  On the phone with Justin, Shane stopped just inside the cellar, standing to one side while Ben unloaded another ten boxes from the trolley.

  “From a legal standpoint,” said Justin, “there’s no severance required if the layoffs are due to a lack of work. You only need two weeks’ notice.”

  “I don’t want layoffs at all.” Clearly Shane wasn’t making his point. “Can we not redeploy employees?”

  “To where?”

  “I came up with an idea,” said Shane. “Accounting and operations say that if the Gobrecht contract is gone, we have a one-year gap where we only require fifty percent staffing levels.”

  “Hence, the need for layoffs.”

  Shane pulled out a chair at the far end of the table from Darci. “I’m putting together a scenario where we build forty jets for the private market, a scaled-down version of the Aware 200. With the rise in Asian economies, that segment of the market is growing. We can offer competitive fuel economy with a higher top speed, perfect for transpacific travel.”

  “You have buyers already?”

  “On spec.”

  There was a brief pause. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t have heard that right. You said on spec?”

  “Yes.” Shane knew it was a financial risk, but it was a calculated financial risk.

  “Forty jets on spec?”

  “I think you heard me the first two times.”

  “You’ll bankrupt the company.”

  “Calm down. I’m not going to bankrupt us.”

  Darci glanced up.

  Shane gave a reflexive smile before he remembered he was royally ticked off at her. He glanced away but was still hyperaware of her presence.

  “You can’t do that Shane.”

  “We’re running the numbers now. Yes, it’ll be expensive.”

  “That’s an understatement. Who in their right mind would finance it?”

  “We’ve got plenty of collateral.”

  “You’re not actually saying this. We are not having this conversation.”

  “Justin—”

  “No, Shane. I can’t let you do it. If half your people get laid off, they get laid off. That’s how it works in the real world. Hopefully, new contracts come, and you hire them back. But if you gamble and lose, there’s no company to hire them back into, and everybody else loses their jobs, as well. You’re not doing them any favors, Shane.”

  “I am if we sell the private jets. They’ll take two years to build. We can probably sell some while they’re in production, and the rest will be shipment ready.” Shane could feel Darci’s gaze on him again.

  “And if you don’t?” asked Justin.

  “We will.”

  “This isn’t how you run a business.”

  “It’s how I run a business. We’ll beef up the sales team, put our R & D section to work. The Colborn engine will be the cornerstone, saving clients’ time and fuel costs. But we can also incorporate technology into the cabins, connectivity, full-office functionality in the seats, more comfortable sleeping options, better galley space.” Comfort and convenience were the way of the future.

  “It’s a brand-new market for you.”

  “Tuck and Dixon have helped me see the light.” An inspiration hit him. “Dixon will help our sales force get started. The man’s got connections all over the world. There are more people like me out there, Justin, people who’ve never considered a private jet and don’t know what they’re missing.”

  Darci made an inarticulate sound. It could have been a cough, or it could have been a laugh.

  Shane couldn’t stop himself from looking at her.

  Her brows were raised in obvious incredulity.

  He covered the phone. “There are plenty of corporations who can afford a jet.”

  “Plenty,” she mocked.

  “You’re going to roll the dice,” said Justin.

  “I’m not going to lay off eight hundred workers. It’s in our interest to keep them. Some of them have very specific skill sets.”

  “Let me go over your corporate structure.”

  “Sure.”

  “We can at least protect the mansion.”

  Shane chuckled. “If I lose Colborn, I won’t be able to afford the mansion.”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  “Who’s laughing?”

  “You are.”

  “Fair point,” said Shane.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “Not tonight.” Then Shane rethought that position. “On second thought, do come over tonight.”

  He could use the moral support, and he could use the distraction. Because it didn’t seem to matter that Darci had lied to him, betrayed him and was going after Colborn, she still looked gorgeous, sitting here in the wine cellar, meticulously reading through paper after paper. In his eyes, she was still the sexiest woman alive, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by making a pass at her.

  “I’ll be there in an hour.” Justin signed off.

  Shane pocketed his phone.

  For a few minutes, Darci silently sorted papers.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine.”

  He rose. “Well, I’m thirsty.” He wasn’t about to sit down here craving a drink.

  “Is your new strategy because of the Beaumont contract?” she asked.

  “Not entirely.” He decided to go for something French. “Beaumont is still in play, but without Gobrecht, we’ll have to shut down one of our production facilities. I want to repurpose it to make smaller jets aimed at the private market.”

  “You can’t find a replacement contract?”

  “Not fast enough.” He drew out a bottle. “And I really liked the private jet.”

  “Imagine that.”

  He gave an involuntary smile. “Not just from a luxury perspective, though that was top-notch. The Colborn engine can offer time and fuel savings, and we’ll meet, if not better, the cabin comforts of other manufacturers.”

  “Is this because you want a private jet?”

  “That’s where it started. The first one definitely goes to me.”

  He decided against the Beaujolais and moved on.

  “You could just build the one.”

  He shook his head, moving along the racks. “Not remotely cost effective.”

  “You could buy one from another company.”

  “I could. But then eight hundred workers won’t have jobs.”

  She continued sorting while he checked out a dusty bottle of Bordeaux.

  “Just how risky is this?” she asked.

  “Are you asking for youself?”

  She looked puzzled.


  “You’re worried about your theoretical, prospective financial windfall?”

  There was a beat before she answered. “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

  “The risk is pretty huge. But, you know what? I’ve never put my stamp on this company. My dad conceived and built it, and I’ve pretty much been the caretaker since he died.”

  “Does that bother you?” she asked, her tone more curious than cutting.

  “I wouldn’t have said so yesterday. But I think it does.” He brushed the dust off another label.

  “Did you have a good relationship with your father?”

  “It was fine. You probably don’t want to hear that, since he’s the villain in your little scenario.”

  “My little scenario? Otherwise known as the truth?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “We weren’t best buddies or anything. He was serious and hardworking. We had a shared interest in aerospace, and he taught me most of what I know about business.”

  “Would he save eight hundred jobs?”

  Shane doubted it. “There’s no way to know.”

  “I think you do know.” Her gaze was perceptive enough to be disconcerting.

  “All I know is that I’m going to try.”

  “You’re not your father.”

  “You never met my father.”

  She seemed to realize she’d stopped sorting through the files. She turned her attention to the box in front of her.

  “Find anything damning?” he asked.

  “I’m on box one of fifty.”

  He looked at the label of the bottle in his hand. It was Chateau Marcess, one of his father’s particular favorites.

  He was struck by the irony but carried the bottle to the tasting table anyway. While Darci stayed focused on the files, he popped the cork and poured two glasses of the Bordeaux.

  “Tell me about your father,” he said, taking the chair around the corner from her and sliding a glass her way.

  “He was great,” she responded without looking up.

  “Great?”

  “Yes.”

  Shane swirled the wine in the glass to help aerate the wine, then took a first sip. “What was great about him?”

  She leaned forward to place a paper on one of about ten stacks she had going. “These files are a mess.”

  “They’re forty years old.”

  “Nobody knew the alphabet back then?”

  Something seemed to catch her eye. As she lifted the page, Shane realized it was a photograph. She angled it to catch the light and stared.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “My dad. And I’m guessing yours, too.” She handed the photo over to him.

  The two men stood in front of a cinder block warehouse with a distinctive, powder blue garage-type door. Shane recognized it as the D&I facility. They were arm in arm, goofy grins on their faces. They must have only been in their early twenties, and their long hair looked ridiculous.

  “Simpler times,” said Shane.

  “They look really happy.” Darci absently lifted her glass of wine and took a drink.

  “They were.”

  “Do you know what happened between them?” she asked.

  He didn’t know much. “Your mom left. Your dad got depressed and lost interest in working. So they shut down the company.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Is that how you heard it?”

  “How did you hear it?”

  It took her a minute to answer. “I didn’t. At least, nothing specific until I found a letter he’d written but never mailed. While I was growing up, my dad would rant whenever he came across the Colborn name. To him, Dalton was the devil incarnate.”

  “Sour grapes?” asked Shane.

  “Victim of betrayal,” she responded and went back to sorting records.

  Shane lifted another file box onto the table and flipped open the lid.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Searching for evidence.”

  Her expression faltered.

  “It’s a double-edged sword,” he said. “There’s an equal chance that what’s in these boxes will disprove your theory as prove it.”

  “No, there’s not,” she said.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I admire your confidence.”

  “I know my father. My mother leaving didn’t make him depressed. It was your father’s betrayal that did that.”

  “You never told me why he was great.”

  “You don’t care. You don’t really want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She looked him square in the eye. “Why?”

  “Because he inspired your loyalty.”

  “He was my father.”

  “It’s beyond that. You’ve embarked on a life of crime. You lied. You stole. You slept with me.”

  “I didn’t steal anything.”

  “You were trying.”

  She didn’t seem to have an answer to that. But she did take another sip of wine.

  “What kind of man inspires a woman to take such enormous risks?”

  Even as he asked, Shane realized he barely knew Darci. And what he did know about her was entirely fabricated.

  “He raised me,” she said. “My mother walked out, and he didn’t. He might not have had a lot of money, but he made sure I had clothes and food and a roof over my head. He read to me at night, and stood in the cold while I skated. He might have even been battling depression, but he stuck it out to take care of me.”

  “Where did you grow up?” Shane felt a twist of guilt over their vastly different upbringings. Not that it was his fault, or his father’s fault, for that matter.

  “The South Side. The neighborhood wasn’t bad, mostly single-parent families.” She pursed her lips in defiance.

  “I’m sure it was fine.”

  “No private school and rowing team.”

  “You got into Columbia. Or was that a lie, too?”

  “It wasn’t a lie.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

  He lifted his brow. “Really?”

  “I only lied where I had to lie. And even then it was for the greater good.”

  “The greater good being money?”

  “The greater good being justice and the restoration of my father’s professional name.”

  “And money. You do know this would mean a whole lot of money.”

  She went back to sorting. “I don’t care about that.”

  “Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

  “Listen, Shane.” She knocked the side of her fist against the solid tabletop. “If there’s any money coming to my family, it was earned and justified. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  “You’ve got a big family to share it with, do you?”

  She glared at him.

  He couldn’t bring himself to believe she was a con artist, but he also couldn’t let his personal feelings color his judgment. The woman had lied to him from minute one. She was definitely trying to get her hooks into Colborn Aerospace. And he couldn’t let her big green eyes, pouty lips and those perfect breasts make him stupid.

  * * *

  Darci knew Shane didn’t trust her. That was fine. He didn’t need to trust her. He only needed to let her keep looking through the company records.

  She wished he’d leave her alone to do just that. Having him in the wine cellar with her was an incessant reminder of what could never be. Jennifer had been right all along. This was the only way it could ever end.

  Darci had known sleeping with him was fraught with risk. But she hadn’t expected all-out heartache. She hadn’t expected to feel this desolate when it all came to a
close. It had only been a few hours, and already she missed every little thing about him.

  Justin appeared in the doorway of the wine cellar, his attention instantly zeroing in on the files and the boxes.

  “What the—?” he asked, his gaze shooting to Shane, then to Darci, then back again.

  “Hi, Justin,” said Shane.

  She arched a brow at Shane. “He didn’t know I was here?”

  “Why would he know you were here?”

  “What is going on?” Justin demanded.

  “We’re looking through the historical files,” said Shane.

  “Have you lost your mind? I mean, more than once today? Did I not tell you she was Darci Rivers?”

  “You did.”

  “Her father was a paranoid lunatic.”

  “Excuse me?” said Darci.

  Justin ignored her. “She’s been lying to you for weeks. You’re giving her access to the original files? Who knows what she’ll do. She could destroy something, or plant something.”

  Shane looked at her. “Darci, are you going to plant fake documents in the Colborn files?”

  “Do you want to search my purse?” she asked. “Maybe put me up against the wall and frisk me?”

  His pupils dilated, and his nostrils flared.

  It was a stupid, inflammatory thing to say, but she didn’t care.

  “She didn’t say no,” Justin pointed out.

  “No,” said Darci. “I’m not planting anything in the files. I’m looking for the truth. That’s all I’ve ever been doing.”

  “The truth is your father was either a liar or delusional.”

  “Justin,” Shane warned. “There’s no point in bickering our way through fifty boxes of files.”

  “You’d be foolish to leave her alone with them,” warned Justin.

  “I’m not leaving you two alone with them, either,” she responded.

  If they hadn’t already destroyed her father’s evidence, she sure wasn’t giving them a shot at it now.

  Justin gave a laugh of disbelief, obviously questioning her power to do anything about it.

  But she did have power. She folded her arms across her chest. “How would you feel about a brand-new tell-all book written by the daughter of the man Colborn Aerospace defrauded?”

  “That’s absurd,” said Justin. “We’d sue you for libel. Your ass would be inside a courtroom so fast.”