by Nalini Singh
Sailor kept his expression strictly neutral. Not only was he obsessed with a curvy bit of trouble who'd played him for a fool, he needed his head fully in the game this morning. The meeting with Jacqueline Rain could turbocharge his entire business plan, and Sailor had no intention of fucking it up.
Shoulders squared and the heat of battle in his blood, he followed Ginny to her boss's office. It involved going a quarter of the way across the huge open space dotted with seating arrangements around tables set up with crafting sets, and what looked to be casual meeting areas bordered by potted plants.
Reaching a set of glass doors smoked just enough to blur what lay beyond, Ginny flashed her employee card over the scanner. When the doors slid open on a quiet swoosh, it was to reveal a craftless corporate setup that looked like it might be the domain of an executive assistant.
No candy pink or lime green here--the carpet was an elegant gray and the walls a soothing off-white. The color came from the large expressionist painting on one wall that burst with pigment without being overwhelming. The only pieces of furniture were a large glass desk decorated with a live white orchid in excellent shape and the sleek ergonomic chair behind it.
No one sat at the desk, but the computer was humming and a mug of coffee stood beside it as if the assistant had stepped away for a moment to do another task. Annalisa Rhymes, that was her name. He'd spoken to her when he called for Jacqueline.
And now here he was: the moment of truth.
Balls to the wall.
Knocking on the partially open door beyond the executive assistant's desk, Ginny poked her head inside. "Ms. Rain, Mr. Bishop is here."
She must've gotten a nod from within because a second later, she pushed the door all the way open. "Please go in."
"Thank you." Entering--and very conscious of Ginny leaving the door open in a not-so-subtle sign that his time with Jacqueline was limited--Sailor found himself approaching a heavy oak desk behind which sat an impressive woman with hair of darkest auburn. He'd seen her photo, but in person she reminded him forcefully of his cute, lying redhead; it wasn't just the color of her hair but the structure of her face along with an indefinable sense of presence.
He'd half expected her to stay seated, a little power play, but Jacqueline Rain was classier than that. She rose and held out a slim but in no way fragile hand. "Mr. Bishop."
Extending his own hand while forcefully wrenching his mind off the pleasurable memories that couldn't be permitted to fuck up this chance, he said, "Thank you for agreeing to see me. I'm aware you're busy, so I'll keep this quick."
Jacqueline raised a perfectly curved eyebrow and, retaking her seat, waved him into the chair across from her, the sprawl of aged and very expensive wood between them. "I'm listening."
It looked as if his attempt to deflect her brush-off was working, but he knew he had to hold her interest. Jacqueline Rain hadn't survived this long in business by being a slow decision-maker. He had three minutes at most before she cut him off. He had to make those minutes count.
As he'd made the most of his time in the water with a certain naked redhead.
Opening his presentation folder with a firm mental slap directed at his misbehaving brain, Sailor nonetheless didn't immediately set out the visuals he'd created using crappy old software on an equally crappy laptop. It still worked, and if he got his job, he could afford an upgrade.
"I know Crafty Corners is launching a new business," he began. "Fresh, organic, fully handmade fast food, with a customizable menu."
It had seemed like a strange concept when he'd first spotted a report about it in the business pages, but the more he'd read up on it, the more he'd realized that it was a genius move once you factored in the demographics of the areas in which the fast-food restaurants were to be based.
"That's hardly a secret," Jacqueline said with a well-known coolness. "And, quite frankly, Mr. Bishop, I fail to see what it has to do with a landscaping company. Your initial pitch intrigued me enough to agree to a meeting, but on further reflection, I see no point in expanding our landscape budget on the project."
Sailor didn't back down or flinch.
"As I walked in here," he said, "I saw a number of your employees working on craft projects. Clearly that's designed to hammer home your Craft Is Family motto."
Jacqueline leaned back in the black leather of her executive chair. "Go on."
"But," he said, "look at the sites you've chosen for your initial three Fast Organic outlets." He laid out the images in front of her, images he'd printed off the web. "Here's the parking lot out front." He pointed out on the first site, then tapped the same on the others.
Jacqueline's eyes cooled further. "I'm quite sure I can recognize a parking lot."
"So will your customers." Sailor had been raised by a strong woman, knew how to stand his ground. "But these particular customers are going to be paying ten dollars for a wheatgrass shot. And thirty dollars for a tofu burger on organic rye baked that morning."
He didn't let it throw him when Jacqueline picked up her phone and began to scan through it; he knew he was talking sense, and he also knew that if she wanted him gone, she'd have told him the meeting was over.
"There's a high chance at least a quarter will be driving eco-cars that require charging stations," he said. "These are people who will analyze the site's entire look to see if it fits with their worldview--if they want to be caught dining there or carrying a take-out bag from it. And they have the money to stay or go."
Putting aside the phone, Jacqueline leaned forward with her arms folded on her desk. "You have my attention now, Mr. Bishop."
Sailor didn't make the mistake of believing the deal was anywhere near done. "It's all about perception," he said. "With the Crafty Corners sites, the crafts themselves are the landscaping." Each store was fronted by a whole bunch of jumbo-sized craft items that drew the eye. "Fast Organic needs the same type of tailored approach. Everything must give the impression of health and green and a commitment to the earth."
He brought out a sketch. "Here's my first concept," he said. "Partially grassed-in parking spots, including two with charging stations, the entire area edged in living green walls. A water feature here, depending on the budget." He indicated the spot on the sketch. "A small external seating area so that customers downing your thirty-dollar tofu burgers will feel as if they've also bought access to a refreshing piece of paradise in the middle of the city."
"Show me more," Jacqueline said, and it was an order.
Giving her a quiet smile, Sailor leaned back in his chair. "Not until we come to an agreement," he said, putting a touch of steel in his own tone. "I'm not about to show you everything I've got without getting something in return." Jacqueline Rain was a ruthless businesswoman whom Sailor admired but knew not to underestimate.
Piercing green eyes narrowed. "Or I could throw you out right now and pick up the phone to hire a much bigger company. I'm sure they'd come up with fantastic ideas based on the general concept."
Sailor shrugged. "True, but are you sure you want to go with a settled enterprise when you can hire me and spin it in the media as all part of Fast Organic's commitment to small businesses--like the mom-and-pop organic suppliers you intend to use? Also, a bigger company will probably charge you three times as much."
Another raised eyebrow. "While you're willing to do it for pennies?"
"Not so low." Sailor had his own financial realities, and he knew exactly how far he could push things. "But I am willing to do it for a lot less than an established company, because if I get this project, my work will be front and center at all the Fast Organic stores." The openings would unquestionably be covered widely in the business and foodie media. "That's worth taking a hit on the profit margin."
A smile curved Jacqueline's lips. "I like you," she said, tapping a manicured and polished finger on the oak. "Store one opens in two months. You get that up and running in time and do a good job of it, then we talk about the other two."
&
nbsp; Sailor didn't grab at the offer. "Three stores or no deal," he said. "I'm going to be doing this for very little margin. I need at least three to make enough of a profit that I can pay my workers." He didn't have any workers aside from his brothers right now--and they worked for free--but Jacqueline didn't need to know that.
"I need to see a breakdown." Jacqueline's tone made it clear that was nonnegotiable.
Slipping out a piece of paper from his file, Sailor pushed it across.
Jacqueline scanned it, said, "You can really do it on this budget?"
"I can do an even better job if you give me a higher plant budget," he said honestly. "It depends how high-end you want to go. What I've quoted is nice but not expensive. You want a more exclusive feel, really hit your target market, you'll need a bigger budget." He ran through a few specifics to give her an idea.
Jacqueline made a couple of notations on his quote before handing it back to him.
He saw that though she'd extended his supply budget, she'd cut his profit margin in half. Shaking his head, he said, "Look, I need this job, but it's pointless if it's going to put me out of business." He held her gaze.
She held his gaze as well, judging him, assessing him...
Her smile was sharp, unexpected... and it reminded him all over again of his runaway redhead. Taking back the quote sheet while he struggled to corral his thoughts, she returned his original profit margin. "All right," she said, "three stores."
Sailor didn't allow himself to celebrate. "We should sign a contract."
Jacqueline laughed even as she pressed the intercom on her desk. "I really do like you," she said, before instructing Annalisa to organize a contract from a contractor template they had on file. "Enter these changes. Also, I need finance up here in ten."
While she went over the specifics--which he planned to inspect with a fine-tooth comb--Sailor scanned the office to get a better bead on the woman with whom he was dealing.
The wall to her back and left held the most personal items.
Framed awards that the business had won, a few photos with notable people, including the current prime minister. However, what caught his eye and sent his heart thumping was a small grouping of images set toward the center. In particular, the image of a woman with skin of moonlight and hair of a red so vibrant, he knew only one woman who possessed it.
"Your family?" he said to Jacqueline when she finished talking to her assistant. He took care to keep his voice even, though the light of battle was sparking in his gut.
Following his gaze, Jacqueline nodded. "Yes. Now, let's hammer out certain details."
By the time Sailor left the office forty-five minutes later, he had a signed contract in hand and Jacqueline had already ordered her finance department to pay his invoices as they came in. Though, of course Fast Organic would be keeping a close eye on his spending.
"We'll be assigning you a point person," Jacqueline had told him. "They'll have the authority to make future calls on the finance front." A pause. "You're a new contractor for us, so you'll be under extra scrutiny."
"Understood."
Flushed with success as he left Jacqueline's office, Sailor was already mentally rearranging his schedule to carve out time to begin the project today. But, underneath that, he was thinking about furlined handcuffs.
His lips curved, satisfaction unfurling in his gut.
His spitfire thought she'd kissed him, seduced him, then made a clean getaway, but now he knew how to track her down. Of course, she was also the boss's daughter, and he really shouldn't be thinking about messing with her.
That was when fate laughed.
13
Sharp Kitten Heels and Fur-Lined Handcuffs
ISA COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT HER mother had done.
So angry that she could burst, she barely managed to say hello to James and Lana. She knew them, of course; she knew everyone who worked for Crafty Corners, the business having one of the best retention rates in the industry. Because she did--and because they had nothing to do with Jacqueline's latest chess move--she made an effort to be polite even though she wanted to kick the desk.
Today was the icing on top of the hideous cake that had been her Saturday night. A night she'd run through her mind over and over again as she stared at Sailor's number. She'd almost pushed it a thousand times, almost called him just so she could yell at him for having awful taste in friends.
How was she supposed to let down her guard around a man who liked Cody?
A man who'd seen what Cody had done to her and still called him a friend.
That infuriated her the most.
But at this instant, it wasn't Sailor who was the focus of her temper.
"She's got someone with her." James physically got in her way, having clearly read her mood and figured out where she was headed.
He wasn't a big man, and Isa was pretty sure she could take him, but she reminded herself that James wasn't responsible for this, that it was Jacqueline who deserved to be at the other end of Isa's volcanic rage.
"Not one of us," James added with a mischievous cast to his expression. "Possible contractor, Ginny thinks. Gorgeous as hell, killer blue eyes."
Isa hated gorgeous men right now. Especially ones with blue eyes.
Fisting her hand by her side, the cotton of her floral summer dress brushing against her knuckles, she said, "I'll go up and wait" through teeth it took her conscious effort not to grit. "It won't take me long to say what I have to say."
Running up the steps before James could find a way to delay her any further to give her temper a chance to cool--Isa did not want a cool head right now--she was mentally eviscerating her mother when she took a step up and almost crashed into a big man in a dark gray suit, his shirt a vivid blue.
"I'm so sorry," she began... and then the hot, masculine scent of him punched into her system and her eyes met his.
Blue, so very blue. "Hello, little rabbit."
Her heart stuttered, her entire body motionless. So convinced was she that she was hallucinating that she reached out and poked him in the chest. "You're real," she said, her brain struggling to shift gears.
Eyes glinting dangerously, he grabbed hold of her wrist, the grip steely. "Just as real as I was when you were wrapped around me, all slippery wet and naked." He smelled like soap and aftershave today, but below that was a raw earthiness that was just him.
Her lips parted, her skin flushed, and--
An elevator dinged in the distance.
Isa's brain came to a screeching halt, the gear set firmly on FURY. "What," she said in a tone as frigid as she could make it despite the erotic heat low in her belly, "are you doing here?" The only mercy was that this part of the staircase was hidden from view by the curve of the wall. Two steps in either direction and they'd be back in public view.
"Had a meeting with your mother," said the a six-foot-plus symbol of Isa's terrible instincts. "Landscaping contract." A tug on her wrist. "But we have something else to discuss, Ms. I'll Call You When I Get Home." He actually had the nerve to sound as if she was the one in the wrong.
Isa gave in. She kicked him right in the shin with the pointy tip of her kitten-heeled shoe.
Wincing, he glared at her. "I bought handcuffs especially for you. Obviously I need to get leg cuffs too." He'd backed her up against the wall before she realized what he was doing.
Too furious to worry about someone coming up or down the stairs, she narrowed her eyes. "How's Cody?"
His expression turned to granite. "What Cody did that night," he said, proving he remembered the entire ugly incident, "was an asshole thing to do, but then that's who he is. Someone needs to teach him a lesson."
"Right"--Isa barely resisted the urge to kick his other shin--"as if you two aren't creepy best buds."
"Spitfire, I was a sixteen-year-old kid who managed to get into a college party." He pressed his weight into her body, as if reading her violent thoughts on her face. "Cody was just some guy."
Wait, what? Six
teen?
"How old are you?" she said through a bone-dry throat.
A wicked grin. "Younger than you. You be my cougar, I'll be your boy toy."
She was going to strangle him, honest to God. Now he was playing with her, as if everything was hunky dory. "Are you seriously asking me to believe you two aren't buddies now? I saw a photo of you at a rugby game."
A blank look. "We play for different clubs. I was probably saying thanks for the game. Doesn't mean I can stand the guy. My parents brought me up to be a good sportsman."
Isa wasn't ready to let go of her fury. "Right," she said in a tone that called him a liar. "That's why you didn't mention that night when we first met."
Thunderclouds across his face. "I didn't make the connection then," he said, his voice ominous. "And as for that..." He gripped his chin, rubbed in mock thoughtfulness. "I do believe I was innocently going about my work when a certain redhead decided to use me to scratch an itch. She didn't seem interested in introductions or talking."
He refused to let her break the demanding eye contact.
"You weren't innocently working," Isa said desperately because he'd just smashed her defenses to pieces. "You were doing a striptease!"
Pressing his forehead to hers, Sailor ran the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. "Are you saying I set you up by taking off my shirt? That you were rendered helpless by my manly physique? If so..." A slow smile. "I'll take it."
He smelled far too good, and she was losing the thread of why she'd been so furious with him. "You really don't stay in touch with Cody?" she found herself saying.
"He's not my kind." Open disgust in his words. "Can't avoid the guy totally though since he plays rugby in the same social league as me."
It was no surprise that this strong, physical man would play a game that involved bruising tackles and hard runs.
A strong, physical man who was twenty-freaking-three!
Isa wasn't into robbing the cradle. Or following her father's example into multiple marriages with increasingly youthful lovers. "I have to go. If you could please get out of my way, I need to speak to Jacqueline before her next appointment arrives."
He didn't move so much as an inch, his body a heated wall of muscle that taunted her. "That's it? You just use me and discard me?"