by Zara Chase
Sighing, Justine turned away from the woman, feeling unequal to facing such glamorous opposition. And, as she’d rightly feared, she was the opposition. She knew because a deep American voice rang out from the room behind the woman, thanking her for coming and saying he’d be in touch.
“I might as well have stayed and flirted with Cody,” she mumbled to herself. “It would have been a damned sight more fun.”
The woman spared Justine a pitying glance and left. Justine wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now. She stood in a draughty yet spacious entrance hall, but there was nowhere to sit and no one knew she was here. Perhaps she should go out and ring the doorbell this time. It was just that the door had been open and she’d assumed… What had she assumed? Well, that this was some sort of a business enterprise, she supposed, and there would be a receptionist at the very least.
Several minutes elapsed as Justine stood there, feeling conspicuous and unsure of herself. She could hear a murmured conversation coming from the room where the Yank was. Did he have another applicant ahead of Justine? She was starting to get annoyed now. She’d broken her neck, and Malcolm’s radiator hose, to get here, and now he was keeping her waiting.
“Okay,” she said, doing what she always did when she was nervous, and speaking aloud. “I’m going to make a more dramatic entrance.”
Before she could do so, that same voice boomed out again.
“Ms. Trent, come in please.”
“Oh hell, here goes.”
Fortunately, along with the lack of furniture, there were no mirrors for her to avoid looking in. Her confidence was at an all-time low, and she really didn’t need to make matters worse by confirming that she looked a wreck. She held her document case a little tighter. It contained little other than a copy of her résumé, but she thought it made her look professional. Throwing back her shoulders and reminding herself that she could do this, she entered the lion’s den.
The moment she stepped over the threshold she did a double take. Cody was ruggedly good-looking but was nothing compared to the Greek god who stood to greet her. A good six-two, she thought, with deep, intelligent eyes that appeared to be almost as black as his hair. Hell, she’d thought her American would be an aging tycoon who’d settled to a life of reclusive academia.
So much for that theory.
She realized she was gaping and pulled herself together. It was a moment before she saw the second person in the room, standing at Wendell’s shoulder, looking decided amused.
“Hello,” Cody said amiably. “We meet again.”
Chapter Two
“You!” Justine glared at Cody. “What are you doing here?”
Cody shrugged. “I live here, kinda.”
“But you said your name was Stowell.”
“This is my partner, Zac Wendell. Zac, meet Malcolm’s mom.”
“Malcolm?”
Zac scratched his head. He’d just listened to a garbled explanation of how Cody had rescued his last interviewee of the day and that she was quite something. He hadn’t said anything about her having a son called Malcolm. Not that he cared at that point if she had a dozen kids. He just couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. She appeared to be hot and bothered, hot being the operative word. The last woman he’d interviewed had been a real babe, and knew it. She had an impressive résumé and would probably be efficient at the job on offer. But Zac had known almost at once that he wouldn’t be able to work with her. Besides, she’d gotten that predatory look in her eye the moment she saw him. It was a look he’d seen way too often in the past, and it always spelt trouble.
Ms. Trent, on the other hand, was a few pounds overweight but carried it in all the right places. Her tits were definitely genuine, and she had legs that went on forever. She didn’t appear to know it, but she exuded sex appeal by the bucket load simply because she didn’t try to.
She wasn’t a knockout in the beauty stakes, but she had the sort of face that became more interesting the longer one looked at it. A light dusting of freckles joined up across her nose, along with the remnants of what looked like engine oil. Zac was filled with a fierce desire to wipe it away but disciplined himself to resist. Her hair was several different shades of dark blonde and, judging by the lack of dark roots, also genuine. A couple of long strands had escaped from the severe style she’d gone for, and she kept tucking them behind her ears. She had large hazel eyes—arguably her finest feature—and right now those eyes were fixed with displeasure on Cody.
Zac tried not to laugh as he continued to sum her up. Her clothes were good-quality designer knock-offs, but she wore expensive and highly impractical shoes. What was it about women and shoes? Her body was all hollows and curves, and Zac couldn’t help liking what he saw. He’d had more than his share of women who lived on rabbit food and revelled in being skin and bone. Females with character and a bit of substance to them ticked all his boxes, and his first impressions of Ms. Trent didn’t disappoint.
Cool it, Zac. She’s here for an interview, and that sure ain’t what you’re thinking about right now.
“You told me you didn’t know Mr. Wendell,” she said to Cody accusingly.
“No, I said I wasn’t him.”
“I’m him,” Zac said, tired of being treated as though he wasn’t there, and taking control by offering Justine his hand. “And you, I take it, are Cody’s good deed for the day.”
She shook his hand but still glowered at Cody. “You could have said you were his partner.”
“You didn’t exactly give me a chance, did you now.” Cody grinned at her. “You were in too much of a hurry to get here.”
“Even so.”
“And I got you here.” Cody’s grin broadened. “Right on time.”
“Malcolm’s my car,” she said to Zac, still not looking at him.
He raised both brows. “You give your car a name?”
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
Zac was highly amused. He’d already interviewed five women this morning. Bored with the way they’d all tried to impress him, it hadn’t left him in the best of moods. This one seemed more intent upon berating Cody, which was hardly the best way to get the job, but at least it gave Zac something to smile about. None of the applicants he’d seen today would suit. Why was it so fucking hard to get decent help in this country?
“Have a seat,” Zac said, plonking himself down behind his desk.
“Well, at least there’s somewhere to sit in here,” she said, finally turning her attention to him.
“We just moved in.”
He watched her as she glanced round his makeshift office. The rest of the place might still be a wreck, but his office was state-of-the-art. It had to be. It was his way of keeping in touch with his empire and was the first thing he established, no matter where he happened to be in the world.
Cody took a seat off to one side of Zac’s desk, crossed one foot over his opposite thigh, and grinned. He’d not wanted to get involved with any of the interviews but seemed ready enough to sit in on this one. Zac took a closer look at Justine Trent. If she’d impressed his hard-to-please partner then perhaps he shouldn’t dismiss her quite so readily.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Zac flicked through the résumé in front of him while Justine ran through her educational qualifications and employment history to date.
“You’re single and live alone.”
“Yes.”
She said nothing more, which was surprising. Most people wanted to talk about themselves. All of the previous five today certainly had.
“You left your last job about a month ago with nothing to move on to. It was a decent job, with responsibility and a high salary. Why did you give it up?”
Justine paused. “Do you want the official version or the truth?”
“The truth usually works best.”
“All right. I wouldn’t usually admit this, but since I’ve turned up looking like I’ve come out on the losing end of a fight with my car engi
ne, and given that I’ve seen a glimpse of the opposition—”
“The opposition?”
“I saw Miss Vogue stride out a moment ago.” She shrugged. “I have good reason to know that I can’t compete with that.”
“I haven’t given anyone the job.”
“Not yet,” she muttered, “but I know I’m not going to get it. Why would you employ me when you could have someone who looks like her? She’s probably even good at what she does.”
Zac suppressed a chuckle. Feisty didn’t come close to describing this one, and it was a refreshing change. “Are you planning to get to the point any time soon?” he asked.
“The point is, I left my last job in a hurry because I was in a relationship with my boss. We were supposed to be getting engaged, but he dumped me for someone who looked like—”
“Like the woman who just left?” Cody suggested gently.
Ah, so now I get it.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!”
“I wasn’t,” Cody said quietly. “I was thinking that your ex-boss must be a bit of a jerk, is all.”
“Thank you.” Justine paused. “I think.”
“So London isn’t big enough for you and the jerk,” Zac said. “Is that why you want to work out here in the sticks?”
“I just thought a clean break.” She shrugged. “A fresh start somewhere else, and the job sounded intriguing.”
“You don’t know anything about the job,” Zac pointed out. “I was deliberately vague.”
“Sorry, I forgot I’m not suitable and slipped back into interview speak for a moment there.” She offered him a rueful grin. “Just as a matter of interest, what is the job? What would I be researching if I looked like Miss Vogue?”
Zac disciplined himself not to smile and answered her question with one of his own. “How would you go about finding a missing person?” he asked.
“Does the person wish to be found?”
Zac and Cody shared a glance. Zac had asked every single applicant the same question this morning, and predictably, they’d all said that they’d start with the police. Like he’d need help finding someone if it was that easy.
“The person doesn’t know anyone’s looking for them and, far as I know, isn’t trying to remain hidden.”
Justine seemed impatient, as though the question was dumb. “Then it must be pretty easy. If they’re still alive, in this country, and have a national insurance number… But presumably you’ve already gone down that route.” She leaned forward, warming to her theme. “I’ve never done anything like this, but I enjoy challenges. Let me see.” She absently plucked her lower lip with her forefinger as she thought about it. Leaning forward as she was, she also gave him an up-close glimpse of her impressive cleavage. Zac, enjoying the view, willed her to take her time with her cogitations. “The person must have changed their name. I know!” She sat upright, ruining his view, and smiled triumphantly. “If they’ve changed their name legally by deed poll, then there would be a record.”
Once again her ability to think on her feet surprised Zac. The possibility of the mother he never knew changing her name legally hadn’t occurred to him. He’d just supposed that she’d gotten married after she dumped him and disappeared. His initial efforts to find her through that means had come to nothing. Not that he’d had the time or inclination to do much trying, which was one of the reasons why he needed a decent researcher.
He could have employed a private detective, but he didn’t want to do that. He was a wealthy man and didn’t easily trust other people, mostly because he’d never been given any reason to. Strangers almost always had an angle that focused on his money, supposing that he’d amassed it at such an early age through stupidity and could easily be parted from it. It sometimes took a while and always irritated him immensely before they realized the errors of their ways.
“What do you know about my business operation?” he asked in a deliberate attempt to change the subject. She would shine here, just like all the rest of them today.
“You’re American, obviously, and have a development company. Offices, apartment blocks, stuff like that. You’ve made a name for yourself doing that sort of thing well in the Southern States. As to your involvement in the UK, I have absolutely no idea.” She lifted her shoulders. “Presumably you’ve bought this house and intend to do something with it. A hotel, perhaps, or make it into apartments. For you it will be small time, putting a toe in the British waters, if you like.” She leaned forward again and met his eye, presumably relaxed because she didn’t think she’d get the job. “I only got word this morning that you wished to interview me so didn’t have time to do anything other than the most rudimentary Internet search, which didn’t tell me very much at all.”
Zac glanced at Cody, who nodded just once. Good. He and his buddy were thinking alike, as usual. They were both sufficiently impressed with Justine to tell her a little more—something he hadn’t done with any of the other applicants.
“This house belonged to my maternal grandmother. I didn’t know her, didn’t even know of her existence until after her death when her lawyers contacted me about the inheritance.”
“I think that’s really sad,” Justine said, genuine sympathy in her tone. “I loved my grandparents. Both sets are dead now, but I relish the memories I still carry of happy times spent with them.”
“Yeah, well, what you’ve never had you never miss.”
“Didn’t your parents ever talk about them?”
“I was brought up in care.” Zac glowered as he thought of those miserable times. “I never knew either of my parents. I didn’t even know the woman who bore me was British until a few weeks ago.”
“Wait a minute.” Justine frowned. “You find out that you had a grandmother who knew all about you but never contacted you. Now you move in here and want to hire a research assistant to find someone. That someone must be your mother. You’ve found out she’s alive and are curious about her.”
Zac quirked a brow. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“I’d be all over it.”
“Well, there you are then. Cody and I were at college together. We’ve worked in partnership ever since, and he’s as curious as I am to know why this woman abandoned me.”
“Like I have a choice.” Cody grinned good-naturedly. “Zac here is the boss. He pretends we’re equal partners, but we both know I’m a very humble second fiddle.”
“Many a good tune’s played on a… Whoops!” Justine slapped a hand across her mouth, but a grin still crept round its edges. “Sorry.”
Zac and Cody shared another glance, both thinking the same thing. They never mixed business with pleasure, but if he gave Justine the job, they’d be hard pushed not to make an exception. Cody had come bounding in through the side door just before his last, perfectly suitable candidate left, full of the woman he’d just recused from the roadside. Perfect for the job were his exact words, and Zac could already see why. Her quick mind, candour, and sheer irreverence were as unexpected as they were welcome.
“What will you do when you find her?” Justine asked.
Zac shrugged. “Depends what I find.”
“Yes, I suppose it would. It’s a real mystery. I do love mysteries. Where do you plan to have your new assistant start looking?”
“There are stacks of letters and stuff in the loft here. Seems Mrs. Everton—”
“Mrs. Everton?”
“My grandmother, but I can’t bring myself to call her that. At least not yet.”
“Understandable.”
“Anyway, it seems Mrs. Everton didn’t throw anything away. I figure there has to be clues up there, but I don’t have the time—”
“Or the emotional stability,” Cody added.
He glowered at his partner. “Yeah, or that, to start looking.”
“What do you plan to do with this house?”
“I dunno yet. Restore it, obviously, and maybe even live in it for a while. I’m looking to start some developments on t
his side of the pond, which will keep Cody and me busy. That’s another reason why I can’t start the search.”
“So whoever you employ will really just be looking for a missing person and putting your grandmother’s life into perspective.”
Zac began to wonder who was interviewing whom. She was asking more questions than he was. “Probably not challenging enough for you.”
“We both know you’re not going to employ me, Mr. Wendell, so let’s not pretend. It was just an observation.”
“It’s Zac,” he said, making up his mind, “and when can you start?”
Chapter Three
Justine simply gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Never more so.”
He grinned at her then. It was the first time he’d smiled properly since she’d walked into his makeshift office, bedraggled and the antithesis of Miss Vogue. The gesture sucked the air clean out of Justine’s lungs. He was one hell of a hunk with a lethal combination of money, power, and intelligence that was one huge turn-on. Justine had a real thing for the broody type. No wonder he didn’t trust people readily. He was every woman’s fantasy, every man’s role model and, she imagined, the target for just about anyone of either sex wanting a piece of him. He probably invoked ambition and envy in equal measure. He’d sure as hell gotten her attention.
“Okay,” she said, not willing to concede without a fight. “What’s the catch?”
Zac shook his head. “Are you always so suspicious?”
“Doesn’t sound like she’s been given much reason to react any other way recently,” Cody remarked.
Justine latched onto that and pointed at Cody. “What he said.”
“Right, here’s the deal.” Zac stood up then perched one buttock on the side of his desk, half turned away from her. “The noise you can hear above you is builders installing heating and doing up some of the bedrooms.”