by Nicola Marsh
Her struggles soon ceased, replaced by the soft moans he recognized, and he eased his mouth off hers.
“You done fighting?”
She glared at him through passion-hazed eyes. “We can’t do this.”
“Sure we can.” He lifted his hips, deliberately pressing his hard cock into her. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
She took an eternity to answer as he silently prayed he hadn’t pushed her too far. He’d been the one to instigate this relationship from the beginning, had sweet-talked his way beneath her defenses and bombarded her until she couldn’t say no.
He’d thought she liked it that way, thought she’d enjoyed relinquishing the rigid control she maintained in all other aspects of her life.
But what if he was wrong?
She shook her head and her hair brushed his cheeks like soft silk. “I can’t.”
Disappointment slashed through his lust and he released her. She scrambled off him, couldn’t get away fast enough.
He sat up and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You didn’t answer me.”
She turned away, but not before he’d seen her raise her hand to touch her lips. “What?”
“I asked you to tell me you don’t want this.” He stood so close behind her he could feel the heat radiating off her back. “But you can’t, can you?”
“Please leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The fact that she couldn’t lie to him now, after the secrets she’d kept from him before, gave him hope. He’d leave her alone for now. But he wasn’t done, not by a long shot.
She’d hidden her professional side from him during their time on the island but she’d opened up to him physically, in ways he’d never dreamed possible. She hadn’t been afraid to show him her vulnerability in the bedroom, yet maintained a control-freak facade in the boardroom.
Which made him wonder. Who was the real Allegra?
Something he had every intention of finding out.
“Have it your way.” He touched her shoulder before heading for the door. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She finally lifted her head, her gaze tortured yet defiant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He mustered his best smile, the one he’d used to great effect to charm her in the first place.
“I’m flying out this afternoon, but you and me? We’re work colleagues now.” His smirk held a hint of challenge. “You’re not rid of me just yet.”
Chapter Ten
Jett had screwed up. In so many facets of his life he didn’t know where to start.
But before he flew out to the Whitsundays to start work on the Kaluna campaign, there was someone he needed to see.
The wisdom of confronting his father after having landed in Sydney only an hour ago following a twelve-hour flight—economy this time—was questionable, but this couldn’t wait.
If Jett was starting with a clean slate, he needed to get a few things off his chest. Because the way he’d lost it with Allegra in Palm Bay was indicative of a deep-rooted insecurity he hadn’t known he’d possessed until she’d pushed his buttons and he’d overreacted.
He hated that she’d been witness to him going apeshit during their brief relationship and despite his best efforts to apologize, looked like all the groveling in the world wouldn’t make amends.
That ballsy comment he’d made at the end, about her not being rid of him, was pure bluff. Her response to their defiance-fueled kiss proved they would always have that underlying spark of “something more.” But what could he do? They lived an ocean apart. And she was his boss. He may have tied her up and made her relinquish control in the bedroom, but in the boardroom? Could he be any more emasculated?
Best thing to do would be to prove he was the best in the business so she never had a reason to question his professionalism. Focus on work. Keep their contact to the required minimum. Easy.
So why did his gut churn at the thought?
To have her accessible professionally but not personally…when he could remember the sounds she made when she came, her eagerness to match him move for move, her delicately flushed skin post-orgasm…
Of course, his dad chose that moment to stride onto the patio.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Jett.” Clive Halcott held out his hand, not looking sorry in the least, his benign expression something he practiced to hide the impatience beneath.
And Jett. Not son. Had there ever been a time when Clive had acknowledged him by “son”? None that Jett could remember.
“Dad.” Jett shook his hand and released it. “How have you been?”
“Busy as usual. Can’t complain.” Clive poured them ice water from a crystal pitcher without asking, looking the epitome of a wealthy, retired barrister in his designer golf gear with a multimillion-dollar view of Sydney Harbor behind him. “How did your overseas trip go?”
“Good.” Jett accepted the water and drained the glass, his throat constricting at the inevitable put-downs once he elaborated on his failure to salvage anything for his company. “I’m doing the campaign for Kai Kaluna’s new Whitsunday resort.”
“Impressive.” Clive sipped at his water, his unwavering stare making Jett uncomfortable, the same way his dad’s scrutiny used to make him feel when he hadn’t aced a test or had come second in a backstroke final. “What about the rest of the resorts?”
Trust dear old dad to home in on what he hadn’t achieved rather than what he had.
“An LA-based company is doing those.”
A frown wrinkled Clive’s brow. “That seems an odd arrangement. You subcontracting to them?”
Jett nodded. “We’ll make it work.”
“Better than you did with your last company, I hope.”
And there it was, the predictable slap-down.
Well aware his father would only get wound up the more defensive he was, Jett chose silence as the best form of response.
“Your lawyer is sorting through the insolvency issues?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” Clive refilled his glass. “I never liked that Reeve, you know.”
News to him. Reeve came from one of the richest families in South Australia and Clive had always fawned over him, making Jett feel second-best.
“Really?” Jett kept his voice devoid of emotion, his fingers gripping the glass, expecting one of his dad’s infamous zingers.
“Yeah, shifty eyes.” Clive shook his head. “Any man who can’t look another directly in the eyes is suspect.”
“That would’ve been handy to know before the prick fleeced our company dry.”
“Would you have listened if I’d said anything?”
“Probably not,” Jett said, earning a rare smile from Clive for his droll response.
“Word of advice from an old man who has seen a thing or two in his time.” Clive tapped his chest. “I’m always available. Whether you need to discuss or offload, give me a call or drop by.”
Jett stared at his father. Clive had never made time for him as a kid, why the hell would he change now?
“You dying?”
His father laughed, another rarity. “No, but I’m reprioritizing, starting with my son.”
Son. Another shock.
Jett clutched his chest in mock pain. “Careful, Dad, I can’t handle too many surprises in one day.”
Guilt and sadness clouded his dad’s eyes. “And that comment right there reinforces what a bastard I’ve been all these years.”
Jett opened his mouth to respond and his dad held up his hand. “Let me finish. I’ve been a lousy father. A demanding tyrant who expected his kid to perform like his employees and I wouldn’t tolerate anything less.”
And the shocks just kept coming as Jett found the nearest seat and sat before he keeled over.
“I know you must be gutted after losing your company. And I handled it badly when you first told me before leaving for LA, sending you that short, sharp message without any commiserations.” Clive
crossed the patio to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. For everything. Whatever you need in setting up a new company, holler.”
Speechless for once in his life, Jett stared at his father like he’d seen an alien.
Clive chuckled, patted his shoulder, and headed for the drinks tray, forgoing the water this time in favor of two scotches.
Jett dragged a hand over his face, wondering if he’d dreamed the last few minutes. He’d never seen his father anything but surly and indifferent and demanding. To have him articulate his support was mind-boggling.
Clive handed him a shot of whiskey and raised his in a toast. “To the pair of us being less stubborn.”
Jett clinked glasses and tossed the whiskey back, the burn of alcohol down his gullet finally freeing his tongue. “Who are you calling stubborn?”
His dad guffawed. “Son, I’m the stubbornest old bastard on the eastern seaboard of Australia and you learned from the best.”
Some of the tension gripping Jett eased as he handed over his empty glass. “Get me a top up and I’ll fill you in on the Kaluna project.”
“Deal.”
As he watched his father refill their drinks, Jett wondered how accurate his dad’s observation had been. Was he stubborn? If so, had he been so entrenched in his beliefs, his insecurities, that he’d used them to drive Allegra away before she got too close? By his dad’s admission, they’d had a lousy relationship. And then the one person he’d trusted, Reeve, let him down, too.
Had he pushed Allegra away because he’d expected to be hurt? Because it was all he knew?
He’d made a big deal out of her betraying his trust by not telling him the truth about pitching against him. But if he hadn’t used that as a means to drive a wedge between them, would it have been something else?
He’d accused her of being a control freak, of never letting go. Her self-admitted flaw. But what about his?
That nothing she could’ve said or done would’ve ever soothed his insecurities. That not having his father open up to him until now, along with trusting Reeve and losing the company, had gutted him more than he cared to admit. Having his dad finally articulate what he’d been hoping to hear for many years had gone some way to easing his discontent.
But what if he made the same mistake? Holding back from Allegra because he was too damn stubborn to admit the truth?
What they had went way beyond a tenuous business connection. Now all he had to do was prove it to her.
When Clive handed him the glass, Jett raised it at him. “Glad I stopped by, Dad.”
“Me too, son,” Clive said, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery.
Now that Jett had inadvertently fixed things with his dad, he had to figure out how to navigate tricky relationship waters with Allegra when he’d completely stuffed up.
…
Allegra had been many things growing up, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
She’d been practical about her parents’ complete disregard for her welfare. She’d been deceptively cool in the face of their many letdowns and disappointments. It had made her fiercely independent and for that she was grateful. Never, not once, in the face of their continued narcissism had she been scared. So why had she turned into a rubber-legged chicken this last week?
Every call Jett had made, every e-mail he’d sent, every Skype session, she’d had Zoe run interference.
She couldn’t face him, even professionally, and that didn’t bode well for her state of mind or her stupid, impressionable heart. The heart that never let anyone get too close. The heart she’d learned to protect many years ago.
So what was so damn special about Jett Halcott that he’d wormed his way in without trying?
It sure as hell wasn’t his big mouth or his deliberate charm or his lack of trust. Or his quick-fire ability to jump to incorrect conclusions. Or his deep-seated insecurities. On the flip side, he was warm and generous and spontaneous. A skilled lover. Wickedly funny. With an inherent ability to make her feel like she was the only woman in the world.
Damn.
She kicked the trash can as Zoe entered their Beverly Hills office, a slow grin spreading across her friend’s face.
“I see you’re still in a foul mood.” Zoe dumped a stack of pamphlets on her desk. “Have you tried magnesium and vitamin B? Heard it’s great for stress.”
“Don’t need vitamins,” Allegra said, flicking open one of the pamphlets their printer had put a rush on and scanning it with little interest.
“Then what do you need?” Zoe perched on the end of the desk, drawing attention to the funkiest pair of turquoise cowboy boots Allegra had ever seen. “Let’s see. If vitamins won’t do the trick, maybe a trip to Australia would?”
“Shut up.” Allegra made a zipping motion across her lips. “Don’t go there.”
“I’m not going there, you are,” Zoe said, speaking slowly and accentuating every syllable in a deliberate taunt. “You know you want to.”
What Allegra wanted was to be free of haunting memories of Jett. The way he’d push strands of hair behind her ear. The way he’d kiss her when she least expected it. The way he’d caress her back or stroke her arm just for the pleasure of touching her.
Double damn.
“He’s done some amazing work.” Zoe jerked a thumb at the computer screen. “Did you see the latest layout he e-mailed? Brilliant stuff.”
“I saw it,” she admitted grudgingly, and had to agree. Jett was extremely talented at what he did, bringing his ideas to life in a way she’d never anticipated.
Ironic, that Kai Kaluna had instigated her initial plan without realizing it. She’d thought the perfect solution to both their business woes would be for AW to win the campaign, then offer Jett a job, some kind of freelance gig.
In a way, it had worked out well, because considering the way he’d initially responded to Kai’s stipulations, there was no way in hell would he have accepted any kind of job offer from her.
Not that she could blame him. Would she have done the same if their roles had been reversed? Accept a job from a guy who’d pushed her to relinquish control in the bedroom, then expected her to give it up in the business arena, too?
Doubtful.
She wished there was some way to bring a guy of Jett’s talents into the AW fold without offering him a job he’d definitely turn down. Her gaze drifted to the PC screen and the latest mock-ups he’d sent…a brilliant, succinct ad campaign that rivaled anything she’d ever come up with. The two of them working side by side was a guaranteed winning combination.
Side by side…
“What’s that look for?” Zoe tilted her head, examining her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost but want to kiss its ass.”
Allegra laughed for the first time in seven long days. “You’ve got a way with words, Zo-Zo, and a keen eye.”
The eyes in question narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
“Not yet, but I will be. Very, very soon.” Allegra leaped off her chair and started pacing. “You know that partnership I offered you?”
“Yeah?” Zoe slapped her head. “Damn, I forgot to pick up the papers from the legal eagle downstairs. Give me a second and I’ll pop down—”
“How would you feel about renegotiating?”
Chapter Eleven
Jett preferred working the old-fashioned way, with paper, cardboard, and photos. It gave him perspective, being able to see a layout of his ideas in solid form.
And with this campaign, he liked what he saw.
He propped the massive bulletin board covered in Post-it notes against the window, studying it with a critical eye. So many ideas in a crazy kaleidoscope, a creative free-for-all he loved but had ended up bamboozling him. He needed a second opinion.
He needed to talk to Allegra, but short of flying to LA and barging into her office, it wasn’t going to happen. Zoe had been great to work with but Allegra was the brains behind that unit, and he wanted to hear it from her that she liked his
work, that he was delivering on one promise he’d made.
But nada. And it bugged the shit out of him.
So he’d put it all on the line. Made a grand gesture. If it didn’t get her here, nothing would. By his calculations, she should arrive sometime in the next few days. If the courier company delivered pronto, that is.
He hoped she’d take one look at his business proposal and realize how much it had cost him: emotionally rather than financially. Though there was that risk, too.
He could lose everything. Including his heart. And that’s what scared him the most. That even after this, she’d still say no to him on every level.
Hating the surge of uncertainty that made his fingers drop the pen, he pushed away from his desk, strode closer to the board, rearranged a few notes, and stood back to reassess. Something was still wrong, still missing…
“If you put the lagoon pool front and center in the brochure, with a scantily clad bikini babe in it, won’t matter what the text around it says.”
Shocked, he turned toward the voice, wondering if he could add hallucinations to his craziness lately.
Allegra stood in the doorway to his makeshift office, looking incredibly chic in a tailored ivory linen suit, a daffodil top, and heels that made her legs look impossibly long.
But it was her expression that captured his attention the most: fearful, embarrassed, and hopeful.
He knew the feeling.
She was early, though. Too early to have seen his delivery. Which meant…what? She’d lobbed here of her own accord? To check up on him? So much for the rebuilding of trust he’d hoped his proposal would elicit.
“What are you doing here?” It came out sounding gruffer than he intended, but she’d thrown him and he had no idea how to deal with having her here after the way they’d parted.
“I like keeping abreast of the work being conducted,” she said, stepping into the office and shutting the door like she owned the place.
“You like to ensure you’re controlling everything, you mean?” The moment the words popped out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. He’d been dreaming about seeing her again, yet here she was and all he could muster was antagonism.