One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents

by Susan Stephens

  He steered the car off the main road into a side street lined with medium-sized office buildings, pulling into a car park behind one bearing the signage of Rogerson Developments.

  ‘Very modest,’ she said, climbing from the car, noting the difference between this industrial estate and the glittering high rise that made up the centre of the Gold Coast business precinct.

  ‘That’s Phil Rogerson for you. You’d never know he was a multi-millionaire in his own right.’

  And she wouldn’t have picked it either, when a few minutes later she was led into a boardroom headed by a wiry grey-haired man wearing a battered blue cardigan that had seen better days. His high leathery brow was criss-crossed with a deep pattern that bore witness to years of frowning on building sites under the hot Queensland sun, and his broad nose and bushy eyebrows screamed character. It was only the piercing blue eyes that suggested this man wasn’t as old or as past it as he first seemed. And there was something else that perplexed her, a familiarity with his features, something that immediately had her mind searching for answers even though she was almost certain she’d never met him before.

  He wrapped her hand in his own large, callused version and welcomed her to the meeting, his beaming smile deepening the grooves arcing from his nose to the corners of his mouth and beyond.

  ‘Delighted to meet you at last,’ he told her. ‘Maverick seems to have you permanently chained to that office. Though now I can see why. I’m glad we gave him the opportunity to set you free at last.’

  When the older man smiled, his weathered face dropped about ten years, and he looked more like a young granddad than the sun-dried successful builder he was. She couldn’t help but smile back, and not only because he’d just put her mind at rest over whether Morgan had ever met him. Though it didn’t go anywhere near solving the mystery of why he should look somewhat familiar.

  The lawyers arrived along with Maverick’s team of finance people, and in the next few minutes the various teams were introduced and settled around the long board-table, jugs of water and a tray of glasses jostling for space between the stacks of papers.

  Tegan found herself seated alongside Maverick at one end of the table with Phil Rogerson at the other, but even with a dozen or so others present it was like being trapped in the car with him all over again. It was his aura that surrounded her, it was his heat that turned her own thermostat on to a slow burn. And his legs seemed to be everywhere under the table, impossibly long, impossibly restless, several times brushing against hers, until the only way she could avoid contact was to jam her legs tightly around the chair leg farthest from him.

  The lawyers opened the meeting, talking for some length about the situation—detailing and spelling out the legal implications that, since the Zeppabanca deal hadn’t been completed by the prescribed date, any and all understandings between the parties were no longer binding. The parties were now legally free agents.

  It was then Maverick’s turn to speak. After highlighting the major points of the project, and the benefits that would flow to each of the three partners, he concluded, ‘Royalty Cove has to go ahead.’ He slammed a fist into his hand. ‘This is the premier property development for the Gold Coast for the next decade and beyond. We have an opportunity to undertake the most prestigious and yet environmentally low-impact development ever, and show the rest of Australia and indeed the world how it’s done in the process.

  ‘The only way we can achieve that is if we start with the best team in the business—because Royalty Cove deserves the best. Royalty Cove demands the best. Which is why we need Rogerson Developments on board. Quite simply, nobody builds better properties of the kind we’re talking about. But we have to be prepared to move as soon as Zeppabanca is back in business. And we need to be prepared to commit now.’

  There was something about his voice, Tegan realised, a confidence in those low tones that pulled you along with him, and that made you listen and believe what he was saying must be right. Even now several others around the table were nodding their agreement. It was no wonder he’d reached the dizzy heights he had in business. But he wasn’t getting it all his own way. At the other end of the table she could see Phil Rogerson was still wavering as he peered down the table over his steepled fingers.

  ‘There’s no mistaking the concept has merit,’ he began cautiously, and Tegan sensed the man beside her stiffen. ‘And I can feel the passion you have for the project. But, given the Giuseppe Zeppa situation, how can we be sure Zeppabanca will want to continue their part in the deal?’

  ‘Giuseppe was right behind the project from the start.’

  ‘But if he has to stand down, or should the worst happen…’ Rogerson held up his hands in a shrug and nobody was in doubt as to what that worst might be. ‘What if their next CEO isn’t enthusiastic, or wants to reconsider? You have to understand my position. I can’t afford to be tied into an uncertainty that locks me out of other opportunities. You were aware I had two other partnership proposals on my desk—well, just this morning I received a third, and this one starts in less than three months. I’ll have guaranteed employment for my teams for the next three years.’

  ‘The Royalty Cove deal will see them busy for at least seven!’

  ‘But may not go ahead.’

  ‘It will go ahead. And to be the best Royalty Cove needs Rogerson Developments on board. There’s no question of that.’

  ‘And, if it does, then when will it happen?’ He sighed. ‘I’m afraid I think I’d need an assurance from Zeppabanca that they’re going to be party to this deal.’

  ‘You know Giuseppe is ill. I can’t give you that.’

  ‘I realise that. So maybe we’ve all been wasting our time.’

  ‘Then I will give you my personal guarantee!’

  Every head swung around in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rogerson asked, his eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Your “personal guarantee”?’

  All eyes turned to Maverick for the answer to the question on everyone’s lips.

  ‘Simply this. That if concerns about your teams lying idle for any time are stopping you from committing to Royalty Cove, then I’ll take that concern right away. I’ll cover your teams for any losses they make or any delays while we wait for news on Zeppabanca. You won’t be out of pocket, and more importantly they won’t be out of a job. Nobody will lose.’

  Tegan watched the interplay between the two men, both of them successful, both of them leaders, and yet one risk averse, the other a risk taker. Now Maverick was not merely putting his support behind the project, he was backing it with cold, hard cash, and plenty of it.

  Rogerson finally arched one heavily forested eyebrow and grunted, and with that gesture Tegan instantly felt herself transported back to the refugee camp in Somalia, tending a line of women and children waiting to see the visiting Médecin Sans Frontières team. And at the head of the queue, sitting on a camp stool while he tended a crying baby, while its hollow-eyed mother watched on hopelessly, had been a late-thirties man with wild hair and bushy eyebrows who’d made the kids laugh when he’d cocked one up high and then waggled them. Everyone had simply referred to him as Dr Sam, but his surname had been Rogerson, she was sure. And the resemblance was all too suddenly unmistakeable.

  ‘I think we should break for coffee and consider this latest development,’ Rogerson went on to say. He looked at his watch. ‘Fifteen-minute break, everyone.’

  Pots of filtered coffee and jugs of orange juice appeared on a side table, along with plates of cookies and tiny sandwiches.

  Several of the legal team came to talk to Maverick, and Tegan noticed Rogerson being similarly besieged at the other end of the table. She eased away to pour Maverick a coffee and grab herself a juice, wondering if she’d get the chance to talk to Phil at all and ask him about the connection when in fact it was Phil who found her.

  ‘Finding everything okay?’

  She turned in surprise to see him helping himself to a plate of sandwiches, a
smile softening his wrinkled face, and she wondered why it had taken her so long to work out the connection. ‘Yes, thanks. I’m surprised you got away from the throng surrounding you.’

  He chortled. ‘It’s the quick or the dead in this business. I must say, that boss of yours is a very persuasive man.’

  Tegan nodded, reminded of that kiss outside the lift, knowing how close she’d come to being swept completely away. Oh, yes, she knew how persuasive he could be. She suppressed a shiver at the memory and dragged her attention back to the business at hand. ‘Maverick is passionate about the project, and wanting it to be the best it can be. That’s why he wants you on board.’

  He shrugged with a nod and took a mouthful of sandwich, and Tegan was once more reminded of Sam. ‘You know,’ she ventured, ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking this, but you look so much like someone I know. You’re not related to Sam Rogerson, by any chance, are you?’

  Phil straightened and his blue eyes sparkled. ‘You’re a refreshing thing. With that lead up, I was half expecting you to ask me what I thought of Maverick’s offer. But yes, my second son is called Sam. He’s a doctor with Médecin Sans Frontières.’

  ‘I knew it! Sam’s a wonderful man and a great doctor, just a natural with the children. The people love it when he visits. You must be very proud of him and the work he’s doing.’

  ‘Good God, girl! Don’t tell me you’ve been out to some of those godforsaken places he works in?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, bringing herself up as she remembered who she was supposed to be. Morgan had never been to Africa, let alone anywhere near a refugee camp. ‘Actually no, not exactly, but I’ve heard all about him. My sister was with GlobalAid and got to work closely in the refugee camps with him. She was always telling me how wonderful he is, with the kids especially.’

  ‘Well, you know, that’s just so good to hear. Because he’s a hopeless correspondent. We might hear from him once or twice a year. Drives Doris and me batty. We never know what he’s up to.’

  ‘Then, if it’s any consolation, he’s doing really well,’ she said. ‘I know my sister saw him a month ago just before she left the country, and she said he was looking great and loving the work but still missing home and family all the same—especially as it gets closer to Christmas time again.’ In fact Sam had been the doctor who’d agreed to her discharge. They’d had a long chat about the Gold Coast and how he envied her going home.

  Phil looked at her for a while, shaking his head slowly, his expression contemplative. Then he sighed. ‘I don’t know what to say. That’s wonderful to hear. Just wonderful. And your sister told you all this, you say?’

  Tegan threw up a silent prayer for forgiveness. She didn’t mean to lie, but what else could she do? ‘She just came home after three years away. It all just spilled out. Everything about her life there, and everyone she met. She loved it all.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think I have to tell you that you’ve made my day,’ he said. ‘Doris will be so happy to hear the news. She worries, you understand, as do I. It’s the risk, you see. We don’t know what he’s going through. And naturally we fear for what might happen to him.’

  Tegan nodded, understanding only too well. When she’d come home, Morgan had threatened her life and limb if she ever thought about going away and leaving her again. It was hard on family, she knew. ‘Not knowing is the worst,’ she agreed. ‘But, if it helps at all, I know that the way my sister and a lot of her colleagues rationalise it—they understand there are risks, and do their very best to minimise them, but at the same time they also believe that there are simply times you have to step outside your comfort zone and take a risk if you want to make a difference in this world.’

  He seemed to consider her words for a moment before placing one hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. ‘Wise words, young lady. Very wise words indeed.’ Then he fished a card out from his wallet and handed it to her. ‘This has my personal details on it. Call me when your sister’s free and we’ll arrange a time she can come and talk to us about life in the refugee camps—and what our son’s been up to. And thank you again, I can’t tell you how thrilled Doris is going to be when I tell her. Now, you better drink your coffee. It’ll be getting cold.’

  Oh hell, she realised, not her coffee. Maverick’s coffee. And it was stone cold.

  What the blazes was she doing up there? Maverick scowled through the cloud of legalese going on around him and watched. And what the hell could they be talking about that made her smile like that? She’d certainly never flashed a smile like that in his direction.

  Then he saw Rogerson reach out an arm and drop it on her shoulder, and his blood pressure spiked. When he saw Rogerson hand her something, his hackles went up twofold.

  ‘Maverick, did you want to add something?’

  He looked around to the expectant face of his senior legal counsel, and realised he’d given voice to the growl that had rumbled through him.

  ‘No. Carry on,’ he assured them, surprised at the extent of his reaction. It’s just the deal, he told himself. If she’d done or had said anything that threatened this deal and Rogerson’s acceptance of his guarantee then she’d pay. And given the strange mood she’d been in lately…

  His coffee appeared before him—finally. He looked up to acknowledge its receipt, but her features betrayed no trace of the friendly familiarity he’d seen her sharing with Rogerson just a minute or so ago. Instead it was like she’d pulled down shutters over her face, banishing her smile and removing all trace of interest from those changeable hazel eyes.

  Damn!

  ‘Right,’ announced Rogerson at the other end of the table. ‘I see no point wasting everyone’s time any longer. In fact, I think we can safely bring this meeting to a conclusion. Maverick, what say you?’

  Maverick’s gut roiled as he threw a damning look in his PA’s direction. What the hell had she said to him? Whatever it was, she’d pay for it.

  He pushed his coffee away untouched. Right now he was unable to drink anything. ‘I say,’ he managed at last, battling to keep the churning going on inside him out of his voice. ‘That all depends on what you have in mind.’

  ‘Well, I’ve given your proposal some thought, and I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to accept your personal guarantee.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SOMETHING inside Maverick snapped, cutting his heartbeat short and leaving only one thought in his mind.

  Morgan was dead meat.

  This project had been years in the making, years in the putting together, and now when they’d been so close it was all falling apart. And she’d said something to Rogerson during that break, something that had made up his mind.

  ‘I see.’ The words felt like they’d been ripped from him.

  ‘I’d be surprised if you do,’ Phil continued. ‘Because the reason I don’t want your personal guarantee is because I don’t think I need it.’

  Maverick’s heart tripped back to life with the shock. But that would mean…

  ‘So, you’re going to commit to Royalty Cove without the guarantee?’

  ‘Absolutely. Anyone who not only talks like a visionary but who is prepared to put their money where their mouth is has to be someone I can put my faith in. Besides, there are some things in life more important than a guaranteed return.’ He paused and winked in Tegan’s direction. ‘Sometimes it’s worth stepping out of one’s comfort zone and taking a risk.’

  ‘So what happened back there?’ Maverick had been brooding a good ten minutes as he drove from Rogerson’s offices.

  ‘What do you mean? You got your deal stitched up, didn’t you? At least the Rogerson end of it.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ he growled, as he swooped around a line of slower vehicles. ‘What happened between you and Rogerson? Something was obviously going on—the hand on the shoulder, the wink across the room. What was that all about?’

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to see the start of a wry smile. ‘Why,
Maverick,’ she teased. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous.’

  He flashed her a look that would peel paint, and hoped she’d feel the blowtorch he’d put behind it. Because he could sure feel the glare she was directing his way in return. ‘Rogerson’s old enough to be your grandfather.’

  ‘So? I liked him. I thought he was genuine and warm, not just another self-aggrandising multi-millionaire out for what he can get.’

  Maverick burned. Is that what she thought of him? Is that why she didn’t smile at him? But she was wrong. He wasn’t jealous—he was livid. ‘What did you say to him?’

  Out of his peripheral vision he caught her shrug. ‘Phil Rogerson has a son called Sam, a doctor working with Médecin Sans Frontières.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I…And my sister worked with him from time to time. We were just talking about that.’

  ‘You have a sister?’

  ‘Just the one.’

  ‘Who works in refugee camps?’

  ‘She works for GlobalAid. Or she did. She just finished up a short time ago.’

  ‘You never told me you had a sister.’

  ‘Maybe you never asked.’

  And he never had. He’d never been interested. Not until now. Somehow the topic of Morgan and everything about her—what she did when she went home at night, who she saw—seemed suddenly fascinating.

  ‘So it was your sister who worked with this—what did you call him—Sam Rogerson?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then how did you know about him?’

  Beside him she shifted, and a brief glance revealed she’d turned her attentions out the window.