by Demi Damson
“He seems to have done ok for himself.” George was talking to Frank Forden, an investor who lived on the edge of Haven. They saw him looking and started to head his way.
“Only if you don’t look too far under the surface,” said Mrs. Butrey. “Oh, and here they come! I shall make myself scarce before I get thrown out for gate crashing. Enjoy your party, Jordan.” She moved away before he could stop her. It hadn’t occurred to him she wouldn’t be invited: she was the only resident of Haven he had any real affection for. But it was too late, she was gone.
He scowled as the men came over, Frank Forden grabbing his hand to shake it in congratulations. Frank was a friend of George’s and he wanted to discuss whether Lovett Industries might want to open a satellite office in a new tech center in Riverside, coincidentally a new tech center Frank had heavily invested in.
Jordan simply politely nodded and smiled without making any direct statements on the subject. He watched Charlotte, her bright smile starting to slip into something lopsided as the group of women ebbed and flowed around her, everyone with some advice to give her, no doubt. Lauren kept refilling her champagne glass after every sip and he wondered if Charlotte had noticed how much she was drinking. Meanwhile, Frank pulled George over to appeal to him directly about the deal.
Jordan sighed as the two men ganged up on him. The company had no need for a second office in Riverside. There was no way Jordan was going to split the staff up like that. He’d finally finalized the cafeteria make-over to offer quick lunches to everyone, not just the upper management, and the departmental reorganization was doing a lot to get people talking to each other rather than sending snippy emails. Separating everyone into two locations made no sense.
George, of course, thought it was a grand idea. Frank Forden was a golfing buddy and part of the good old boys’ network, where everyone was expected to look after each other. “You have to think big to grow big,” said George, clapping him on the shoulder. “The new site will give you space to expand.”
Meanwhile, Charlotte had been button-holed by Mrs. Adams, who organized charity lunches for the Rotary Club. Charlotte was probably at risk of dying of boredom. Jordan waved her over, hoping to distract George and Frank at the same time. “Are you having a good time?”
“I’m having a wonderful time, darling! I’ve been having a lovely chat with… well, with everyone!” Her voice was high-pitched and smooth as honey, a mimicry of the voice the women of Haven used, all thrilled and girly. The same voice they all used when talking to a man.
It was like some sort of cocktail party tradition—the women would chatter together about how stupid their husbands were and then talk like they were too ditzy to hold a serious conversation. He didn’t like hearing Charlotte trying to sound like them. “You’ve had enough,” he whispered. He reached for her champagne glass, intending to tell her later that she’d had more than she knew but she gripped it fiercely.
“Listen,” said Frank, clearly frustrated by the interruption. “I can do a deal on the price per square meter but only if you sign up immediately. These offices are going to fill up fast. I’m trying to give you a chance to take your pick and become the premier client of the business center.”
“I’ll leave you to your conversation,” said Charlotte, tugging her glass away from him with a glare.
“No, stay here.” It came out harsher than he meant it to and she scowled at him. He smiled back through gritted teeth, hoping she’d get the message that he was sorry, and faced her towards the men. “Frank, have you met my fiancée?”
Frank didn’t take the interruption well. “Nice to meet you. I guess this isn’t the time. Jordan, I really do wish that you’d consider it. Next week will be too late.”
Jordan shrugged. “I’ll think about it, I promise.” Frank didn’t look convinced, but at least he moved on to talk to someone else.
George growled in frustration. “Frank Forden is trying to work with you and you keep putting him off.”
“Well, sorry, but we just don’t need the space.”
“You would if you’d focus on expansion instead of wasting your time on renovating the break room. Besides, you never know when you’ll need something from him.” He shook his head. “Listen, Frank can do a lot of favors for the company, but you have to scratch his back if you want him to scratch yours.”
“I don’t need a lecture.” He put out an arm to catch Charlotte as she leaned against him, clearly unsteady on her feet. How much champagne had she had?
George wasn’t letting up. “You have to work with people.”
“By people, you mean members of your country club.”
“If that’s what you want to call it, sure. I call it people who are easy to do business with. People who will cut you a break or do you a deal. But you have to be on the inside.”
Jordan clenched his teeth. He did not want to be having this argument tonight. “All I’m saying is that the tech center is not a good deal. I can get more space for half the price.”
“That’s not the point!” George thumped the sideboard, the ice in his whiskey glass clinking against the sides. “You think you don’t need your old man’s advice. I just made the family fortune, that’s all.”
“Fine. Maybe you are right. I’ll look into it and phone him tomorrow.” Anything to get George off his back.
Charlotte shook her head. She gave him a brittle smile. There was something angry in her eyes. “I’ll leave you all to your men talk,” she said and stalked off, muttering something about good old boys as she went.
“She’s not bad on the eyes,” said George, following Jordan’s gaze. “But you could do better. You should really think about the future when looking at a woman. She’s fine as a mistress. I’m not saying you shouldn’t enjoy yourself. But in the long run—”
Jordan stared and brought his voice down to a whisper. “No. I’m not taking marriage advice from you. That’s just...” He shook his head. “No.” He walked away, leaving his father still mid-sentence.
He caught up to Charlotte and took her hand. She gave him a scathing look that left no doubt in his mind she’d heard George’s words. Jordan sighed and took a long drink. This was turning into a long night.
Chapter Twenty–Nine
A Bee In Her Bonnet
Charlotte was trying her absolute best to fit in but it was getting more difficult as the evening went on. Even Jordan was impossible, trying to take her drink away from her like she was a child and then all the schmoozing with the business men. She wrinkled her nose and looked around. There was no one in this entire room she wanted to talk to. Jordan had said people wouldn’t stay late, but no one seemed inclined to move on. She stole a glance at someone’s watch, easy because it was almost the size of a bread plate, and found it was only six o’clock. Her shoulders dropped; she had thought it was much later. This evening was taking forever.
Jordan came to her side and put his arm around her waist. “Are you alright?”
Before she could answer, Charlotte’s purse buzzed. She pulled out her burner phone and stared at its blank screen in confusion. Then she fumbled into the purse again, this time finding the iPhone vibrating like crazy. “It’s my mom.” She frowned. “I need to take this.”
“Business and personal phone, huh?” He looked disappointed.
She cursed herself for letting him see that but it was too late now. She stepped towards the side of the room and took a sip of her drink as she answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, your dad wants to talk to you.”
“Ah, right.”
Jordan came up behind her. She held out her glass—still oddly full—for Jordan to take while she waited for Dad to come on the line. “Won’t be a minute. You can talk to your country club friends, if you want.” She failed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The champagne was clearly going to her head.
“Lottie?” Dad sounded the same as ever.
“Who else? Is Mom playing secretary for you now?”
&nbs
p; “Hah, I can’t get the hang of that silly smart phone you bought me. The buttons are much too small.” But his laugher disappeared pretty quickly. “It took me a while to make sense of those photographs you sent,” he said. “Lottie, what are you up to?”
“Me? I’m just out with a friend.” She winked at Jordan and moved towards the door. This sounded like a phone call she’d be better off having outside.
“A friend. A friend who happens to have paperwork from my ex-partner, George Lovett? I’d recognize his scrawl anywhere.”
“Well, sorta. This is not actually a great time to chat.” She closed the door behind her for some privacy, but she wouldn’t put it past Lauren to be listening in at the window.
“Have you been drinking?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. His voice was stressed. “How are you getting this stuff?”
“Dad, I’m a private investigator. This is what I do. Is the information I found of any use?”
“Honey, these people are bad news. I know, you got a bee in your bonnet about this...”
A bee in her bonnet? They were broke, his professional life was ruined, and he thought that was a bee? “Did you see those meetings?”
“Sure. But Lottie, meeting people isn’t illegal. There’s nothing he did...”
“He sure did something!” She hated having this argument with him. That was typical of her father, just wanting to drop it, not wanting to cause a fuss. But her middle name wasn’t ‘easygoing’ and she was not going to drop it. “Dad, he knew the land was worth millions, he must have.”
“Maybe he did. But knowing ain’t illegal either, Lottie.”
“He had inside information. Information he shouldn’t have had!”
“Lottie, I’m telling you, it’s not worth it.”
“Yes, it is,” she snapped back. “The truth is always worth it.”
He paused. “Seriously, are you drunk?”
“I’ve had half a drink, yes. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You sound a bit slurred, that’s all.” He took a breath. “And a bit aggressive.”
“Well, someone in this family has got to be.” Sure, it was easier to be angry after a couple of drinks. But there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, she’d not even finished her glass, why was everyone asking if she’d had too much? “Dad, are you going to help me find out what he did or not?”
It was quiet, just the hiss of the phone connection. Then he spoke, still sounding reluctant. “Well, for those names you sent me, Kenny James would be the important one. He was working with the EPA at the time, dealing with funding for the cleanup of brownfield sites. So yes, it’s pretty interesting they were meeting around about that time.” But he didn’t sound excited at her discovery. “But like I said, meeting people isn’t illegal, Charlotte.”
Charlotte frowned. He only used her full name when he was unhappy with her. But if it was up to him, he would let George Lovett get away with murder.
She thought about the cabinet full of names. “Kenny James, huh? Thanks. I gotta go.”
“Lottie, don’t do anything stupid.”
Too late, Dad. But she didn’t say it. “I won’t, Dad. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of trouble.” But as she went back into the party and felt her heart flip when the broad shoulders of Mr. Jordan Lovett came into view, she knew she was already in knee-deep into it.
Jordan gave her a quizzical look and she smiled weakly. Would he forgive her if she proved his father committed a crime, traded on inside information? Probably not. He seemed pretty cozy with the country club idea. Well, that was yet another good reason not to get too close to him.
She took the glass of champagne he offered her. “Thanks.” She knocked it back and held it out for a refill. She came here to be ruthless and that’s exactly what she was going to do.
When he reluctantly brought her the fresh glass, she snatched it and stalked over to the women clustered by the broccoli and pasted on a smile. “Tell me about the Christmas charity auction,” she said. “I heard it was the event of the season. Jordan wouldn’t miss it for anything.” They were happy to tell her all about it.
It was only her second glass of champagne but it went straight to her head. She pinched herself and carried on, intent on proving she could hold her own at a party like this. As she finished the second glass, though, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. She found a quiet corner to sit down.
Jordan was at her side at a moment. “Are you alright? Do you want to leave now? It’s plenty late enough.”
She gave him an unsteady nod. He helped her to her feet and walked her through the room, steering her unobtrusively with a hand at the small of her back. She was grateful for the help; navigating her way through the room seemed like an impossible task.
“You did great,” he said as they made their way up the stairs. “Everyone loved you, despite the joke about the priest and the bear.”
She furrowed her brow. She had told that joke, hadn’t she? Oh God. She’d clearly had a lot more champagne than she’d meant to. “I think I might be drunk,” she said.
“You are very drunk, darling. But you did fine, don’t worry.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Not far now, stay upright.”
“Gotta get up in the morning, go looking.”
“No, you don’t have to get up. You’ve got the day off, remember? We won’t leave until after lunch or maybe later. We’ll see how you are feeling tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Ruthless,” she said.
He laughed at that. “Yes, Rufus was a great dog, I know. Come on, let’s put you to bed.”
She stumbled into the room and lay across the double bed, kicking her shoes off. That was the last thing she remembered until the sunlight pierced the window the following morning.
Chapter Thirty
First Comes Love
Jordan woke up early, as usual, but he didn’t feel the normal stress of the pile of work he needed to tackle and the impossibility of doing it at all. He leaned up on one arm and watched Charlotte sleeping. She was to blame for this newfound peacefulness. Even when she was an embarrassment, he adored her. She’d passed out on top of bed last night, clearly the worse for wear after all that champagne. He’d carefully got her ready for bed and tucked in while she mumbled nonsense at him. She’d slept well and hopefully wouldn’t feel too rough this morning. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, so he could watch her breath.
It was better than any new age meditation technique, watching her. He felt like their hearts were beating in tandem. It felt so right it was frightening. He wanted to pull her close and keep her there forever. Maybe it had only been a few days but he was quite sure how he felt. He knew her, deep down where it counted. He loved everything about her. When she woke—he wouldn’t wake her up, that would be selfish, he would wait—but once she did wake up, he would tell her exactly how he felt and what he wanted. He couldn’t stand for her to go back to selling herself, it would kill him. He would make sure she didn’t have to. What he wanted was for her to promise to be at his side forever, standing with him through thick and thin. When it came to it, she was the most amazing and loyal ally he could ever imagine. But that was probably scary and sounded almost mercenary when he put it into words. “I want you to stay next to me because you make me better.”
She snuffled in her sleep, burrowing deeper into the covers. He resisted the urge to open the curtains and let the sunshine in. She would wake up soon enough.
No, what he would tell her is that he loved her, pure and simple. Or no, what he would say was that she was precious and special and he needed her in his life. Or maybe just admit he hoped he would never have to let her go. His heart rate sped with the thought of her falling into his arms and looking up at him with that beautiful vulnerable look in her eyes.
He couldn’t stand it anymore and leant forward to kiss her softly. Her lashes fluttered and then opened. She gave him a sleepy smile, as if happy to have simply a
wakened next to him. He knew she felt the same way. “Charlotte,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to tell you something.”
Her eyes opened and she sat up, pulling the covers up as she did. One hand went to her temple with a wince. Great, now he’d freaked her out. He sighed at his own incompetence.
Jordan Lovett, ladies’ man. What would they say if they could see him now, tongue-tied like a foolish kid with his first ever real-live girl in his bed.
He kissed her to reassure her. “That was a terrible way to wake you up. I’m sorry.”
She relaxed a little into his kiss but was clearly still tense. He sat up and reached to pull her towards him, cuddling her back against his chest. “Hey, hey, where’s my sleepy smile gone?”
“That’s better,” he said when she looked up at him and smiled. He bent down to kiss her and once started, he couldn’t stop. Maybe he simply didn’t have the words. It wasn’t easy to tell someone that she had stolen his heart. But he could show her, fuse with her, possess her. He stroked her body as he laid her out next to him, needing access to every inch of her. He would make her his own.
His hands explored her soft skin as she arched her back, her hands reaching to touch him. When he slipped his fingers down, he found her already wet with longing. He leaned forward to kiss her breasts while he circled her clit, desperate to hear her cry out his name in joy and longing. She bucked her hips against his hand. “Wait for me, darling,” he said as he brought her right to the edge and then stopped, stroking her thighs apart. He grabbed a condom, pulling it on in record time as she lay on her back, pulling him towards her.
He climbed on top of her and slowly slid into her. She was hot and slick and welcoming, her hips raising up to meet his. He sunk himself into her until she gasped and then he pulled out and thrust into her again, carefully and deliberately. As she arched against him, he swiveled his hips gently, trying to press against her already swollen clit as he slowly pumped in and out of her. She moaned and threw her head back and he knew he’d hit the spot.