Her Tycoon Lover

by Sandra Field

When they had stopped for a rest and a pot of tea in a very English-looking tearoom, they joined the Freedom Trail at Boston Common.

  From there they walked to the harbour, where they went on board the frigate U.S.S. Constitution, known affectionately as ‘Old Ironsides’, after British cannon-balls bounced off her heavily planked sides.

  When they reached the Bunker Hill Monument, which was the end of the trail, seeing she was getting weary, Gray suggested a taxi back.

  It had turned seven when they reached the hotel, and Rebecca, who was starting to think longingly of bed, thanked her lucky stars that she had had such a good sleep on the plane.

  They had just reached their suite when, watching her stifle a yawn, Gray asked, ‘Tired?’

  ‘I won’t be sorry when it’s bedtime,’ she admitted.

  ‘Well, we shouldn’t be too late. Our man’s a stickler for punctuality, so with a bit of luck dinner will be over by nine-thirty.’

  He sounded as if he was expecting her to join him.

  Carefully, she said, ‘As you have an appointment, I’d be quite happy to skip dinner and go straight to bed now.’

  Gray shook his head decidedly. ‘I’d like you to be there too.’

  ‘But surely if it’s business…’

  ‘The man I’m meeting prefers his business dealings to take place in a social atmosphere. And as he gets on better with women than with men—most men hate his guts, but women seem to go for his kind of macho charm—he invariably brings a female companion along and expects his opposite number to do the same.’

  She recalled one of Jason’s business contacts who had worked in much the same way.

  ‘If you hadn’t been here I would have had to go to an agency and hire a dinner companion. Which is far from ideal when business is being discussed and things may get heated.’

  ‘You seem to be expecting problems.’

  ‘I am,’ Gray admitted ruefully. ‘Considering everything, our last meeting went very smoothly. This one, however, promises to be a rough ride.

  ‘Though he’s one of the richest men in America he hates to lose money. Over the past six months he’s lost quite a lot, and stands to lose more, but somehow I have to convince him that the only way to go is forward.

  ‘If he decides to pull out of the project at this stage, and we can’t meet the shortfall, the whole thing will come tumbling round our ears. It’ll cost PLFI hundreds of millions of dollars.’

  ‘It won’t…?’

  ‘No, it won’t bring the company down, but it will be quite a serious blow, and affect several other big investment schemes.’

  She was just about to ask him what the project was, when, glancing at his watch, he said, ‘We’d better get moving. Can you be ready by a quarter to eight?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  He grinned. ‘Then I’d better go get my spurs buckled on.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHOWERED and made-up with care, her ash-brown hair swirled into a sleek chignon, Rebecca put on a pair of strappy sandals and a simple, sleeveless sheath, as yet unworn.

  Cut with an uneven hemline, its silk chiffon was a swirl of subtle colours over a plain underslip with a built-in bra. Thin slivers of each colour made up the spaghetti shoulder straps.

  It was a romantic dress, bought especially for a gala concert Jason had been going to take her to.

  She waited for the thought to hurt, but somehow it didn’t. Perhaps she had suffered so much pain that she’d grown too numb to feel?

  A last quick check in the long mirror, and she was ready with five minutes to spare. Even so, Gray was already in the lounge, sitting at the small desk, his laptop open in front of him.

  Glancing up at her approach, he switched off the computer and rose to greet her. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, taking in the glossy hair, the pretty dress and the long, slender legs.

  ‘Will I do?’ she asked a shade nervously.

  ‘You look absolutely delightful.’ He came over and took her hand.

  At five feet eight inches she was tall for a woman, but even though she was wearing high heels Gray was a good six inches taller.

  Wearing an evening jacket and a black bow tie, he looked so powerfully attractive that she found herself absurdly breathless.

  ‘It’s a great pity we’re not free to go out and paint the town,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘If this meeting wasn’t so important…’

  Feeling an odd little flutter, she withdrew her hand and said quickly, ‘But it is.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m afraid so. Right, let’s go.’

  The hotel restaurant was fairly busy and there was a buzz of talk and laughter as the maître d’ showed them to one of the more secluded tables.

  As soon as they were seated a wine waiter appeared with an ice bucket containing a bottle of vintage champagne, and four long-stemmed glasses.

  ‘Would you like me to open it now, sir?’

  ‘No, thanks, leave it until our guests arrive.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  A few moments later, glancing up, Gray said softly, ‘There they are.’

  In the entrance was a tall, heavily built man with grizzled hair that, brushed straight back from his forehead, lay close to his head in tight waves.

  By his side was a voluptuous blonde, perhaps half his age. She was wearing a glittering blue dress that left very little to the imagination.

  ‘Just as I expected,’ Gray murmured softly. ‘A real Barbie doll.’

  Rebecca scarcely heard. Her startled gaze was fixed on the man, rather than his companion. But surely it couldn’t be…? Though hadn’t Jason mentioned that Andrew Scrivener lived in Boston?

  As the maître d’ led them over, her worst fears were confirmed. Though it was a while since she had seen him, there was no mistaking that powerful face with its large, hooked nose and sensual mouth, those obsidian eyes set deep beneath almost black brows.

  Gray rose to his feet to greet them, and the two men shook hands with a show of civility rather than any great cordiality.

  To Rebecca’s relief, Gray introduced her simply as Miss Ferris, without naming any connection with Finance International.

  Hoping for the best, she held her breath.

  Andrew Scrivener acknowledged her courteously, but, though his hooded eyes lingered on her face for longer than was necessary, he made no mention of them having met before.

  For which she was truly thankful.

  When the introductions had been completed, Gray suggested, ‘Perhaps you’d like to eat first and discuss business later?’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Scrivener agreed.

  Gray signalled the waiter and, apart from Rebecca, who asked for mineral water, they drank champagne while they looked at the menu and gave their order.

  That done, while the blonde, whose name was Marianne Midler, stared around her, Gray chose a safe topic of conversation and made a determined effort to break the ice.

  He was getting very little response from Scrivener, when, remembering something she had learnt from Jason, Rebecca mentioned the arts.

  ‘I understand that Symphony Hall houses both the Boston Symphony and the Boston Pops Orchestras?’

  His heavy face suddenly becoming animated, Scrivener asked, ‘Indeed it does. You like music, Miss Ferris?’

  ‘Yes, very much.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Symphony Hall?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. This is my first trip to Boston.’

  ‘How long are you here for?’

  ‘Just one night.’

  ‘Pity.’

  With a glance at Gray, he asked, ‘I can’t persuade you to stay on?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. We’re due to fly out to California tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I’m heading that way myself in a week or so to see how my new house is progressing. Then I’ll be visiting my younger sister in San Francisco. She’s just given birth to her second child, so we’ve cause to celebrate.’

  The blonde shuddered. ‘I�
��d hate to be pregnant.’

  Scrivener gave her a cold look.

  ‘I just bet you feel the same.’ She appealed to Rebecca for help.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Rebecca said evenly. ‘If I ever get married I’d like a family.’

  ‘But think what having a baby does to your figure!’

  ‘It’s just as well all women aren’t like you,’ Scrivener observed, frowning.

  Putting a hand on his sleeve, the nails painted a shimmering blue to match her dress, she protested, ‘But Andy, darling—’

  ‘Stow it, Marianne,’ he said curtly.

  As, pouting prettily, she withdrew her hand he turned his attention back to Gray. ‘It’s a business trip, I take it?’

  ‘Partly. Finance International have acquired the Santa Rosa vineyard in the Napa Valley, so I’m going to take a look at the prospects.’

  ‘Ought to be good. We’re practically neighbours. A few years back I bought Hillsden Wineries and put in an experienced manager.

  ‘Though Collins is only young he certainly knows his stuff, and since then it’s been going from strength to strength. Choose the right manager, and yours should do the same.’

  Turning to Rebecca and sounding almost jovial, Scrivener said, ‘Well, if you can’t stay right now, you must certainly come to Boston again. During the summer there are open-air concerts down by the river.

  ‘Marianne likes music…don’t you, babe?’

  Basking in the renewed warmth of his attention, the blonde changed her pout to a smile, and from then on the atmosphere became more relaxed and the conversation flowed easily.

  Andrew Scrivener, as Rebecca recalled, had a certain charm when he chose to use it, and during an excellent meal he showed a side of himself that could only be described as charismatic.

  Coffee and liqueurs had been served and drunk before business was mentioned. Then the atmosphere abruptly changed for the worse as the two men embarked on a low-toned discussion that, on Scrivener’s part at least, sounded distinctly irate.

  Apparently bored by business matters, Marianne claimed Rebecca’s attention and launched into a monologue on her last cosmetic surgery, and what she was planning to ‘improve’ next. ‘I thought I might have my bottom lip made fuller…’

  While Rebecca did her best to look like an interested listener, more than half her attention was focused on what the men were saying.

  But with Marianne’s strident voice tending to drown out the other conversation, all she could pick out were odd, disjointed phrases.

  It seemed to be a battle royal. But while Gray stayed cool and firm, but restrained, Scrivener got even more heated and hostile.

  After a while it became obvious that Gray was fighting a losing battle, as the other man refused to listen to him.

  ‘You’re wasting your time, Gallagher. I’m pulling out as of now.’

  When Marianne paused for breath, Rebecca heard him add angrily, ‘I was a fool to get involved in the first place. If I’d played my hunch and taken notice of Miss Ferris instead of young Beaumont…’

  She froze. So he did remember her!

  Gray looked up sharply. ‘I wasn’t aware that you and Miss Ferris had met.’

  ‘Beaumont brought her along to that first meeting in London and introduced her as his PA. If I remember rightly, you were in the Middle East at the time; that’s why he was standing in for you.

  ‘He’s a bit of a lightweight, and still wet behind the ears in some ways. It’s a pity I ever agreed to meet him. His review of the situation wasn’t sound.’

  Coolly, Gray suggested, ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what was said?’

  ‘He said that the then current backers of the Archangel Project had gone broke and it was a good chance to get in on the ground floor.

  ‘I pointed out that the complex had so far failed dismally to attract customers.

  ‘He argued that, though it had got off to a bad start, it was still a sound financial bet, and being able to buy into it at such a late stage was an opportunity not to be missed.

  ‘I ought to have waited and talked to you,’ he added in disgust.

  ‘If you had, I would have told you exactly the same. When the whole project is really up and running it will be worth billions.’

  ‘In my opinion it’ll never be up and running. It’s just one big white elephant. When you think about it, who the hell would want to holiday in a series of huge plastic domes in the middle of a desert?’

  ‘With the facilities they’ll offer when completed, my guess would be quite a lot of people.’

  Scrivener shook his head. ‘Wishful thinking. My gut says the whole complex will probably just sit there and rot.

  ‘When I’m doing business, I tend to follow my hunches. At that meeting in London, though I had a hunch Miss Ferris was right, I didn’t follow it.’

  Gray frowned. ‘I don’t quite see how Miss Ferris comes into this.’

  ‘I asked her what she honestly thought of the Archangel Project.

  ‘When, obviously unwilling to follow Beaumont’s lead, she tried to sidestep the question, I asked if she would invest any of her own money in the project.

  ‘She said no, she couldn’t help but feel it was too big a risk.

  ‘I’ve always been impressed by a woman’s ability to use her intuition, especially when that intuition goes hand in hand with a sound grasp of business and a good brain. I believe Miss Ferris has both. I also admire her integrity.’

  Turning to Rebecca, he went on, ‘My hunch told me you were right, and I should have listened.’

  She took a deep breath, and said firmly, ‘I’m extremely glad you didn’t, Mr Scrivener, because now I’m convinced I made a mistake.’

  His black eyes boring into her, he sneered, ‘So this time, instead of being totally honest, you’re saying what Gallagher’s instructed you to say.’

  ‘I’m doing nothing of the kind. Mr Gallagher never instructed me to say anything. I didn’t even know who he was meeting until you came into the restaurant.’

  Scrivener shook his head. ‘Miss Ferris, I’m disappointed in you. Presumably you’ve moved up the ladder and are now Gallagher’s PA, so—’

  ‘But I’m not. I no longer work for PLFI.’ Lifting her chin, she added, ‘And if I did, I still wouldn’t be prepared to say anything I didn’t believe.’

  Watching him weigh up her words, she added, ‘When I said I personally wouldn’t put money into the Archangel Project, it was because at that point I thought it had been built in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  ‘Since then I’ve revised that opinion. After all, Las Vegas started out in the middle of a desert. And on that showing, Archangel could be the holiday place of the future.’

  ‘Could be?’

  ‘I was being cautious. I’m sure it will be.’

  ‘So are you saying I should go on?’ His harsh voice held a challenge.

  ‘It’s not my place to say any such thing, but I certainly believe it’s the best option by far.

  ‘For one thing, if you pull out now you must stand to lose everything you’ve already put into it, which would be a terrible waste.’

  ‘If I go on, I could lose a whole lot more.’

  ‘You could,’ Gray took up the baton, ‘but the last report I saw made me believe that most of the teething troubles are over and that things are starting to run more smoothly.

  ‘I’m not suggesting that there won’t be some ups and downs, and maybe it won’t start to make money for a year or two yet, but all the signs are there that when it does take off, it’ll take off big.’

  ‘And you agree?’ Scrivener asked Rebecca.

  ‘I’m convinced it will become a millionaire’s playground.’ She smiled at him mischievously. ‘You may even want to holiday there yourself.’

  For a moment he appeared amused by her audacity, then, his eyes glittering like a snake’s, he asked, ‘If you’re no longer working for PLFI, what are you doing here in Boston with Gallagher
?’

  Ambushed by the question, and aware that if she looked at Gray for guidance Andrew Scrivener would think the worst, she hesitated. Then after a moment, seeing nothing else for it, she answered with as much sang-froid as she could muster, ‘As it happens I’m with Mr Gallagher for purely personal reasons.’

  Those hooded eyes pinned her. ‘Personal reasons?’

  ‘Miss Ferris is taking a holiday in California as my guest,’ Gray told him levelly.

  ‘I see…’ Scrivener’s sensual lips twisted. ‘Well, I must say I envy you, having such a charming and loyal companion.’

  Before Gray could make any answer, Rebecca said crisply, ‘If you think my loyalty stretches to lying, then you’re quite wrong.’

  Sounding unimpressed, Scrivener remarked, ‘I believe that most women would lie for a man they’re in love with.’

  ‘You may be right, but—’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re different?’

  ‘No. I’m trying to tell you that it isn’t what you seem to imagine. The relationship between myself and Mr Gallagher is quite platonic. I’m certainly not in love with him.’

  His powerful head tilted a little to one side, he surveyed her. ‘You have the look of a woman in love.’

  When, suddenly rattled, she failed to deny it, he said, ‘Is it because of young Beaumont?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I remember the way you looked at him. I must admit I quite envied him. So perhaps you’re toeing the company line to keep him in a job?’

  ‘Did I toe it last time?’

  ‘No, and, judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t at all pleased.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’

  In fact Jason had been furious with her for speaking her mind, and later they had had their one and only row.

  ‘Why the devil didn’t you back me up,’ he had demanded angrily, ‘instead of nearly scuppering the whole deal? You must surely have realised that PLFI couldn’t afford to go it alone, that we need Scrivener’s cooperation.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Scrivener asked for my opinion. I wish he hadn’t. But I wasn’t prepared to lie to him and tell him I thought the Archangel was a good bet when I don’t believe it is.

  ‘The last lot of investors to pull out were the third, and most of them have ended up bankrupt. That project just swallows money, and so many things have gone wrong that it seems to me to be jinxed.’