‘If you think you can manage it.’
That was it for her. She’d tried to parry him, she’d tried to be open, she’d tried to reason. No more. She stood.
His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I promise I won’t refer to it again. We’ll leave that night behind.’
She hesitated, thought of Grandfather and Bronwyn and the others. Finally sat.
‘Thank you.’
He still held her—his hand completely encircling her wrist, his fingers resting on her pulse point. There was no way he couldn’t feel its wild beating. She stared at his bronze skin, but was somehow frozen, unable to pull away.
The waiter appeared with two plates that looked more like art than food—breaking the still moment. And as Jared lifted his hand she pretended she didn’t miss the weight of it. She picked up her fork and pushed the food around to mess it up a bit.
‘Is it no good?’ In what felt like a minute, he’d nearly eaten all his.
‘No, it’s lovely. I’m not hugely hungry, that’s all.’
‘I guess my teasing you isn’t helping.’
‘Not really.’
‘How is your grandfather?’
‘He’s OK,’ Amanda answered cautiously. ‘Much older of course.’
‘But still going strong?’ Jared asked. ‘He was always a busy man.’
‘Yes,’ Amanda said. Physically he was OK, his body still pretty healthy for a man in his eightieth year although he’d lost weight recently. But that was all that seemed to be working well—the body. The brain? Not so good. But she wasn’t going to share. Grandfather had a right to privacy and she didn’t want to open up her heartache to Jared of all people. She turned the conversation on him.
‘Why juice? Why this company?’
He grinned. ‘I worked there when I first left Ashburton.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I got a scholarship to university—double degree in maths and commerce. But I still needed to work.’
Amanda nodded, not surprised at his subject choices. She remembered Grandfather once saying that Jared had the best maths brain he’d ever encountered.
‘It was a good job—started early so it fitted in with my studies.’ He shrugged. ‘And I like juice.’
‘So have you been working there all this time?’
‘No.’ He laughed outright at that. ‘After I got the degrees I went overseas. Hong Kong.’ He anticipated her question. ‘I made money trading foreign exchange.’
Banking—sort of stuff Grandfather had been into. And she knew mega money could be made and lost. She also knew the young guys in the investment firms had some serious party lifestyles too. ‘Why did you come back?’
‘I hated it.’
That surprised her. ‘Why?’
‘It was so false. A bunch of suits all gathered round computers watching electronic money grow. I wanted a real job that I could get my hands into. And I hated the lifestyle. But it was a means to an end. I made the money I needed to get the property I wanted and be able to buy the company I wanted.’
‘Juice.’
‘It’s a good little company.’ He sounded a tad defensive.
She smiled. It wasn’t that little and she sensed Jared had ambitions to take it further—this rebranding was just the beginning. He talked a little more about his time trading. She sensed he was making an effort as much as she. But the cynical gleam was still there. It wouldn’t take much to bring the big bad wolf back.
‘Are you having the dessert?’ he eventually asked.
She shook her head. ‘I need to get going.’
‘I’ll give you a ride.’
‘I can get a taxi,’ she said coolly.
‘I’ll give you a ride,’ he repeated.
She could feel him bending her to his will, wanted to fight against it but knew he wanted her to just so he could win. She sighed. Hadn’t she said they were grown-ups? And purely professionals working together? ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
She didn’t speak in the car other than to give directions.
He glanced her way more than once. ‘Tired?’
‘I have a lot to think about.’
She slipped out of the car as soon as he’d pulled over where she told him to. Said she’d have everything prepared for when he got back. Waved goodbye and walked away. Fast.
She did have a lot to think about—a lot of work. But it wasn’t ad campaigns or marketing slogans that looped round her brain all through the wee small hours. It was a frame-by-frame replay of that one night. Over and over. When her world had come crashing down.
It had been one of the hottest nights of the summer and she was on holiday. She loved the holidays. It meant Jared was there almost every day—working for her grandfather—as a filing clerk in at the bank, in the office at home, in the fields on the farm. She’d sit at the window and watch.
She knew the deal. She had girlfriends, she lived on a farm for goodness’ sake so she knew the facts of life. But the fact was she was turning sweet sixteen and she’d never been kissed. Being Amanda she wanted more than that and there was only one man she wanted it from.
For over two years she’d had a crush on Jared. Tall, enigmatic, sexy-as-hell Jared who never even looked at her. The odd occasion he had it was as if he looked right through her. Well, she’d hatched a plan—one that wouldn’t fail.
She’d got the lingerie from the department store while on a trip to the city one day. Had hidden it in her room for her special night. Where had she got the audacity?
Oh, yes, that was right, Grandfather’s brandy.
While she’d celebrated her sixteenth birthday with her friends on the nearest Saturday, on the actual night she had her own special present planned. Jared lived in a one-room cottage a couple of kilometres down the road. She put her raincoat on over the top of her negligee and ran. Fast on her feet—she’d been the sprints champion at school. He wasn’t home. She’d known he wouldn’t be. He’d been working late on something for Bill, Grandfather’s best mate.
She remembered hearing his step on the old wooden deck. And the nervous rush of excitement that had flooded her. He’d seen her immediately. Hard not to when she was perched up in the middle of his bed. The door had slammed behind him but the bang was nothing on the bark of his voice.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s my birthday.’
‘And?’ He didn’t take a step nearer. ‘Exactly what do you think you want from me?’
‘I want…’ She hadn’t imagined it would go like this. What on earth had she imagined? Talking hadn’t really come into the fantasy.
‘You want what?’ He sounded icier than she’d ever thought a person could. ‘Come on, you’re here now. Spit it out.’
‘I…’ She couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t even see the funny side. Surely he could have laughed about it. But he was angrier than she’d ever seen a person be.
‘I want you to get the hell out of my bed.’
Misery and humiliation were boiled up with defiance as she slowly stepped onto the cold wooden floor, trying to keep the slip from riding up her thighs as she moved. The wind was blowing the mercury even higher but she was freezing, wearing nothing but her black lace negligee that barely made it quarter of the way to her knees. He stood and stared, like a block of stone. Finally he moved, only to open the door and wait for her to pass through.
‘Forget it.’ She masked her mortification with sixteen-year-old attitude.
She brushed past him, head high, but as she stepped out onto the deck his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
‘Do you even know what it is you’re asking for?’
‘Yes.’ She tossed her head and flung the answer at him. ‘But don’t worry, I can find myself a real man. One who isn’t intimidated by a woman who knows what she wants.’
‘A woman? Is that what you are?’
‘Obviously one that you can’t handle.’
<
br /> He’d moved then all right. Pulling hard on her wrist so she’d stumbled and fallen against him. His body had been rock and his mouth had come down so hard on hers it had made her eyes water. She’d felt smothered. She’d gasped and struggled and suddenly the quality of the kiss had changed. His arms had still been like bands holding her tight and close but his mouth had moved more gently—just a fraction, just enough. She’d frozen, just feeling and then the warmth had started—trickling, then all of a sudden flooding through her body. She’d softened, pressing herself against him, and somehow his body had grown even harder and he’d hauled hers even closer. His hands had roved then, sweeping down her back, around her waist. And she’d kissed him back, her tongue meeting his and exploring further—tasting him, breathing in the sharp male scent of him, shaking as it had overwhelmed her. She’d been flying, yearning, instinctively moving, aching for something more.
He’d let her go so suddenly—shoved her from him—and she’d swayed on her feet. Her mind whirling, her stomach swirling. And suddenly she’d been so cold and dizzy and terrified. She’d gone to say something, she never knew what because instead she’d turned and heaved out all of Grandfather’s reeking brandy all over his deck.
He had sworn long and loud and so furiously. She’d never heard such a crude compilation of taboo words and phrases—never had since.
She could hardly blame him.
He’d handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth and taken her arm again—none too gently. He’d locked her into his ute and gunned his foot to the ground, breaking the speed limit all the five minutes back to her home, leaving her to face the wrath of her understandably irate guardian.
But nothing her grandfather said or did had hurt as much as the way Jared had looked at her—it had felt like a kind of hate and she could never forgive him for it.
Chapter Six
‘I’M BACK and want you to spend the morning with me.’
‘And I’d do that because…?’ Jared was back early. Blast.
‘In order for you to design the best ad campaign you need to understand my business from the inside out.’
‘I already have all the information I need to be able to produce the best ad campaign for you.’ She was hard at work on it now and she needed all day to get it right before their meeting on Monday.
‘You don’t have hands-on experience.’
‘You’re promising me hands-on experience?’ She couldn’t help rising to the innuendo.
There was a micro pause. ‘All the hands on you want, sweetheart.’
‘Well, thanks all the same, Jared, but I think I have it under control.’ She sure hoped she did—herself that was.
‘Well, you know I am the client and what the client says goes. I want you to see the factory up and running and so I’ll meet you in Reception at nine-thirty.’
He’d hung up before she could get another word in. Hands-on experience? In less than twenty minutes?
She took a deep breath. So far she’d had two days to prepare for this moment. Not just two days but three whole nights as well—but then she’d barely slept a wink of any of them, too busy thinking and then when she had fallen asleep she’d had to make herself wake. Because when she slept, he was with her…and those dreams were not allowed. And suddenly two days and three nights didn’t feel like nearly enough.
Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep that she felt the need to check her hair was tied neatly and her lips thoroughly coated in pale pink lip gloss.
And surely global warming was to blame for her surge in body temperature when she saw him waiting for her dressed in black jeans and black shirt and intense gaze. For a moment there was the flame in his face too—as he looked over her latest skirt and blouse combo—but it was quickly snuffed.
Professional.
He led her out past Reception and into what looked suspiciously like the tea room.
‘OK, so this is a juicer.’ He pointed to the bench.
She glanced over to where a bunch of about five young workers were sitting at a table with a pack of cards shared out in hands. Oh, yes, definitely the tea room.
‘Yes, I think I’ve seen one of those before,’ she said, turning her attention to the stainless-steel manual press that shone like a mirror. ‘Don’t tell me you have these poor guys juicing oranges half by half on just one of these?’
There was a collective snigger from the boys behind them.
Jared simply smirked and picked up an orange from the basket on the bench. He halved it swiftly with the sharp knife lying on the wooden board and put one of the halves on the juicer. Then he reached for one of the glasses stacked on the other side of the machine.
She tried really hard not to notice the flexing muscles in his forearms as he pushed the lever down and the glass filled with the bright liquid.
‘Everyone should start the day with a little vitamin C.’
He took out the spent half and put the other piece of orange in. ‘Your turn.’
It was a little harder than she expected but at least she didn’t splatter juice on her shirt.
He picked up the full glass and held it out to her. Truth be told pure orange was too acidic for her liking. But, with him watching her like that, no way was she declining the challenge.
She took the smallest of sips, aware of his overly intense scrutiny. She licked her lips, the taste making her shiver.
He took the glass off her, shaking his head. ‘You don’t deserve it.’ He drained it and placed it on the bench. ‘Come on.’
They walked—but out of the factory rather than through it.
‘Why am I here?’
‘You’re getting to know the client better.’
By walking through his car park? It was a complete sham. She knew it. He knew it.
‘Maybe I’ll get to better the client?’ she said coolly, showing her claws. She couldn’t stop the slight flirt—the need to make him strike.
‘Is that what you think you can do?’ An instant response. With a lower tone, he stepped closer.
Oh, it was too, too easy to go over the mark with him.
She tried to step back. ‘Well, aren’t you trying to put me off balance?’
He followed—even closer. ‘You think?’ And what of it? His tone was all insolence.
‘Why?’
He turned and pulled her around the corner of the building and right into his arms, his hands around her waist, holding her to him. There was the instant flare but she pushed her hands on his chest, a small barrier blocking her breasts from contact with him—too much, that would be too much.
His gaze had dropped to her mouth; she was trying so hard not to move it, to part or worse still lick her lips—dry and desperate though they felt. He wanted to kiss her, she wanted it too—her attention dropping to his mouth as it curved once more into that wolfish smile that was so tempting.
‘Does anything dirty ever come out of your mouth, Amanda?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Anything dirty. Hot, frisky, carnal, naughty.’ The look in his eyes was downright dangerous. ‘Do you ask for it how you want it? I’m thinking it must be there. That wilful teenager didn’t disappear into thin air at some posh boarding school. She’s still there. Still wanton. Still wild as anything.’
She gaped, then tried to hide how his words were affecting her. ‘You are so out of line.’
He ignored her words, cocked his head as he studied her expression instead. ‘Do you have some great secret life?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A lover hidden away somewhere? A series of lovers?’
‘What?’
‘’Cos the thing is, you look and act like an ice princess.’
‘You mean you think I’m frigid.’ It wouldn’t be the first time someone had said that—when her kissing quests ended with her rejecting the sample.
He tilted his head side to side, as if he was weighing it up. ‘Yeah. OK. Frigid.’ His chest moved beneath her fingers as if he was laughing inside
. ‘That’s exactly what you look like. But I know different, don’t I? I know exactly how hot for it you really are.’
‘Go to hell.’
‘You forget, sweetheart, hell was my home.’ Through his cotton shirt she could feel his warmth—burning. ‘Be careful or I might take you back there with me.’
‘Let go of me.’ But she was forced to move her arms as he crushed her closer, sliding her hands to push against his biceps—but his muscles were hard and now her breasts were flattened against the equally solid wall of his chest. She daren’t breathe.
He just tightened his grip and moved one hand to her waist, then higher, his thumb burrowing between them. ‘Ask me nicely.’
That thumb teased her taut nipple.
She shuddered. ‘You’re an arrogant bully.’ But she was breathless.
‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘With you I am. Because you’re a spoilt princess too used to getting anything she wants.’
‘I really don’t like you.’
‘And I don’t much like you either. But the fact is we’re meant to end up in bed together.’ He growled, pressing her pelvis harder into his to prove the point.
‘It’s not going to happen.’ She didn’t know who she was telling—him or her own wayward body.
‘Do you honestly think you could refuse?’
‘You really are arrogant.’
‘But, Amanda—’ his eyes locked onto hers ‘—I have every reason to be.’
She couldn’t handle him. Her hand itched with the desire to slap it across his cheek. Never had the thought of physical violence been so tempting. But there was another fantasy even more satisfying—even more shocking. She’d have him beneath her—have him out of control. And she would do everything she’d dreamed of to him—until he was the one begging her, until he was the one shuddering in desperation for her touch.
Bad to the bone was how Jared James made her want to be. But unless he was up front about how much he wanted her, in the same way he was asking her to be, then ‘no’ was going to be her answer. ‘No’ had to be her answer—she couldn’t afford to stuff this up. It took all her concentration to regulate her breathing, to cool her response, desperate to find a way to push him back before she betrayed herself completely and begged for him to touch her more.
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