“I’m in good health—” Randall harrumphed “—and things aren’t settled yet.” He cast a sideways look at Adam.
Both brothers raised their brows at their father.
“Adam hasn’t decided—”
“Yes, I have, Dad,” Adam cut in quickly. “And I’ve told you repeatedly.”
“You’re not on the plane yet, my boy,” his father rumbled. “I want both my boys here.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Adam stated.
Nick studied his hands. At thirty-four, the managing director of this place in all but name, he was tired of being fed crumbs and kept hanging. Of his father constantly playing him off against his brother. Nick had to show he was strong and worthy of the position. Randall valued strength above all else.
“Let’s have this out right now,” Nick said, leaning back in his seat. “Face it, Dad. Adam is not coming back to Thorne’s.”
His father’s eyes bored into him. “He would if you needed him, if you asked him.”
Nick inclined his head. “Maybe. But I don’t and I won’t.”
A sly light leapt in Randall’s pale green eyes. “You jealous of your brother, Nick?”
Nick clasped his hands together, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all.” He flicked a glance at Adam who had the same thoughtful expression he’d worn since walking in here. “He knows that. But if you keep pushing, you’ll lose him to London for good.”
Nick hoped not. Adam had always said he’d settle in New Zealand eventually but for now, the lure of the world financial markets was too strong.
His father turned to Adam.
“Nick has it in one,” Adam said, preempting the next salvo. “I’m doing what I want to do.”
Randall’s thick silvery brows knitted together. “This company is my legacy to you both…”
Nick sighed. He’d heard it all before, many times. “Are you unhappy with my performance?” he demanded, leaning forward intently.
His father blinked. “Of course not. You’re doing a fine job.”
“Then step aside,” Nick said quietly. “Give me the recognition I deserve for running this place in all but name for the last five years.”
Randall got heavily to his feet. “And do I interfere? No! Why can’t you be happy with that until Adam comes to his senses, dammit?”
Nick eyed him steadily. “Would you be?”
He knew the answer to that. Randall was a pioneer of his time. The empire he’d started was now one of the top three financial lending companies in the country, with a triple-A international credit rating and branches in all the main centers. Randall Thorne had never played second fiddle in his life.
“Not even to fulfill your mother’s last wishes?” Randall had turned to glare at Adam’s dark head.
Oh, he was good, Nick thought with a grudging admiration. He’d used every excuse in the book over the last couple of years. The truth was, he liked to keep an edge. Didn’t want anyone getting too comfortable, too secure in their positions. Randall liked nothing better than having everyone scurrying around currying favor, vying to please him.
The old man left the office with a heavy step.
Adam stirred only when the door had closed behind him. “Good performance,” he said quietly. “You weren’t bad, either.”
Nick leaned back, exhaling. “Am I being unreasonable?”
“Not at all. It’s not like he does anything around here anymore.”
“And I don’t have a problem with him dropping in as often as he likes. But this is my domain now, and he’s encouraged me every step of the way. He can damn well follow through.”
Adam nodded. “You’ll get there. But,” he stood and moved to the window, “you have options, Nick.”
Nick joined his brother at the window, glancing at him curiously. They were very alike, same height and coloring, although Nick was broader. He took after his father in physicality while Adam had a touch more of Melanie, slightly finer of bone, sharper facial features and fuller lips. Nick used to call him a pretty boy when they were young. He absently rubbed his nose, remembering some epic fights. Pretty Boy could pack an impressive punch, even if he was smaller.
“Maybe I’m tiring of the traveling, the women, the excitement—or it’s tiring of me.” Adam grinned. “I’m setting up an entrepreneurial start-up company. Savvy people with big ideas apply for funding and mentorship, but it’s not just another angel investment company. I’m thinking big—global—and with some big names behind me.”
“You’ve been watching too much reality TV,” Nick said drily, but it was an interesting notion and one he’d like to hear more about. “Who are your investors?”
Adam named several captains of industry and IT. “I have my eye on a couple of big names, investors who will bring expertise and notoriety, not just money. If all goes to plan, I’ll be ready to roll in the new year. But I could use a good man here. New Zealand is ripe for this type of opportunity.” Adam turned to him with a glint in his eye. “It’s not that different to what you do here, except that most of your clients are retirees and farmers.” He approximated a yawn. “Be in on the ground floor, new innovative ideas, the future of the country.”
Nick smiled, welcoming an old memory. “Remember when Dad used to bring us here on Saturday mornings before rugby? I’d watch him, listen to him talking to clients, working them. For all he’s a bit rough around the edges, he knew how to treat people.”
“So do you.” Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re just more refined.”
Nick returned to his desk and sat. “Thanks, Adam. I appreciate the offer, but like you, I’m doing what I want to do.”
Adam nodded. “I know. I’m just saying, you have options.” He started for the door, then turned back. “Are you going to tell me what is going on between you and the Lake girl?”
Nick involuntarily glanced at the photo in the paper. His assault on Jordan’s affections had hit a temporary snag with her father’s heart attack. She wasn’t likely to view his advances with a friendly eye while Syrius was in any danger of leaving this mortal coil.
But it was still the best option open to him, especially in light of his father’s intransigence. And she was more than just a roll in the high thread-count linen of a five-star hotel. Nick hadn’t even started showing her how much more.
But she would be the first to know. Meeting his brother’s curious gaze, he smiled. “Nothing,” he said firmly. “Nothing at all.”
“Yeah, right,” Adam muttered skeptically and sauntered to the door. “See you later, big brother.”
Seven
“This beautiful Marlborough Sounds property for three million dollars, going once.”
Nick scanned the crowd for the flash of blue silk that would give her away. He’d caught glimpses only, which probably meant she was avoiding him. It was nearly the end of the evening and he had only just arrived in time for the big item being auctioned tonight. He’d planned it that way.
“Three million dollars going twice.”
A few faces close to him turned and nodded, their expressions curious and friendly. This was a media-free event, in as much as a hundred or so of New Zealand’s high society could be secret. The organizer had wanted it that way. If Reverend Parsons hadn’t filled him in on Jordan’s full involvement in the charitable Elpis Foundation, he’d be pretty miffed at throwing away a king’s ransom just to impress a woman.
“Sold to the highest bidder.”
Strangely, Nick felt little emotion for the huge outlay. No doubt his conscience would prick him tomorrow, especially when Adam or his father found out, but it was his own money he was using.
The auctioneer appeared and led him to a discreet table upfront, but to the side of the sumptuous ballroom to allow the dancing to resume. A couple of acquaintances patted his shoulder or winked as they passed but he invited no further conversation. His goal was to see Jordan.
“Please sit, Mr. Thorne,” the auctioneer invited. “C
an I get you some champagne?”
“No, thank you. Could you fetch Jordan Lake for me, please?”
The older man’s face leaped with surprise and anticipation, but he immediately bowed his head. “Certainly. Feel free to look over the sale documents.”
For the last three days, Jordan had refused to return his calls and after her performance in the car park, he was reluctant to go to her address. This morning, a wealthy client let slip that she was attending a charity auction for the Elpis Foundation. Nick recalled seeing the name in Jordan’s apartment and that Russ Parsons was involved.
While he waited, he flipped through the pages of the Purchase agreement and assorted documents. Even with the real estate photographer’s skill, the property looked shabby. The ad said the lodge was built at the turn of the century and still retained its “old-world charm”—another way of saying dilapidated. For one brief second, he wondered what the heck he was thinking.
But then he smelled her perfume, heard the swish of silk and the uncertainty of her voice when she spoke his name.
Nick got to his feet and stared at her for so long that the auctioneer who’d accompanied her backed off quickly. Jordan sat down stiffly.
She looked absolutely incredible. If he could recapture this moment in his mind forever and a day, he would recall every detail: the shade of her dress that matched her eyes—and the blue diamonds at her ears, he thought with a stab of triumph. Her glorious golden hair piled high with ringlets coiled around her face. The exact shade of pale pink lipstick as that which graced her fingernails, and her toenails, if he remembered correctly. The dress was a dramatic sheath of crisp silk, strapless, with a split bodice that emphasized her bust and cinched in her waistline. She was every inch the princess.
“You look lovely, Jordan,” he said simply.
“Thank you. I’m—surprised to see you.”
“Didn’t Russ tell you? I asked him for an invitation, since mine obviously got lost in the mail.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him,” Jordan said, smoothly ignoring his dig.
“My mother has always attended his church. He was a regular visitor to my parents’ house during her illness.”
Russ couldn’t have been more enthusiastic with his endorsement of Jordan’s many virtues. Tonight’s glittering shindig she’d organized on the smell of an oily rag, begging favors all over town. Nick learned that she’d set up the Elpis Foundation with her own money a year ago. He heard all about her volunteer work at a free medical clinic and numerous other projects she had initiated.
And about her refusal to have her name associated with any of it. That interested him most of all.
He realized he was still gazing at her face when she shifted and cleared her throat.
“If you’d like to sign the contract…” she said with a pointed look at the papers on the table.
Nick sat down, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just as soon as you have the last dance with me.”
She shook her head, confirming that she didn’t trust him an inch—or was she worried about being seen with him? He observed that no one was paying them any attention. The orchestra was two minutes into the feisty Die Fledermaus and they were mostly obscured by the throng of dancers moving around the floor.
He faced her and leaned forward. “Come on, Jordan, do all your stalkers throw away a couple of mil just to impress you?”
She gave him a guarded look. “Some of my father’s closest friends are here.”
“I’ve just topped your sales for the evening. He’ll understand.”
“He’s not well,” she retorted. “And anyway, this isn’t the last dance.”
“Good, then you have a few minutes to explain why you think I’ve been stalking you.”
Jordan sighed, staring moodily into the dance crowd. “You know why. The silver car. The big burly man with dark glasses, watching my building and following me everywhere.” She picked up the pen, turning it over in her hands. “He gave me the creeps, staring at me all the time.”
Nick decided not to point out that any red-blooded male in the world would have to be blind not to stare at Jordan Lake, especially tonight. “For someone who’s made a career out of spicing up the gossip pages, you seem a little tense about some old photographer.”
Her brows knitted in irritation. “It wasn’t a photographer. I confronted him when he followed me into a coffee shop and he denied it—why would a newsman do that if his paper is about to run a story?”
Nick shrugged, skeptical. “What made you think I had anything to do with it?”
Jordan hesitated. “I—I remembered how you looked when you came around that night, when you thought I’d been with Jason.”
“How I looked?”
She flushed prettily. “Angry. Jealous.”
Nick leaned back in his seat. “And I don’t have the right to be jealous, do I?” He knew he didn’t. He’d given nothing of himself to this relationship, such as it was.
She looked down at the pen in her hands.
“I swear to you, Jordan, I had nothing to do with anyone following you. I was as invested as you were to keeping our meetings under wraps, especially with the court case going on. What possible reason…?”
Jordan took a deep breath. “Okay, I might have been prepared to admit I was wrong about your involvement. And five minutes before I hit you in the car park…”
“Rammed me,” he injected drily.
“You hemmed me in,” she retorted. “I’d just been told of my father’s heart attack. But it was seeing you with the man in the hotel that really spooked me.”
“Back up. You went to the hotel on Friday?” He cast his mind back to Friday, a roaring of anticipation in his ears, fading with each passing minute, then an hour. The black rage of frustration that had him speeding over to her apartment building to have it out with her.
“Of course.” She sounded surprised he would even doubt that. “I wouldn’t let you down without calling.”
He shook his head, confused. “I wasn’t with anyone at the hotel.”
The arch of one perfectly sculpted brow confirmed her skepticism. “I’d just walked into the lobby when I saw you talking to a man. You were both standing at Reception.”
Nick started to deny it but her raised hand stopped him. “It was the same man, Nick. I got a great look at him in the coffee bar.”
“I just picked up the key card…” Nick began, and then a memory kicked his indignation into touch.
“You were talking to him,” Jordan insisted, “and then you walked to the elevators and he just stayed there, staring at you.”
Nick remembered an insignificant detail. “Someone asked me the time.” His mind had been so full of Jordan, he’d barely noticed the man who stood at the reception desk while he checked in. He hadn’t given it another thought but in hindsight, it was a strange request considering the hotel wall behind reception had about a dozen clocks, all displaying time zones from around the world. “That was it. I told him the time and walked away.”
Maybe this was something to be uneasy about after all. “Are you sure it was the same man, Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you should call the police,” he told her. “It’s probably nothing, just a photographer hoping for a story, but just to be on the safe side…” He didn’t want to spook her but she’d described quite a catalog of incidents. Some of it could be imagination, some less likely.
“The photo in Monday’s paper was the last straw,” she said gravely. “I thought you were playing some sick game.”
“So you stormed into my office.” No wonder she was rattled, and with her father’s heart attack coming on top…He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table. “Jordan, do you believe I had nothing to do with any of that?”
Jordan gazed at him for a long moment. She wouldn’t describe herself as a great judge of character but she could see only concern and sincerity in his face—exactly what she wa
nted most to see. The past few days, she’d been miserable, hoping against hope there might be an alternative explanation.
His eyes reassured, soothed, seemed to see deeper into her than anyone had before. She nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. It was just a weird couple of days.”
The master of ceremonies announced that Strauss’s Wine, Women and Song was the last dance of the evening. Nick stood and extended his hand. She rose, looking around nervously, but when he enfolded her hand in his and gave a reassuring squeeze, her reservations about her father finding out seemed trite. The man had made an enormous boost to the fund-raising coffers tonight. It would be surly to refuse him a dance.
She wanted to trust him. She’d trusted him with her body for months, and now her fears seemed silly. That aside, he was still the son of her sick father’s oldest enemy. And she was afraid of risking her heart to someone who would tire of her soon enough.
They joined the other dancers on the floor and as the first notes rang out with military drama, the men bowed low to their partners. There was a lengthy introduction but at least this waltz was one of the shorter selections tonight. Jordan stood stiffly, waiting for the waltz steps to start and Nick moved close and put one big warm hand on her back.
And then she forgot everything, lost in the music she loved, the million double-quick turns and jaunty steps that he seemed to know as well as she. Jordan was a student of waltz for many years and liked to think she had inherited some of her mother’s grace and ability. Nick moved well, full of confidence and purpose. Like he did everything, she thought wryly. But of course, his mother had been an outstanding dancer and teacher, too.
The music swirled, lifting her spirits, and she followed his commanding lead in perfect synchronicity, thrilled to find such a capable partner. Nothing beat the rapture of a fast Viennese waltz when two capable participants clicked on the floor.
Well, almost nothing…Nick rarely took his eyes from hers and she could see he, too, enjoyed the self-imposed discipline of being this close and yet perfectly proper. The teasing brush of his thighs, the masculine pressure of his hand at her lower back, the flat of his palm upon which her fingers rested, it all merged into a dance of restraint. How she knew was a mystery but she sensed how much he wanted to pull her close, mold her body to his. His hand wanted to close around her fingers, his other, to stroke up her back. That he managed to convey all this without a word was testament to their undeniable physical connection.
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