The CEO (The Millionaire Malones Book 2)

by Victoria Purman

  ‘These look like architectural drawings,’ Callum said as he looked over her shoulders. He leaned over to look more closely at her design. He was positioned next to her and she tried not to breathe in his scent, that heady combination of pine and man and confidence that seemed to come so effortlessly to him. Even the way he stood was confident: feet apart, shoulders back and his head just slightly angled in such a way that made him look like he could pierce you with his gaze and listen out for enemies at the same time.

  ‘A little. It’s important to have a plan to work from. This way, it’s not just in my head, but here on paper, and Andy and I can be on the same page when we’re actually making the garden.’ She looked up at Callum. ‘I’m sure you understand better than anybody the importance of having a plan. I bet you don’t go off half-cocked when you’re about to make some huge investment decision.’

  Had she just said half-cocked? For God’s sake. There would be nothing half-cocked about Callum Malone. He would be fully cocked at all times, she was certain, and tried desperately not to look down at his crotch to make sure.

  His eyes seemed to bore into hers. ‘I always have a plan.’

  ‘See? I was right.’

  He gave her a wry grin. ‘Doesn’t mean everyone around you always sticks to the same plan, however.’

  ‘Life can be messy,’ she said, looking into his dark eyes, trying to understand him and his disappointments. ‘Things don’t often work out the way you would like or would hope.’ She held her breath. ‘In my experience.’

  Callum turned to her, crossing his arms. He was close. She was aware of the heat from his body, could smell his aftershave, could almost feel the roughness of the growth on his chin under her tingling fingertips. His mouth was unsmiling and his eyes were narrowed and dark and trained on her in a way that made her hot and cold all at the same time.

  ‘Is that right?’ he asked, the timbre of his voice shooting straight to her sex.

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you’re the kind of woman who puts up with people doing the wrong thing by you.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m a Cancerian. We hold grudges for a very, very long time.’

  He stared at her mouth. ‘I don’t believe in holding grudges,’ he said. ‘It’s a waste of time and energy. I much prefer revenge.’

  ‘Spoken like a ruthless businessman.’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Ava tore her eyes from his beautiful face and looked at the plans on the table. ‘I thought that seeing how busy and important … and ruthless … you are, that you would prefer a low-maintenance garden.’

  ‘Good call.’

  ‘I’m sure that any free time you have you would rather spend in the kitchen than in the garden.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So, even if you get someone in to tidy things up, it won’t need to be very often.’

  ‘Mmm,’ he murmured. ‘Do you do that maintenance work as well?’

  Ava gulped. ‘Technically, yes.’

  ‘Why technically?’

  Her mouth went dry. ‘I could arrange it for you.’ She would have to send Andy. It was more than she could bear to be back here on a regular basis. She turned her attention back to the plans. ‘The balcony out here I thought should be simple. You don’t need anything fancy or distracting when that stunning view is the feature. I would recommend a simple setting with some really comfortable chairs for when you entertain—’

  Callum laughed. ‘Entertain?’

  ‘You do entertain, don’t you?’

  ‘If I need to do dinner with clients we go out.’

  ‘But you love cooking? Don’t you cook for anyone?’

  ‘Only for very special guests.’

  Ava cleared her throat. ‘So … no to a table?’

  Callum looked down at the plans. ‘No to a table, but why don’t we go with some comfortable chairs? Somewhere I can sit and read. Or drink scotch or stare out at the ocean.’ And the image of him doing all three, shirtless, tanned, stubble on his chin, almost set Ava on fire.

  ‘Okay.’ She made a note on the plans. ‘I’ve planned three large black pots out here with succulents in them. I would recommend zamia furfuracea.’

  He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I love it when you talk dirty.’

  She tried not to shiver because that look of his was dirty, too. ‘It’s Latin,’ she managed.

  ‘Even better.’

  ‘A zamia furfuracea is a type of cycad, Callum.’

  ‘It’s a what now?’

  Ava tried not to smile. ‘You really don’t do plants, do you?’

  ‘You need to ask?’

  ‘What a waste to grow up in such a spectacular garden when you have no interest whatsoever in flora.’

  There were both leaning over, looking down, their hands flat on the table. His hand was so close to hers. It was a big hand, strong, with long fingers. There were fine hairs on the back of it and on his wrist he wore an expensive-looking watch. James Bond expensive, it almost glittered in the early morning light flooding into his house. Ava could feel his body right there, in her space. When she shot him a sideways glance and found him looking back at her, she held it, bravely and breathlessly.

  ‘I’ll have you know I did appreciate those massive grounds. They were a spectacular cricket pitch.’

  ‘Heathen,’ she muttered and turned away, hiding her smile. She could see him there, now that she’d visited The Meadows and had seen the gardens. She imagined him there as a boy, full of energy, full of life, roaming that property and playing cricket with his brothers. For all of them, life must have been so much simpler back then, when their mother was alive. Callum didn’t yet have the power and responsibility of running his family’s company and hadn’t yet had to cope with disappointments and missteps.

  ‘So what’s this?’ Callum tapped his finger on the paper. When he moved, his arm nudged hers.

  Ava tried really, really hard to concentrate on her plans. Work. That’s why she was here. ‘If we go down, level by level, starting at the top, we’ve got the entertaining area just out here. Then, the pool. I don’t think that needs anything around it at all, just some cleaning and filling. So, if we go down another level, that’s the grassed area we were discussing.’ Ava held her breath before forcing herself to say the words. ‘The play area for children. I did some measuring and it’s big enough to fit a small trampoline or perhaps a hanging swing if you want. For the future.’

  ‘That looks good,’ he said.

  Ava turned her attention to her plans once again. ‘Down here,’ she pointed out a section of the plan. ‘On the lowest level? I’ve planned for some coastal shrubs and succulents with a natural stone path leading to the gate.

  ‘Great.’ Callum stood up straight, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and took a step back from the table.

  This shouldn’t be complicated. He knew that. He was used to studying three-hundred-page tender documents, forensically searching for a sub-clause or typo that could mean disqualification from the entire process or millions more dollars in costs. It was what he did. It was why Malone Enterprises was winning work all over the Asia-Pacific region. It was what had saved the company when his father had dropped the ball and decided that screwing around all over Europe and Asia was a better use of his time that saving his company.

  So, why the hell were the lines and names on the page swimming before his eyes like a smudged mess?

  He knew why. Oh hell yeah, he knew why.

  Because Ava the Not-So-Terrible was standing next to him in a white tank top and cut-off denim shorts. Because Ava the Not-So-Terrible smelled like fresh flowers. Because Ava the Not-So-Terrible had long, long legs and a tan and freshly washed hair that draped over her bare shoulders like a silk curtain.

  He breathed deep and hard.

  ‘Callum?’

  When he snapped out of the thought, he found a pair of brown eyes staring up at him. Ava
had tucked her hands into the back pocket of her shorts, which pushed her breasts out and towards him. Her gaze was soft and those eyes of hers were full of questions. She was so different from Lulu that he still found it hard to believe they were sisters. One had been all sweetness and tenderness. The other had been distant and just plain mean.

  Turns out he wasn’t sure now which sister was which.

  ‘It all looks great, Ava.’

  ‘Thanks’ she said, dropping her eyes to the plans and pushing her hair back behind her right ear. Her long neck was tanned too and a dangling silver earring lay flat against the skin there as she tilted her head to the side. No pearls for this Gibson sister. She wasn’t the type. Callum looked closer. The decorative curlicue of silver circles shone as it caught the morning light.

  ‘Are you sure there’s not anything you want to change or shift or discuss? I like to work collaboratively, to consult with you to come up with alternatives if things here don’t suit. I’m open to doing anything you want, Callum.’

  I’m open to doing anything you want, Callum. Those words took him to a place he shouldn’t be going.

  ‘I’m a great believer in hiring people who know what they’re doing. And then I like to let them do it.’ And maybe watch, he thought. Ava in that singlet top and shorts, with heavy work boots on, getting hot and sweaty in his garden? Fuck.

  ‘So you have no other changes?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You like the design?’

  ‘Yep. Get to work.’ He fished in his pocket and presented Ava with a set of keys. He dangled them before her like a conjurer’s charm. She looked at them, looked up at him, and looked back at the keys.

  ‘They’re keys,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. To my house.’

  ‘Why would I need keys to your house?’

  ‘So you can get in when I’m gone.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, and a little crease appeared at the top of her nose. He fought the urge to reach up and trace it with a finger. He fought real hard.

  ‘Singapore.’

  ‘Is it a business trip or something?’ Ava asked.

  ‘They always are.’

  ‘That explains the clothes,’ she said, taking him in from head to toe.

  There was a slight delay when she reached his chest, which he liked a lot. ‘You don’t like what I’m wearing?’

  ‘It’s perfectly nice but a little excessive for the weekend.’

  He looked down at his suit trousers, his bespoke leather shoes and his crisp white cotton shirt. ‘You only get away with wearing jeans in first class if you’re an actor or a rock star.’

  ‘I’ve never flown first class. What’s it like?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s definitely more comfortable than the back of the plane, but it’s still work.’

  Ava studied for a moment. ‘You don’t want to go?’

  ‘I’m a chief executive, Ava. It’s what I do.’

  And when she smiled up at him, he couldn’t brush it off this time as a friendly gesture. This time, that smile of hers, slightly crooked, accompanied by that blush and the shine in her eyes, shot him in the chest. And in the groin.

  And he realised he didn’t want to get on that goddamn plane and leave this woman behind. He wanted to crack open a bottle of wine, prepare them an amazing lunch and then make love to her all afternoon with the sound of the sea breeze through the open windows and the feel of her body against him, under him, on top of him, all around him.

  ‘Well … what if I have questions when you’re away?’

  He reached down to the table and picked up his phone, slipped it in his pocket. ‘Text me.’

  Ava crossed her arms, a doubtful expression furrowing her brow, and the look in her eyes now said, yeah right. ‘And I’m sure Evelyn will love me for bothering her with questions about drainage.’

  ‘This is my private line, remember? The only person who sees messages or phone calls is me.’

  ‘Right.’ Ava bit her lip.

  ‘Some things are best kept private,’ he said quietly. ‘Because, you know, all that insider trading and price-fixing I do sometimes requires complete privacy and a secure line.’

  Her eyes flashed up at him and she grinned.

  He chuckled. ‘And in case you’re thinking of reporting me to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission, that was a joke.’

  ‘I’m warning you. If you were corrupt, I would.’

  ‘I would expect nothing less from a class warrior like yourself.’

  A blossoming pink colouring her cheeks. ‘Why thank you for the compliment. When you grow up where I did, being a class warrior, as you call it, comes as naturally as breathing.’

  ‘I admire that. Knowing where you come from, defending it.’ He took a step closer. He needed to. ‘But there’s something I can’t figure out.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  He reached for her hair, taking a strand in his fingers and twisting it loosely around his index finger. It was strong but soft, just like Ava. And he wanted to see more of that softness underneath the tough. ‘I don’t understand why you took one look at me and decided you didn’t like me.’

  ‘It saved time,’ she said, quick as a flash.

  ‘Still don’t like me?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Still don’t like you.’ Her smile and the way she breathed in deep, revealed the truth.

  He caressed her hair all the way down to its ends and then let go. The strand fell on to her breast, round and full and tightly enclosed under that white singlet top. She probably meant it to look like work wear, but it was about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He glanced down and made sure she knew he was looking.

  ‘That makes two of us,’ he said, trailing his eyes slowly up her neck, her lips and her shining eyes. ‘Ava the Terrible.’

  ‘What did you just say?’ she said.

  ‘That was what I called you from that first time we met.’

  ‘Ava the Terrible, huh?’ She didn’t look hurt by it, but amused. She smiled and it lit up her face.

  ‘You’re not pissed at me?’

  She shrugged. ‘Why should I care what you call me? I don’t like you, remember?’

  ‘Right,’ he said.

  ‘And don’t forget,’ Ava said as she turned away from him and rolled up the plans, slipping them back into the white cardboard tube. ‘I hold a grudge for a very, very long time.’

  He watched her every move as she slipped the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and tucked the tube under her arm.

  ‘This is going to be good,’ he said. He meant the garden. Of course he did.

  ‘Of course it is,’ she replied. ‘I’d better be off and let you pack.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He picked up the keys and held them out to her. ‘You’ll be needing these.’

  Ava held out a hand. He made sure he trailed his fingers across her palm as he let go of the keys. They dropped with a metallic clatter in her palm.

  As he watched her slowly enclose them in her fingers, all rational thought disappeared.

  He stepped in to her, reached for her face, cradled her warm cheeks, and looked into her eyes.

  He saw what he wanted to see.

  He saw yes.

  Callum leaned down and pressed his lips to her mouth, and when Ava moaned against his lips he closed the gap between them, deepening the kiss, surprised as hell when her tongue found his, urging, exploring, crumbling every defence he’d built up about being involved with any woman ever again.

  Because this wasn’t any woman.

  The bag slipped from her shoulder and the cardboard tube fell to the floor with an echoing thump and her hands were free to roam his body. Her fingers gripped his arms, tightened on his pecs and then moved lower, down across his abs. She met his every move with one of her own, and they kissed more, deeper, hotter, wetter.

  Until she tore her lips from his and stumbled backwards.

  For a long moment, they sim
ply stared at each other, their breathing fast and deep, their hands aching for each other.

  Ava bent down to pick up her things but Callum got their first. He looped the strap of her bag on her shoulder and handed her the tube.

  ‘I’d better …’ Ava pointed a finger towards the door.

  ‘Ava …’ And he was that close—that close—to cancelling the whole goddamned trip. Fuck Singapore. Fuck the deal of a lifetime that he’d almost secured for the company. Because he wanted her. Hell, it was more than that. He needed her. He needed to take her to the brink and tease her and watch her lose her breath as she came. He needed to bury himself inside her until he forgot his own name. Thinking about his life without her in it suddenly seemed unthinkable. Empty.

  Before he could finish, she turned and walked away.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Oh no. No no no no no no no.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Ava had no clue how she’d got home. All she knew was that one minute she and Callum Malone had been kissing each other senseless and the next she was standing outside her own front door with her keys. Traumatic amnesia was a thing, wasn’t it?

  She may not have remembered the journey home but she remembered that kiss. There was no ever-loving way on earth that Ava could forget that. And she’d been so deliriously thrilled when he kissed her that she had kissed him back. And, if she hadn’t finally seen sense, been struck by blind panic and a deep-seated sense of guilt and pushed him away, who knew what would be happening right now?

  Ava closed the front door behind her, plodded into her living room and threw herself on the sofa. What would be happening right now if she hadn’t pulled away? She’d probably be having sex, that’s what. One more second and she would have thrown all caution to the wind and asked him to fuck her right there and then on those expensive but no doubt extremely hard floorboards.

  Something real and seemingly unstoppable was happening between them; something that had no connection to their past and who they once were to each other, and everything to do with being a man and a woman in the here and now who were attracted to each other.