The Tycoon's Wager

by Olivia Logan

  CJ’s eyes were such a lovely shade of blue. The noises around him settled into silence as her lips rose to meet his; their slow motion catapulted alien emotions through him as he brushed his lips across hers lightly before pressing more firmly. His mind registered every dip, every ridge, the contours of her lips beneath his.

  “Wowee! That’s a great shot! On the house for something like that.” The photographer’s voice was like nails down a blackboard as she turned to the next table, muttering about how it looked so real. His dinner companion scuttled back around the table, her eyes reflecting the shock that had rocked him to the core.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter 7

  Squashing the remaining laundry into the single, already overflowing cupboard, CJ dragged a hand down her face, then lowered it to gingerly touch her sore hip. The bash it had taken after she had jimmied back across the booth at record speed was just the icing on the embarrassment cake. Kiss Cam? What had she been thinking? A peck would have done. Her Twitter stream had gone insane; the e-mail from her bosses was over the moon! She had excused herself from staying for dessert despite Sal’s protestations, saying she had an early start. An excuse her dinner companion hadn’t bought if his knowing look was anything to go by. Still, Jack had let her leave more readily than she would have thought.

  Would have hoped, more like.

  Pushing the errant, unwelcome, crazy thought aside, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, eyeing the further stream of announcements she had become used to ever since he had begun to lay on the “personal touch” by tweeting alongside her, despite social media being her forte.

  She scrolled through listeners’ glowing comments to their reports:

  Romantic Night of the Yr. Ladies’ choice. Italian Restaurant. Belle Notte. #8dates1month @cjstratt

  D5. V-Day at fantastic Italian restaurant. Romantic atmosphere and gr8 food #8dates1month @HarperInc.

  In addition to the pictures, the public seemed to like the back-and-forth banter between them. According to her producer, one of the station owners had likened it to a modern The Taming of the Shrew. She still wasn’t quite sure whether she should be insulted or not, or even sure the man’s comment was relevant. For a start, she didn’t have any siblings.

  Walking the few steps to the overstuffed, worn sofa, she slumped down, her brows drawing together, one hand reaching to twirl the berry hair ends thoughtfully. He had a brother. A brother who was now dead. Till the kiss, she had spent most of last night trying to decipher from his tone and body language whether the Harper brothers had been close or not, and she was no closer to finding the answer. Especially if he and his father were not on speaking terms.

  Though, it didn’t seem to make sense to her why, after his brother’s death, Jack wanted to step up and take over, especially if he moved away not only from the business but the States, too. And not to an area she would have expected, especially not for him.

  The pillows behind her were soft as she dropped her head back against them. He was an enigma. Hot playboy by night and cold-hearted business tycoon by day. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure which she preferred. Or trusted. They were both embodiments of a world she had fled for a reason.

  Take last night, when she had stupidly kissed him, knowing and damning the consequences. Darn it! She shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. One, he was work. Second, of course he was a master of seduction; he had had years to perfect it. Third, he was from that place in her past.

  Or was he? She wasn’t sure she was sure anymore.

  Would the associates of her old life have shielded her from the paps? She knew the answer without having to think too hard. No. They would have left her standing exposed for all the world to see as they ran for their moment in the limelight. He could have. But he hadn’t.

  Then there was the skiing. It had been her favourite hobby growing up, and she had been devastated to give it up when she hadn’t the time nor the finances to continue with it. Had he known that? She doubted it. It was just dumb luck that he had picked skiing of all dates to choose from.

  CJ groaned aloud into the empty space. Maybe if she had been more experienced, the kiss wouldn’t have left her so hot and bothered, right? Not that men had been breaking down the door for the mousy-haired teenager she had been. They seemed to prefer the girls who spent more time on their appearance and less in helping others.

  An unsettling realisation began to form and she pushed it down. He had shared a part of him no one else was privy to. And yes, she had accidentally stumbled onto part of it, but he had still confided in her. It was an act she could never return in kind.

  Yes, she was attracted to him. Fact. But she refused to give voice to that emotion pushing at the walls of the secure fortress she had built around her heart. Pushing since the first date and hammering harder since the kisses. She helped others who found themselves in the eye of Cupid’s arrow. Not once had the impish cherub turned in her direction. Till now.

  Refocus, CJ, refocus! She was good at helping. In fact she was better than good. It was her career, damn it, and this wasn’t exactly one of her usual cases, but it still had something to do with relationships. Vaguely. And familial rather than amorous. But it was Jack who was hurting, not her. He was still hurting from his fallout with his family even though he clearly, in her opinion, was not admitting it. She, on the other hand, was just fine, thank you. This was nothing more than a really delayed teenage lust-fueled interest.

  She knew what she had to do. Bolting upright, CJ reached for her phone, ignoring the slight dampness of her palms as she keyed in the number. Her stomach dropped as he picked up on the second ring. So much for having time to get a speech ready.

  “Hey, Jack.” That sounded casual enough, didn’t it?

  “CJ. This is an unexpected surprise.”

  “Good surprise or bad surprise?” Her breathy tone must sound like she was flirting, so she wasn’t surprised at the sudden silence on the other end. She slapped her palm to her forehead, cringing inwardly. It was the very opposite of what she wanted to do.

  “Ahem,” she began, clearing the sudden frog that had taken up residence in her throat. “I just wondered what the remaining game plan was. Seeing as we are ahead of schedule and all.”

  “We are halfway through the four week, a.k.a. month, time period and almost halfway through the dates. I don’t see how that is ahead of schedule.”

  “I meant metaphorically speaking.” She huffed inwardly. Semantic pedantic!

  “Metaphorically, theoretically, physically, hypothetically ... we are not.”

  This was not going how she had planned. She had intended to draw him out to speak about his family and help him from there, as she had done countless times with listeners. Clearly he was going to be a tougher nut to crack.

  “You say tomato, I say tomato. We will have to agree to disagree.”

  “You rang to discuss the variation in our languages?” The flip back to the drawl of his U.S. roots whipped over her senses, and she shook herself free from its mesmerising effect, determined to concentrate on the barely concealed humour in his voice.

  “No, that was not why I called. I called because I wanted to talk to you.”

  “About ...”

  Why was he making this so difficult! Brushing imaginary dust from the nearby cushion, CJ inhaled deeply. Here went nothing.

  “Your purpose for this wager.”

  “I thought I made that very clear.” The censure behind his voice made her hesitate, the feeling that she was now no longer facing the devil-may-care playboy but the cold tycoon growing with every second.

  “You kind of did. Something about a deal and needing to look like the all-around hero to garner favour.”

  “I don’t think I phrased it exactly like that, but after your less-than-glowing comments on my character and my business, it was either that or sue for slander.”

  Grounding a nearby cushion under her hand, she counted to ten, ignoring the provoc
ative answer. “So, it’s all about the deal?”

  “What else is there other than the deal?”

  His words were like sheets of ice cutting through her, and she shook her head to stop the foolish prickling of tears behind her eyes.

  She knew it had always been about the deal. For her it was all about work, wasn’t it? Or at least it had started that way.

  She nodded her head determinedly. It was still all about work. By the end of this call, she could resolve the relationships between Jack and his family. And wasn’t that the whole point of her show?

  “So, about the reasons you want the deal so badly. I mean it’s not like you aren’t famous in the States, and most of the elite across Europe know you.”

  “Why the sudden interest, CJ?” His voice was suddenly suspicious.

  “Like you said. We are in this together of sorts, so if your rep sinks, then so does mine, so I don’t see it as that strange I would be curious.”

  “Global. It is time for Harper Inc. to go global.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else did you expect?” What a cold and factual reply.

  “Nothing. That is to say, if that is the only reason ...” She stopped, her voice trailing off at the irritated huff on the other end of the line.

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “Moi? Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just wondering what drove you to put on this farce now when your business is already so well known. And if not as well known as you want now, then a few years down the line it will be.”

  “CJ, let me explain to you in what I believe English people like to call layman’s terms. Ever heard of the phrase before?”

  His patronising tone grated on her already sensitive nerves, and she resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at the receiver.

  “I’ll take it by your silence that you have.” He ignored her hissed intake of breath. “I am a businessman. That is how I make money. The business, like all things, needs to grow, hence the deal. Does that answer your question, or are you finally going to get to the point you have been circling till now? Whatever happened to the straight-up truth of CJ Stratt?”

  “It’s still there, and there was no point I was circling around,” she replied, thankful he couldn’t see her biting her lip at the obvious lie. “I was just wondering what dro—”

  “Drove me,” he cut across her. “Yes, you said.” His bored, impatient tone gave her the distinct impression that she should be the one feeling bad for calling him, despite her good intentions. Good intentions that, like all good intentions, seemed to be going nowhere.

  Well, sometimes, a listener would need to hear the no-frills truth. The no-frills truth she was known for giving. Of course, she had never met her listeners directly let alone kissed them or begun to form emotional attachments to them. No, scrap the last part. Lust-fueled teenage interest, that’s all this was.

  “How much of this is related to your father and/or brother?”

  The sound of the small clock ticked gently in her ear, the seconds ticking into minutes at the white noise. Had he put the phone down? No. She could still hear breathing on the other end. Breathing that wasn’t relaxed but harsh and laboured like she had made him run miles. Though she was pretty sure that judging from his athletic build, he could run miles and not sound like that.

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” The coldness in his voice made her inwardly recoil, a shiver passing through her. She swung her legs beneath her, reaching for the closest pillow, trying to warm herself against the chill of his words. Gripping the phone tightly, she mentally counted to ten before continuing. She knew he’d be angry, after all; he didn’t like people prying into his private life. But she had a job and she was going to do it.

  “Exactly as it sounded. You don’t strike me as someone who gives a damn about other peoples’ opinions or who needs to own the world to prove your worth to it, and yet that is exactly what you are trying to do. Is it because you feel you have to live up to your brother’s work legacy or you resolved what was between you and your father?” Thank god the quiver in her voice had decided not to make an appearance after all.

  “Don’t think a few dates and a kiss make you an expert. You know nothing about my family. About me.” The savage response was like a sucker punch. For the first time in her career giving advice, she was unsure what to do next. She always stood by her advice, always.

  She’d always been right.

  Gathering her scattered feelings, CJ moved her legs back to the floor, sitting up straighter. She refused to cower at his anger. His response was brutal, but the edge to his voice indicated something else was also there.

  “Jack, I know—”

  “Nothing,” he barked. “You know nothing about me, CJ, and what you do know is nothing more than what everyone else does, so do not think you are any more special.”

  She couldn’t do this. Goodness knows she tried, but she couldn’t. It was too hard and too painful. What made her think she could treat him as one of her listeners? Insanity, that’s what it was. The same insanity that made her legs weak at his kiss, his touch, even just his looks.

  Swallowing back the lump of unshed tears, she cleared her throat, her fingers flexing gently against the worn fabric of the sofa. “You’re right, Jack. I don’t know anything more about you than the next person. Nothing more than Nasser does. And you wonder why it isn’t going your way.” Her voice was a lot stronger than she felt as she moved the phone away from her face, pushing her finger across the red End Call button and sliding down into the sofa’s soft cushions, willing the tears to stay at bay.

  • • •

  Damn, damn, damn! That was not how the call should have ended. Pounding a hand on the desk, Jack leaned back, swinging around in the soft, leather chair, his eyes raking across the twinkling lights of London before him. It was continuously moving; the lights of the tourist attractions blinking familiarly up at him. Like all cities, he loved the fact that this one never slept. Like him.

  What made her ask about Brice or his father? He had always planned to expand the business outside the U.S. and even the U.K. waters; that was well known. It was something Brice had been unwilling to do. The years hadn’t mellowed his father when Jack had finally taken over—the old man still chose to believe his ex-wife’s lies—but after Brice’s death and the pressure from the board, he couldn’t deny Jack’s business acumen and selling power any longer. Never really could despite bitterly pushing his older brother forward.

  Okay, so maybe he’d had enough of the doubters and the naysayers, the biggest of whom was his father, and that meant he grabbed this deal more energetically than he would have done. It was a golden opportunity, fit for a golden boy. But there would be others.

  No, wait. Shaking his head to erase the image of a certain berry-haired female, he frowned at the blinking lights of the London Eye. Why was he letting CJ get under his skin? He was attracted to her, that he couldn’t deny. But he was the one in charge of his business. He was the one who knew what he was doing, not her. Yes, there would be more deals, but later. This one was now, and there was no better time than the present. That had always been his life’s motto, even when his father had headed the company and Brice was alive. Yes, this deal was to prove a point, but it wasn’t all for them. It was for Harper Inc. The business that was now his and his alone.

  The familiar beep of an incoming e-mail drew his attention, and he swiveled around as the small blue envelope popped open. He scanned it quickly, the desire to wring someone’s neck growing with every second. It seemed that neither Brice nor his father was the puppet master now—it was Nasser. The deal regarded property in Dubai, not Monaco, so why on earth would they want to orchestrate a meeting there?

  The last line chilled him to the bone. He had suspected it from the start.

  We have been reading about your dates with interest. This meeting is to be social as well as business, and as such the parties involved have been instructed to invite their
partners. We wish to extend the invitation to you and look forward to meeting Ms. Stratt.

  It read like the order it was meant to. It wasn’t a request, despite the use of the word “invitation.”

  Drumming his fingers heavily against the large mahogany desk, he scanned the e-mail again, trying to find a loophole. There was none. He could argue that she wasn’t a significant other, although as she was mentioned by name, he didn’t imagine that excuse would wash.

  She wasn’t ready for this. Despite her “social” media presence, she did not do well in crowds. The film premiere had proven that. Not to mention, he didn’t think he was exactly her favourite person about now.

  This wasn’t about emotions. This was about business. It was always about business.

  He picked up the phone, the dial tone loud in the empty space, his hand unthinkingly dropping to reach instead for his car keys. This was urgent, and as he’d learned, urgent business was always better completed face to face.

  He found a spot outside the three-tier Victorian house his chauffeur had told him he’d find her in. Spying the large entrance door opening, he ignored the odd looks from the passersby as he dashed from the car, flashing a smile as he entered the gated house. The line of buzzers on the door proclaimed her flat to be on the second floor, and he took the stairs two at a time, forming his argument in his head.

  The door creaked on his second rap, the words he had been about to deliver freezing on his lips. Heat surged through him at her sudden appearance. Heat that had no right being there, especially now when he was so close to achieving his goal. His eyes raked over her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her hair pulled back haphazardly as strands broke free, an unusual combination of a V-neck grey sweater and a pink skirt dotted with black stars clinging to her like someone had spray-painted it on. It was an exact match to the pink on her toenails. The kick in his gut was like an electric jolt—he had never seen her feet before. And he was never a feet kind of guy, yet with her ...

  “Jack!” The astonishment in her voice dragged his gaze back to hers, until the creaking warned she was about to swing the door shut. Sliding his foot forward, he bit back a curse as the heavy wood slammed into his foot; he reached a hand through the gap to push it open, not that surprised to find her standing on the other side, arms folded, blue eyes stormy and her full lips pinched together.