Australia: Wicked Mistresses

by Robyn Grady

  But what did that have to do with him? He looked up into her face. “What am I supposed to have done now?”

  “Don’t give me that,” she fumed. “Having me followed, watched—badly, I may say. Your goon didn’t even care that I caught him.”

  Nick stared at her, uncomprehending.

  She huffed out an agitated sigh. “The same gorilla I saw you with on Friday?”

  Shaking his head, Nick finished removing his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. “Gorilla?”

  “At the hotel reception.”

  He eyed her while unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. He’d never seen her angry before last Friday. Two minutes ago, he hadn’t cared if he’d never seen or spoken to her again. Now, treacherously, his whole being warmed at the sight of her, sparks spitting from her eyes, her haughty chin raised high and mouth plump with a sullen moue. Nick was dangerously close to enjoying himself. “Jordan, what possible reason would I have to follow you?”

  “I want it to stop, Nick.” She leaned forward and rapped on the newspaper. “Now even my mother is asking questions, thanks to this.”

  She thought he’d sent the photo to the papers? Completely bamboozled—and worryingly exhilarated with it—he bit back a smile. The clouds that had darkened his weekend vanished in her presence, but he was astute enough to discern that if he smiled, she would probably deck him.

  So he looked her straight in the eye. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it,” he suggested, doing his best not to sound patronizing. “I’ll order some coffee and we’ll…”

  “I don’t want coffee,” she blurted, “and I don’t want to talk. I just want you to leave me alone.” She stabbed the air between them with her index finger.

  Nick started, filled with concern. There was something very wrong here. She was close to tears, more upset than he’d realized. Glistening eyes, the tremble in her voice…“Jordan…” He stepped around the desk but she whirled and made for the door.

  He saw red. She couldn’t just leave without giving him the chance to defend himself. He strode after her, his fingers grabbing her arm as she yanked the doorknob. “Don’t you walk away from…”

  “Keep away from me!” She lifted her arm to shake him. The door flew open and there was Adam, standing close, blatantly eavesdropping. Several heartbeats went by while both of them glared at him. At least he had the grace to step to the side and look contrite.

  With a little huff of disgust in Adam’s direction, Jordan turned her head to Nick. “In fact, keep your whole family away from mine.”

  Randall Thorne chose that moment to walk out of his office, stopping dead when he saw Jordan.

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed, all trace of her heated passionate plea lost in cool disdain. “You’ll be pleased to know,” she addressed the room in general, “that you won’t be required in court this morning. The case has been adjourned.”

  Nick shot a warning look in Randall’s direction in case the old man smart-mouthed her again.

  “My father had a heart attack on Friday,” Jordan continued. “He had an angioplasty and is still in the hospital.”

  Nick exhaled and took a step toward her. “Jordan…”

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she snapped and gave each of the men in turn a bitter, recriminatory look. “Just keep away from us.”

  She stalked to the elevator, pressed the button and left.

  No one spoke for a long moment, all eyes on the elevator. Even Jasmine looked stunned. Nick turned and walked stiffly to his desk, trying to assimilate what just happened. She thought he was stalking her, trying to blackmail her? And her father—sympathy welled up. God in heaven, what more damage could his family inflict on hers?

  Adam and his father walked in. “What was she doing here?” Randall Thorne demanded.

  Nick gave him a narrow glance. “Her father? What do you think?”

  Adam cleared his throat and sat. Nick decided not to look at him, guessing his brother had heard a little more than he was entitled to.

  He sat and rubbed his face briskly. “Christ, a heart attack.” He felt somehow responsible and he could see on Randall’s face that he felt the same. “This has got to stop, Dad.”

  “What did I…?”

  “This bickering and fighting between you and Syrius. I don’t care if you never shake hands and make up, but no more, do you understand?”

  “He started this…”

  “No, you started the latest outbreak by taking that award off him. He just carried it on.”

  “I’ve been insulted and slandered for years by that man. I’ve been the soul of patience and tolerance because your mother begged me…”

  Nick raised his hand sharply and his father’s voice trailed off. Come to think of it, he was just in the mood for a family conference. His blood was pumping—frustration, indignation at Jordan’s wild accusations and shock about her father. And, if he was honest, the zing he got every time he looked at her…

  It was time he got a few things sorted out around here. “Dad, I want you to announce your retirement at the birthday party.”

  His father looked up in astonishment. “Next month!”

  “You’ll be seventy. It’s time to go.”

  “I’m in good health—” Randall harrumphed “—and things aren’t settled yet.” He cast a sideways look atAdam.

  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 h
ad 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. “Can 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.