Cherish Hard

by Nalini Singh

  Isa was on the edge of her seat. "Because?"

  "He never finished telling me why! He turned around as he was speaking and saw me standing there and, well, the nightmare of awkwardness began."

  "Oh God."

  "He scowled at me the entire time."

  Isa winced. "Did he say anything?"

  "Oh yes, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Quiet had plenty to say once our parents joined us. He asked me if I enjoyed going to parties."

  "What did you say?"

  "I didn't have to say anything. My parents jumped in, laughing and saying he didn't have to worry about my being a party girl." Nayna ground her teeth together. "Meanwhile, Raj sits back and says, 'Oh' in a certain tone."

  "Tell me you got back at him."

  "Are you kidding? I smiled like the perfect Indian princess, asked him one sugar or two and put in seven. You should've seen his face when he had to choke it down or risk insulting my entire family." Total evil satisfaction in her tone.

  Grinning and delighted for her friend, Isa said, "You know there's one good side to this--you've found a man you're madly attracted to and your family approves of him."

  Nayna's return words were a growl. "I can't be attracted to a guy my parents introduced me to--that goes against all my principles now that I've decided to break free."

  "I actually understand that nonsensical statement." Isa stopped at a traffic light. "But principles aside, do you think it might work?"

  "I don't know," Nayna muttered. "All we have between us is that stupid scene at the party where I basically told him to keep his mouth shut, I was only interested in his body." More head slamming. "And honestly, that was probably a one-night type of attraction on his part. I don't know what my parents were thinking matching us--he's the kind of man who could walk into a bar and have his pick of the women there."

  Isa didn't tell Nayna she was beautiful. Her friend had grown up with an astonishingly stunning sister who was always the center of attention; Nayna had certain hang-ups even a best friend couldn't erase. "So have you responded? Or have they responded?"

  "He texted me this morning," Nayna confessed. "Said we should go out for lunch and have a proper talk. That there was no point trying to make a decision about the rest of our lives when we just had a few minutes together." A pause. "He also added that, of course, that was only if I was interested in his brain now."

  Isa winced again, but she was actually starting to like Raj. He was the first one of Nayna's suitors who'd taken the initiative and was actually attempting to get to know the woman behind Nayna's lovely face. "Are you going to go?"

  "My parents would find it shocking," Nayna said, "but since I'm being a rebel now, what do I care? I want to know what the hell Raj thinks he's doing coming to my house for an arranged-marriage meeting when he's so clearly not the kind of guy who would be happy in an arranged anything!"

  "Um, Nayna," Isa murmured, "you went along with your family too."

  "That doesn't count." Nayna huffed, completely illogical for such a logical woman. "I guess I'll find out what he's up to at lunch today."

  "Call me as soon as it's over."

  "I will. Anyway, enough about me. Did you get up to anything interesting last night? Maybe with the hot gardener?"

  Isa told her about Catie, reassured her best friend that Catie was all right. Then she spilled the rest. "I'm terrified," she admitted afterward. "So scared that I'll never be anything but a peripheral part of his existence."

  "Don't judge him just yet," Nayna said quietly. "He stepped into the breach this time, didn't he? Maybe you can make it work."

  Yes, he had. Magnificently. But-- "It's not the moment that counts, it's the long-term commitment to being there, day after day." She swallowed down the knot of worry as she approached the parking lot for Crafty Corners. "Getting back to you, give this Raj guy a chance too, okay?"

  "We'll see," Nayna said in a noncommittal tone before they hung up.

  Isa was walking to her office when she saw Ginny doing a wheelie, her wheelchair tipped up off the front as she spun it around. Isa's lips kicked up. "Since when is that acceptable corporate behavior?"

  Her assistant grinned. "Since I just joined my local wheelchair basketball league."

  "Didn't you tell me you don't understand the appeal of putting a ball in a net?"

  "When the league is coed with some superhot players for me to ogle, it's all details, details." Waving insouciantly, Ginny said, "Jacqueline wanted to see you as soon as you got in." She came closer, dropped her voice to add, "Thought you'd want to know that she's changed Harlow's internship program. It's way tougher than the usual."

  "Thanks, Gin." Isa dropped off her satchel before going over to Jacqueline's office.

  She found her mother in the middle of a phone call. Seeing her, Jacqueline held up a finger to indicate that she would only be a minute. Isa shut the door behind herself and walked over to look at a large concept plan that was sitting on an easel to one side of Jacqueline's office.

  It was a design for a mega Crafty Corners store in the central part of the city.

  Jacqueline still wasn't sure about the economics of the possible expansion, so it was all very conceptual right now. If and when her mother did decide to move ahead, she'd have worked out every financial angle in advance.

  "So Catie's fine?"

  Turning at Jacqueline's statement, Isa nodded. "Clive's been dodging my calls, but I left messages. He'll call Catie this morning if he knows what's good for him."

  "Fortunately," Jacqueline replied, leaning back in her chair, "Catie is far more practical and clearheaded than you were at her age. She might hope for more from Clive, but she understands the reality of his personality." Raised eyebrows. "You, on the other hand, always expected your father to change and become the kind of father you needed."

  "Head in the clouds," Isa said, echoing something Jacqueline had said to her more than once.

  "Too sensitive." Jacqueline picked up her fountain pen, tapped it against the side of her desk. "I wish you hadn't been born that way--and God knows where it came from--but it's who you are. It's what makes you so good with the people who work for us--they follow me because they respect me. But they'll follow you because they just like you."

  "I chose to go into teaching for a reason, Mother," Isa said for the umpteenth time. "I chose to make my living with poetry and novels and the written word for a reason."

  Jacqueline held her gaze. "We have an agreement. For the summer you're mine."

  "Yes," Isa said, "about that. What's this I hear about Harlow being put through a different internship program than usual?"

  Setting down her pen, Jacqueline smiled that barracuda smile. "You say the boy has the balls for this kind of work--I'm giving him the chance to prove it. He's going to be brought up through the entire business, and I'll be getting reports from all the people he works under."

  While Isa was glad her mother was giving Harlow a chance, it was an unfairly difficult one. "He's still only seventeen," she said. "You can't judge him against standards set by grown adults."

  "You passed those standards," Jacqueline said flatly. "When you were sixteen."

  Damn her teenage self, so eager for her mother's approval.

  Now she couldn't say anything against Jacqueline's plans for Harlow because the instant she did, she'd be confirming her mother's doubts about her brother's abilities. On the flip side, should Harlow pass the tests, he'd well and truly win Jacqueline's approval and support. And that was all Harlow wanted.

  "Why did you need to see me?" she asked, trusting Harlow and his skills.

  Jacqueline's mouth tightened. Waving Isa over, she pointed to something on the computer screen to the right of her desk. "Look at this."

  The headline was impossible to miss: New Crafty Corners megastore in progress.

  "I didn't think the news was out." Isa skimmed through the article. "I wasn't aware you'd made a final decision."

  "I haven't." Jacqueline's tone was frigid
.

  Sucking in a breath, Isa glanced at Jacqueline's icily controlled face. "Someone leaked this information?"

  A crisp nod from her mother. "Since I'm not sold on the idea anyway, it won't do too much damage. I've been thinking we should locate it in a less busy area with plenty of parking and spin off a birthday-party package. There are a lot of parents like me and your father who have more important things to do than plan birthdays."

  Isa glanced at her mother's profile and saw that Jacqueline was, once again, frowning at the newspaper article onscreen. Powerfully intelligent as Jacqueline was, she didn't seem to realize how deeply her words had once cut the child Isa had been.

  She'd spent every single one of her childhood birthdays without her parents. She'd never had a party while her parents were married, as neither Jacqueline nor Stefan had thought to instruct the staff to organize it.

  Isa had made damn sure Jacqueline showed her face at the parties Isa had thrown for Catie. The last time Jacqueline said she couldn't make it, when Catie was four, Isa had relocated the party to Crafty Corners HQ and invited every single one of Catie's preschool friends.

  She'd also hired child entertainers who came with their own live band.

  Jacqueline had learned her lesson very quickly.

  "So," she said with an inward grin at the memory of the look on Jacqueline's face when confronted by twenty-seven excited tiny tots with fingers sticky from cookies and cake, "you're not worried about this specific leak, you're worried about who it is that's doing the leaking?"

  "I knew you'd understand," Jacqueline said with a cool smile. "This leak won't damage the business, but further disclosures might. I want you to track down the identity of the leaker."

  Isa already had a lot on her plate but she didn't demur, well aware Jacqueline was asking her because she knew Isa would never betray the family. "How long have you had this mock-up out here on the easel?"

  Glancing at it, Jacqueline frowned. " At least two weeks. You know I like to have visual aids when I'm thinking on a project."

  "I'm going to talk to Annalisa, find out who's been in your office during that time." That shouldn't be a tough task. Jacqueline's office was accessible only by keycard, with any guests escorted in. Even the maintenance and cleaning staff came in during the morning, after Annalisa was already at her desk to supervise.

  "The landscaping contract," Jacqueline said without warning. "Sailor Bishop. He's the only new contact I've had in here during the time since the concept's been up on the easel."

  Isa bristled. "No," she said. "He's got no reason to mess up his relationship with us." More, he was a man with a strong code of honesty and honor--but she knew better than to base her argument on that.

  Emotion never won with Jacqueline.

  Tamping down her instinctive anger on his behalf, Isa responded with cold, hard logic. "Whatever the reporter paid for this piece of information," she pointed out, "it'll have been peanuts in comparison to what Sailor will earn out of the Fast Organic stores in publicity alone."

  Jacqueline gave her a piercing look. "I fell for pretty eyes once," she said. "Clive was very good at telling me what I wanted to hear."

  27

  Fur-Lined Handcuffs and an Executive Desk (Oh My)

  FOLDING HER ARMS, ISA HELD firm; she might have doubts about what she was doing with Sailor on a personal basis, but she had zero doubts about his integrity. "Do you know anybody at the paper you could call?"

  "It's that asshole Jim Mason at the helm," Jacqueline responded. "He hates me because I wouldn't sleep with him." A snort. "As if Jacqueline Rain needs to sleep with a third-rate editor to get good press."

  Nope, no options there then.

  "Leave this problem with me," Isa said. "And Mother"--Isa paused until Jacqueline looked up--"don't do anything against Sailor Bishop in the interim."

  "This is my company."

  "It is. But if you want me to take the reins on projects and issues, then you take your hands off them. I will not have my decisions second-guessed and micromanaged."

  Jacqueline's lips curved. "Too sensitive, but also brilliant. You really are a chip off the old block. Have at it, Isa. Succeed or fail, it's on your shoulders." Her next words were quiet. "Did you know your father used to read poetry?"

  Isa froze with her hand on the doorknob.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "What?" She'd never seen her father with a book of poetry in hand. But then, she'd seen little of her father while growing up and even less after he'd handed her over to Jacqueline when Isa was thirteen. Not because Jacqueline particularly wanted custody, but because Stefan's own mother had passed away, leaving no one who could look after Isa.

  Old grief made Isa's heart ache as she stood there, waiting for her mother's response. Amma Kaja had thrown Isa her first ever birthday party when Isa was nine. She'd invited all the children in the remote but painfully beautiful Icelandic village where she lived and where Stefan had dumped Isa after Jacqueline signed over custody--which Stefan had demanded in a fit of divorce-induced madness.

  Isa still missed her amma. It was why she'd never made any effort to rid herself of the accent that touched her words to this day. It was her way of honoring the gentle woman who'd given life to the language Isa had first learned from tutors--because Stefan had been adamant his New Zealand-born child speak the language of his birth.

  "When we first met," Jacqueline continued, "Stefan wanted to be a poet." A shake of her head. "Can you imagine? He came to his senses soon enough--after he found out how much poets earn. But even then, he used to write me poetry..." Jacqueline's gaze turned distant. "For a while anyway. Then life and business took over. And there was no more time for poetry."

  Jacqueline's next look was sharp. "It never lasts, Isa. The passion, the smiles from the pretty eyes, the endless time to love." Her words were crisp and pragmatic rather than harsh. "Don't make the same mistakes I did--choose a man like Oliver, a man who is comfortable and kind and who'll love you into old age. Passion is not a good indicator of success in a relationship."

  * * *

  ISA REFUSED TO BE HAUNTED by Jacqueline's words. Her mother might be right, but Isa was already well aware she was making a dangerous mistake with Sailor. She might as well dive all the way into the fire if she was going to emerge crisped on the other side anyway. Which was why she picked up the phone and called him.

  "Hello, spitfire." The deep tones of his voice were a caress. "Late dinner okay for you? I'm hoping to work till last light."

  "Jacqueline just handed me another project, so I'll be here late too." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Come by my office after you're done. I'll order in."

  It was only after hanging up that she realized it was already happening. Work, stealing away their time for each other. But Isa wasn't going to just give up and accept it as inevitable. She was going to fight.

  The only question was if Sailor would fight with her.

  That question haunted her when she let him through the locked front door of the HQ. Still in his work clothes, streaks of dirt on the khaki of his shorts, he made her heart beat faster just with his mere presence.

  Yes, she had it bad for Sailor Bishop.

  Frowning at seeing the dim lighting downstairs, he said, "You the only one in here?"

  "It's perfectly safe. My car's right outside." She nodded at his right arm. "Why are you carrying a picnic blanket?"

  Bending his head, he kissed her breathless before saying, "For our indoor picnic, of course."

  Her silly heart, it gave a huge sigh. "Come on, the food's already here."

  He ran his hand over the curve of her hip and ass and playfully distracted her the whole way up. Isa was giggling like a schoolgirl by the time they entered her office. Sailor grinned at seeing the cactus she kept on her desk, the second one he'd sent her. But he was absolutely delighted by the soft, warm cookies she'd paid extra to have delivered.

  "You know how to romance a man," he said with a nuzzle to her nec
k after inhaling an entire cookie. "Sorry I'm so dirty." He dropped the picnic blanket to the floor. "Couldn't wait to see you."

  Isa buried her face in his neck, drew in the earthy scent of him, and tried not to listen to the panicky voice inside her that said time was running out too fast. "I'm not complaining."

  Hands on her hips, he hitched her up onto her desk. "Sit here, Miss Trouble." With that stern statement, he moved aside the visitor chair, then flicked out the tartan blanket, the colors blue and black. "I forgot this in back of my truck after our last family barbeque."

  He was back between her legs before she could answer. "Hungry?" It was a sensually loaded statement, his hands pushing up the sunny yellow of her dress to bare her thighs.

  Teeth sinking into her lip and lower body clenching, Isa said, "Yes." It came out husky, her eyes locked on his mouth.

  But he didn't kiss her this time, his attention on other matters.

  Dipping his head, he hooked his fingers on either side of her panties and slid them down her thighs and off. Isa's toes curled at the scandalousness of being panty-less on her desk with a deliciously sexy man between her thighs.

  When he tucked the panties into his pocket with a wicked smile and said, "I'm keeping these hostage," she melted.

  Feeling more than a little wicked herself, she reached for his belt, undid it with quick hands. He oh-so-cooperatively took off his T-shirt for her. Isa leaned in to lick at his chest while she undid the top button on his shorts. He was salt and heat and Sailor, and he scrambled her brain cells.

  His bigger, warmer hands colliding with hers as she stroked him through the fabric. A nip of her lower lip. "Foreplay?" He reached into the back pocket of his shorts.

  "Let's save that for a bed." Tonight, Isa just wanted him inside her. "Did you--?" She gasped as he pushed her hands behind her and together.

  Handcuffs snicked into place a second later. Something soft and lush caressed her wrists. Pink, she'd glimpsed pink. "I ordered a strong pair for you."

  "Bring it on, spitfire." His smile slow, he pulled out the thick length of his erection.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. "Sailor." She sank her teeth into her lower lip. "Tell me you have protection."