by Kwan, Coleen
On her brief stay on the island, her infatuation with Jack had already morphed into something deeper, and the further she got involved with him, the harder it would be to get over him. Because she knew she’d have to get over him, that, however incredible the sex was, sooner or later he would leave. He liked her—maybe a lot—but that was as far as his feelings for her went.
She cleared her throat. “I know what you’re talking about,” she said, surprised at how steady she sounded. “But we’re not on Filemu Island anymore. I can’t sleep with you here.”
“Why not?”
She widened her eyes at him. “Don’t you know what would happen if people at work found out I was having an affair with you?”
“It’s none of their business, is it? I’m not your employer. I don’t work for Macintyre’s. I don’t even have any shares in the company anymore.”
His deliberate obtuseness made her want to stamp her foot. “Oh, you know that’s a whole lot of hooey. You’re a Macintyre, and that’s all that counts. My reputation at the company would go down the toilet if news got out that I was sharing your bed. They’d all think I was sleeping with you to further my career.”
“That didn’t stop you the first time.” His voice dropped to a husky rasp. “I didn’t hear a peep about your career when I stripped off your bikini top.”
The memory of his mouth caressing her breasts sent another hot flurry shooting through her, and her traitorous nipples peaked against the brushed cotton of her pj’s. “That was when I thought you weren’t coming back! It’s different now.”
“I know how to be discreet. Nobody will know what we’re doing.”
The glint in his eyes turned predatory. Did he have any idea how perilously close she was to succumbing? Need rippled through her, squeezing her lungs, melting her thighs, swelling up her breasts. A pining ache settled between her legs, an ache that only Jack could relieve, and if he reached out and touched her just once, her paper-thin resistance would instantly disintegrate.
Panicked, she thrust the pile of linen into his arms. “I’m, uh, very flattered. I’ll let you know if I change my mind. Here you go. Bathroom’s just down there. Good night now. See you in the morning.” With that, she dived into her bedroom and slammed the door shut.
…
The following morning, Grace dragged herself out of bed, feeling flat and irritable. She’d had a restless night, unable to get comfortable in her bed, disturbed by the passing traffic, and tormented by the knowledge that Jack lay a few meters away, separated from her by only a flimsy door. The tantalizing prospect of going into his room, slipping in between the sheets, and curling her body into his had baited her all night long.
Yawning and ruffling her hair, she slouched into the kitchen only to come to a dead halt when she saw Jack standing there, already showered and fully dressed, pouring boiling water into her coffee press.
“Hope you don’t mind me making myself at home in your kitchen, but I was ready to kill for some coffee. You’re just in time for a fresh cup.” He eyed her disheveled appearance. “Trouble sleeping?”
Her bunny pj’s were rumpled, her hair was a stork’s nest, and she didn’t even want to think what her breath was like. In contrast, Jack was spruce and handsome. He’d shaved, slicked his hair back, put on jeans, boots, and a pale blue chambray shirt, and he looked divine.
“Obviously you didn’t.” She hid her weakness for him under a show of grumpiness.
He winked at her. “I slept like a lamb.”
He didn’t seem the least put out by her rejection of him last night. Well, why would he? A man like Jack would have no trouble attracting a willing bedmate, especially in a big city like Sydney. Why would he go to the effort of persuading someone reluctant like her? She’d had her chance last night, and she’d blown it.
“Here you go.” He passed her a mug of black coffee. “Get that down.”
She added milk and took her first reviving sip. “Ah. I feel human again.” She took another sip. “Why are you up so early?”
“Force of habit.” He downed some of his coffee. “I have to buy myself a suit. My grandfather wants me to meet him at the office for lunch.”
She straightened up, vaguely disturbed at the thought of bumping into him at the office. Would she be able to maintain her professional facade around Jack?
“Hopefully he’ll have mellowed out a bit more,” she said.
“I’m not holding my breath.” His lips thinned. “Afterward, I’ll see about checking into a hotel.”
Her hand shook, and the coffee sloshed around the rim of her mug. “Oh! Really?”
“I thought that’s what you’d prefer.” He held his mug close to his chest, watching her closely.
“Well, I…” She took another gulp of coffee, scalding her tongue. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she lamely finished.
“Don’t I?” His eyes drilled into her. “I thought you’re worried about what people would think if they knew I was staying with you.” He paused before adding, “Even though we’re not sleeping together.”
“I won’t say anything if you won’t.”
He fell silent, and she could sense him weighing up the pros and cons of her offer. It wasn’t much of an offer—access to Rose’s bed but not hers. She’d been reckless to make the suggestion, but being around Jack made her do the most unexpected things, and besides, she couldn’t very well withdraw her invitation now.
“Sure you’ll be able to keep your hands off me?” His sinful grin lit up his face.
Clutching her mug, she pressed her back against the kitchen counter. “What do you think I am? Some kind of nymphomaniac?”
“I’m just warning you, Grace.” He set down his coffee and stepped toward her, his crisp scent setting her pulses thudding. “If you make a move on me, we’re going to end up in bed together. Make no mistake.”
She dabbed her lips with her tongue, glad her loose pj’s concealed the trembling in her legs. “Well then, I’ll just have to be on my guard, won’t I?”
He looped his fingers through her hair and twirled a stray piece on her shoulder. “You do that,” he murmured, and then he was gone.
Alone, she exhaled a drawn-out sigh. How long would she have to be on her guard? More importantly, did she even want to be on her guard?
…
“Graduate recruitment!” Grace gaped at Lachlan Macintyre. “You want me to do graduate recruitment? But that’s an HR responsibility.”
The CEO of Macintyre Inc. drummed his thick fingers on the broad expanse of desk separating them. “Yes, but they want someone with hands-on experience to assist them, so I immediately thought of you.”
“But you promised me a transfer, a job where I could make a real difference and take on new responsibilities.”
Lachlan’s eyebrows beetled into a frown. “You’re not happy with the responsibilities I give you?”
She had been, once. But things had changed. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, Lachlan, but I believe I’m capable of more than manning a booth at a recruitment fair.”
“Oh, yes, you’re very capable, and I did say I’d look into your transfer.” Lachlan waved his hand. “I’ll have something better for you, maybe in a month or two.”
“A month or two?” She wanted to groan. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how bored she’d become with her role as glorified gofer. But now she knew she wanted—needed—more from her job. She drew herself upright. “We need to have a serious discussion about my role. I think I should—”
“Grace, not now.” His fingers tattooed faster on the desk. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I need all the help I can get.”
Grace hesitated as conflicting emotions assailed her. He was giving her the brush-off, but at the same time she knew his reunion with Jack hadn’t gone as he’d hoped.
“Are you worried about Jack? You know, he’s really pleased about being here.” Not strictly true, but she was willing to embroider the trut
h if it helped Lachlan.
“Of course he’s pleased to be here. Why wouldn’t he be?” The octogenarian frowned at her, as prickly as ever. “This is his home. This is where he belongs.” He thumped his desk to underscore his words.
If this was how he’d greeted Jack last night, no wonder Jack had turned up at her apartment so riled. Lachlan still hadn’t learned how to treat his grandson. When she’d arrived early to work, she’d reported to him first thing, expecting him to want all the details about her trip, but all he’d done was thank her for a job well done before dropping his graduate-recruitment bombshell.
“I’m not happy doing this graduate thing.” She’d done her part for Lachlan and Jack, but now she should concentrate on her own difficulties. “I want you to know this.”
“Oh, sure, sure.” He didn’t seem at all concerned by her dissatisfaction. “It’s only a temporary assignment. When things have settled down, then we’ll see.”
“I’m serious. I can’t be your Special Projects person forever.”
“Grace, I’ve looked after you, haven’t I? I mean, how many graduates get to be handpicked by the CEO? You’re more to me than just an employee.”
“Yes, I know that.” She sighed. Lachlan might be a grouchy slave driver, but he was more to her than just the boss, too. He’d singled her out, entrusted her with confidential work, and looked after her when she was ill. Sure, he took her for granted, but she still owed him her loyalty. “I’m grateful, Lachlan, but I need more from this job.”
He nodded, but she could tell his attention was already drifting to the pile of reports on his desk. “We’ll discuss all this when the time is right, but right now I’m relying on you.”
The phone rang, and he answered it, dismissing her with his eyes. Discontented, she left his office. Jack’s return to Sydney and his overnight stay in her apartment had unsettled her in more ways than one. If he’d remained on Filemu Island, she might have been able to carry on as normal, but he had invaded her ordered existence, and what had once been certainties to her didn’t feel so anymore. Making love with Jack had opened her eyes. He’d shown her the need to push for more in her job. She didn’t see herself in the same light as before, and she wasn’t prepared to return to the same old rut. Sooner or later, she’d have to decide what she wanted to do with her life.
…
At midday, Jack strode into the headquarters of Macintyre’s. Throngs of workers swarmed through the soaring atrium of the lobby, their footsteps echoing off the glass walls and the granite-tiled floor. He stopped to readjust his tie. The suit he’d just bought was Italian-made and superbly cut, the shirt was the softest poplin, the tie a French silk, his shoes of crocodile leather. His new clothes were the best money could buy, but they were uncomfortable and restrictive, and despite the loosely knotted tie, he felt as if he were choking. Like he had a noose around his neck.
That’s what it felt like, coming back to his old stamping ground. How many hours had he spent in this building? How many nights had he burned the midnight oil? A memory of Becky bemoaning his dedication to his job flickered through his brain. Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the elevators.
He emerged from the lift on Lachlan’s floor to find a crowd of about fifteen people standing around the atrium. They looked at him expectantly, and he quickly surmised they were some kind of welcome committee for him. Taken aback, he paused before his grandfather appeared and began introducing him to everyone. Most of them he already knew—top executives from every division of the Macintyre empire, all greeting him with broad smiles.
He hadn’t expected this kind of welcome, especially not from his grandfather. After last night’s tense meeting, he’d been prepared for another chilly reception, but today Lachlan seemed pleased to have him back, proud almost as he introduced him to the few people he didn’t know. “My grandson,” Lachlan kept saying and even slapping him on the shoulder as if they were best mates. Jack played along. Maybe his gruff, old grandfather had had a change of heart overnight, or maybe he wanted to put on a brave face in front of all his executives. Either way, it made for a welcome change.
One of the first to step up and greet Jack was his cousin, Cameron.
“Welcome back. It’s good to see you again.” Cameron pumped Jack’s hand enthusiastically.
His cousin’s warm greeting was another surprise to Jack. He and Cameron had never been close, but it was circumstances that had kept them apart, not enmity. Four years his junior, Cameron had grown up in Perth, and their meetings had been infrequent though cordial. Cameron had been a guitarist in a rock band and had never shown the slightest interest in the family business until he’d joined it a year ago. Jack had expected Cameron to be more guarded around him, so he was glad of the lack of wariness and returned his cousin’s wholehearted welcome.
When the introductions were done, Lachlan ushered them all into the corporate dining room. It appeared that Jack would be having lunch with the whole crowd, not just with his grandfather as he’d supposed. As the executives milled around, Jack found himself glancing at the door, expecting Grace to appear at any moment.
“Is Grace coming to lunch?” he asked his grandfather.
“Hmm? Grace? No, she’s out at the moment. Here, take a seat next to me.”
Jack allowed himself to be seated next to his grandfather at the head of the table. Waiters came out bearing flutes of champagne.
“To my grandson, Jack.” Lachlan raised his glass, his voice booming around the room while everyone looked on with rapt attention. “Welcome back, my boy!”
They downed their champagne. Jack took a drink, but the pricey champagne tasted like vinegar as he suddenly cottoned onto why his grandfather was feting him in public. This was his way of telling everyone in the company that Jack was back in the fold. And that included Jack himself. Damn the old man. The two of them had barely had a civilized conversation last night, and yet Lachlan instantly assumed he’d come back to Sydney to apologize and make amends. His grandfather hadn’t changed one iota in the past three years. He was as manipulative as ever.
Jack clenched his hand beneath the tablecloth as the appetizers arrived. It would serve the old man right if he got up from the table and left. How would Lachlan explain that to his executives? But, as much as he was tempted, Jack couldn’t act on his impulse. That would be childish and petulant and would solve nothing. He had to find a new way of interacting with his grandfather.
He forced himself to eat and drink and make conversation with everyone at the table. His grandfather was in an expansive mood, and everyone at the table sensed that and let down their guard. In Jack’s experience, his grandfather’s geniality could disappear in a thunderclap, but for the moment it appeared to be holding.
At last the lunch and the backslapping ended, and the crowd slipped away, leaving Jack alone with his grandfather. They retired to Lachlan’s office, where they had coffee while Lachlan talked about what was happening at Macintyre’s.
“I heard someone talking to you at lunch about the Macintyre Foundation,” Lachlan said.
“Yes, your charity foundation. Sounds like a good idea and long overdue.”
Lachlan scowled. “I thought it was a good idea, too, until your two aunts decided to get involved. Now it’s turning into one big cat fight.”
Jack made a noncommittal grunt. He wasn’t close to either of his aunts. Both of them had married and divorced twice. Kirsten had lived for many years in California before returning home, while Louisa had been in Perth until her most recent divorce. The two sisters had squabbled ever since they were young and had never grown out of it.
“I’d like to have a family dinner tomorrow night for you, your two aunts, and Cameron,” Lachlan said. “You’ll come?”
It was more a command than a request, but Jack nodded his agreement.
“Maybe Kirsten and Louisa will set their differences aside now that you’re back,” Lachlan said.
“Don’t count on it.” Jack shook his hea
d firmly. Whatever he’d come back to do, it wasn’t to play peacemaker between his warring aunts.
“And when are you going to get a haircut?”
Jack cupped the back of his neck where the tips of his hair touched his collar. “I like it this way.” This morning he’d thought about visiting a barber’s, but now he decided he wouldn’t.
His grandfather grunted. “You look like a bloody hippy.”
Jack raised his coffee cup in mock salute. “Thanks, Granddad.”
“You should be staying with me. I’ll tell my driver to stop by your hotel and pick up your things.”
“I’m quite happy where I am,” Jack retorted. His grandfather’s high-handedness was beginning to irk him again.
“Oh?” Lachlan lowered his head like a bull about to charge and scowled at him. The stance was all too familiar to Jack. It was his grandfather’s favorite way of cowing anyone stupid enough to defy him. “Where are you staying?” Lachlan barked.
“With a friend,” Jack replied, equally terse.
Lachlan continued to glower at him. Jack laced his fingers together and met the glare head-on. He wasn’t going to back down, and somehow his grandfather sensed that.
Lachlan eased back in his armchair and crossed his legs. “We’ve got a few problems with our biggest project in Malaysia. I know you have expertise working in that country. The team would value your input.”
“Okay,” Jack cautiously replied.
“Good. I’ll get Penny to set up some meetings ASAP. She’ll send you the schedule later today. There’s a spare office downstairs.”
“Hang on a minute.” Jack leaned forward. “You’re putting the cart before the horse. I’m not going to be in town for very long.”
“How long exactly?”
How long did it take to reconcile with an ill-tempered, unforgiving grandfather? “I don’t know. A week maybe—”
“You’re saying you’re not prepared to help out a little?” The scowl was firmly back in place on Lachlan’s brow, as was the domineering tone.
