by JC Harroway
My mind races through various practicalities—I’ve already employed contractors and secured supplies. I collect my bag and move towards the door, my steps in no way as certain as when I arrived.
‘Blair.’
I turn, but his face is unreadable with the exception of a flare of heat in his eyes, which my erogenous zones latch onto.
He swallows. ‘Thanks.’
He turns away and I leave, every certainty I brought here in crumbs underneath the soles of my heavy feet.
CHAPTER THREE
Reid
I STAND AS Sue ushers Blair into the smaller of the two boardrooms at the Faulkner offices, the slug of heat her appearance brings surging through my muscles and making me feel taller, as if anything were possible. It’s an amplified version of what seeing her yesterday sparked, which tells me Blair Cameron and I may have unfinished business beyond hotel renovations.
Damn, I hoped I’d be over it today; instead, I note how her green dress accentuates the glow of her skin and brings out the same shade in her eyes. Her hair is down, the tousled swath casually draped over one shoulder, exposing one side of her neck and one earlobe, which is decorated with a dangling pearl.
Why do I have the highly inconvenient urge to suck on that earlobe and tongue the pearl, perhaps undoing the professional and put-together Blair, who I am certain has brought her promised negotiation skills to the table?
Sue leaves us, silently closing the door. I step closer, extend my hand towards my worthy adversary, almost looking forward to our spar.
Blair’s fingers clasp mine, the heat in my palm increasing as if we’re a chemistry experiment, our skin-on-skin combination creating our own energy source. With reluctance I drop her hand and pull out one of the seats around the conference table, more excited than I should be for today’s negotiations.
She could have reacted very differently to last night’s farce in my office, but she managed the whole affair with discretion. Drake and Kit and the lawyers agree—we’re bound by her contract, and her designs, while modest to date, are good. Graham was clearly in sound mind when he contracted Cameron Interiors. I need to find a way to honour both the contract and his wishes, while, of course, getting what I want, too.
And where this woman is concerned, what I want has become somewhat...murky, at least physically. Damn, I almost kissed her yesterday just before we were interrupted by Graham. Her exquisite, previously forbidden closeness, her fiery, take-no-prisoners attitude, her eyes both excited and determined—I couldn’t resist.
Blair Cameron is a potent and tempting package inspiring intrigue, fascination and respect. I tell myself it’s my desire to draw a satisfactory line under this mix-up. I wait for her to settle before removing my suit jacket and sliding into my own seat, at right angles to her, swallowing the surge of lust. The family business comes first, and she’s chosen the wrong challenger if she thinks this is all going her way. The table is long, rectangular, with places for twelve, but at this proximity I can see the flush of her skin, hear the soft intake of her breath and catalogue every nuance of her body language, which speaks for her. She has nowhere to hide—a perfect position of negotiating strength. Nothing to do with how fantastic she smells or how I’m drawn to those sparks of fire in her eyes. No, it makes sense to keep my enemies—or, in her case, someone whose professional motives could be considered ruthless—close. The last time my personal life encroached on the family business, I almost lost everything. And, although it will in no way be a chore, I intend to keep a very close eye on Ms Cameron.
And what of her personal motives? Could she possibly reciprocate my interest...?
She glances around and then pours herself a glass of water from the carafe on the table between us. ‘I thought you were joking about the boardroom.’
‘Why would I joke? I take business very seriously.’ She really doesn’t know me, but that could be rectified.
She nods, shuffling her papers and giving away her nerves. ‘As do I. So let’s discuss that first.’
A surge of blood pounds in my dick at her words. First implies a second... And if not business, then perhaps pleasure.
Blair continues, ‘I have discussed it at length with Graham, and of course I’ve been there many times over the years with my father, but why don’t you tell me about the Faulkner?’
I oblige, certain my patience for the second agenda item will be rewarded. ‘As you know, the Faulkner is our oldest and smallest hotel.’ I recite some basic media-style facts by rote while my mind contemplates how enjoyable it will be to keep a close eye on this intriguing woman. ‘It’s something of an iconic landmark in Chelsea these days, and more than a business, more than a hotel, as I’m sure you understand—I grew up there.’
‘Of course.’ Her smile thuds my heart harder. ‘Graham and I have discussed the hotel’s sentimental value to your family in great detail. He even showed me some old photographs of the place when he first purchased it.’ She pauses, taking a delicate sip of water. ‘My designs are sympathetic to the heritage of the Faulkner. And I only have one major structural renovation to suggest.’
I bristle, feeling my overprotectiveness for my childhood home and concern over the changes my father may or may not have sanctioned rising up. I have no idea what state of mind Graham was in when he contracted Blair, but I know one thing: ‘major’ suggests delay, which means greater costs. The more these renovations are dragged out, the longer the hotel is out of business and the bigger her bill.
The reminder of a time when the roles were reversed, when it was my mistake with Sadie costing the Faulkner Group money, and my father had intervened to financially and emotionally bail me out of my marriage, stiffens my resolve to keep control of every inch of this project. I won’t be hoodwinked again.
‘Which is?’ I swallow bile, wishing I’d been present at the initial discussions. The idea my father might have been vulnerable, made decisions he might not have contemplated a year ago, leaves me jittery with guilt, shrinking my dick quicker than a lapful of ice. Not that Blair necessarily took advantage of Graham, but she must have rejoiced when the call came. Renovating a Faulkner hotel is a major coup for anyone, least of all a small company.
‘I plan to knock down the south wall behind the current reception desk in the foyer.’
I hold in my splutter of outrage and offer a cool stare, so she continues with her justification.
‘There’s just dead space behind—a cloakroom and storage room. And without that wall you’ll achieve so much more natural light into an area that’s a little gloomy, currently.’
‘Hmm, I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
Over my dead body springs to mind, but I’m the first to admit my knee-jerk reaction is all about preserving the hotel’s heritage and looking out for my father.
She raises her eyebrows, a confident smile tugging at her pink-glossed lips. ‘Trust me—I know what I’m talking about; you’ll love the results, and opening up that space will improve the options for the foyer. You can have a separate concierge desk and a seating area.’ She’s showing her passion again, her excitement, or perhaps it’s the ruthless streak that she might have the upper hand causing the sparkle in her eyes.
I rub my chin, drawn to every move she makes, my mind returning to the reel of fantasies I’ve had about Blair Cameron in the past eighteen hours. The idea of her in control is not an unwelcome image. That hair wild as she rides me, and those shapely legs gripping my waist, while I explore the sensitivity of those nipples I see peeking through the fabric of her dress. I spread my thighs a fraction under the table to accommodate the burgeoning tightness in my trousers.
Blair pulls out her tablet once more and slides it over the table. ‘Take a look at the concept plans—try to visualise the end result.’
I glance at the images on the screen, still unconvinced.
My reticence wobbles her confi
dent spiel, but she rallies. ‘If it’s the guest bookings that are concerning you, we can minimise delays by staging the renovations—close off one floor at a time to redecorate the guest rooms and then finish with the ground floor and the communal areas. Surely you can accommodate the minimal disruption by housing guests at your other hotels?’
She’s determined to make this work. ‘Searching for wiggle room to satisfy us both?’ I say, my respect for her persistence and flexibility growing.
She flushes as though I’ve hit a nerve, leaving me curious about what exactly is running through her mind and if it in any way correlates to the pleasurable distractions in mine.
‘It makes good business sense that we’re both happy—repeat work from satisfied clients forms a large part of my business, so I would, of course, aim to give you everything you want.’
Her words, and the double meaning my brain interprets, make my blood pound harder.
‘Ruthless and accommodating—admirable.’ My smile seems to bring a delightful flush to her skin, but the bitter tang in my mouth reminds me that I’ve fallen prey to such ruthlessness before—never again, no matter how appealing the package. And ensuring Dad hasn’t fallen prey to Blair’s charms, her radical changes, will be my top priority going forward, no matter how good her designs.
‘Yes...’ she says, ‘well...running my own business has taught me it’s the only way to stop unscrupulous people taking advantage.’ Her stare dips to the table. Perhaps because she’s just intimated I’m unscrupulous and not to be trusted. If only she knew the lack of trust is totally reciprocated.
‘Well, ruthlessness in a business setting is a worthy skill. One we share.’ Best she understands from the start I’m not simply going to roll over because she waves her contract or cites our family connections. My suspicious mind hasn’t abandoned all its wild theories—she could have cornered Graham at the golf club, played on his confusion, and now she’s here to pick over the bones, for all I know. Perhaps she plans to sabotage her father’s main competition by painting my beloved hotel lime green...
My lips twitch at that last absurd thought. That’s never going to happen.
‘Oh, I fully intend to extend the ruthlessness you admire to all areas of my life, believe me.’ Her lips part, dragging my attention south.
Fuck. Is she flirting? And how can I have the best of both worlds here—the Faulkner safe and sound and under my strict control, and this woman temporarily in my bed? My attraction to her could become a distraction I don’t need. Better to dispense with the inconvenience and focus on Dad and the renovations he’s set in motion.
‘But that falls outside the realms of this discussion,’ she says.
I check the grudging respect for her building inside, quashing it back down. Blair Cameron may look like a strong wind could topple her from those heels, but there’s steel running through her skeleton. Steel and ambition and fucking sexy spunk.
‘Why don’t you amend the contract to say the renovations will be staged so we can close the Faulkner to guests for the bare minimum of time?’ she says.
I slide a file her way. ‘I’ve already thought of that—the newly amended contract.’ I lean back, a slug of satisfaction stretching my lips into a small smile, while I wait for the counter-proposal I know is coming. She’s too smart, too driven to allow me off the hook so easily—after all, she has the upper hand legally, although she showed she can compromise too when she handled Graham’s mistaken identity so thoughtfully.
‘Great.’ She eyes the paperwork and then looks up.
I relax into the leather, getting comfortable, and allow my stare to wander. That she isn’t a pushover sharpens my focus, so I notice a freckle in the hollow at the base of her throat and find new colours hiding in her irises. I’m not expecting her question or the sharp change in direction.
‘Is Graham still under the impression I’m his soon-to-be daughter-in-law?’ She too relaxes back in the chair, as if all business deals conclude in this personal way.
The hair at the nape of my neck stands to attention. ‘I don’t see how what happened yesterday is relevant.’ I’m not exposing my father to curiosity or gossip, or even to her well-meaning pity.
‘You asked me to lie, to play along—that’s how it’s relevant.’ Her index fingernail taps the table and she glances down, stilling the movement. ‘I know you and I aren’t close...’ her eyes bounce back to mine ‘...but neither am I a complete stranger.’
I suck in a breath through my teeth, mentally conceding her point even as I try to wriggle free. I did ask her to play along with Dad’s misunderstanding. My father’s presence in my office when he should have been at his club gave me enough of a shock, without the added double whammy of him mistaking Blair for Sadie, back when we’d first been engaged. I was reeling.
‘No, perhaps our age difference is the reason we don’t know each other well. You’re young, in fact, to be running your own business, one of the reasons I was slightly bemused by your appointment.’
Her lush lips thin as if I’ve touched a nerve. ‘I assure you I’m capable—Graham, for one, believes in me, and I respect him too,’ she says, holding my eye contact. ‘He’s always been kind to me, made time for me, and I’d like to know how to respond when I see him again. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. In fact, I insist,’ she says, putting me in my place once more.
Could she be any more fascinating?
I conceal my own uncertainty behind a shrug. I wish I had the answers she requires. But she’s right—I have to give her something. ‘He’s...intermittently slightly confused and currently undergoing investigations.’ I tap the table, my eyes narrowing. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you any reassurances beyond that. So I understand if you prefer to walk away now.’ Will she take the money and run? Will that be an end to this? ‘My offer of financial recompense for the time you’ve already invested, of course, stands.’
She shakes her head before I’ve even registered the hollow pang that tells me a part of me wants to work with her on this project. Her insistence should ease my suspicions that she’s in this for monetary gain. All my preconceived ideas about her, admittedly tainted by my past experiences with Sadie, were all rattled last night when she turned down my offer of financial compensation, and when she played along for the sake of my confused father. And now this morning, despite sticking to her guns, she’s amenable and conciliatory, demanding further respect from me where she could have just clung to her bottom line.
My hands tense on the arms of the chair. But all I have to do is keep a close eye on her professionally—I don’t have to trust her to enjoy her body.
‘I’m happy to sign this revised contract.’ She slides the folder closer, lining it up parallel to the edge of the table before relaxing her hands on either side on the polished oak.
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Great. Then our business is concluded.’ This couldn’t go better from my point of view. Not only do I have a revised contract, but I’ve also cited myself as overseer to the work. She won’t be able to change a light bulb without my prior approval.
‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes settle on mine, the rise and fall of her chest telling me I’m in no way imagining her sexual interest. I’m certain we want the same thing. And by the way this satisfactory negotiation has panned out, we could have what we want.
I incline my head, gracious in victory.
‘Will I be required to act as if I’m... Sa...your ex again?’
Damn. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I have no idea how my father will react from one day to the next. The doctors tell me a routine and a calm environment is the best medicine, but until I have that second opinion the last thing I want to do is upset Graham further, which is why I went along with the case of mistaken identity.
‘Would that be so terrible?’ I say. ‘You handled it perfectly last night—something I’m very grateful for, by the way.�
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I sense her hesitation, although she’s doing a valiant job of trying to conceal it.
I add a layer of inducement. ‘Now we’ve agreed on the specifics of the contract, if there’s anything else I can do for you in return, just let me know.’ Everyone wants something. What does Blair Cameron want if it isn’t to sabotage my hotel?
She nods, looks away and then turns back to face me with new resolve and a flash of excitement shining in her eyes. ‘Actually, I do.’
Well, this should be interesting. I smile, heat building in my chest with excitement for the demands she’s about to make.
‘Now I’m intrigued. Go on.’ My stare zeroes in on her full mouth, a mouth I’d like to feel on mine. The fire is there between us, a smoulder of embers waiting to be fanned to a blaze.
‘I’m willing to...play along should the need arise. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Graham or make things worse for him.’ Her eyes harden. ‘I prefer not to deceive him, believe me, but you’ve already put me in a difficult position.’
‘So what do you want?’
She pushes her hair back from her face. ‘If my work on the Faulkner meets your approval, you’ll write me a client testimonial I can use however I see fit.’
‘That’s easy enough.’ I’m failing to see where the rub is for me—she’s agreed to all my terms, above and beyond. ‘A glowing recommendation is something I’d do for any worthy contractor.’ I’m sensing there’s more. The second item, perhaps. ‘What else do you want?’ Everyone has a price, but can I afford hers? I hold myself still, certain her next demand will cost me one way or the other.
She hesitates, her lip caught under her top teeth, ‘I—it’s a little...unprofessional. Perhaps we should discuss it after hours.’
