by CC MacKenzie
Rafe didn’t hesitate.
“You’re gorgeous, great legs, nice teeth, sexy, mischievous, self-centred, devious.” He screwed up his eyes before continuing, “Selfish, spoilt and a pain in the ass.”
Coco didn’t trust herself as tears gathered in her throat; they humiliated and mortified her as the knife twisted in her belly, her heart.
Well, she’d asked him hadn’t she?
As a desperately hurt gasp escaped from her mouth, amusement faded from Rafe’s eyes as they held hers.
He stood.
On legs not quite steady Coco moved towards the door and slapped his hand away when he reached out to her as she passed.
“Stupid, idiot man.”
The door slammed behind her.
“Well done, ace. Nice shot. You really got her where it hurt that time.”
Furious, Louise loaded the tray and picked it up.
His conscience was clear Rafe told himself, ignoring the pang in his heart and the sick ache in his gut.
As he opened the door for Louise, she speared him with a dirty look and sailed past him.
Heaving out a deep breath, he sat behind Coco’s desk and pressed a key.
All four screens flared to life.
Absently, he rubbed his neck, ran a hand through his hair as he took his time surfing through various files.
She’d told him to help himself and to have a look so why did he feel guilty?
Because he knew he’d never forget the look on her face or the fact that he’d put it there.
He’d hurt her.
His description of her had been half true.
If he told her what he really thought of her she’d stomp all over him and he couldn’t have that.
How could he say he adored her and found her funny and smart? That he found her beautiful, spirited and courageous? She’d grind him down like a bug. Self-preservation, that’s what made those things pour out of his big mouth.
He leaned forward scrolling down a document and tapped the keyboard.
His eyes grew wide as he sat back and took a breath.
Well, well, it seems the little madam was a definite chip off the old block.
She’d been making a killing on the currency markets buying forward currency contracts.
Her pharmaceutical portfolios and commodities were impressive, too, she’d sold high and bought low. She’d dumped banking stock well before the recession. And she’d dumped her property portfolios a good eighteen months before the banking crisis. It looked as if she was researching the property market again but hadn’t jumped.
He sat back and absorbed the information and the bitter realisation he’d seriously underestimated her. One part of him had always felt when he was ready and Coco was ready they would explore their combustible feelings. He’d almost acted on those feelings once when she’d turned eighteen. Sometimes he regretted not taking her then, but she’d been too young and hadn’t lived a life. Now he wondered if he’d left it too late and the thought burned in his gut.
She’d moved on and made something with her life without him or her family - in spite of them in fact. What if she didn’t want him? No, her reaction to his kisses was not that of woman who wasn’t interested, quite the opposite, he reminded himself with relief.
The door flew open.
Coco entered.
Her face was ashen.
Those vivid eyes wild and blind.
She clutched her cell phone in one hand and stretched the other out to him.
“Rafe, my God. Daddy...” She staggered forward as he reached her.
Her trembling hand caught his fingers as eyes wide with shock met his.
“He’s been shot.”
Chapter Sixteen
Joshua Erichsen swung his BMW6 series grande coupe through the gates of Sweet Sensations.
Usually he sat back and enjoyed studying the huge barn conversion he’d designed with Bronte Ferranti’s needs in mind. Two years after the business had moved from The Dower House, the building was settling well into the fabulously landscaped gardens. And the new cherry trees were looking stunning, too. However, today he wasn’t in the mood to look at flowers or trees.
Nope.
Today he and a certain Janine Faulkner were going to have a little heart to heart.
And it was long overdue.
He popped the trunk, got out and pulled on his suit jacket.
He was an award-winning architect and since this was strictly a business meeting he’d gone to a lot of trouble to dress the part.
Picking up the tube of drawings, the house file, he closed the trunk, locked the car.
And strode into the vast reception area.
Immediately his senses were assailed with the sublime scent of baking cakes, toffee, chocolate and the sound of an iPod deck rocking Sharleen Spiteri. The pastry chefs at Sweet Sensation had a brilliant taste in music.
Bronte was busy icing a huge cake base.
When she spotted him her eyes lit up and her beaming smile of welcome did much to ease an aching heart and restore his shaky confidence. Even in kitchen whites with her white blonde hair hidden under a chef’s cap, she looked absolutely gorgeous. Tugging buds from her ears, she pulled off thin silicone gloves, dumped them in the trash and made her way towards him.
“Why hello, handsome. And what can I do for you?”
She rose on the tiptoes of her rubber kitchen clogs and smacked him with a friendly kiss right on the mouth.
He gave her a one armed hug.
“Hi, beautiful. I’m looking for Janine. I’ve the approved plans for The Grange. I need her sign off.”
Grabbing his hand, she tugged him through to the main kitchen where the heavy lifting of her business was done. Three industrial ovens, work surfaces, cold room, fridges, all in immaculate stainless steel were busy and in full production. He noticed the team had expanded and he counted six chefs working hard.
“Wow, Bronte, if this carries on you’re going to need more space.”
“No way. We’re missing Rosie, but thank goodness Janine has picked up most of the administration slack. I’ve no idea what would have happened if she’d not come on board.”
He held up the drawing tube. “Is she up in the office?”
“No. She’s in the annexe with Boo. Come with me.”
She led the way down a wide corridor, and they skirted around a couple of buggies. One was a funky stroller and the other was some sort of huge three-wheeled contraption.
Bronte grinned at his raised brows.
“I know, and all for one little baby girl.” She pointed to the three-wheeler. “That one’s for jogging.”
“She jogs with the baby?”
“Everyday.” Bronte knocked the door, opened it and called out, “It’s only me and a big handsome man.”
Janine’s throaty laugh made his heart go pitty pat. “Come on through,” she called.
She was sitting on a couch breast-feeding her baby.
For a moment Josh went to back out, to give her privacy, but he realised she wasn’t embarrassed.
And it took his system a couple of heart beats to realise that he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life as Janine nursing her baby.
Since Bronte led the way, Josh saw Janine’s eyes go from warm as she greeted her friend to solid ice when she saw him.
And that look tipped him over the edge.
Professional be damned.
He turned to Bronte.
“Am I a man who tortures puppies?” he demanded to know.
Her eyes went huge before she frowned at the tone.
“No.”
“Do I have a bad reputation where women are concerned? Am I regarded as a toxic player or a breaker of hearts?”
Now her eyes bounced from Janine’s flushed cheeks to Josh and back again.
“Ahh... No... You’re regarded as a very nice guy. Why?”
“Perhaps you’d like to tell that to your friend here.”
He was fe
d up.
Pissed off.
And fucking furious with Janine for making him lose his temper.
Josh knew he was making a scene, behaving badly, but he simply couldn’t seem to help himself.
Bronte looked at each of them. “What’s going on?”
Janine opened her mouth, but Josh jumped right in.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. I asked her out twice. She said no. She doesn’t feel the buzz. Maybe she doesn’t even like me. That’s fine. I can take rejection. I’m not a fucking animal. I backed off, no problem. But ever since she’s treated me to the beady eye. To the Ice Queen routine. Which makes me wonder why she retained me as her architect for The Grange in the first place? Surely she must have known we’d be seeing each other frequently?
“I can’t work like this. I’ve always managed to have a professional relationship with all my clients.” He paused to glare at Janine. “Even the difficult ones. But I can’t do this. I refuse to be treated like horse dung. Here are the drawings. Sign them. Don’t sign them. I don’t care. Find yourself another architect.”
He stopped to take a breath and found two women with jaws on the floor simply staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had lost his fucking mind. But he’d had enough.
Along with the files he placed the drawing tube on the kitchen worktop.
He held up his hands in the peace gesture, turned on his heel and walked out.
Bronte simply stared at the door as it closed behind him.
And turned wide eyes on her friend who was so pale she thought she was going to pass out.
“Well, God,” she said at last. “What the hell was all that about?”
Janine found her daughter with her nipple still in her mouth staring up at her with big blue eyes as if to say, ‘Yes, mummy, what was that all about?’
Her baby girl adored Josh. She’d even smiled as she was feeding when she’d heard his deep voice.
And Janine knew a pang of shame because every single thing he said had been nothing but the truth.
She had been treating him badly.
Carefully, she lifted the mewling baby onto her shoulder to rub her back and right on cue she burped. Settling her to the other nipple, she waited until Boo had latched on before her eyes met Bronte’s.
“He makes me jittery,” she admitted. And the way her cheeks burned made her wish to hell she wasn’t one of those women who blushed at the drop of a hat.
Bronte perched on the arm of the couch, folded her arms.
“You know he has feelings for you?”
So what? Who’d asked him to have feelings for her?
She didn’t want his feelings.
“That’s not my problem,” she tossed back. “I’m not in the market for a man. And certainly not a man like him.”
Now Bronte’s eyes went huge.
“What’s wrong with Josh? He’s lovely. I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word against him.”
“It’s all an act. Behind those blue eyes lurks a predator. I can see straight through Mr. Charming. I’ve been down that road before, Bronte. And I’ve no intention of going down it again. He’s got too much charisma. He’s too damned good to be true. And I just want him to leave me alone.”
Her friend blinked.
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about? What road have you been down before? Talk to me, Janine.”
Her heart roaring in her ears, Janine wondered why on earth she’d said those things to her friend. Once she started exchanging confidences where would it end?
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
God, she was trembling.
And the way her baby was staring up at her, the way she whimpered, made Janine gather herself together.
This was not good.
She was upsetting herself, her baby.
It wasn’t healthy to dig up the past.
She’d moved on, made something of her life for herself and her child.
No.
The past should stay exactly where it was, dead and buried.
Bronte moved to sit next to her and put her arm around her shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “But when you’re ready to talk you know I’m here for you. What are you going to do about The Grange? Joshua Erichsen is one of the best in his field. And he won’t screw you.”
Janine was so grateful for her friend’s understanding, for not pushing her, but the last part of the statement made her smile. “Touché.”
Bronte lips curved but her eyes remained anxious.
“I mean he watches the budget very carefully. He knows your position, how much you have to spend. He’s brilliant at dealing with the planning authorities and the rules and regulations. You won’t find anyone else as good.”
Janine knew that.
And she also knew she’d need to apologise to the man.
Even if she didn’t trust him on a strictly personal level, professionally his reputation couldn’t be beaten.
If she wanted a secure future for herself, her daughter, then she needed the best person for the job to work on The Grange.
“I know. His design is amazing.”
“I’d say he’s received the message you’re clearly not interested. But we run in the same circles. He’s our friend and so are you. Trust me he’s a very nice guy. Try and work it out with him.”
Bronte was right.
The last thing she’d intended to do was to put her friends in a difficult situation. Bronte and Rosie had been so good to her when she’d needed it most.
“I’ll fix it.”
After Bronte left, she changed Boo’s diaper, put her down for a sleep and made her way to her office in Sweet Sensation.
Sitting behind her desk, she simply stared at the phone on her desk and wondered how the hell she was going to sort out the mess she’d made of things with Joshua Erichsen.
Chapter Seventeen
Who on earth would want to hurt her father?
Coco sat on a couch as Louise hugged her tight.
He might be one of the most successful men on the planet, but although he was ruthless in business her father was well respected and admired. People looked up to him, listened when he spoke.
Rafe paced, speaking in clipped tones into Coco’s cell.
She raised her head as her name was mentioned.
Face dark and ruthless, Rafe moved to Coco’s side and thrust the phone into her hand.
“It’s your father.”
His strong fingers squeezed her shoulder as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath.
“Daddy?” Her watery voice trembled.
His big voice boomed into her ear.
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Coco sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.
“Now I don’t want you to worry. It’s a flesh wound, not even a little nick. I’m fine.”
Relief at hearing him larger than life made her lightheaded.
“I’m coming over.”
“No point in doing that I won’t be here.”
Confused, she blinked, ran a finger over wet cheeks.
Her mind refused to function.
She cleared her throat.
“But what... Where are you going?”
“Geneva.”
Coco stared at a white-faced Louise who was clutching Jezebel to her heart.
Bewildered, she frowned, pressing her fingertips into her skull.
“Switzerland? But...” And glanced at Rafe who was watching her like a hawk.
Those eyes were dark with concern and something else she couldn’t identify.
“Urgent business.” Her father’s voice sounded gruff and emotional, then he cleared his throat. “You do precisely what Rafe says. Promise me, Coco. You’ve got yourself into a pretty pickle and no mistake.”
Coco’s pulse throbbed behind her left eye and she pressed a fingertip to her eyelid.
“But, what about the police? Surely they...”
“Got him. One of Kandinsky�
�s men. A few inches to the left and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Ethan is going to look after Louise and you will do as you’re told. Promise me.”
A few inches? She’d almost lost her father.
“Oh God, Daddy, this is all my fault.“ Her voice broke on a sob.
She should never, ever have got involved with Olivia and her son. If she’d had any idea this could happen... Why did she think they could ever pull it off? Every single time she tried to prove she could live her own life, have her independence, it ended in utter disaster.
“Coco!” Her father’s voice booming in her ear made her jolt.
“Yes, yes, I’ll do exactly as you say, I promise. But...”
He cut her off.
Dazed, she frowned at the phone.
“Get packed.” Rafe’s voice was hard, the harsh tone brooking no argument. Her cell rang. “I’ll keep this.” He plucked it out of her hand and took the call.
Her brain seemed stuck in a never-ending loop replaying again and again the words that father had been shot.
Coco simply stared up at Rafe.
“What?”
“Get packed,” he told her before speaking again into the cell and turned his eyes on Louise. “Yes, Ethan, she’s here. Yes, I’ll tell her.”
Louise turned to Coco with wide eyes. She was still too pale. But Ethan’s name brought a hot flush over her neck and into her cheeks.
Oh dear heaven, Coco thought.
Her brother and Louise?
Together under the same roof?
There would be blood on the carpet.
Too much water had flowed under that particular bridge.
Coco took her friend’s cold hand, gave it a squeeze and turned to Rafe.
“What’s going on?”
And she leaned away from him as he moved in too close, his eyes flashing pure fire.
“You’ve placed yourself, your family and your friends in danger. I thought I told you to get packed?” He turned to Louise. “Ethan was already on his way back from the States. He’s bringing a team with him and will arrive within the hour. They’ll stay with you until this thing is resolved.”
