by Lucy King
The file with all the details of the guests and the research she’d done lay beneath her cheek. She’d committed pretty much every detail to memory and she’d honed the strategy she’d come up with the night before. If everything went according to plan, within a few hours her position would be safe and she could get back to her life.
In the meantime she intended to take full advantage of the calm before the storm. She felt herself drifting off to sleep when the sun went behind a cloud. She shivered and reached for her cardigan.
‘Working hard?’
Phoebe jolted, manoeuvred herself into a less vulnerable sitting position and squinted up at him. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep doing this.’
‘What?’ Alex said mildly.
‘Creeping up on me.’
‘Sand’s quiet like that.’
So was he, and looming over her like that he was also rather intimidating. The bright sun behind him cast his face in shadow and sunglasses covered his eyes.
He had changed too, ditching the jeans for a pair of khaki shorts. Phoebe couldn’t help running her gaze over his legs: tanned and as muscled as she’d imagined. A vision of them entwined with hers charged into her head and her mouth went dry.
This was ridiculous, she scolded herself, swallowing hard. It was just a pair of legs. Everybody had them. Nevertheless it took every drop of strength she possessed to drag her gaze up his body and reach his face. A tiny smile hovered at his mouth and Phoebe instantly realised that he knew she’d been checking him out.
If he mentioned it she’d attribute the pinking of her cheeks to the sun, she decided, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the sand off her skirt. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing’s up. I’m going for a sail. You’re in my way.’
Phoebe glanced round at the acres of sand that surrounded the spot where she’d been lying. ‘It’s a big beach. Is that yours?’ She pointed to the gleaming white yacht moored up against the jetty that stretched out from the beach into the sea.
‘It is.’
‘Pretty.’
‘I think so.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘She is called the Phoenix Three.’
‘Sounds like a pop group. What happened to the Phoenix One and Two?’
‘They sank.’
‘And each one rises from the ashes of the previous?’
‘Soggy ashes, but something like that.’
‘Can I come?’ While she’d learned every possible thing she could about his guests, she’d found out precious little about him. How could she do a proper job this evening without knowing as much as possible? Alex had so far proved remarkably adept at dodging her questions. Trapping him on a boat would be ideal.
‘Shouldn’t you be working?’
‘I’ve done as much as I can from my notes,’ she said. ‘The rest I’ll just have to pick up as I go along.’ She smiled winsomely. ‘I promise not to get in the way.’
Alex ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. He clearly didn’t want her on board his yacht. Well, that was tough. She was coming along for the ride whether he liked it or not.
Phoebe glanced down at the cool box he was carrying and decided that she wasn’t above a little manipulation herself.
She stared at it longingly. ‘Is that lunch?’
‘A very late one, yes.’
She widened her eyes and gave him a doleful look. ‘You know, I haven’t eaten anything all day.’
Alex frowned. ‘Didn’t you have something up at the house?’
Phoebe bit on her lip and shook her head forlornly. ‘I’m ravenous.’ She waited and, when Alex didn’t look as if he had any intention of taking her hint, she swayed a little. ‘Do you realise that if I pass out this evening as a result of lack of sustenance it’ll be entirely your fault?’
‘How do you figure that?’
‘You didn’t give me time for breakfast, so if there’s enough in there for two…’
‘There’s plenty.’ He set the box on the ground and took the lid off. ‘Help yourself.’
Oh. Phoebe peered into the cool box and her mouth watered. Lunch looked and smelled delicious. But however tempting his suggestion was, nibbling on a chicken leg alone on the beach while Alex did whatever he did on boats had not been the plan at all.
‘I’d much rather join you,’ she said with a little pout.
Alex’s jaw tightened but he remained stonily silent.
‘Fine,’ she said sadly. ‘I understand. I just hope your hosting skills improve by tonight.’
Alex let out a resigned sigh. ‘OK. That’s enough. You can come.’
Phoebe beamed. ‘Great.’
Letting Phoebe on board his boat had been such a bad idea, Alex berated himself for the hundredth time.
He should have thrown her a sandwich and left her on the beach. Better still, he should never have disturbed her in the first place. He wasn’t sure why he had.
But even though he’d known perfectly well what she’d been up to with those big eyes and the pout it didn’t negate the fact that she was right. The catering staff had gone on a break for a couple of hours before gearing up for tonight. The cool box contained enough lunch to feed an army and he was sick of feeling guilty. What else could he have done?
All he’d wanted was a moment’s solitude. To feel the wind in his hair, the tiller beneath his hands, and to fill with the sense of peace that sailing always gave him.
But had he found that solitude? That peace? Nope. Because Phoebe was anything but peaceful and he’d been an idiot to think he could get away with ignoring her.
She might not have hit him with a barrage of questions just yet, but her eyes had locked onto him with the focus of a heat-seeking missile the moment they’d cast off and in the past half an hour they hadn’t wavered. Even when he had his back to her he could feel her gaze boring into him. Watching him carefully, as if trying to penetrate right through to the centre of him and fathom him out.
His whole body itched and buzzed as if a swarm of bees had taken up residence inside him. The last thing he wanted or needed was fathoming out, he thought grimly, switching off the engine and releasing the main sail. It unfurled and fluttered in the breeze and Alex hauled and winched the ropes until his muscles burned.
For a while the yacht glided smoothly through water, and as Phoebe turned her face to the sun Alex stared at the horizon, let his thoughts lighten and he finally found an edgy sort of peace.
Until Phoebe’s stomach rumbled like a crash of thunder and the flicker of guilt he thought he’d managed to extinguish fanned back into life.
‘Uh, sorry about that,’ she muttered and rubbed her midriff.
‘Lunch?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
If he hadn’t had a conscience he wouldn’t have. Because he had no doubt that as soon as they sat down to eat the questions would come. But he couldn’t postpone lunch any longer, so he’d answer them as briefly as possible and if she persisted he’d employ any tactic at his disposal to deflect her.
Ignoring an odd sense of impending doom, Alex steered the yacht towards the coast and dropped the anchor as soon as they reached shallow water.
‘How did you get to be so good at sailing?’ said Phoebe, finishing off the last piece of cold chicken and thinking lunch had never tasted so delicious.
Alex tensed and she wondered exactly why he was so reluctant to talk about himself. ‘I used to race.’
‘But not any more?’ She set the chicken bone on her plate and licked her fingers.
‘I gave up a few years ago.’ Alex’s gaze dipped to her mouth and her lips tingled as if he’d reached out and touched them. A blaze of heat shot through her and she snatched up a napkin.
‘Why?’ His strength and agility and obvious skill as he leapt around the yacht had had desire and admiration seeping through her in equal measures.
‘Better to stop at the top of your game,’ he said, his lazy tone completely at odd
s with the brief awareness that had flared in his eyes.
‘Did you ever win?’
‘Yes.’
‘Big boats or little boats?’
‘Both.’
‘Solo or in a team?’
‘Both.’
Agh. Trying to get information out of Alex was nigh on impossible. His defences were so high she’d need crampons and breathing equipment to scale them. And as mountaineering had never appealed, Phoebe decided to switch tactic.
‘What made you go into venture capital?’
‘The bottom line,’ he said dryly.
‘Is that all?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’
‘Nope.’
Alex shrugged. ‘I’m good at it.’
‘Very good at it by all accounts.’
He shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Have you been checking me out?’
‘A little. Of course I didn’t have time to hire investigators. I simply looked you up on the Internet.’
‘What did you find?’
‘Surprisingly little for someone who has such a high profile.’ She’d found heaps of information about his business and his work, but absolutely nothing about his private life. Or Jo, for that matter.
He grinned. ‘I’m not that interesting.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ She might as well admit it. She didn’t need to know any of this for this evening. She wanted to know about him for herself. Which wasn’t all that surprising, she reasoned weakly. She’d always been interested in other people. OK, so she didn’t often burn with this degree of curiosity, but then most people weren’t so evasive. ‘You help people realise their dreams.’
Alex shook his head. ‘It’s all about maximising return.’
‘You helped Jo realise her dream. What return are you expecting from her?’
‘Jo’s family.’
‘What happened to your father?’
‘I never knew him. He died the year after I was born.’
‘And your stepfather?’
‘He married my mother when I was eight. Jo came along two years later. They died six years ago in an avalanche.’
Phoebe’s heart squeezed. Her own family might be tricky but she couldn’t imagine life without them. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Don’t be. They were cross-country skiing at the time and died doing something they loved. I hope you’re not going to ask me how I feel about it.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He wouldn’t tell her even if she had. ‘How did Jo take it?’
The change in him was almost palpable. He tensed and his eyes went blank. ‘She was devastated,’ he said flatly.
Now what was he hiding? she wondered, watching the familiar stony expression set in. Every inch of him was warning her to back off, not to pry any further. Perhaps Jo wasn’t the only one who’d been devastated. Perhaps the deaths of his mother and stepfather had had a greater effect on him than he was willing to admit.
Phoebe took a sip of sparkling water and felt the bubbles fizz down her throat. ‘You used to have a partner, but now you work alone. Why is that?’
‘It’s safer.’
‘In what way?’
‘Other people have a tendency to let you down.’
She could understand that. Letting people down, especially her fabulous overachieving family, was one of the little insecurities that walloped her from time to time.
‘Has anyone ever let you down?’ she asked.
‘Not recently,’ he said bleakly.
‘What happened?’
‘It was so long ago I can barely remember.’
‘I don’t believe that for a second.’
‘Do you ever give up?’
‘Nope. I’m kind of tenacious like that. A PR magazine once described me as “subtly yet ruthlessly efficient”.’
‘I can see why. Although personally I’d call it nosy.’ The ghost of a smile hovered at his mouth as he sat back and regarded her thoughtfully.
Phoebe shrugged and grinned. ‘It’s a useful trait to have in my line of work.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘You won’t put me off, you know.’ His answers were spare and his face gave absolutely nothing away, but she’d get there eventually.
‘I know.’
‘And I won’t fail this evening.’
‘Sure?’
Phoebe threw him a confident smile. ‘Absolutely. I’ve done my research and I’m fully prepared. And besides, I’m a Jackson and Jacksons never fail.’
‘Never?’
‘Never.’
‘That sounds like a lot of pressure.’
‘Tell me about it.’ She rested her chin on her hand and smiled up at him. Maybe if she opened up a bit he would too. ‘Actually, I did fail at something once. I swear the look on my father’s face was not something I’d ever like to see again. My mother merely shook her head in disappointment and went off to her study.’
Alex visibly relaxed. ‘What was it?’
‘My fifty metres underwater swimming badge. I was ten.’
His eyebrows shot up.
‘I’d had bronchitis. My lungs weren’t up to it. But that was no excuse.’
‘Of course not,’ he said dryly.
‘I used to have nightmares about it. I’d be swimming relentlessly up and down a pool with my lungs bursting. I’d pop up to the surface gasping for air, only there’d be a sea of angry faces staring down at me, yelling at me to get back under the water.’ That if she didn’t try harder she’d fail and she’d be letting them all down.
‘And then?’
‘Then I’d wake up drenched in sweat with my heart thundering and my head pounding.’
‘What did your parents have to say about that?’
‘Nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘They didn’t know. I didn’t tell them.’
Eventually she’d conquered it. All by herself. Those three months of nightmares had made her stronger. She was sure of it. As had those little blips in her otherwise flawless career.
‘That was brave.’
Warmth spread throughout her body. ‘Not really.’
‘What happened with the swimming test?’
‘I had to redo it the next day.’
‘Did you pass?’
‘Of course. Now I always pass tests,’ she said pointedly.
Alex raised an eyebrow.
‘I come from a line of overachievers,’ she clarified. ‘Didn’t your…research…throw that up?’
‘Some. It turns out I know your brother.’
Oh? ‘How?’
‘We recently worked together on an IPO.’
That made sense. Dan worked in corporate finance and made millions on a daily basis. Privately Phoebe thought her brother was heading straight for burnout, but that was his business. She’d tried to question him about it but he’d told her in no uncertain terms to butt out and she’d given up worrying about him.
‘Dan is a case in point,’ she said and then tilted her head. ‘Let me put it like this. In my family Christmas is treated as a business initiative.’
‘In what way?’
Right now Alex sounded intrigued. But as soon as she’d explained he’d think her entire family was insane.
‘Every September in her role as project manager my mother sends us all an email to establish what we want out of the event. What our vision is.’
‘Do you have a vision?’
‘Well, I don’t generally. I’d be happy with a slice of turkey and a cracker. But not the rest of my family. No. We have to decide on our aim. Do we want to push culinary boundaries? Are we going to use the occasion to innovate and experiment, or do we simply want a day of lazy indulgence? That sort of thing.’
Alex was staring at her as if she’d just landed from another planet. ‘I know,’ she said nodding. ‘Nuts. But it gets worse.’
‘How could it possibly get worse?’
‘Once the key objective has been identified and agreed on, my mother then itemises what exactly
is needed to achieve that particular vision and assigns us each roles. Her list can include anything from strategies to prevent my grandmother hitting the gin too early to calculating the number of Brussels sprouts needed. She then informs us of what she expects in terms of performance.’
‘Nice relaxing festivities, I imagine.’ Amusement glinted in the depths of his eyes.
‘Quite. On the actual day she gives us evaluation updates at regular intervals.’
‘What happens if something goes wrong?’
Phoebe gave him a look of mock horror. ‘Doesn’t happen. Contingencies are built in. Should something go awry, and it hasn’t since the memorable incident involving my father and a rolling pin ten years ago, we’re to simply remind ourselves of the vision. The experience gets absorbed into the following year’s strategy.’
‘It’s probably not a bad way of handling Christmas,’ he said dryly.
‘Yes, well, next year I’m boycotting it.’
‘The family is revolting.’
Phoebe grinned. ‘Not at all. My siblings, rather worryingly, embrace the whole thing with gusto, so technically I’m the only one who’s revolting.’
‘You’re not revolting. You’re—’ Alex broke off, the humour fading from his eyes.
Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden shift in his demeanour. I’m what? She suddenly longed to know. What am I? Tell me. ‘I’m what?’ she said and her breath hitched in her throat as she waited for his answer.
Alex blinked and the stormy look in his eyes vanished. ‘Going to burn if you’re not careful.’
Oh, how annoying was that? He’d been staring at her face as if trying to commit every inch of it to memory, and the way his eyes had darkened as he’d fixed on her mouth had her thinking that concern for her skin had definitely not been uppermost in his mind.
‘I’m always careful,’ she said loftily.
‘So am I,’ he muttered, frowning into the distance and standing up. Alex stretched and then to her consternation reached round the back of his neck and pulled his T-shirt off.
At the expanse of taut brown skin that hit her eyes, Phoebe nearly passed out. Muscles rippled over his abdomen, a smattering of dark hair covered his chest and narrowed down into a fine line that disappeared into the top of his shorts.
