by Day Leclaire
This was not going the way she’d planned. “Look, I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
A pregnant pause followed her statement. “Ah, Princess,” he said with a sigh. “You tempt me. You really do. But you’ll have to wait for it.”
“I’m talking about business,” she informed him through clenched jaws.
“So am I,” came his bland reply. “What did you think I was talking about?”
This conversation wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Look. I’m going to start packing. I’ll give you two hours to complete your research. Then I’m going to call back, and I expect answers to my questions. If I don’t get them, the deal is off. Is that clear, Mr. Richmond?”
“It’s clear. But that doesn’t change the fact that the people I need to reach won’t be available until Monday.”
His tone had cooled measurably. He didn’t sound like a man selling himself to the highest bidder anymore, she realized. Rather, he sounded like Boss at his most arrogant. Well, she’d had plenty of experience dealing with that sort of arrogance.
“You have precisely two hours, Mr. Richmond,” she repeated in an unyielding tone, “or the deal is off.”
“Very well, Ms. Daniels. Whatever you say.”
“I thought you might see it that way,” she murmured sweetly.
“Since I can’t give you what you need… I guess the deal’s off. Have a nice trip.” And with that, he hung up.
Taylor stared openmouthed at the phone for a full sixty seconds. Then she banged down the receiver, only to snatch it up again. If he thought for one minute he could get off that easily, he had another thought coming. She wouldn’t let him blow this deal. Nor would she be sidetracked.
He would act the part of the humble employee—even if it killed her!
JT DROPPED the remote phone onto his chest and grinned. His little fish was putting up quite a struggle, which pleased him no end. He wondered what she’d do once she found the hook in her mouth and discovered that all this time he’d been reeling her in, bit by bit. She’d fight like hell, if he was any judge of the situation.
He folded his arms behind his head and waited for the phone to ring. Any minute now, she’d catch her breath sufficiently to react. He wished he was with her, wished he could see those incredible eyes flashing black fire and watch the color sweep across her high cheekbones. Oh, yeah. His adorable fiancee was, without question, ticked off as hell.
He glanced at the phone, stifling another yawn as he waited. If she didn’t hurry and phone back, he’d nod off again. Two hours of sleep just didn’t cut it. Right on cue, the remote let out an angry burr. On the fifth ring, he answered.
“’Lo?”
“You are not going to leave me hanging! Do you hear, Richmond? You’re not walking out on this deal.”
“That you, Princess?” he asked in his most innocent voice. “You sound upset.”
“Dammit, JT! You agreed to play the part of my fiance and I’m holding you to it. You can’t back out now.”
“I didn’t back out of anything.” His voice hardened. “That was your doing.”
“I beg your pardon! You said—”
He cut her off without compunction. “Beg all you want, but it won’t change the facts. You were the one making ultimatums. So don’t blame me if the results aren’t to your liking.”
“I just-”
“You just thought you’d throw your weight around.” He spoke bluntly, not bothering to pull his punches. “Well, that’s fine if you’re willing to take the consequences. But you aren’t, are you? Didn’t Boss ever warn you about the danger of making idle threats?”
“It wasn’t an idle threat!”
“Then what are you complaining about? If giving me a two-hour ultimatum wasn’t an idle threat, then you shouldn’t be upset when I choose to walk away from the deal.”
“No! You can’t walk away!”
Her panic came through loud and clear. Oh, yeah. He had her hooked good and proper. Whether she realized it or not, Ms. Daniels was playing right into his hands. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t take advantage of the situation, nor would he be looking out for the island’s best interests. The time had come to reel in the line a little.
“I can walk away,” he informed her coldly. “And I will walk away. And there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”
“But I need that information,” she said. “And I need it today.”
“Look. It’s not my fault you waited until the weekend to start your inquiry. Not everyone works Saturday and Sunday, you know.”
“You were the one who claimed you could get the information for me.”
“And I can. Just not today.” He allowed a hint of impatience to edge his voice. “What do you want me to do? Call up Elizabeth Jermain and ask for her financial records?”
“No!”
“I didn’t think so. What you want takes time. These things call for finesse, for someone with a delicate touch.”
“And that’s you?” she asked dryly.
“You’ve had firsthand experience. You tell me.” It took her barely a moment to catch his meaning. He heard the tiny gasp she couldn’t quite suppress and smiled. “No comment, Ms. Daniels?”
She made a swift recovery. “None,” she said, her reply rock steady.
“I’m disappointed. And here I thought you were an honest aboveboard type of woman.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” Her tone was suspicious.
He’d have to be more careful, he realized. It wouldn’t do to underestimate her intelligence. “I am being a little sarcastic,” he conceded. “Sorry, Taylor. You caught me at a bad time.”
“Were you sleeping?”
“Is it obvious? I had a late night.”
He knew from the sudden chilly silence what she suspected. Something sordid. Well, tough. He couldn’t very well explain he’d been working flat out through the night, settling his business interests so he could take the next two weeks off. She’d just have to believe the worst.
“So which is it?” he asked with a yawn. “Are you willing to wait for the information or not?”
“It would seem I don’t have any choice,” she replied tightly.
“No, you don’t. Meet me here tomorrow at one. We’ll catch the two-o’clock ferry out to the island.”
“I’d hoped to get to the resort earlier than that,” she retorted, frustration edging her voice.
“Sorry,” he said, not sorry in the least. “One o’clock here. Two-o’clock ferry. End of discussion.”
“But-”
“I’m going to get some shut-eye, so don’t call me again for a couple of hours. Oh, and don’t pack any of those business suits you’re so fond of. I know you’ve got a closet jammed full of them, but they’re bad for my image.” He grinned, punching the disconnect button before she could draw breath to respond.
He could practically hear her shriek of fury from here.
SHE LET OUT a shriek of fury. Just who did he think he was? She slammed down the phone and stalked to her bedroom. Throwing open the closet door, she began tossing clothing toward the bed. The fact that half of them missed only served to fuel her anger.
“Cocky, arrogant, good-for-nothing layabout! What the hell does he know about the contents of my closet?”
She turned to glare at the pile of suits and blouses strewn at her feet. It would seem he knew entirely too much. This would never do. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She couldn’t wear business suits while staying on the island. She’d look ridiculous. He’d be lounging around, comfortable in raggedy jeans, and she’d be standing there like some sort of department-store mannequin with a label over her head that read This Year’s Office Fashions. No one would believe she and JT were engaged. Not when they so clearly came from different worlds.
She crossed to her nightstand and picked up the receiver. To hell with his sleep. Some things were more important. She had an emergency on her hands and he’d better deal with it. She
punched in his number from memory.
“This had better not be you, Princess,” he growled into her ear.
“Well, it is.” She curled the phone cord around her finger and sank onto the bed. “It’s all your fault, you know. You said not to wear any suits. So—”
“You must be joking.”
“No, I’m not,” she snapped defensively. “We both have a role to play. Which means, if this engagement thing is going to be believable, I have to know what to wear. Suits are all I have.”
She heard him swear beneath his breath. Then he said, “You must have more than just suits.”
“Well, I don’t. No jeans, no leather, no chains and nothing with skulls and crossbones. In other words, no biker-babe apparel. Sorry.”
“Me, too. Though the thought of you wearing leather and chains—”
“Richmond!”
“Calm down, will you? Just pack clothes—normal, everyday clothes. The sort of stuff you wear when you get home from work and on the weekends. You’ll also need some dressy outfits for the evenings, like when you go out on the town with one of your Boss-approved corp-exec types.’
“Oh.” She nudged the pile at her feet with a toe and frowned.
He released a grumbling sigh. “That ‘oh’ speaks volumes, sweet pea. Let’s take a wild stab here…. You’ve
spent the last several years carving out a career at Daniels Investment, which means your office is more of a home than your apartment.”
“Lucky guess,” she muttered. How did he know she had an apartment? Did it show or something?
“And your idea of nine to five Monday through Friday is really five to nine Monday through Sunday.”
“Something like that,” she confessed.
“No hotshot white-collar type you like to dine with while discussing your most recent corporate gutting?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’ll take that as a no. What about dinner parties? Doesn’t big bad Boss throw any ritzy shindigs? You must have a cocktail dress or three.”
“Sort of.” Actually she had two. But since she despised wearing anything too sophisticated or feminine for fear of sending out mixed signals, she’d purchased formal, no-nonsense evening dresses that gave a very clear statement: business comes first.
“Sort of. I see. Well, ‘sort of’ won’t do for Bride’s Bay Resort. You need ‘drop ‘em in their tracks’ sophistication,” he informed her. “Go shopping and get yourself some real clothes. Bathing suits, evening dresses, slacks and blouses. Oh, and try leaving your hair down. It might cure that stiff neck of yours. And one last thing…”
She gritted her teeth. “What?”
“Stop calling me!”
It took her a full thirty seconds to realize he’d hung up on her again. Then she wasted another thirty seconds wondering what he’d meant by that “stiff neck” comment, followed by still another thirty wondering why it mattered what he thought of her. Disgusted with herself for squandering valuable time, she returned to the living room and picked up her clipboard and started on a list of clothes she’d need.
One thing was certain, she decided, making a notation to pick up an engagement ring, JT couldn’t have any idea how much this assignment meant to her. She’d spent years working for that vice presidency, enduring impossible work hours and struggling to pass a seemingly unending series of tests Boss had thrown her way. And at long last, she’d reached the final hurdle. So, let JT think what he wanted. Let him think her cold and unemotional and stiff-necked. The tip of her pencil snapped again and she glared at it.
After all, what did she care?
JT HUNKERED DOWN beside his Harley and gave the air/fuel adjustment screw a final tweak. Perfect. If that didn’t give him the extra boost of power he needed, nothing would. Now to change the jets, give his chrome headers a final polish, and she’d be all ready for tomorrow.
He ran a hand along the black leather seat. Little did the prim and proper Ms. Daniels suspect that come morning she’d be tooling to Jermain Island on the back of his Harley. Which reminded him… Time to extract a minor revenge for all the grief she’d been giving him. He picked up the phone at his side and punched in her number.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, Princess, it’s me. I want you to wear a skirt tomorrow. Something short and tight.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I love it when you go all formal on me. I’m talking about your clothes. You didn’t seem sure of what you should wear, so I thought I’d help out.”
“Thanks all the same, but I have my wardrobe fully planned,” she said in a stiff voice.
“Made another list, didn’t you, sweetheart?” The deafening silence provided all the answer he needed. Not that she remained silent for long.
“I also made a list for you,” she said. “When I arrive Monday you’re to be wearing a suit and tie. Neutral colors, nothing ostentatious. Gray will do nicely.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll tell you what. I’ll wear the suit if you’ll wear the skirt.”
“Not on your life.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” And with a wicked grin, he hung up. If he didn’t miss his guess, she’d show up looking like a nun. Wide flowing skirt, buttoned-up neckline and those heels he liked so much. Nice high heels. Perfect. Just perfect.
THE PHONE RANG and Taylor snatched up the receiver, determined to fire off the first salvo. “What now? Are you planning on dictating my underwear, as well?”
“Taylor? Is that you?”
“Dad? I thought… I thought… What can I do for you?” she asked weakly.
“What’s going on, Taylor?”
“Just kidding with a girlfriend. I assumed she’d called back.”
“Not very professional,” Boss criticized. “What if I’d been a client?”
“I’ll be more careful in the future. What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping he’d take the hint and change the subject. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. I just called to make sure you’re all set for tomorrow. You didn’t have any problem making reservations at the resort?”
“I was lucky. They had a last-minute cancellation.”
“Very fortunate. And your assignment is clear? You know what I want?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Good luck on this one, Taylor. I’m counting on you.”
Her grip tightened on the receiver. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. Just remember—this is a business deal. Don’t let yourself get distracted.”
“No,” she agreed faintly. “I won’t.”
He gave some final orders, which she scarcely heard, and then hung up. Taylor stared blindly at her clothes list. Don’t get distracted, he’d said. Easier said than done. JT Richmond had proved to be one giant distractionuncontrollable and sexy as hell. From the very beginning he’d come between her and the job she’d been assigned, and that wasn’t likely to change in the near future.
What if he kissed her again? Her hands closed into fists. If? The real question was…
How would she handle it when he did?
TAYLOR PULLED into JT’s driveway the next afternoon determined to stay focused on the business at hand. Opening the car door, she grabbed her briefcase and slid out. Instantly she became aware of his presence on the porch. He stood, cloaked in shadows, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for her to approach. He’d fixed the full force of his attention on her, his gaze cool and watchful and somewhat alarming.
She frowned. Two days ago she’d thought him easygoing, a man available for purchase. Today she wasn’t so certain. He looked more like a pillar of stone—hard, immovable and blocking her path. There was an unyielding aggressiveness about his stance, an unspoken challenge evident in every line of his body. And she didn’t like it.
Nor did she like acknowledging that he was the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever met. She found the combination of good looks and forceful personality far too unse
ttling. She eyed his clothing in annoyance. Tight black jeans molded the powerful muscles of his hips and thighs, and a plain Western-style shirt clung to his wide shoulders, the collar open enough to hint at the crisp dark hair matting his chest. Only his eyes glittered with colorblue fire in a bronzed face.
So much for her request that he wear a suit and tie.
Taking a deep breath, she approached, determined to conceal her irritation. “Hello, JT,” she said, pleased with how calm she sounded.
He inclined his head. “Punctual to a fault.”
“Punctual to a fault?” she repeated, stopping at the foot of the steps. “Or punctuality is a fault? With you, I’m not quite certain.”
A smile eased the taut lines of his face. “When it’s important, I’m very punctual. I like the dress, by the way. Not quite what I requested, but I must admit it suits you.”
“Thanks.”
She swept a hand down the dove gray skirt—a full, bell-like skirt. It was a classic style. A wide belt cinched the waist and tiny pearl buttons lined the white-collared, V-necked bodice. Long illusion sleeves ended in tight broad cuffs that made her wrists look ridiculously narrow and fine-boned. She also wore dainty kid boots in a matching shade of gray. The heels were a precarious three-plus inches, but she’d been unable to resist thenold-fashioned beauty.
His smile widened. “You look like you’re on your way to church.”
She fingered her necklace. “It’s the pearls. They scream piety.”
“Then they’ll be the first item to go.”
She stared in disbelief, the breath catching in her throat. Wild, insane, impossible images assailed her: a four-poster bed waiting for them on an island resort; JT stripping her piece by piece, clothing discarded in enthusiastic abandon; and a broken string of pearls scattered across the rug. She brought herself up short, a flush mounting her cheeks. No, no, no! She wouldn’t let him do this to her. She wouldn’t let him jeopardize her job for something as base and sordid—and denigrating—as hist.
“The pearls stay,” she announced in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
