Jamison’s secretary, Donna, looked up from her computer screen. She was comfortably in her fifties and had been with Jamison for thirty years. “See you, Luke.”
“Yeah,” he answered, giving his grandfather’s door one last look. He didn’t like leaving the old man like this, but what choice did he have?
Still frowning to himself, he asked, “Is Cole here?”
“Yep.” Donna nodded toward a bank of offices across the room.
“Thanks.” Luke headed over to see his cousin. He gave a brisk knock, then opened the door and stuck his head in. “How’s it going?”
“Hey.” Cole looked up and smiled. Even in a suit, he looked like a typical California surfer. Tanned, fit, with sun-streaked blond hair and blue eyes, Cole Barrett was the charmer in the company. He did lunches with prospective clients and took meetings with manufacturers because he could usually smooth-talk people into just about anything. “You here to see Pop?”
“Just left him.” Luke braced one shoulder on the doorjamb and idly noted how different Cole’s office was from their grandfather’s. Smaller, of course, but that was to be expected. It was more than that, though. Cole’s desk was steel and glass, his desk chair black leather minimalist. Shelves were lined with some of the toys their company had produced over the years, but the walls were dotted with professionally done photos of his wife, Susan, and their toddler son, Oliver—skiing in Switzerland, visiting the Pyramids and aboard the family yacht. Cole had always been more interested in playing than in the work required to make the money to do the playing.
Luke dismissed it all and met his cousin’s eyes. “Wanted to warn you that he’s still not happy about me leaving.”
Cole leaned back in his desk chair and steepled his fingers. “No surprise there. You were the golden boy, destined to run Barrett Toys...”
Bitterness colored Cole’s tone, but Luke was used to that. “That’s changed.”
“Only because you left.” His cousin shook his head. “Pop is still determined to bring you back into the fold.”
Pushing away from the wall, Luke straightened up. “Not going to happen. I’ve got my own company now.”
Cole swung his chair lazily back and forth. “It’s not Barrett, though, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. A start-up company was fun. Challenging, even. But it wasn’t like running Barrett’s. He’d poured a lot of work and heart into the family business. But feeling as he did now, that his grandfather didn’t trust him, how could he run Barrett’s with any sort of confidence? “It will be,” he said, with determination. “Someday.”
“Right. Anyway.” Cole stood up, slipped his suit jacket on and buttoned it. “I’ve got a lunch meeting.”
“Fine. Just...” He thought about Pop, rooting around for those papers and looking confused about why he couldn’t find them. “Keep me posted on Pop, will you?”
“Why?”
Luke shrugged. “He’s getting old.”
“Not to hear him tell it,” Cole said with a short scrape of a laugh.
“Yeah, I know that.” Luke nodded and told himself he’d done what he’d gone there to do—try one more time to get through to his grandfather. Make him see reason. Now it was time to move the hell on. “All right, then. I’ve got a plane to catch. So, say hello to Susan and Oliver for me.”
“I will.”
When he walked out, Luke didn’t look back.
* * *
Jamison stood at his open office door and watched his grandson. An all-too-familiar stir of frustration had him falling back into the old habit of jingling the coins in his pockets.
“You’re jingling.”
He stopped instantly and shot a look at his assistant.
“Didn’t work, did it?” she asked.
“No one likes hearing ‘I told you so,’ Donna.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say it.”
“You were thinking it.”
“If you’re such a good mind reader,” the woman countered, “you should have known telling him that Loretta cried was a mistake.”
She had a point. No one who knew his wife would believe she’d given in to a bout of tears.
“Fine,” he grudgingly admitted. “You were right. Happy?”
“I’m not unhappy. It’s always good to be right.”
He scowled at the woman currently ignoring him as she busily typed up some damn thing or other. Donna had been with him for thirty years and never let him forget it.
Shaking his head, Jamison shifted his gaze back to Luke as he walked across the room, stopping to chat with people on his way to the elevator. He was leaving, and Jamison didn’t have a clue how to get him back. So it seemed it was time for the big guns.
“The woman you told me about. You still think she can help?”
Donna stopped typing and looked up at him. “Apparently, she’s pretty amazing, so maybe.”
Jamison nodded. He wanted his grandson back in the company, damn it. How the hell could he ever retire if Luke wasn’t there to take over for him? Cole was good at his specified job, but he didn’t have it in him to keep growing Barrett Toys. Jamison needed Luke.
“Well, I tried the easy way,” he murmured. “Now it’s time to put on the pressure.”
“Boss...if Luke finds out, this could all go bad in a huge way.”
He dismissed her warning with an idle wave of a hand. “Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out, won’t we? Make the call, Donna. I’ll be waiting in my office.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she said as she picked up the phone and started dialing.
Jamison turned to his office, but paused long enough to ask, “Where are those statistics I asked you to print out for me this morning?”
Frowning, she looked at him. “I put them on your desk first thing.”
“You didn’t move them?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Right, right.” He nodded and tried to remember what he’d done with the damn things. Then something else occurred to him. “Okay, make the call. And Donna, there’s no reason to tell Loretta any of this.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I saw that.”
“Wasn’t hiding it,” she countered.
“I am your boss, you know.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Donna advised.
* * *
The next afternoon, Fiona Jordan walked into the restaurant at the Gables, a five-star hotel in San Francisco. The best part about owning her own business? She just never knew what would happen from day to day. Yesterday, she’d been working out of her duplex in Long Beach, California, and today, she was in a gorgeous hotel in San Francisco.
Smiling to herself, she took a breath and scanned the busy room.
White-cloth-draped tables and booths were crowded, and the hum of conversation, heavy silverware clinking against plates and the piped-in violin music streaming from discreetly hidden speakers created an atmosphere of luxury. There were windows all along one wall that afforded a spectacular view of the Bay, where the afternoon sun was busily painting a bright golden trail across the surface of the water.
But at the moment, the view wasn’t her priority, Fiona thought as she did a more detailed scan of the room. She was here to find one particular person.
When she found him, her heart gave a quick, hard jolt, and a buzz of something hot and potentially dangerous zipped through her.
Luke Barrett. He had sun-streaked, light brown hair that was just long enough to curl over the collar of his dark blue suit jacket. Gaze focused on the phone he held, he seemed oblivious to the people surrounding him and completely content to be alone.
Fiona didn’t really understand that. She liked people. Talking to them, hearing their stories—everyone had a story—and discovering what she liked about them. B
ut she’d already been warned that Luke was so wrapped up in his work, he barely noticed the people around him.
So, she told herself, she’d simply have to be unforgettable.
Luke sat alone at a window table, but he paid no attention to the view. Fiona, on the other hand, was enjoying her view of him a little too much. Even in profile, he was more gorgeous than the picture she’d been given.
That buzz of something interesting shot straight through her again, and she took a moment to enjoy it. It had been a long time since a man had elicited that sort of reaction from her. Heck, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt a zing of interest.
Her gaze went back to his just-a-little-long hair and realized that it was an intriguing choice for a corporate type. Maybe Luke Barrett was going to be much more than she’d expected. But there was still the whole wrapped-up-in-his-phone thing to get past.
Fiona watched as a beautiful woman strolled by Luke’s table, giving him a smile that most men would have drooled over—he didn’t notice.
“Hmm.” Realizing that meeting Luke Barrett might call for a little extra punch, Fiona turned toward the long sinuous sweep of the bar. She ordered a glass of chardonnay, gave the bartender a big tip and a smile, took a deep breath, and studied her target.
Then Fiona tossed her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and started for his table. The short hem of her flirty black skirt swirled around her thighs and her mile-high black heels tapped cheerfully against the glossy floor. Her dark green long-sleeved blouse had a deeply scooped neckline, and gold hoops dangled from her earlobes.
She looked great, even if she was saying it herself, and it was a shame to ruin the outfit, but desperate times...
A waiter passed in front of her; Fiona deliberately stumbled, took a couple of halting steps, and with a slight shriek, threw herself and a full glass of very nice wine into Luke Barrett’s lap.
Two
Luke’s first instinct was to grab hold of the woman who had dropped into his lap from out of nowhere. She smiled up at him, and he felt a punch of desire slam into his chest. When she squirmed on his lap, he felt that punch a lot lower.
“What the hell?” He looked into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes and realized she was laughing.
“Sorry, sorry!” She squirmed again, and he instantly held her still. “I guess I stumbled on something. Thank God you were here, or I’d have fallen onto something a lot harder.”
He didn’t know about that. He felt pretty damn hard at the moment. And wet. He felt wet, as the wine she’d been carrying now seeped into his shirt and pants. Even as he thought it, she half turned around, grabbed a cloth napkin and dabbed at the wine splashed across her blouse, then started in on his shirt. If she tried to dry his pants, he was a dead man.
“What’d you trip on?” He glanced down at the floor and saw nothing.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, then shrugged helplessly. “Sometimes I trip on air.”
“Good to know.”
She tipped her head to one side and long, dark brown hair slid across her shoulders. “Are you going to let me up?”
It wasn’t his first thought. “Are you going to fall again?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” she admitted with a grin. “Anything’s possible.”
“Then maybe it’s safer if you stay where you are,” Luke mused, still caught by the smile in those brown eyes of hers.
She started her fruitless dabbing at his shirt again. Not unlike trying to soak up the ocean with a sponge.
“Yeah,” he said, taking the napkin from her. “Never mind.”
“Well, I do feel badly about this,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“In all fairness, though,” she pointed out, “I got plenty of the wine on my shirt, as well.”
“And that should make me happy?”
She shrugged and her dark green off-the-shoulder shirt dipped a bit.
Instantly, his gaze dropped to the full swell of her breasts and he wondered if he’d get more of a look if she shrugged again. When he lifted his gaze to hers, he saw a knowing smile.
A waiter hustled up to them with several napkins, then just stood there as if unsure what his next move should be. Luke could sympathize.
Finally, the waiter asked, “Are you all right, miss?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
She was fine. He was being tortured but, apparently, no one cared about that.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barrett. Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” he said grimly. “I think it’s all been done.”
“Well, there is one thing...” His mystery lap dancer spoke up. “My wine’s gone.” She held up the empty glass like it was a visual aid.
“And I know where it went,” Luke muttered.
The waiter looked from Luke to the woman and back again. Still unsure. Still worried. Luke was used to that. He was rich. His family was famous. Most people got nervous around him. And he hated that. So he forced a smile and said, “Would you get the lady another glass of wine, Michael?”
“Certainly. What were you drinking, miss?”
“Chardonnay, thanks. The house wine’s fine.”
Luke frowned and shook his head. “I think we can do better than that, can’t we, Michael?”
The waiter grinned. “Yes, sir.”
When the man left, Luke looked into those chocolate eyes again. “So, since you’re sitting on my lap, I think it’s only right I know your name.”
“Oh, I’m Fiona. Fiona Jordan.” She held out a hand to him.
He glanced at it and smirked. “I think we’ve already moved past a handshake, don’t you?”
“I think we have,” she said. “And since your lap is being so welcoming, maybe I could know your name? Last name Barrett, according to the waiter. First name?”
“Luke.”
She tipped her head to one side and studied him for a long second or two. “I like it. Short. Strong. Sounds like a romance novel hero.”
This had to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had.
Nodding, he confessed, “You found my secret. By day, I’m a tech-toy developer. But at night, I’m a pirate or a lord or a Highlander.”
She gave him a wide grin, and that punch of desire hit him harder. “How is it you know so much about romance novels?”
“My grandmother goes through a dozen every week. I grew up seeing books with half-dressed men and women on the covers scattered around the house.”
“A well-rounded childhood, then.”
Luke thought about that and had to say, she was right. In spite of losing his parents when he was just a child, Luke’s grandparents had saved him. They’d given him normalcy again. Made sure that though his world had been rocked, it hadn’t been completely destroyed.
His lips quirked. “I always thought so.”
“I envy you,” she said simply, and before he could comment, the waiter was back.
Michael hurried up, carrying a glass of wine for Fiona and a refill of Luke’s scotch. He set both glasses on the table and said, “On the house, Mr. Barrett. And again, we’re very sorry about—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Michael,” Fiona told him. “I’m the clumsy one.”
The man winced. “Oh, I wouldn’t say clumsy...”
“That’s because you don’t smell like chardonnay,” Luke put in wryly.
Michael nodded again before he scurried away.
“I think you scared him,” Fiona said as she watched the man rush back to the bar.
“I think you’re the one who scared him. Pretty women can have that effect on a man,” Luke countered.
She turned back and literally beamed at him. “But not you?”
“I’m immune.”
“Good to know,” she said, smiling. “Does t
hat mean I should give up or try even harder to be scary?”
“Oh, definitely keep trying.” Luke grinned. Hell, he liked a woman this sure of herself. Well, to be honest, he just liked women. But a strong, gorgeous one with a sense of humor was right at the top of the list. And this one was more intriguing than most. It had been a long time since a woman had made this kind of impact on him. He laughed to himself at that thought, because she had landed on him with both physical and emotional impacts.
He took a quick look at the whole package. Long, dark brown hair, those chocolate eyes, a wide mouth, now curved in a smile, and a body that filled his mind with all kinds of interesting images. That green shirt looked great on her, and the full black skirt was short enough to showcase some great legs. The mile-high black heels just put the finishing touches on the whole picture. Oh yeah, she could be dangerous.
Even to a man who had no intention of getting into a “relationship,” Luke loved women, and the occasional date or one-night stand was great. But he didn’t have the time or the patience to devote himself to two passions right now. All of his focus had to be on his budding company. So meeting a woman like this one could be problematic.
“So...” Fiona spoke again, and Luke told himself to listen up. “Now that we’re so comfy with each other, what brings you to San Francisco?”
“I don’t know if comfy is the right word,” Luke said wryly, shifting position a bit.
She reached for her wine, but Luke was faster. He handed her the glass. He wasn’t going to risk another wine bath.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Since my shirt is still wet from your last glass of wine, I’m going to say no.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s honest, anyway. I like honest. But I have to say, I think it’s time I moved to a chair.”
He reached for his scotch and took a sip. The aged whiskey sent a slow burn through his body that couldn’t even compare to the current blaze centered in his lap. “Yeah, maybe you should.” He knew everyone in the restaurant had to be watching them, and Luke didn’t give a flying damn. Fiona Jordan had broken up his afternoon and brightened a long, boring day, and he was going to enjoy it. In fact, he hadn’t felt this...light since the day before with his grandfather.
Jet Set Confessions Page 2
