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Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir / Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition: Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir
Yvonne Lindsay
Paula Roe
Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir Paula Roe Jake Vance was dangerous, a charming corporate raider. When he set his sights on Australia’s richest diamond dealers, Holly McLeod was given the job as his assistant. She was shocked when her sexy new boss, the long-lost Blackstone heir, proposed marriage…to her!Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition Yvonne LindsayEver since their one night together, making love to Rachel Kincaid was all Matt Hammond thought about. That and destroying the Blackstone diamond empire. The billionaire always got what he wanted, but now did he want sweet revenge…or sweet Rachel’s love?DIAMONDS DOWN UNDER – a family affair!


Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir by Paula Roe


SYDNEY’S SCENE

Scandals and secrets have racked the Blackstone dynasty for decades, starting with their longtime feud with the Hammonds, and continuing with the oft- times off-colour shenanigans of the Blackstone brood. But nothing the privileged clan has done rivals the latest news from the Australian “royal family.” None other than shark-like corporate raider Jake Vance has been seen taking up space in the company’s Pitt Street offices. What’s a street-smart, self-made billionaire doing among the hallowed halls of old money?

Takeover rumours are not the only ones on the street. Australia’s hottest “bad boy” has been seen over the years with gorgeous models and millionaire heiresses. But now he’s been spotted with his secretary, a small- town innocent named Holly McLeod. Someone ought to tell Ms McLeod – and the Blackstones, for that matter – what many a woman already knows: Jake Vance may kiss like an angel, but getting involved with him is like making a deal with the devil. Then again, no devil has ever looked as good as Jake Vance…

Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition by Yvonne Lindsay



SYDNEY SCENE

To the Blackstones and Hammonds, secrets are a part of life. But none as profound as the one that rocked Australia when the firstborn Blackstone, kidnapped three decades ago and assumed dead, was resurrected and assumed the throne of the Blackstone diamond empire. Rival family leader Matt Hammond was apparently none too pleased at the gala reception, and vowed revenge.

Mysterious stock trading and clandestine deals have led the Pitt Street moguls to declare Blackstone’s ripe for takeover. All eyes are on Matt Hammond. New Zealand paparazzi have caught the Hammond billionaire wheeling and dealing – and romancing none other than his son’s sweet-as-spun-sugar nanny, identified as Rachel Kincaid. Looks like the caregiver is giving Hammond more than some child-rearing advice in the back of that limo!

Despite whatever’s going on in the Hammond household, those in the know are predicting a blowup to the decades-old feud between the Hammonds and the Blackstones. When it does combust, there’s no telling who’ll remain standing as the first family of fine jewels.

Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir
PAULA ROE

Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition
YVONNE LINDSAY


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

BOARDROOMS & A BILLIONAIRE HEIR
by
Paula Roe
PAULA ROE

Despite wanting to be a vet, choreographer, hairdresser, card shark and an interior designer (though not all at once!) Paula ended up as a personal assistant, office manager, aerobics instructor and software trainer for thirteen years (which also funded her extensive travel through the US and Europe). Today she still retains a deep love of filing systems, stationery and travelling, although the latter is only in her dreams these days.

Paula lives near western Sydney’s glorious Blue Mountains with her family, an ancient black cat and a garden full of rainbow lorikeets and magpies. You can visit her at www.paularoe.com.

Dear Reader,

I’m very excited about this, my second book. It germinated back in 2006 while I was still floating on my first sale high. My favourite kiwi, Yvonne Lindsay, e-mailed me to ask if I’d like to join an author-led Down Under continuity. “You can say no if you want to,” she added. Of course, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with a bunch of my favourite writers! Since then we’ve burned up the internet waves, with e-mails flying back and forth over the Pacific, brainstorming, plot-storming, character-storming, making sure our themes didn’t clash, ensuring the timelines and backstory meshed. What a job!

I was particularly thrilled everyone loved my idea for the missing heir, and the mystery of the missing Blackstone baby is accompanied by a favourite theme of mine – office romance. There’s something extremely forbidden about the whole scenario, don’t you think? Throw into that the politics, sexual tension and inevitable gossip, and you have the makings of a potential disaster.

Again, I’ve set the story in a place familiar to me, the heart of Sydney’s central business district, where I worked for many years. You may even recognise some places! The one artistic licence I did take was removing the Sydney Hilton on George Street to make way for the Blackstone’s Head Office. Ahh, the things we can do with fiction! If you want to read more about this book and the DIAMONDS DOWN UNDER series, go to www.diamonds-downunder.com. And as always, I’d love to hear from you at www. paularoe.com.

Love, Paula
A big hug and smoochy kiss to the Down Under Desireables for your support, hand-holding and encouragement: Bron, Tessa, Maxine, Yvonne and Jan. To Linley, my personal GMC wizard and finder-of-weak-spots. To MJ, who gave me such insightful suggestions and made my writing that much better. And my deep thanks to Andrew Burden of Canberra’s Aviation Search and Rescue Centre who let me pick his brains about plane crashes and rescues in order to get everything just right.
One
Wealth and power hung in the expansive boardroom, permeating every cherrywood panel, every thread of the tightly woven carpet underfoot.
The huge panoramic windows played right into that powerful aura, offering an unobstructed view of Sydney’s CBD to the right, the curved dome of the historical Queen Victoria Building to the left. Subtle track lights highlighted the boardroom table where one woman and three men were rising to their feet. Jake Vance recognised each in turn: Kimberley Perrini; her husband, Ric, and current CEO of Blackstone Diamonds; Ryan Blackstone, Chief Financial Officer; and Garth Buick, the company secretary.
Jake had stood in the same spot days ago.
At that time, the room had been tense with stunned denial after his little bombshell. Despite that, it was too good a coincidence for Kimberley to pass up; he’d seen the burning curiosity in her shaken expression. Now, judging by the shell-shocked looks, they obviously had their proof.
Finding out your previously dead brother was very much alive was a life-changing event, even if that bit of gossip had been press fodder for months. But when that brother stood to gain a substantial chunk of the Blackstone fortune…
He swallowed bitterly. This wasn’t in his ten-year plan. Making his first million, breaking into the U.S. market, giving back to his mother’s favourite causes, yes. Even, eventually, a wife and kids. But not this. Not becoming Australia’s walking, talking answer to the freakin’ Lindbergh baby.
“James…Jake?” Kimberley Perrini said tentatively, obviously confused about how to proceed. He gave a curt nod and remained silent as she settled for sitting at the table. He noticed her crisp business suit, the efficient pulled-back hair, the air of sophistication and privilege radiating out as if she’d been born into it.
He shoved the uncharacteristic bitterness away and instead focused on his game plan—detecting weakness.
It was awkward, this first face-to-face meeting with his sister. His sister, for God’s sake. He ignored the deeper implication and completed his study. The similarities between Kimberley and Ryan were obvious: dark hair with that widow’s peak, green eyes. But where hers held optimistic caution, Ryan Blackstone’s were full of outright hostility. It was in every smell that infused the ostentatious room, every movement and gesture the man made in his thousand-dollar suit.
Jake glanced over the table to where Garth Buick sat. The two younger men, Ric and Ryan, were on their feet behind him, as if standing gave them a psychological advantage.
Jake had used that tactic many times before.
“We had April Kellerman’s documents analysed, as well as those DNA tests,” Ric Perrini said now, indicating Jake should take a seat.
“And?” Jake sat and Ric and Ryan followed suit.
“It appears that you are James Hammond Blackstone.”
As one, they released a collective breath and the expectant hush in the room fanned out, spreading like a blanketing drift of snow. The air was just as chilly, with most of the freeze coming from the two men who had battled for the CEO’s position after Howard’s death.
Jake steeled his features to betray nothing. Emotion meant vulnerability, which meant your enemies had a weakness they could exploit. Show nothing, reveal nothing.
“So Howard was right all along,” Kimberley finally said.
Ric shrugged. “Looks like it.”
She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but Ryan interrupted.
“We asked you here to discuss a few things. One, your plans for Blackstone’s.” Ryan’s even tone belied the storm in his eyes. “And we’d like to make an offer for your shares.”
Jake stifled his surprise. Interesting. Business first. “I’m not selling.”
“You haven’t heard our bid.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Listen, Vance. If this is about payback or revenge—”
“Why would it?” Jake raised one eyebrow.
The men glanced at each other, regrouping. Finally Kimberley said slowly, “See it from our side. You and Quinn Everard are close. There’s been a long history of animosity between him and Howard—”
Jake smiled, an action he knew would throw them off balance. “Not my problem. I’m sure you’ve had me researched. So you know I never let personal feelings stand in the way of a business decision.”
“What about Jaxon Financial?” Ric asked.
Jake paused, letting the barb sink in without showing it’d hit a sore spot. “That was over eight years ago. And it wasn’t my company.”
“But you were accused of insider trading,” Ryan probed, his astute eyes unwavering.
Jake eased back in the leather chair and stretched his legs out, a calculated show of nonchalance. “Accused. Not charged.”
“You lost millions. The CEO fired you.”
“And I returned the favour eighteen months later when I bought them out. Look, we can go over my chequered history for hours, but it doesn’t change the facts. The way I see it, you have two choices. Fight me for the claim, which would tie us up in court for years, and see the shares plummet. Or work with me on this. Blackstone’s has a problem. Besides the press leak you’ve failed to plug, the company has been floundering since Howard’s death. Share prices are dropping. The power struggle between you—” he nodded at Ric “—and you,” then Ryan, “is unsettling the board, not to mention your shareholders. They’re getting antsy.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Ryan.
“I make it my business to know.” Before Ryan could interject, Jake held up a hand. “I plan to fix that.”
“Why?” Ryan asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Because I can.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant. Like it or not, Howard made me a beneficiary. You’re worried about Blackstone’s collapsing? I can fix it. It isn’t personal. It’s business.”
“So this is all just business to you?” Kimberley asked softly.
“Well, it’s certainly not about family bonding.”
He didn’t miss her brief flash of dismay as her eyes met Ric’s briefly.
“So what’s your plan?” Ric said smoothly.
Jake sized him up. Ric Perrini looked hard, with a reputation to match. He’d been Howard’s surrogate son, the only one deemed worthy to take over Blackstone’s. The man probably felt threatened. Hell, they all did.
Hardly surprising. Jake traded on his unpredictable reputation; it sent fear and respect into the hearts of his adversaries and made them careless.
That’s how he won.
He looked back to Kimberley, who’d been staring at him in silence. When he met her sharp green eyes, she refused to look away.
“You’re the spitting image of Howard,” she said now.
Thrown by such a personal comment, Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure she meant that in a good way, either. Should he thank her? Ignore it? He opted for the simplest approach.
“Blackstone genes.”
Kim hesitated. “You know we all thought Howard was out of his tree about you,” she finally said. “I just can’t believe you’re actually alive.”
He lifted his eyebrows and gave her a small, wry smile. “In the flesh.”
Kim paused, a moment too long.
“You have something to say,” Jake said calmly. “Just go ahead and say it.”
“Don’t you have questions about the family?” she asked curiously. “About Howard? Sonya? Vince?”
“Not particularly. I have a very efficient research department.”
“So where have you been for the last thirty years?” Ryan asked tightly.
“Queensland first. Then when I was about ten, South Australia.”
“And?” Kim prompted. Jake let them dangle for a few seconds before conceding, “I was kidnapped by Howard’s housekeeper and her boyfriend. Two months after the ransom note, around midnight, their car crashed into the Lindon River, five kilometres north of—”
“Newcastle, yes, we’ve read the police report,” Ryan interrupted. “Everyone assumed you’d drowned in the crash and floated out to sea.”
“April Kellerman was driving by when the car crashed. She pulled me free.”
“And kept you.”
The scorn in Ryan’s voice sent a fierce surge of protectiveness straight to Jake’s chest. “Don’t judge what you don’t know,” he warned softly, piercing the younger man with a steely look.
Silence abruptly fell.
“We need to know more if we’re to prepare a press release,” Kim finally said, then paused as a shadow passed over his features. “You don’t trust us.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“That’s a nice attitude to have,” Ryan muttered.
Jake raised one eyebrow. “I’m not the one with the press leak.”
Ryan tensed as Perrini said, “You know the press will fill in the blanks with whatever they can find, true or not.”
“I know.”
Despite a thorough going over, Jake was determined not to give anything away under everyone’s searching eyes. Kim’s small sigh a few seconds later was the only indication he’d won. Won what? The victory came with a surprisingly bitter taste.
“Your birthdate is wrong,” Kim said finally.
“Excuse me?”
“James was born on the fourth of August, 1974, which makes you thirty-four this year. Your official bio—as Jake Vance—had you celebrating your thirty-fifth birthday on the first of September.”
He knew that they were just numbers on a bit of paper. That it didn’t mean squat. Despite his cold logic, a small lick of helplessness bloomed in the pit of his belly. In a nanosecond, cold anger flooded in to douse it.
Anger that was unjustified. Anger that actually shamed him. Blaming a dead woman would solve nothing.
Outwardly he shrugged. “So I’m a Leo instead of a Virgo.”
Ryan’s snort of dark amusement echoed in the quiet room, one that twitched Jake’s mouth in all-too-brief humour.
Then Garth rose and withdrew a piece of paper from a folder. “As Howard’s first born, you are now the recipient of a considerable amount of wealth.” The man handed the paper to Jake. “You know about the third of Howard’s shares—fifty-one percent divided equally between you, Ric and Ryan. You also own Howard’s Vaucluse mansion, Miramare, although Sonya Hammond was given the right to reside there for the rest of her life. The remainder of Howard’s assets—personal investments, artworks, cash—are now divided between yourself and Ryan.”
Jake studied the details in silence, pausing only to chance a glance at Kimberley. Even Howard’s rumored lover, Marise Davenport-Hammond, had come away with a seven-figure sum, yet for his eldest daughter, the wife of his surrogate son Ric Perrini, nothing. Worse, he’d publicly and privately humiliated her with the gifting of his Bondi beach house to Ryan, a house where her mother had drowned.
He had to hand it to Kimberley—she met his scrutiny head on, the cool green gaze a study in calm.
Garth continued. “There’s also an article that stipulates three Blackstones must sit on the board—at the moment it’s Kimberley, Ryan and Vincent Blackstone, Howard’s brother.”
“I’m not after a board position.”
“We’re not giving you one. Yet,” Ric said, matching his cool reply. “But Vince has his own life and is making noises about retiring.” He studied Jake’s face. “And it all depends on what you decide.”
“It’s too early to make a decision.”
“So just how are you planning to help the company?” Ryan asked tightly.
Jake gave him the once-over, only mildly surprised when the younger man, just like his sister, refused to break eye contact.
These Blackstones were tough.
“First, I need to get up to speed with all aspects of Blackstone Diamonds, starting with the financials and corporate structure. Then, I’ll hold a meeting with the board and shareholders to reassure them of my commitment.”
“Are you planning to commit?” Ric asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Or are you going to break up the company after the shares stabilise?”
“How can I? I don’t have a controlling interest.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
Jake studied Ric Perrini with renewed respect. If it came down to a vote, Matt Hammond held ten percent of the shares and had already pledged his support in Jake’s favour. But that was purely because the man hated the Blackstones.
Jake didn’t know these people. But he’d been in similar situations, ones that involved family, tradition and high emotion. You had to tread lightly. Be diplomatic. Get them onside with a small truth, at least.
“For now, I’m committed.”
“That’s not good enough,” Garth snapped. “Howard built Blackstone’s up from nothing. He wasn’t a saint but he loved this company. He put his life into it, making it a successful, international brand name. His wish was to see that continue—with his family at the helm.” The older man thumped the table with a clenched fist for emphasis. “After all these years, he never stopped believing you were alive somewhere. Even refused to put up a gravestone in your name. That’s how damned stubborn and committed he was. And look—he was right. Don’t you think you owe his memory—your family—more than a ‘for now’?”
The impassioned speech made as much impact on Jake’s composure as a feather on steel. He’d heard it all before, seen enough pleading, threatening and bargaining to not let it matter.
He held Buick in a cool stare until the older man let out a disgusted snort and settled back in his chair.
“A DNA test doesn’t make a bunch of strangers suddenly family,” Jake said calmly, ignoring the way Kim’s face paled. “I don’t like this any more than you do. Make no mistake—this isn’t about some newly discovered paternal ties to Howard Blackstone. I don’t want or need the complication.”
“So why are you doing it?” Ryan asked.
Jake smiled thinly. “To make money.”
“You’re a billionaire. How much more do you need?” Kim asked, her eyes astute.
Way too personal. Jake crossed his arms and met her gaze head-on. “Take my offer or not. You’re quite welcome to maintain the status quo and let that press leak go unfound, watch the stock plummet, the shareholders pull out…”
“Or take our chances with you,” Ric finished.
“Yep.”
He rose to give them their thinking time and strode over to the cabinet to pour a glass of water. Unmindful of the hushed discussion at the other end of the room, he sipped slowly as he gazed upon the magnificent view of Sydney stretched in front of him, fixing on the familiar blue neon of his AdVance Corp across the bay, a physical manifestation of eight years’ hard work.
He’d expected softer edges after Ryan’s recent marriage, but the man’s glare indicated a strong will. And, if the reports were true, an even stronger desire to prove himself in the face of Howard Blackstone’s obvious preference for Ric Perrini. Just the sort of family infighting that jeopardised smart business decisions—which would, ironically, make his decision to keep them at arm’s length that much easier.
For a week he’d immersed himself in this family—their history, their investments, even the salaciously unreliable gossip. He might be related to them on paper, but loyalty had to be earned. There were only four people in the world he trusted: His secretary. His chief of security. Quinn, who had voiced multiple warnings to watch his back. And his mother.
He didn’t miss the irony. For someone with deep trust issues, he’d placed it with a woman who’d been living a lie.
“OK,” Ric said at length. “Under one condition.”
Jake turned his back to the window, placing his glass on the cabinet. “Which is?”
“No official announcements until we’re good and ready.”
Jake quirked an eyebrow. “And your reasoning is…?”
“You. The speculation alone will be enough to drop stock prices.”
He smiled humourlessly. “And it conveniently stops anything from leaking out…unless one of you is the source.”
Ryan visibly bristled, but Kim put a hand on his arm. “Your identity stays with us until we all agree on where and when to announce it,” she said smoothly. “Not even the assistant we’ve assigned to you knows.”
Great. A company mouthpiece to spout the latest platitudes about Blackstone’s.
“Have you informed your solicitors and the private investigator?” Jake asked.
“We’ve called the P.I. off,” Ric said.
Jake nodded. “So let’s see what I can dig up on this leak before we start making anything official. A week, maybe two, should do it.”
“Once people start seeing you here, it’ll be hard to avoid speculation,” Kimberley said.
“Which is why we’ve given you an office on the executive floor. Limited access. High security,” Ric added.
“I don’t need an office. But I will need complete access to your records.”
“It’s already done.” Bitterness tinged Ryan’s words. How much had it cost him to agree to that? For a brief second, Jake almost felt sorry for him. It disappeared when Ryan fixed him with a cold glare. He saw the enmity written in every muscle on the man’s face.
“The only people who know the truth are family,” Kimberley added.
Family. Jake’s gut tightened at the word, but outwardly he just nodded.
“Vince will want to meet you,” Kim said. “He’s—”
“Howard’s brother. Runs an opal mine in Coober Pedy. Lives in Adelaide and owns a ten-percent share. He’s currently in the States on business.”
“He’s your uncle,” Kim added calmly. “Then there’s Sonya.”
Jake heard the warmth in her voice, saw the emotion that briefly softened Kim’s expression before she blinked it away.
An unfamiliar burst of injustice slammed into him, rendering him momentarily speechless. Sonya Hammond was a mother figure to these people. She was important.
He took a breath, quickly recovering with, “It’s not necessary.”
By the look on Kim’s face he knew his response fell far short of acceptable. Well, hell. This wasn’t exactly his dream situation, either.
Perrini said, “You’ll have access to the internal filing and e-mail systems, plus a master key card to the building.” He punched a number into the phone. “You understand that no files can leave the building, nor are there to be any unauthorised copies made.”
“Naturally,” Jake said smoothly.
Ric continued. “The elevator on the far right is executive use only. It takes you to the basement, so there’ll be no chance meetings with other staff. Your assistant, Holly McLeod, is outside.”
I guess this means the meeting’s over. “I’ll need the current financials.”
“I’ll send them up,” Ryan said curtly. He was the first to rise, striding over to the door and yanking it open. “Welcome to Blackstone’s.”

Holly McLeod waited as everyone exited the boardroom. Ryan, Ric and Garth were deep in discussion as they strode to the elevator. Nothing new there. They lived and breathed Blackstone Diamonds.
Then Jake Vance emerged and the seriousness of her predicament flipped her stomach.
It’s nervousness. That’s all.
He spotted her and gave a brief, humourless smile. “Miss McLeod.”
Her softly murmured name tripped a breath of warm anticipation over her skin, one she quickly covered up by straightening the file in her arms. “Mr Vance—” she held out her hand “—I’m Holly McLeod. I’m to be your assistant for the duration of your stay.”
When his long fingers wrapped around hers, her skin heated with the contact. It wasn’t power he so clearly exuded. It was something much more seductive. Confidence? Control?
Intimacy.
The way his sharp green gaze swept her from head to toe, taking in her hair, her face, her business suit. The way those eyes probed hers until they finally came to rest on the small diamond solitaire at her throat.
She swallowed, withdrew and offered a key card, carefully avoiding his hand. “This will give you access to all the floors, plus the basement car park. You’ve been allocated a parking space for as long as you’re with Blackstone’s. I’ll show you to your office now, if you like.”
“No.”
Holly blinked. “Sir?”
“It’s Jake. I’m not staying.” He stuck his hand in his suit jacket, pulled out a mobile phone and flipped it open. Without a second glance, he pocketed it. “You can give me a rundown of the company history in the car. Get the financials from Ryan Blackstone and I’ll meet you in the basement.”
She hesitated as he made short work of the corridor with his long, devouring strides. So he didn’t want to view his domain, cast an all-encompassing powerful eye over the magnificent Sydney view. Of course. He had the mirror image from his North Sydney complex. Still, she’d anticipated questions, pulled all the relevant files and promotional material and put them on his desk. She’d made tentative meetings with department heads.
“Keep up, Miss McLeod,” Jake said curtly as he pressed the elevator button.
Holly quickly regrouped and moved forward, apprehension giving way to irritation in the face of his cool perusal. “You’re not authorised to remove files from the building, Mr Vance,” she said shortly, refusing to flinch as his sharp eyes met hers. “But I’ll go and personally make sure they’re delivered up to your temporary office.”
He scrutinised her with all the skill of a pro, but she returned his look steadily. Oh, I know how you work, Mr Midas Touch. The stare-down was part of his strategy, along with an emotionless, layout-the-facts style that most men grudgingly admired, despite his ruthless reputation. Men wanted to be him; women just wanted him. Period.
She pushed the elevator button repeatedly, tightening her grip on her file so it crushed up against her breasts like protective armour. “I think now’s a good time to discuss how you’d like to work while you’re here.”
He frowned. “I don’t expect you to be performing any personal assistant duties. I already have one.”
“Holly is a wealth of information about Blackstone’s. We’re fortunate to have her,” Kimberley said, from behind them. Holly ducked her gaze guiltily at the unexpected praise as Kim continued. “Make use of her expertise and gather as much knowledge as you can before deciding to invest with us.”
Holly felt a confusing frisson of adversarial tension crackle between these two, like an argument was in the cards in the next two seconds. She’d never seen Kimberley be anything except utterly polite and professional, even to people she disliked.
Jake Vance, on the other hand, chose to do as he pleased, courtesy be damned.
“I need to speak to you later, Jake,” Kimberley said pointedly.
“I can fit you in tomorrow.”
“I’m flat out with Fashion Week but I can find time. I’ll let Holly know.” She gave up on the elevator and reached for the fire stairs door.
Jake turned to Holly when the door clicked shut, his face a study in controlled irritation. “It looks like I have myself an assistant, Miss McLeod.” She blinked as he added, “As to how I work, it’s quickly. I ask questions. You answer them. Simple.”
She straightened her spine. “Do you have an agenda? A deadline or time frame that—”
“I plan on this taking no more than a week, ten days at the most. Every morning I’ll decide on our timetable and we’ll take it from there. I expect you to start work at eight and stay until everything that needs to get done is done. You need to work around my schedule and be available at my North Sydney office. Do you have other work commitments?”
She shook her head. “You’re my first priority.”
Holly watched in fascination as his sensuous mouth thinned, almost as if he were holding something back. His eyes, on the other hand, glittered for one second before he glanced away. “Let’s start with the building layout and other assets.” As if on cue, the doors pinged open and he swept his hand forward, indicating she go first.
“Our ground level is secured with high-end technology and a security desk, as you’ve seen,” Holly began as they descended. “No employee gets in without their ID and a walk though the scanners. Visitors must be signed in and accompanied by an employee.”
“What about the Blackstones themselves?”
“All executives are located on the forty-third floor with the rest of the board, and use this private elevator. Finance is on the thirty-fifth floor, PR on the twentieth. We also have an employee-only gym and health club, child-care center and cafeteria. We own the whole building, including the grand ballroom, shop fronts, bar and three restaurants that cover the ground, first and second floors facing George Street. Our employees get generous discounts at these and we have a standing table for executive use at each restaurant. We occasionally rent out our ballroom to other companies. Last year it was the B&S and Make a Wish Charity Ball.”
She held out a glossy brochure that she’d helped design, one that detailed the building’s facilities. He just glanced at it, then back at her.
“No company propaganda. I prefer facts.”
Right. Feeling as if she’d failed some kind of test, she tucked the offending material back into her folder. Take a breath, Holly. Work out your strategy and stick with it.
“The rest of the floors are taken up by HR, the press room and our other divisions.”
“Which are?”
“Blackstone Jewellery, International Sales, Mining, Crafting and Design, Legal. I have a fact sheet of the departmental hierarchy and breakdown.”
“I’ll need that e-mailed.”
She nodded and fixed her eyes on the descending numbers.
Jake crossed his arms and studied her profile before ending at the low, elegant sweep of dark hair that brushed past her ears and up into a stylish ponytail.
An unexpected stab of lust hit him low and hard, but with practised ease he stuffed it back. Still, it didn’t stop his gaze from tripping back over her in leisurely study, taking in the navy suit that cinched in her waist, the V-neck shirt revealing a creamy throat adorned with one simple diamond on a gold chain. Down farther, her legs were encased in navy pants, ending in a pair of absurdly high sandals.
He found himself staring at those feet, the nails painted a subtle peach with the second toe sporting a diamond stud toe ring.
When she shifted the file in her arms and glanced over at him, he suddenly realised he’d been staring at the woman’s feet.
He snapped his eyes up to meet hers and it hit him again. It wasn’t the curve of her lips, nor the way her blue eyes tilted up at the corners. It was the tiny birthmark on the left side of her mouth, like some artist had painted it on to tease and tempt. To focus a man’s attention.
A prime kissing target.
When she glanced away, her profile oozed cool professionalism. So why did that calm facade annoy him?
Jake was used to all the tricks when it came to business, but this was definitely a twist. They could’ve given him any old assistant, yet this gorgeous brunette’s presence meant they’d obviously read the reports about Mia.
She was here not only to spy but to distract.
He scowled as his phone rang again. Expert, was she, held in high regard by Blackstone’s? That was enough to give him pause.
He’d learned from his mistakes. If they thought a pair of cat’s eyes and a kissy-mole would divert him from his purpose, they had another think coming. The press called him Mr Midas Touch, the bad boy of business, and if the Blackstones wanted an unfair fight, they would find out how bad he could be.
Two
So that was the great Jake Vance, Mr Midas Touch. Owner of the billion dollar AdVance Corp, corporate shark and Australia’s third richest single man under forty.
Holly quickly dumped the financials on the desk of her temporary office, whirled out the glass doors and back to the elevators.
She’d been prepared for the arrogance, the intolerance of anyone he considered beneath him. He was unconventional, a risk taker. He made business decisions that wiser people labelled career suicide. But somehow he always managed to come out on top. Maybe because he gave the impression he had nothing to lose. Those who had nothing risked nothing.
But the Sunday feature article hadn’t warned of the zing of attraction that had nearly floored her, the aura of power and control that stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth and turned the words to dust in her throat.
Working at Blackstone’s put her directly in the path of many powerful men. But Jake Vance…It was something in his face, the way his eyes had swept over her even as he tried to keep his perusal impersonal. Call her crazy, but she’d felt the air practically crackle with a weird sort of expectation.
The elevator doors swung open and she pressed the basement button impatiently.
Their gazes had locked just long enough for her to recognise the moment—predatory interest, an almost promissory flame in those deep green eyes. His mouth, a frankly sensual sculpture in warm flesh, had tweaked for a brief second, not enough to be called a smile.
Then he’d shut it down.
The only man in all her twenty-six years who’d forcibly smothered his interest.
No wonder he was at the top of his game. With that much control over his emotions, he was dark, brooding danger in an Italian designer suit. Heaven help a woman if the man ever genuinely smiled.
She curled her lip at the thought. Men in power—those who played God with people’s lives—turned her blood cold.
Like Max Carlton, her soon-to-be ex-boss.
She’d been surprised when he’d approved her temporary transfer to PR eighteen months ago, but she’d had no time to worry if that approval came with strings, not when Blackstone’s ten-year anniversary had been her top priority. Months later she’d been on the team organising Blackstone’s Australian Fashion Week presence. It’d been a chance to show Kimberley Perrini her Blackstone’s-funded studies were paying off, a chance she’d desperately wanted since graduating over a year ago. Then, last week, she’d been pulled from the glamorous event that was the ultimate dream of every Sydney designer to babysit Jake Vance.
She sighed, automatically brushing her hair back from her forehead. If only it were simply a babysitting job.
She finally arrived at the basement and found Jake standing beside a shiny silver Commodore, talking into his mobile phone.
She paused, taking in the perfect snapshot that oozed wealth and class, forcing her heart to slow down, to settle the stupid hitch in her breath. He looked up as she approached and, without pause, opened the back door for her.
Holly blinked. No limo? No uniformed driver? She slid into the creamy leather interior, a niggle of confusion creasing her brow.
Jake got in beside her, his phone call now finished. “Back to the office, Steve.”
The car started with a gentle purr and the driver slid it into first gear, easing out the basement and into the traffic flow. And suddenly Holly realised Jake’s attention was now focused solely on her.
Disturbingly focused attention in an even smaller space than the elevator.
She clicked on her seat belt, ignoring the way his green eyes grazed over her in concentrated study. When she’d first faced him it’d been a stretch to retain her composure. The natural command, the sheer sexuality he exuded had rocketed her pulse. Now in close, almost intimate, quarters, she felt the heated warmth curling up from her toes intensifying.
Here was a man used to getting his own way. He expected acquiescence, demanded it. He crushed anyone in his way.
“Besides the financials, what do you need?” She spoke calmly, that last thought aiding her steely resolve.
“How about you start with the Blackstone history?”
Holly gave him a curious look. “Anything specific?”
“Not particularly. Don’t worry.” His lips curved. “I’ll stop you if it gets boring.”
She blinked at his innocent expression. How could he make that neutral statement sound like such a sinful suggestion?
She concentrated on flicking through her documents to stop herself from flushing. Boring and Jake Vance were planets apart. Of that she was certain.

As Holly talked, Jake listened, carefully analysing not only her words, but her nonverbal cues. As they drove onto Sydney Harbour Bridge he noticed the way her eyes lit up when she recounted the intriguing history of the Blackstones. He knew all this, thanks to his research team. But it was more interesting hearing it from her lips than reading a dry hundred-page report. He asked questions and she expanded on the details, providing answers without hesitation. She knew her stuff.
Yeah, she’s smart and attractive. But she works for Blackstone’s.
He’d been blindsided twice before. Lucy had ripped out his heart when he’d needed her support the most. Seven years later, Mia had used her position as his assistant to violate his trust. He’d quickly learned a harsh lesson: To ensure his utmost privacy, no one was permitted to breach his tight security measures. His company had the strictest security checks, his private life had triple that. It just wasn’t worth everything he’d worked his whole life for.
“Unlike other jewellers, Blackstone’s issues only two glossies every year.”
Focus. One second was all he needed to clear his mind, one second to shove his memories back into the past and concentrate on the here and now.
“Two catalogues,” he repeated.
Holly nodded. “October and January.”
“No Christmas issue?”
“No.Valentine’s Day is our busiest time. We found our clients started shopping for Christmas as early as October. A Blackstone diamond is an investment. It signals superior quality and workmanship, something that women aspire to have, combined with the Australianthe Australian mystique of the outback. Our branding says it all: the simple use of the word ‘heart.’ Some of our previous campaigns were ‘heart felt,’ ‘heart’s desire’ and ‘from the heart.’ This is our most recent issue.” She flipped open her folder. Jake gave it a cursory glance and focused on another magazine on the seat.
“What’s that?”
Holly glanced down. “Our first issue. A collector’s item, actually. There are only twenty existing copies in the world. That’s Howard and Ursula. She’s wearing the Blackstone Rose.”
Unable to help himself, Jake slowly reached for the copy and stared at the cover. Looking every inch its 1976 date, the slim glossy brochure showed a candid but spectacular shot of a young couple in formal evening dress on the steps of the Sydney Opera House. Howard Blackstone in a tux, his wolfish smile triumphant. On his arm, Ursula was dressed in a strapless floor-length creation, her hair piled up into a then-fashionable beehive. The necklace around her neck was large and ostentatious, everything spectacular and showy that he’d come to expect from Howard Blackstone. There were five diamonds—four round stones with a teardrop shaped one dangling in the center. It sat high and heavy on Ursula’s neck like a collar, a symbol of ownership.
The look in Ursula’s face confirmed his impression. She was deeply unhappy. Sure, she smiled, but there was no joy behind it, the emotion in her eyes dull and resigned.
She had wealth, beauty and fame. Surely these things should have made her ecstatic, not miserable.
“When was this taken?”
“December 1976.”
Two months after he’d been stolen. No wonder she looked miserable. And Howard, being the self-absorbed bastard he was, had probably convinced her to dress up and show off the diamonds anyway.
Despite himself, his chest tightened. Dammit. He dropped the magazine with a scowl, cursing himself for allowing that small weakness to take up space in his head. Emotion and business did not mix.
Holly’s low, husky voice suddenly broke through and with the effort it took to flip a switch, he refocused. He turned back to face her, his face expressionless, as she continued.
“The Blackstone Rose came from a diamond called the Heart of the Outback. Jeb Hammond—that’s Ryan and Kimberley’s grandfather and Howard’s father-in-law—gifted the stone to his daughter Ursula to celebrate the birth of James Blackstone, his first grandchild, in 1974. Howard then had it made into the Blackstone Rose necklace the following year.” She paused. “Do you know much about diamonds?”
“Aren’t they a girl’s best friend?”
She gave him a smile that struck him as slightly patronizing. “Not this one.”
“I thought every woman liked diamonds.”
“I’m more of a sapphire girl,” she admitted coolly. She shifted and straightened her back against the leather seat. “Diamonds are commonly judged by the ‘four Cs’—cut, clarity, color and carat. The cut—”
“Determines its brilliance. Most gemmologists consider cut the most important diamond characteristic.”
“Yes. There’s no single measurement to define it…” Holly stopped. “But you’re best mates with Quinn Everard. You probably know this already.”
He nodded. “Some. Go on.”
“Am I being graded on this?” She frowned. “Because if you’re not happy with the information I’m giving you—”
“I am, Holly,” he said curtly. “Please continue.” After the briefest of pauses, she turned the page and showed him a studio shot of the Blackstone Rose sitting elegantly on black velvet. The camera flash had captured the reflection against one of the stone’s polished surfaces, creating a starry burst of light.
He’d never understood the female obsession with jewellery but these were… “Impressive. The Blackstone Rose necklace was stolen on Ursula’s thirtieth birthday, right?”
“It went missing around that time,” she corrected him.
Jake eased his long legs forward, crossing them at the ankles. “A moot point now they’ve been found. For whatever reason, Howard bequeathed the stones to Marise, and now that she’s dead, they’re Matt Hammond’s.”
Holly paused at the mention of Matt. She’d read about the long-standing Blackstone-Hammond feud like everyone else, had pored over the numerous articles about their complicated history with a mixture of sadness and amazement. Matt’s father and Kimberley’s mother were brother and sister, yet because of greed, power and jealousy, the branches of the family tree had grown acres apart.
With a frown, Holly recalled the last few months that had been publicly played out in the media. Whatever the families’ grievances, Matt didn’t deserve to have his dead wife linked with notorious womaniser Howard Blackstone, to have her die in Howard’s plane crash off the Pacific coast. His son Blake didn’t deserve to have the memory of his mother tainted by salacious gossip.
Jake waited for her to comment, to echo what the press had feverishly dubbed the “Howard-and-Marise affair”, but she remained silent. “And…?” he finally prompted.
“And what?” she replied calmly. “Look, Mr Vance, I’m not entirely sure what you want to know—”
“Dynamics.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m interested in family dynamics. The mark of a successful family company depends on that family working together in a harmonious environment.”
“The Blackstones have grown and thrived for over thirty years. You can’t get more successful than that.”
“It’s not about monetary success. It’s about respect, both for each other and their employees.”
“What makes you think they don’t have respect?”
“Howard Blackstone was a dictator. That much I do know. He was petty, vengeful and treated his employees and family like crap. He also relied on cronyism to stay on top of the heap.” He suddenly leaned forward and Holly instinctively pulled back. “What I want to know is why people continued to work with him if he was such a bastard?”
Her eyes flashed, the first real display of anger escaping her cool businesslike facade. “I don’t know. Why do people still work for you?”
The air stilled.
Holly’s breath hitched as her stomach plummeted. She’d done it now, offended the great Jake Vance to the soles of his imported leather shoes. With a pounding heart, she braced herself for the icy reprimand, a potent display of authority designed to put her right back into her place. Instead…
He smiled.
And what a smile it was.
Amusement creased his eyes, softening his jawline and bringing forth a dimple to his cheek. A dimple. As if the man didn’t have enough swooning power over the female population. It transformed his striking, almost harsh, features into something warm and touchable.
“I find it very interesting,” he murmured, “that I irritate you so much. Is it about the way I do business?”
“No,” she lied.
“So it’s personal.”
She blinked nervously. He was close but not close enough to invade her space. Yet she could sense the warmth from his broad, impeccably suited body, the single-minded focus as his eyes freely roamed over her face, coming to rest at a spot dangerously close to her mouth.
She tried to swallow but it felt like dust clogged her throat. “I’m just here to do my job, Mr Vance.”
“Really.”
His scepticism irritated: it was obvious he trusted her as much as she did him. Still, she met his considering look with one of her own, willing calm into every inch of her humming body. “Yes. Shall we get back to your investment, Mr Vance?”
“Jake.” In an echo of his movements in the Blackstone’s basement, he pulled his phone out and checked the screen. “I need to know how the family interacts,” he said as he pushed a few buttons. “I’m not going to invest in Blackstone’s if they can’t control their in-fighting. And then there’s Matt Hammond, a man who’s publicly and repeatedly voiced his hatred of Blackstone’s and who now owns ten percent of the shares.”
Holly paused, see-sawing between honesty and loyalty. This was another test. He already knew the answers but wanted to see how far she’d go.
Damn the man.
“You know the Hammonds and Blackstones have a long and tragic history,” she said tightly to his impassive face. “Yes, Marise used to work for Blackstone’s. Yes, she married into the one family Howard despised. And on her death—”
“Ursula’s jewellery and diamonds went to Matt and Marise’s son, Blake.” Almost as if bored with the interrogation, he studied the passing traffic as they exited the Harbour Bridge. “But one diamond’s still out there.”
“Still lost,” Holly conceded, stopping before she added, just like James Blackstone.
Lost.
A strange shiver brushed over Jake’s skin, like the fingers of a dead woman grazing his conscience.
A lost diamond. A missing Blackstone.
The awful comparison sneaked into his head and lingered as he absently rubbed his arm where his so-called mother had dug in her fingers, the death grip from that frail hand suddenly sharp, astute.
Don’t hate me, Jake. Her eyes had taken on a fevered quality, wide in her sunken face. I wanted you so much. I love you more than anything.
And now here he was. Not lost any more. So why did he still feel like some shipwreck survivor adrift on the sea?
Two hours later, a pregnant Jessica Cotter Blackstone had met Jake and Holly at the back door to the exclusive Blackstone’s Sydney store and guided them to a private showing room.
Holly shifted in her chair and recrossed her legs. Up until now, she’d always liked this room for its ample, airy space. But with Jake sitting so close, even the long glass-topped mahogany display table wasn’t sufficient to ward off the strange little buzzes zapping her body.
She glanced to her right, to the huge photo of Briana Davenport above a display cabinet. Dubbed the Face of Blackstone’s, the model was glancing into the camera over one shoulder, a sensual smile on her lips, drop diamonds shining from her ears, matching the sparkle in her gorgeous eyes. Holly had seen Jessica look at the picture when they’d first arrived, then apologetically at Jake. He’d merely shrugged, but Holly had watched the way his attention lingered on the stunning face of his former flame.
She shook her head. The man had dated practically every available, gorgeous socialite in Sydney. He was a confirmed bachelor. A confirmed serial dater, her all-knowing flatmate Miko would say with a toss of her jet-black hair. Jake had proved her rich man–supermodel theory in spades when he’d taken up with Briana. With the press alluding to marriage at one stage, it must have cut the man’s ego deeply when she’d thrown him over for millionaire lawyer Jarrod Hammond who was also, ironically, Matt Hammond’s brother. Jake had been suspiciously absent from the spotlight in the weeks that followed…unlike the Blackstones, with their undeserved trials and tribulations.
More than once her mind had lingered on the comparison between AdVance Corp and Blackstone’s. Just like Howard, Jake Vance had started from nothing. But where Jake was a lone wolf, Howard Blackstone and his family had created a dream, nurturing it into the multibillion-dollar business it was today. Despite that success, people had loved to hate Howard Blackstone. There was that something in Jake Vance, too, something that made her quake. It was the same ruthlessness, the cold look in their eyes. Even Max, with his skilled ability to diffuse the most volatile of arguments, wasn’t exempt from Howard’s displeasure. And like Howard, once crossed, nothing short of total destruction would satisfy Jake Vance. She had no doubt if you incurred the man’s displeasure, you’d know about it.
So what will he do to you when he finds out you’re nothing more than a corporate spy?
Her heart, already pounding with nervousness, started to throb in earnest. If he found out. If.
Jessica finally returned with a velvet tray and Holly determinedly ignored the flutter of helplessness starting in her belly. Instead, she watched Jake, who was concentrating intently on Jessica as she explained the cutting process, the rarity of pink diamonds and alluvial deposits. When she referenced something in the store brief she’d prepared, he looked down at the document and Holly became all too well aware of his hair as it slid over his forehead. It was too long to be called a military cut, too short to be completely unconventional.
It looked clean. Shiny. She resisted the sudden urge to lean forward and sniff. Instead she remained still, only half-surprised that her breath quivered on the way in.
His tall, commanding presence, so supremely confident in an expensive dark grey suit, had her itching to scoot her chair back to the outer edges of her comfort zone. He might be an arm’s length away, but she was too close to escape the aura that radiated from him like some kind of will-numbing drug.
Jake shook off the tiny prickles of sensation from Holly’s scrutiny and deliberately focused on the tray of diamonds before him. As Jessica turned a huge yellow-stoned ring deftly into the light, it created a kaleidoscope of rainbow shards across the room. So this was the fuel for Howard’s obsession. If he’d been hoping for answers in the multifaceted polished depths, he was disappointed.
“Blackstone’s is famous for our candies,” Jessica said, replacing the ring and picking up a blue-stoned bracelet set in silver. “Pale-canary to deep-sun yellow. Pinks, blues, greens. If I know Holly, she’s already told you about our wares.”
Jake zoomed back in on his too-silent assistant and directed his question at her. “How much are pink diamonds worth?”
He noted the way she shoved back her hair, the jerky movement containing an underlying tension. Yet her eyes were as sharp and clear as the gemstones he’d been viewing. “At a 2004 Sotheby’s auction, a 351 round 1.23 intense purplish pink went for just over a hundred and forty-three thousand dollars a carat. Minimum bids started at a hundred thousand dollars a carat.”
“So something like—say, the Blackstone Rose, would be…?”
“The four round trillion-cut diamonds were seven carats each, the pear-shape center, ten. At the time it was worth millions. Today…who knows?”
The cool and matter-of-fact way she imparted that information intrigued him. He’d never known a woman to be so calm when discussing the glorious brilliance of a priceless gem. She’d been more into Blackstone history than what made Howard a dizzying financial success.
In the small space of a day she’d piqued his interest, both physically and mentally.
“Try it on.” Jessica grinned at Holly, forcing Jake’s attention back to the tray of diamonds spread before him like party trinkets.
When Holly smiled he got the feeling this was a familiar scenario for the two women. He watched her finger the blue sapphire solitaire, running her thumb pad almost reverently over the square gem on a gold band, surrounded by tiny diamonds. In the background, Jake heard Jessica recounting some statistics about diamond mining but, at this moment, Holly commanded his attention.
Slowly, sensuously, she slid the ring over her knuckle, until it came to rest at the base of her finger.
An image burst forth, unwilling, unbidden. Holly wearing that ring and not much else.
His throat suddenly became drier than the Great Sandy Desert.
“That’s bad luck, you know,” he murmured. Her eyes shot to his as he clarified. “Putting a ring on your wedding finger without a proposal.”
She paused, obviously testing her retort, until Jessica answered with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you believe in old wives’ tales, Jake?”
“My mum swore by them.”
Jessica’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
He waved her apology away and instead picked up a pink diamond.
Holly quickly placed the ring back on the tray as her senses registered the faint teasing smell of Jake’s cologne. She didn’t want to look, shouldn’t look, but somehow, she found herself engulfed in those intelligent green eyes. Too eagerly, her body leaped in response. Warmth started in the pit of her belly, heating as it unfurled and spread. Oh, my.
His eyes skimmed her face, betraying nothing but cool perusal. If she hadn’t seen the spark of heat in his eyes that morning, she would’ve said he was a damn robot.
Do not think about that. Think about your mission.
She followed his movements as he picked up one stone, then another. Yeah, she was a regular Mata Hari all right, trying to uncover the deep dark secrets of Mr Midas Touch himself. As if she’d find anything that wasn’t already in the public domain.
As if there’d be anything out there he hadn’t already personally vetted and approved.
The problem was, she realised as they left the store, Jake was rapidly becoming so not what she’d expected. He’d greeted the heavily pregnant Jessica warmly, pulling over a comfy one-seater for her instead of the harder official viewing chairs. He’d silently flicked through Jessica’s brief of the store, asked intuitive questions about the stones and the staff. And why had he wanted to see the diamonds? It didn’t matter what a bunch of gemstones looked like. It was Blackstone’s ability to make money that mattered. If selling cow dung turned a profit the man would be interested.
She stared out the car window, at the mounting peak-hour traffic. She needed to remember that Jake Vance was a ruthless man. She’d read about his famed decisiveness, his superior negotiation skills, all borne from his meteoric rise from the ashes following false accusations from Jaxon Financial’s CEO. One interviewer in particular wasn’t impressed by Jake’s success, labelling him as “autocratic, cold and poisonously polite.”
Jake had the ability to destroy people in so many different ways that it took her breath away. That should be enough to turn her off. So why did her brain have to act so damn… female when he was around?
As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced at her.
Their gazes clashed and for a second she felt a brief flicker of scalding heat before—Yep, there came the shutdown just before he returned to the brief.
Now he was just plain irritated. As if she was the last person in the world he wanted to see.
Yeah, I know how that feels.
Her phone suddenly rang, cutting off her thoughts.
With a soft groan, she noted the number. “I need to take this. Excuse me.” Without waiting for Jake’s acquiescence, she angled herself towards the window and took the call.
Minutes later, as her mother’s bank manager spelled out the dire straits of her predicament, Holly’s stomach dipped. The brief feeling of nausea was quickly followed by an irrational wave of injustice. Here she was, in the midst of almost obscene wealth, while her parents were struggling with the fallout of one stupid business decision.
The faint tinge of guilt roiled in her stomach as she clicked off the call. If only she hadn’t been a typically selfish teenager, nagging her parents to sell… But now she had to be the strong one and take care of them.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. I need to keep my job, which means spying on Jake Vance.
She stared out the window, at the passing traffic along George Street, a constant reminder of the realities of who she was and what she’d done and what she needed to do to keep her reputation and her family safe.
Jake stared at the document on his lap until he realised he’d been reading the same paragraph five times. During her mystery call, he’d noticed her tense and bow her head. After a few hushed whispers, she’d shoved a hand through her hair and paused. He caught “money,” “payment” and “default” before she finally hung up.
Suspicion arrowed through him like a bolt from heaven. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly pulled himself short. Her shoulders were hunched in a position he’d seen too many times before. Defeat.
He caught a faint sound. A sigh? No. It was a shuddery intake, almost as if she were trying to draw strength on a breath but failing abysmally. That small vulnerability, hitting below the belt and tightening his chest in a fierce irrational rush of emotion threw him for a six.
Against all logical reasoning, he lifted a hand, but just as quickly, he forced it back to the brief with a thump.
His small movement shattered the air and Holly whirled. “Sorry about that.” She shoved away a stray curl as the now-familiar polite smile spread her mouth briefly. “Where were we?”
“Your hair.”
“What?”
He flicked a finger towards her head. “Your clip’s come loose.”
“Oh.”
She yanked back her hair, a gentle flush spreading across the high curves of her cheeks. Jake couldn’t hide his amusement, which faltered when a sudden unbidden thought flashed through his head. How would she look, hair loose and spread out on my pillow?
At the store, when she had picked up that blue ring, he’d seen a glimpse of something in her gaze. Longing. Wanting. As if she desperately needed but knew she couldn’t have.
His attention flickered back over her face, taking in her profile, that small mole hidden from his view. There was nothing he couldn’t have. Nothing he’d been denied.
Desire cleaved his gut, sharp and urgent. Despite the tight rein on his control, he smiled.
It was a smile bereft of humour. A smile full of grudging admission.
He wanted Holly. At least, his body wanted her and generally, what he wanted, he got. But this time…
After years of business decisions based on a combination of solid facts and honed sixth sense, his gut feeling failed him right now. And in the absence of that, he had to go with what his past had taught him.
Stay away.
“It’s after five. I’ll take you home,” he said curtly.
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Holly crossed her arms with a soft sigh, realising arguing would be futile in the face of his cool determination.
Ten minutes later, they were in front of her apartment building and he’d rounded the car to open her door. When he offered his hand, she hesitated only briefly before taking it.
Bad decision, she told herself. Bad, bad, bad.
After he helped her exit she just stood there, her fingers still engulfed in his. He commanded her attention, unwillingly, effortlessly.
If the May night air held a chill, Holly couldn’t feel it. Instead, the heat of him sucked all the breath from her lungs, leaving her heart jumping merrily along in anticipation. He was staring down at her with those piercing, almost analytical eyes, their bodies too close for her comfort. For one insane second, the romantic in her imagined him leaning in for a goodbye kiss on the cheek but she quickly dismissed the fanciful thought with a blink. Didn’t stop you wanting it, though, did it?
She eased her hand from his warm grip and just like that, the moment shattered. As he stepped back, the night air whooshed into the void, sending a shiver over her skin.
“What’s your phone number?” he asked.
“Why?”
Amusement tweaked his lips into a shadowy smile. “In case I need to call you.”
She felt the hot flush of embarrassment across her cheeks as she reeled off her mobile number and he punched it into his phone.
“Steve will pick you up at seven tomorrow. We’ll be flying to an appointment in Lighting Ridge,” Jake said, pocketing his phone. At her look of confusion, he added, “To check on a new complex I’m building.”
“You don’t delegate?”
“Some things I choose not to.” He leaned against the car, a nonchalant gesture that oddly suited him. “Have a good night, Holly.”
Jake watched as she walked up the pathway to her apartment, her back ramrod straight, her hips swaying in that deliciously tantalizing way. When she unlocked the door, turned to him with a nod and disappeared inside, his smile fled.
It was time to find out just who Holly McLeod was.
Three
“The crisis center was your mother’s idea,” Holly casually stated as they boarded the Cessna on their way back to Sydney the next afternoon.
“Yes,” he said, nodding to the flight attendant and handing him his coat.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Vance.”
He’d heard those simple words a thousand times in the past few weeks, yet instinctively he knew Holly meant them.
“My mother was committed to causes,” he acknowledged as he eased into the black leather seat.
“So I heard. You must have been very proud of her.” He gave a non-committal answer then said, “Better strap yourself in.” She nodded and went to her seat further down the aisle.
Pride wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of April Vance Kellerman these days. He’d buried her last month, what now seemed a lifetime ago. Unbidden, the past crowded his head with the suppressed memories his mother’s shocking confession had stirred to the surface. An urgent, whispered confession that he’d put down to the painkillers. The confession of a dying woman who’d been living a lie. One that had suddenly taken on malevolent form.
The only reason she’d confessed was fear—fear of being discovered. If Howard’s investigator hadn’t been so dogged in his pursuit, crossing state lines on the strength of speculation and hearsay to finally end up in Jake’s hometown, he had no doubt he’d still be in the dark about his true parentage.
He balled a fist and thumped it gently on the cold glass window. Like water from a cracked cup, the resentment seeped out, leaving a deep, dark emptiness in its wake.
Everything he knew, everything he’d based his life on was a lie. Yet so many things, so many oddities he’d never questioned clicked into place: Why they’d lived like nomads, shifting across state lines. Why family was never mentioned. And the nightmares that had finally stopped when he was ten years old.
Jake sighed and allowed himself that moment of grief and guilt. The two powerful emotions mingled to form a hard black lump in his gut. If he took any more time, he’d be forced to look long and hard at every choice, every decision April had made that had shaped his life.
Reluctantly he acknowledged a simple fact: April’s death had hit way too close to home. He’d already begun to reassess his life after her funeral, to silently question just who he was and what he was doing. The inevitable shadows of death had touched him deeply, the painful, scary vulnerability it wreaked forcing him to re-evaluate his ten-year plan.
That plan was close to completion: he had everything money could buy and then some. Everything the Blackstones had been born into, everything April had lacked. After this Blackstones fiasco was behind him, he could fully commit to the last on his list—get himself a wife and start a family.
He glanced back to Holly. She was staring out the window with a pair of headphones on, studiously concentrating on the tarmac as they taxied down the runway. And just like that, his whole body tightened, forcing a surprised breath from his throat.
With mounting irritation he silently admitted his plan to intimidate her—and by default, the Blackstones—with an overt display of wealth had backfired. He’d wanted Blackstone’s to be clear on exactly who they were dealing with, and what he could do if crossed. But it surprised him how calmly she took everything in her stride, from the early flight in his top-of-theline ten-seater Cessna to his subtle commands that had them winging their way back to Sydney a few hours later. She hadn’t missed a beat, answering his blunt questions with accuracy, waiting patiently while he signed off on the multiplex center.
This girl from the bush fit right into his million-dollar world as if born to it. And she was tempting, his little Blackstone’s assistant, with her snug business skirts and touch-me shirts. His groin ached in sudden painful remembrance of last night. She’d invaded his dreams and got under his skin in a way other women hadn’t. It was part desire, part knowledge of the unknown. Was she a spy? Did she have an agenda? Perversely, not knowing excited him even more.
He scowled, looking but not seeing the runway flash by as they picked up speed and launched into the air with a flourish. If he wasn’t careful, his fascination would become a weakness. He’d been stupid enough to allow one woman to break his heart then let another destroy his trust. It wasn’t going to happen again.
But damn, he wanted her. Probably, he admitted ruefully, because he shouldn’t have her.
His phone rang then, dragging him from those dangerous thoughts.
“How did it go with the Blackstones?” said Quinn by way of greeting.
“How do you think?” Jake muttered, resting the phone on his shoulder while shuffling through the floor plans of the center he’d just inspected. “The DNA sealed it. And now I have a walking, talking Blackstone’s billboard to keep tabs on me while giving the hard sell.” He eased back in his seat and the leather squeaked in protest.
“Is she cute?”
“Does it matter?” Jake scowled.
“Which means she is.”
“So?”
“A guy just needs to know these things.”
The tension in Jake’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “Right. You’re getting soft in your old age, mate,” he drawled, his attention fixed out the window, at the huge expanse of drought-stricken land rolling below.
“There’s more to life than making money.”
“Ahh, another piece of Quinn-wisdom. Next you’ll be telling me ‘all you need is love.’”
“Maybe all you need is your hot little Blackstone’s billboard.”
Jake snorted. “Forgotten Mia, have you?”
“Everyone else has. But hey, if you’re happy dragging that baggage around with you—”
“I don’t have baggage.”
“Right.” Quinn’s frustration crackled down the line. “Lucy. Your stepdad. All those shitty little towns you grew up in. You’ve got a whole bloody wardrobe, mate.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” Jake screwed up his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “While I have you here, is there any way of tracking down that missing Blackstone diamond?”
“I’ll get onto it straight after I finish building my time machine.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Laser identification wasn’t invented until the early eighties. You’d have a better chance finding Eldorado. And anyway, Matt Hammond…already…me…it.”
Jake frowned. “You’re breaking up.”
The line went dead and with a soft curse, Jake hung up.
Suddenly restless, he rose to his feet and walked the few metres down the plane to where Holly was now studiously scribbling on a spreadsheet.
When he approached she glanced up and quickly shoved a folder across the papers, but not before he caught the heading on the top. Finances.
“A bit early for your tax return,” he said mildly, and leaned against the back of seat, crossing his arms.
“I like to get on top of things.” She met his eyes almost defiantly and changed the subject. “I’ve been organising your schedule,” she said without preamble. “You’ve got a four-o’clock meeting with Kimberley, and I’ve asked our department heads for their last quarterly reports.” She offered some papers to him. “I printed out the corporate structure, along with the contact numbers of key Blackstone personnel. After five I’ll give you a proper tour of the building.”
He stood there, filling the space too well, looking far too comfortable, Holly thought with chagrin. When he leaned in to take the documents, awareness suddenly hit. He smelled warm, musky and expensive. He smelled wonderful.
She surreptitiously glanced at her watch, trying to hide her nervousness, but he caught her look.
“Would you like to join me for lunch?”
His mild question hung in the air but she swore she could see a faint flicker of challenge in his eyes. Ruthlessly she ground out a stab of desire. “No, thank you.”
He raised one brow. “Why not?”
“Because I brought my own.”
“You’d rather brown bag it than have a proper meal with me?”
She paused, weighing her answer. “Yes.”
His short chuckle surprised her. “It’s just food, Holly. We’ll use a Blackstone’s restaurant. And talk business.”
She tipped her head, considering him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you no?”
“Not if they wanted to keep their job.”
She bristled. “You’d sack me for refusing to eat with you?”
“No.” His answering grin did nothing to ease her tension. “Anyway, I can’t sack you. You work for Blackstone’s.”
“And you want to eat with me…why?”
“Maybe I just want your company.”
Holly gave an inward groan at the seductive smile stretching his sinful mouth. He might be gorgeous, but she forced herself to remember who he was. Her boss. At least for now.
Regardless of how she felt, she had to see this through. It’d do no good to stuff this up, not when she’d been backed into a corner.
She gave a curt, imperious nod, not wanting to appear too willing. “Let me make a call.”

An hour later they were guided to a private table at the back of Si Ristorante, one of Blackstone’s first-floor eateries.
“I’m surprised you have time for lunch, given your schedule,” Holly said as the waiter brought them menus.
“I always make time to eat. Good food and a bottle of wine predispose people to generosity. And I also have a weakness for—” his gaze skimmed over her face, settling on a spot a little left to her mouth “—gnocchi.”
Flustered, she busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the carafe. “And do you always treat your employees?”
“Who said I’m paying?”
Holly snapped up her eyes to meet his amused ones, and for one incredible second it felt like the world had stopped spinning.
Silly girl, Holly thought dazedly as she looked into those emerald eyes, the edges creased with uncharacteristic humour. The man had a billion reasons to smile, yet not one press clipping showed him happy. Dark, brooding or scowling, yes. Smiling? No.
I wonder why.
“Did you always want to work at Blackstone’s?” he asked casually, changing the heated direction of her thoughts.
“No.” She took his lead and studied the menu too. “But jobs are hard to come by out west so I moved.”
“Where are you from?”
She hesitated, contemplating the wisdom of giving too much information. “You won’t know it.”
“Try me.”
“Kissy Oak.” She flushed as his eyes focused on her lips for a second. “It’s a small farming community a few miles west of Dubbo.”
“A small-town girl,” he said softly. “Did you leave any small-town boys behind?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Just making small talk. Getting to know my assistant.”
When he smiled with deliberate charm, Holly’s suspicion deepened. The man obviously knew the effect he had on women. Just not this woman.
“Don’t you know already, thanks to your crack research team?”
His expression turned shrewd. “Reports don’t tell me everything.”
She noted the pointed absence of an outright denial and crossed her arms, trying to keep a firm hold on her mounting irritation. “So you tell me.”
To his credit, he looked her straight in the eye and said calmly, “You were born on the thirtieth of April, 1982 in Dubbo Hospital to Martin and Maureen McLeod. Your twin brother, Daniel, died two days later. Your parents owned McLeod Crop Dusting, serving the farming communities around Dubbo. When you were seventeen, MacFlight bought them out then went bust. You moved to the city, started at Blackstone’s in Human Resources and have just finished a Blackstone’s-funded degree at university. Your official position is PA to the Human Resources Manager but you’re currently filling a temp position with PR. Your mother is living on a government pension and your father on disability.”
Holly sucked in a breath as she shut the menu with deliberate slowness. How neatly he’d summed up the emotional roller coaster of her life, explaining away the past nine years without sensation or feeling. But she knew better. Jake couldn’t know the gut-wrenching hours at hospital, comforting her hysterical mother while waiting for her dad to come out of intensive care following a stroke. Then the months of expensive rehab, no longer covered by their expired health insurance. The day-to-day living expenses of food, electricity, rates. She’d wrestled with the worry and stress every day until it was a permanent throb of duty lodged in a tiny corner of her heart.
She flushed when she was angry, Jake noticed absently, watching the heat coloring her cheeks a soft shade of pink. And unfortunately, he also realised that her precarious financial situation put her right at the top of his list of suspects for the press leak.
She flicked her eyes away, sweeping the restaurant to study the lunch crowd. But the calculated move couldn’t detract from the struggle he could see warring on her features.
He knew she was aware of his scrutiny. And when he saw her fingers go to her earlobe and fiddle with the diamond stud there, he smiled. She wasn’t just angry. She was nervous. Interesting.
“You were working while studying part-time at Shipley University,” he stated.
To her credit, she tempered her annoyance with a small nod. “Business Management and Marketing.”
“You were profiled in the university’s journal as an exceptional talent,” he said, “after handling that ‘sex for grades’ scandal last year.”
“That’s right.”
“So why didn’t you take the university’s job offer instead?”
Holly blinked. “Blackstone’s paid for my education. Why would I take another job? Besides, the university is—” she paused, picking her words with care “—conservative. Dress code, morality clauses—”
“Blackstone’s has a morality clause,” Jake interjected.
“But only for employees working within the same department. And the pay is more, the opportunities to advance much greater. I also like working here.”
His gaze became speculative. “Working full-time and going to university part-time must’ve played hell with your social life.”
“No. I focused on work.”
Jake nodded. “So what made you volunteer to assist me?”
“I didn’t. I got seconded.”
Ahh. Jake placed the menu on his plate. Despite her denials, she was pissed. Enough for a little payback? He did the math in his head. No. The leak had been going on since Christmas, which meant something had happened just before Howard’s plane went down.
The waiter arrived to take their orders then, but after the man left, the silence continued.
Determined not to let the unnerving intensity of Jake’s study affect her, Holly reached for the bread basket—at exactly the same time Jake did.
Her mouth dropped from the shock of their skin-on-skin contact, her eyes widening. To recover from that surprising little zing, she yanked her hand back.
And there it was again. Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that one day, somehow, if he had his way, they’d be more than boss and assistant?
“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly.
He eased back in his chair and picked up the water goblet. “You can. But I might not answer.”
“How long will you be here?”How long before I can get my job back, when I can resume a normal life…and I can stop my stomach flipping every time you study me like I’m a particularly interesting puzzle that needs to be unravelled?
His smile turned mockingly sensual. “In a hurry to get back to Human Resources?”
“No. I’m waiting on my transfer papers to PR.”
He paused for a second, his gaze holding her defiant one. In the next, a grudging smile teased his lips.
Holly nearly groaned aloud. Oh, man. The warmth of that one simple smile scorched her like she’d been caught in the pathway of a comet. The heated aftermath spread from her fingertips to the bottom of her black Jimmy Choos, heat of a purely female nature. His smile, combined with the warmth in his voice, was deliberately calculated to disarm her. There wasn’t a woman he couldn’t charm if he put his mind to it. She’d already witnessed it with Jessica.
Bad, bad move. You don’t even like the guy.
Jake watched her fiddle with the stud in her ear again. “You’ve got something to say,” he said casually.
She stilled. “Mr Vance…”
“Jake. It’s Jake.”
“Jake.” She paused, which only heightened the way his name sounded on her lips. Lips that were painted a luscious shade of berry, so very close to that little kissy-mole.
“Kimberley’s brief said you’re looking to invest in Blackstone’s.
But I thought AdVance Corp was all about…” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Conquer and divide?” Jake smiled thinly, toying with the stem of his glass. “Don’t believe everything you read. I like to see what I’m getting before I invest, to decide if it’s worthy of my time and money.” At least, that part had started out true. But after last night, when he’d dissected the deeper implications for the tenth time, he’d realised one thing. He was a Blackstone. Just because he hadn’t had the privilege of the name for the last thirty-two years didn’t mean he should let a successful corporate entity crumble to the ground. He wasn’t seventeen any more, running away from the shame of his past. The story wasn’t going away and it was within his power to save this company.
Now he said, “I’m looking to expand my options. Blackstone’s is an important part of Australian corporate history but has been floundering since January. It’s a perfect choice.”
“So you have no intention of breaking us up?”
Us. Not “Blackstone’s” or “the company”. Us. As if she was part of a family. His gut clenched. “Hadn’t even entered my mind.”
The doubt written so clearly on her face got his back up. “Afraid of losing your job, Holly?”
“It’s more than just a job to me.” She focused on straightening the already perfect cutlery. For one second, Jake thought about defending himself with the truth, but just as quickly reined himself in.
“You don’t like me. Why?”
Her head snapped up, showing him a glimpse of something simmering just below the surface. Yet her reply was one in
studied control. “I didn’t think being liked would matter to a man like you.”
“‘A man like me’?” he said tightly. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. Damn. Why did her approval suddenly matter at all? “Let me guess. You think I’m just buying another failing company to carve it up and sell it off at a profit, ruining lives and families in the process.”
“Are you?”
“That’s not what I do.”
“No?”
Her scepticism ratcheted his annoyance up a notch. “I’ve saved more jobs than I’ve destroyed.”
He shouldn’t care. Hell, he didn’t. But despite that, irritation flared and he suddenly leaned forward, making her jump. “I’ve publicly refuted every crooked claim, every accusation. But rebuttals don’t sell papers—bad press does.”
He tightened his jaw, refusing the fury access before pulling back with a disgusted snort. “Go on, name a story.”
“I don’t…”
“Do it, Holly. Name your damn price if that’s what it’ll take.”
She inched back in her chair as far as she could go before saying quietly, “The East Timor construction company.”
“The press said I bought it out and sacked the workers, leaving thousands of families without income. They glossed over the fact it was actually a front for a terrorist group. I dissolved the company and built a school in the local village instead.”
They both paused as the waiter brought their food. But as the man left, Jake said curtly, “Next.”
“I…”
“You want to know. I’m telling you.” He forced his expression into neutrality, revealing nothing. “Next.”
She swallowed and suddenly his eyes were drawn to her throat, to the heartbeat that was undoubtedly thumping wildly in her chest. “Paul Bradley.”
“My chief financial officer.” He picked up his fork, spearing the gnocchi with curt precision. “I demoted him to my Hanoi office because he vocally opposed one of my takeover bids.”
Holly’s fear suddenly gave way to anger, giving her the strength to face his stare with one of her own. “‘Cross me and you’ll pay’?”
“Yes. I demand loyalty in my staff. I won’t stand any bad-mouthing, especially when he was wrong. I had to make an example of him.”
“Was Mia Souris an example too?”
As a dark scowl creased his forehead, she blithely charged on. “She was your secretary and made a mint with her story. Why haven’t you made her pay, too?”
“What makes you think she hasn’t?”
At her sudden silence, he said softly, “The last I heard she was working as a waitress in a London club, trying to escape the notoriety of her kiss-and-tell article.”
He placed his fork on the plate and drew the napkin slowly, almost sensuously, across his mouth. “You are a surprising woman, Holly McLeod.”
“Why?” She studied her chicken penne, wondering how she’d manage to keep it down when her belly was churning so much.
“Are you pushing my buttons to get reassigned?”
Astonished, she jolted straight in her chair. “If you’re unhappy about my performance, Mr Vance—”
“It’s Jake, for Pete’s sakes!” His voice then became less harsh. “Say it.”
She said slowly, “Jake.”
“Much better.”
She blinked at the warm languor in his deep voice. “I just want to do my job.”
He studied her for the longest time, until she began to wonder if she’d left a bit of food on her mouth or something.
“So let’s just agree to focus on our jobs, shall we?” he said softly.
She nodded, suddenly desperate for space. With a low murmur, she excused herself and headed for the bathroom.
While Holly washed her hands at the sink, Jake’s suggestion played over in her head. It made perfect sense. Do the job she’d been blackmailed into doing, get what she needed and move on.
If he was here for just an innocent pre-investment visit, then he’d have nothing to hide, right? But if his motives were ulterior, then for the sake of Blackstone’s, she’d be justified in finding out what they were.
But as she straightened her skirt and rechecked her lipstick, she noticed her worried frown in the mirror. Quickly she smoothed it out. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, Holly.

Jake watched Holly make a beeline for their table but before she could reach him, an impeccably dressed man intercepted her.
She whirled, and her look of surprise, then disgust, registered so clearly that Jake slowly stood. As the man whispered something then glanced over to Jake, her expression smoothed.
She sighed, shrugged and made her way back to the table.
With a frown, Jake remained standing, unashamedly taking advantage of his height against the shorter man. A man who was standing close to Holly. Too close for Jake’s liking.
Irrational anger tightened his muscles, shocking the hell out of him. Through his surprise he heard Holly murmur, “Max, this is—”
“Jake Vance,” Jake supplied and offered his hand.
Max smiled and returned the shake. “Max Carlton, head of Human Resources.”
Ten seconds and Jake had him summed up. Immaculately groomed. Subtly cologned. Even without his intel, he could spot an office player a mile off. It was something in the eyes, the way they shifted and moved, the expression a concentrated effort in politeness. Carlton was too polished, too smooth, and his smile was a blokey smirk that Jake found offensive.
“So how’s Holly working out for you, Jake?”
Jake noted Holly’s frown. “Fine,” he answered smoothly, as if their topic of conversation wasn’t standing right next to him.
Max smiled, a man-to-man grin that set Jake’s teeth on edge. “My assistant’s one of a kind.”
“Didn’t she move to PR over a year ago?”
Max’s face tightened and he glanced quickly at Holly, who gave him an innocent shrug.
“A temporary position,” Max conceded stiffly. “If Holly’s work performance makes the grade, there could possibly be a permanent transfer.”
Jake was so intent on Max’s visible unease that he almost missed Holly’s start of surprise. Then, with a smooth adjustment to his tie, Max said, “If you’ve got any personnel or staffing questions, just give me a yell. Holly knows where to find me.”
Under a rock, no doubt. Jake caught Max’s wink at Holly, who ignored it with a dark frown. But when Carlton’s gaze deliberately roamed down her neck to rest on the gentle curve of her breasts, his eyes narrowed. Intimate knowledge or wishful thinking? Either way it didn’t stop a lick of fury from sparking in his belly.
Slowly he forced his fists to unclench.
“So…” Max said, tearing his eyes away, “I’d better be going. Nice to meet you, Jake.”
Jake glared at Max’s retreating back. He had no right to be angry. What Holly did or didn’t do on her own time was not his business. She was Jake’s assistant, for heaven’s sakes, not his lover.
Pity.
Shaking off the jolt that felt like fire on his skin—especially in one particular part—he turned to Holly. “Charming guy.”
“Some people think so. I just need his signature on my transfer.”
“After you finish with me,” he murmured, suddenly taken by the way her skin flushed underneath her cool mask of indifference.
She nodded and finally sat, checking her watch. “Yes. And you have thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes for what?” He grinned, unable—or was that unwilling?—to keep the suggestiveness from his voice.
She blinked, clearly flustered. “Until your conference call with New York.”
He gave her full points for maintaining that composure as they finished their meal in silence. But deep inside, on a purely predatory level, his mind registered the undeniable heat of desire.
Fool. It wasn’t his mind that wanted Holly. It was something much more primal.
And what Jake Vance wanted, he usually got.
Four
Jake left his meeting with Kimberley Perrini with newfound respect. Despite his reluctance, Kim still pushed the idea of bringing Holly into their cone of silence. “She was the spin behind the Shipley University scandal, not to mention some of our internal issues. We’re lucky to have her,” Kim had said.
Grudgingly he had to agree. And if the press started running with pictures of him at Blackstone’s, he knew exactly where to lay the blame.
Meanwhile, his security chief was busy compiling a list of enemies and disgruntled employees and their possible sources within Blackstone’s. Matt Hammond had been suggested then discarded. No proof, plus the man got his fair share of negative press, too. Shareholders? No, too much to lose.
So he was back once again to a person Howard had personally offended.
And that’s where it got confusing. Holly had had no direct contact with Howard. Blackstone’s had put her through university. Outwardly, she was passionate about and dedicated to her job. She genuinely liked working here. Yet she was broke and floundering under a mountain of debt, and could still afford rent, food, clothes.
Was she that good an actress?
A shot of heat started low and crept up his body. Hazardous, thinking about Holly McLeod. Because if he did that, he’d have to acknowledge how paper-thin his control was. Instead of quenching his fire, his suspicion only stoked the flames higher, creating a burning need that was slowly dominating his every thought.
You have to stop thinking about her.
With a sharp snap, he opened the file in front of him and focused on Ryan’s scrawling signature at the bottom of the page.
Jake leaned back in his chair. Underneath the stubbornness, the pride, he’d sensed Ryan’s private pain. Only a close family member could hurt so deeply, scar so indelibly. Ryan refused to toe the line, said what he felt.
There’s a lot of me in him.
Jake couldn’t go back and change the past. God knows he would’ve tried years ago. He’d even admitted as much to Ryan. I can’t be angry at the woman who saved my life, who raised me as best she could. Who loved me. A lot of kids don’t even get that.
He’d hit an unexpected nerve with that, judging by the look on Ryan’s face. And when he’d offered up the signed statutory declaration, formalizing his verbal promise to keep Blackstone’s afloat, surprise had rendered Ryan speechless.
Jake sighed, suddenly tired of justifying something he himself couldn’t explain. Hell, there were a lot of things that would send his legal department into a spin if they only knew. For instance, last night he’d made a nice little profit on the NASDAQ, an event that would’ve normally brought him the usual adrenaline rush of satisfaction and pleasure. So how come it felt…less than a total rush?
He stood and stalked over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the office, tapping out his impatience as the coffee machine slowly dripped out the expensive Colombian blend.
Finally.
He grabbed the pot, pouring a cup that was one of many that day, forcing away his doubts with the first scalding sip.
You’re doing the right thing, keeping a professional distance from the Blackstones. Getting emotionally involved can only mean disaster.
He’d fix Blackstone’s, turn it around. That’s what he did. He needed to seal this deal, to finish it, so he could get back to his life. A life that suddenly gaped wide, filled with hours of solitary existence.
He frowned and made his way over to the window, staring down at the Sydney CBD. It had changed over the years. He’d been an angry teenager alone in a huge concrete metropolis— a dangerous, exhilarating place for a small-town kid with something to prove. Over the years, through many major developments— some he himself had engineered—Sydney had grown and thrived. It was physical proof of his enormous success. Proof he was no longer the rebellious, stupid kid from the bush.
He sighed. He’d worked hard and long for all he had, steadily erasing that deep dark place in his heart, in his memory. He’d been doing fine until a week ago.
He turned away from the view as he rolled his neck. He needed a distraction. Yet when he glanced back at the financials on the desk, the paper blurred before his eyes. He needed something…warmer.
In the past, sex had taken the edge off, had enabled him to refocus and re-energise. And suddenly, all he could think about was a smart mouth and a kissy-mole.
He shoved his cup across the desk and coffee sloshed over the rim. With a low growl of frustration, he rubbed at the spreading stain.
Damn Blackstone’s and its employees. He slouched into his chair and swivelled back to the window, searching for the familiar angles of AdVance Corp past the metallic curve of the Harbour Bridge, but when he found it, a stab of unfamiliar doubt hit him in the gut.
That’s stupid. Amateur. Irrational. He’d made billions. He regularly dealt with Middle-Eastern kings and oil barons, dined with the cream of society, both here and overseas.
You’re so far out of their league, you’re off the planet.
He squeezed his eyes shut, so tight that silver spots danced behind his lids. There was no way those old fears were going to psyche him out.
They’re Aussie royalty, and you’re just the bastard son of an alcoholic mother.
Jake clenched his teeth and shoved those insidious doubts back with a vicious curse. His stepfather had chipped away at his self-esteem for years, always there with a comment, a sneer, a put-down when Jake screwed up. “You’ll be in jail or dead by eighteen, boy,” was his favourite line. He’d finally stood up to the son of a bitch a week before he’d left, leaving the man with a black eye and a broken hand. Since then, he’d been on his own, determined not to depend on anyone.
And now, suddenly, he had these people relying on him to make the right decision. To save their family legacy. A family that had been stolen from him thirty-two years ago.
Bitterness tightened his chest, the acrid tension weaving up his back to finally settle on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He remembered too many towns, too many faces, taunting, teasing. April’s sad expression, her face once so pretty and alive, suddenly weathered way beyond her fifty-four years. A woman filled with demons, her own personal and painful reasons for keeping a child from his rightful parents. He’d tried to escape his past, little knowing it wasn’t his to escape from in the first place, even after every million he made, every deal he brokered, which earned him the respect and security he’d been craving.
“Ready for the grand tour?”
Momentarily disorientated, he snapped his eyes up to Holly standing in the doorway with the ever-present notepad and pen. For a few seconds he allowed himself to drink in her neat little figure, the curve of her cheek, the way her eyes steadily met his perusal. And as he did so, the vibrating bitterness gradually seeped out, leaving him suddenly empty and icy cold.
With a nod of finality, he shut those thoughts down and rose.

An excruciating hour later, Jake’s normally tight control was in tatters. They’d gone through every floor in Blackstone’s and he’d spent precisely sixty-two minutes in Holly’s orbit, her gentle fragrance alternately arousing and frustrating him. Her soft, animated voice had tripped over his senses, aided traitorously by the memory of that kissy-mole when her mouth curved into a smile. When she walked, he’d ashamedly found his attention riveted to those curvy hips, swaying one tantalizing step ahead of him.
And her smell… He’d breathed in deeply, guiltily, more than once. Since when had a woman smelled so damn good?
The only time he’d not been thinking about touching her was when they’d passed Howard’s trophy wall. Photos of the man opening the Blackstone’s store. At some formal function. Shaking hands with the Prime Minister, the Queen, four U.S. past-presidents.
Jake had barely been able to contain a sneer. Howard had loved putting his stamp on everything he owned, flaunting his wealth and power. Like the way he’d displayed it on Ursula’s neck.
Disgust bubbled up and with a scowl he choked it back down. He was not like Howard, despite Kimberley’s assertion.
“Let’s move on.”
He jumped at Holly’s soft intrusion, only to have his body react on a more primitive level when his eyes focused on her curves once again. The grey pinstriped skirt moulded her hips, emphasising a defined waist and womanly hips. Her shirt was bright blue, making her eyes stand out, the elbow-length sleeves showing off long arms with a watch on one wrist, a simple gold bangle on the other.
Absently he’d wondered if she had on any makeup at all, given how fresh her face looked. How touchable it looked.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and nodded. He imagined Holly taking the news about his real identity with outward calm, a facade that covered up the fact she was a deep thinker. He’d noticed more than once the realities of her thoughts clearly mirrored in her expressive blue eyes.
No, not blue, more green. Like the complexity of shades in the deep ocean, where the—
His thoughts screeched to a halt. Since when had he obsessed about a woman’s eyes before?
Yet despite his control, an unwanted ache started in his groin. An ache that couldn’t be ignored when, an hour after the tour was over, Jake shoved his way into Blackstone’s executive gym.
Instead of solitude, a stretching Holly on the treadmill confronted him, scattering all thoughts of a long hard run to clear his mind.
He stared. And stared. In short bike pants and a cropped sports top, she was gripping one tanned muscular leg behind her in a quad stretch, the white Lycra pulling tight across her breasts as they rose with her deep breaths. As his mouth went dry, she rolled her shoulders and her long ponytail dragged over her damp skin.
Her breath sighed out, quickly engulfing his brain, the part that was still functioning.
His bag dropped unheeded to the floor. She kept right on stretching, her shoulder blades flexing and contracting with the effort.
Swish of the hair.
Deep sigh.
He groaned, ready to beat a hasty retreat, but she must have sensed him because she whirled, pulling out her earbuds. She quickly dropped her leg and grabbed her towel, her chest rising as a trickle of sweat ran down her throat and disappeared in the cleft beneath her damp tank. He followed that journey, until he reluctantly dragged his eyes back up to meet hers.
“Leaving?” he murmured.
“Yes.” In record time, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head then scooped up her bag, quickly heading for the door.
He just stood there, the air as she hightailed it past him yawning cold and empty. Then he heard the door click with finality.

As the gym doors closed behind her, Holly wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the chill. Escape first, then put on your track pants. She thought she’d nearly succeeded until Jake appeared beside her.
“Yours,” he said gruffly, holding out her iPod. She paused, glanced at his hand, then up at his face. A blank, stern face devoid of all warmth.
She slowly took her iPod and couldn’t help but notice he relinquished it without making skin contact. “Thanks.” She turned back to the elevator, repositioned her bag on her shoulder and stared at the ascending floor numbers.
When he remained still, she shot a quick look in his direction. “Working late?”
“This is early for me.”
She smiled thinly but said nothing.
“But…?” he prompted.
“Don’t you ever take a day off?”
He shrugged. “Too much work to do.”
“What’s the point of making all that money if you can’t enjoy yourself?”
He frowned. “I’m not unhappy with what I’ve achieved, Holly. Money doesn’t make you miserable.”
“No. People do that all by themselves.” The elevator doors swung open, signalling the end to their strange conversation. But to Holly’s surprise he followed her in. The doors swished closed and in the next second, he pushed the stop button.
“And to answer your question, I enjoy myself plenty.”
She stilled, her breath rattling around, too harsh in her throat, her heart beating too loudly in her chest. She looked at him, noting his narrowed eyes, the sudden tension in his body as it practically sizzled…not with anger but something else, something indefinable that he struggled to contain.
Apprehension chugged through her body, leaving her immobile. Wasn’t he supposed to be ice cold in the face of adversity?
Then he fixed on her mouth and she felt a hot flush start in her belly and fan upwards. She parted her lips, the air in her lungs thickly seeping out. Was he actually thinking about kissing her?
He moved quickly, so smoothly for a man the size of Ayers Rock that it took the rest of her breath away. Or maybe it was the kiss stealing all her will to function properly. It froze her limbs, stuttered her heartbeat. Erased all the memories of other kisses that had come before.
When his hot mouth covered hers in deep possession, his hands buried in her hair, preventing escape, a low groan escaped her. The kiss, the sheer power and force of it, stole her will, along with any denials she may have entertained. All that existed was Jake and the force of his kiss, the utter command of his lips sliding over hers and his tongue invading her mouth.
She took a deep, shuddering breath as her eyes fluttered closed. His smell was so different from anything she’d experienced, the heat, the passion. When his hands cupped her face, holding her in place, Holly kissed him right back.

* * *
It did Jake in, finally having her lush mouth beneath his, that tiny mole teasing the corner, his to kiss. The mole that had distracted him time and again for hours on end.
Her skin scorched him, as if a furnace burned just below the surface. Suddenly the desire to have her naked, to be against the rest of that silken skin, crashed into him.
His hands were under her sweatshirt and he hit what he was seeking—hot, damp flesh. But like an addict craving more, he wasn’t satisfied with the mere touch of her skin, the feel of her rib cage under his questing hand. He wanted—needed—more.
With his blood pounding thickly in his veins, the ache in his groin an almost unbearable tightness, he found the edge of her tank top and eased his way under to the gentle curve of one breast.
Her sudden gasp snapped him back to reality, and he wrenched his mouth away from the temptation of hers.
What the hell are you doing?
From a great gaping distance he heard Holly’s breathless question, thick with passion.
“Jake?”
She’d never know how difficult it was to withdraw from the pleasures her body promised. How much he ached to succumb to the raging passion that forced beads of sweat to run down his back.
Desire grabbed at him, yanked and twisted his brain until he was left hot, hard and frustrated. But with a shuddering sigh, he withdrew and stepped back, the cool air rushing into the gaping chasm between their bodies.
“Pull your shirt down,” he said, knowing it came out more harshly than he intended when the light of desire flickered and died on Holly’s face.
Self-disgust filled him, quickly followed by guilt. He’d lost control. For the first time in years he’d lost it.
He wanted to reach out to her, offer some kind of apology, but if her crossed arms and steely back were any indication, he’d have a better chance of flying to the moon.
Slowly, he released the emergency stop button and with a sudden jerk, the elevator started up. “I’ll take you home.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “I’m not your responsibility, Jake. I can catch a cab.”
“Look,” he said slowly, turning to her. “We…”
“Jake, I understand.” She refused to meet his eyes as the elevator doors slid open. “It’s not a big deal.”
Jake stared at her retreating back, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth. Not a big deal? So how come he suddenly felt the urgency to taste her right now? To have those shapely legs wrap around his waist and feel the erotic glide as he buried himself deep inside her?
Dammit. Now he was hard again.
With a soft curse, he pressed the basement button before he did something even more foolish than what he’d just already done.

As the morning sun crept cautiously into her bedroom, Holly lay staring at the ceiling. What on earth had possessed her to kiss Jake Vance? The implication sent a wave of cold reality over her hot skin. They’d been about to… She shook her head. And how she had wanted to. Still wanted to.
It shouldn’t be. He stood for everything she despised, everything that had taken away her family and forced her into this spying role. But when she tried summoning up righteous anger all that emerged was an overwhelming mesh of confusion. It happened every time he glanced her way, ran that frankly sensual gaze over her face, let it linger on her mouth.
Despite her best efforts, she was acutely interested in him. How could she be so attracted if he was truly the bad guy everyone was intent on perpetuating?
You’re an intelligent woman, Holly McLeod. Apart from one obvious glitch, you can tell the good guys from the bad. Yet Jake was a study in extremes. Corporate raider or saviour? Genuine attraction or predatory lust? He’d gotten her so wound up she didn’t know what to believe any more.
Deep in thought, she walked slowly into the bathroom, and by the time she’d fixed her makeup and left for work, her bad mood had been replaced by the day’s schedule.
She walked into Blackstone’s foyer with a sigh of relief. With coffee in one hand, handbag in the other, she’d survived the early morning bustle of George Street and a sharp biting wind that had determinedly yanked at her coattails. But after she pushed the elevator button and the doors opened, her luck ran out.
Jake Vance. In the flesh. In the warm, heated, taut flesh that she knew felt, smelled, tasted divine.
“Good morning, Holly.”
The warm intimacy of his voice, combined with the small interior swamped her, leaving goose bumps on her skin.
“Good morning.” She repositioned her cappuccino while hitching her bag on her shoulder.
As the elevator sped smoothly upwards, she surreptitiously eyed him. Twice she started to say something, and twice she hesitated, swallowing the words on the tip of her tongue. Surely he’d say something about last night, even just to set her straight with a familiar It didn’t mean anything. Let’s just keep things professional.
Yet he remained silent, reading his newspaper in complete and utter concentration. As she stared at his firm grip on the pages, her brain flashed back to last night, to this same place, to those long skilful fingers. The way they’d teased. The way he’d touched her as his tongue had eased inside her mouth.
She swallowed a shocked gasp, snapping her focus back to the doors.
“Do you have anything specific on the agenda today?” She forced cool professionalism into her voice. Unfortunately, her idea of broaching a business-related topic only effectively made her the center of his attention.
His slow perusal of her was thorough and hot. She tried to ignore it but on every level, her body tingled with the attention. Instead she determinedly stared at the ascending numbers. Surely if you don’t look at him, he’ll lose his effect. Like a solar eclipse.
“I have meetings,” he said. “Look, Holly. About last night.”
And here it comes. Holly shook her head, hot embarrassment flooding her cheeks as the doors slid open. Quickly she strode out, escaping the warm intimacy that reminded her of last night. He followed closely. “You don’t need to—”
“It was—”
The both paused awkwardly as Holly unlocked the glass door until she blurted out, “It doesn’t matter. Really.”
His eyes narrowed, darkening. “Doesn’t it?” he challenged. “I think it matters more than you want to admit.”
“How would you know?” She tried for nonchalance as she walked in and placed her coffee carefully on the desk.
“Because I know how to read people. You were an eager participant in that kiss.”
She flushed. “Is that how you win—by figuring out what people want then turning it against them?”
“I present them with an offer they can’t refuse.”
On another man, the arrogance would have forced a sharp, scornful rebuttal from her lips. On Jake, there was no egotism or conceit. It was simply a statement of truth.
She tipped her head. “So there’s nothing you’ve wanted that you couldn’t have.”
Danger. She sensed it the very moment Jake’s eyes darkened. The air seemed to thicken, and the seconds ticked by on the clock so loudly they echoed the beat of her heart as it upped tempo.
“I still have…things I want to achieve.”
She finally dragged her eyes away, unable to bear the intensity in his any longer. It was like a promise, a weird prediction of the future, of her and him together. Completely.
“What about a wife? A child to leave all your wealth to?”
“Eventually.” A stab of emotion, totally unexpected, tightened his jaw for one brief second. Then he blinked and his signature expression of cool blankness took over.
So he had thought about that. And letting her know irritated him, for some reason. Why? Did he view it as some kind of weakness? Or… She swallowed a small guilty breath. Did Mia’s betrayal still affect the unfeeling Mr Midas Touch?
After he closed his office door, Holly suddenly realised they’d both avoided discussing the implications of last night. And that non-closure worried her.
Five
Any normal girl would be out on a date Saturday night, Holly muttered to herself as she walked into Blackstone’s, bravado propelling her forward. Not at work, spying on her boss. Not sneaking around, trying to uncover Jake’s big plot to bring down Blackstone’s.
As the elevator sped up to the top floor, Holly recalled the past hour. Kimberley had offered her two tickets to the Alex Perry fashion show at the Powerhouse Museum as compensation for pulling her from the preparations. Sitting through the traditional bridal theme closing with gorgeous women strutting about in stunning white gowns wasn’t exactly what Holly had in mind to occupy her thoughts. Then she’d spotted Jake in the front row and her evening had suddenly ratcheted up in the interesting column.
He was seated next to one of Blackstone’s prominent shareholders, engaged in deep conversation, when some sixth sense must have told him he was being watched. He glanced up and pinned her with his dark gaze.
Her clothes had suddenly felt constrictive. She may as well have been naked sitting there, the off-the-shoulder wraparound designer blouse providing absolutely no coverage whatsoever.
He had no right to stare at her like that. And less right to make her feel…hot. Bothered.
Aroused.
She rose quickly, murmured something about fresh air to Miko, her surprised flatmate, and made her way to the exit. Strobe lights flashed behind her, loud music throbbed low and sensual, but she kept right on walking—even when she realised that Jake had a perfect view of her backside clad in skintight black velvet hipsters. Another brilliant decision gone horribly wrong.
She was waiting in line at the open-air bar, eyeing the congregation of smokers on her left, when a man broke free from the group and strode over.
Max.
A wave of cigarette smoke reached her before he did and burnt her nostrils. She barely suppressed a cough of distaste as he crossed his arms on the bar next to her, bumping his shoulder into hers.
“What are you doing here?” she said and angled away.
“Socializing. Having a few drinks. Keeping an eye on you. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Ignoring his oh-so-charming smirk, she reached for her glass but quickly recoiled when Max reached it first.
He frowned. “Holls, don’t be like that.”
She just scowled and pulled the glass back, wine slopping over the rim as she resisted the overwhelming desire to clock him with it.
“Jake’s getting to you, huh?”
She gritted her teeth, praying for control. “Haven’t you got someone else to blackmail, Max?”
Max laughed an unpleasant bark. “Watch it, Holls. It’s not just me who’s got something to lose here.”
“You were the one sleeping around. You were the one who offered me up as Jake’s assistant. And you—”
“And you were the one who didn’t say no to sex on my desk. We had a good time, Holly. Admit it—you got off on the whole ‘secret and forbidden’ thing.”
Disbelief rendered her speechless. She didn’t know what was worse, her raging stupidity for ignoring Blackstone’s morality clause, or her naivety for thinking she’d be any different from the rest of Max’s women.
It was those innocent choirboy looks, complete with a mop of golden curls that made Max Carlton such a hit. The men liked him for his after-hours drinks and blokey talk about football and women. The women were flattered by his charm and good looks. And to her surprise, there’d been a spark of interest despite the unofficial gossip. He was an attractive smooth-talker and everyone knew it, especially Max Carlton.
So you fell for it and now he’s got you over a barrel. Way to go, Holly.
“What do you want?” Before she could blink, he took her arm and steered her across the courtyard to a dark corner.
She wrenched from his grip, her breath coming quick and angry. Thank goodness for public places. Past him, she noticed the caterer’s tables, the half-dozen people setting up for the hungry masses.
“What have you found out?”
“Nothing,” she said, disgust clogging her voice. “Jake Vance is above board on this one.”
Max smiled thinly. “We’re talking about the same guy, right? Men like Vance don’t just waltz into a company with good intentions. They destroy them.”
“He’s not here for a takeover. And I’m sure Ric or Ryan would have—”
Max snorted. “They’re too busy playing happy families. Vance has ’em fooled. Listen.” He stepped closer, an intimidating figure in the half-shadows. “I’ve got a good thing going at Blackstone’s and I plan to keep it that way. Just get me proof of Vance’s intentions. After I get compensated by the board—”
“You’ll sign off on my permanent PR transfer.”
“Yeah, sure.” He reached out to touch her cheek but she flinched. He narrowed his eyes. “Make no mistake, Holly. If you blab, I’ll take you down with me. Whom do you think the board will believe?”
Then he swiftly tipped the glass of wine down her shirt. Holly choked off a squeal and jumped back, too late. The dark wet stain spread rapidly over the chiffon, dripping down her front.
Max looked nonplussed. “Jake’s busy chatting up the models. Go back to the office and change. And check out his desk.”
The elevators pinged open, startling Holly into the present. The insides of her mouth were arid and scratchy. It was all about Max—his job, his comfort. No thought as to how this corporate espionage went against every decent bone in her body.
She tamped a lid on her emotions. Panic had never solved her problems before; it wouldn’t now.
Slowly she walked out, unlocked the glass doors then closed them behind. She’d worked late and on the weekends before, which meant the security guy had suspected nothing amiss. She’d strode into the building with her head held high, even tossing him a wave as she walked over to the executive elevator. But now, standing stock still inside the darkened office, trepidation fluttered in her belly.
“Just get changed and leave,” she muttered to herself. “You can stall Max another couple of days.”
Bolstered, she turned on the desk lamp and laid her key card on the filing cabinet. She checked the hallway then plucked a shirt from her locker and swung open Jake’s office door.
She changed in the shadows, and just as quickly, she scanned his desk. The brochures she’d finally managed to give him lay open on the top. She glanced at the financials in his in tray.
No. You can’t.
Yet what could she do? It was either help Max or get fired. Despite her desperate need for the money, she genuinely loved working here. She’d carved a niche, made friends and garnered the respect of her colleagues. She prided herself on working hard and being professional, and Kimberley, for one, had noticed that.
So professional you breached your employment contract and had sex with your boss.
She swallowed, fighting with nerves until finally she made a decision. With a determined slant to her mouth, she strode around the desk and tried the drawers. Locked. She shuffled through the papers, flicked open the folders but came up empty-handed.
Holly paused, her mind buzzing. Or perhaps it was the subtle hint of cologne, all male and all Jake, invading her senses that sent a shock of remembrance through her brain.
Jake’s mouth, warm and needy on hers.
Her breath shook on the way in. She stilled, listening in the stillness to the guilty beating of her heart.
It was then that two things caught her attention: a tiny green light coming from the phone recharger on the edge of his desk. And the soft swoosh of the glass door opening in the outer office. He’d come back for his mobile phone.
Panic clogged her throat. Think, think! With a held breath she quickly stepped from behind the desk and undid the buttons on her blue silk shirt. It hung open, showing a glimpse of her black satin bra, when Jake opened his office door.
She didn’t have to fake a gasp as he swung the door wide. When he zeroed right in on her cleavage, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her smokescreen had worked.
“I spilled wine on my shirt,” she hurried to explain. Yet when his eyes dragged over her skin, leaving it practically sizzling in his wake, she self-consciously tugged at the shirtfront, realising the danger of her situation.
His hand stilled on the door handle. Light spilled around the frame, silhouetting his body in stark relief. To her chagrin the shadows also hid his expression. It didn’t hide the deep timbre in his soft statement, however.
“Really.”
She gestured to the windows covered with blinds. “Your office has coverage. I had a spare shirt in my locker….” She began buttoning it up, suddenly feeling stupid and exposed.
“You left the closing show early?” she asked unnecessarily.
“So did you.”
He moved, walking into the small pool of light from the desk lamp. Shadows slashed across his face, illuminating the darkness and light of his features. An elegantly straight nose. The dark hooded brows. The angular cheekbones combined with a strong, almost glacial jawline.
“Are you really here to change your shirt, Holly?”
“I…I…” Think, Holly! Yes? No? Arrghh. Seeing her hope fading gradually away, she leaned back, bumping her bottom on the desk. That small movement commanded Jake’s eyes back to her open neckline, lingering. As his eyes dipped into a frown, she caught something else in their depths. Desire.

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