Baiting the Boss (10 page)

“Sorry,” he muttered, bending to help her retrieve the files. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She glimpsed his chiseled jaw and ridged forehead. “Tough meeting?”

A group of office workers strolled past, eyeing them curiously. Jack picked up the last file, straightened, and glanced up and down the corridor. “Which one’s your office?”

“Right behind you.” She slipped past him and opened the door.

He followed her in and shut the door behind him. The room had a good view of the city, but it wasn’t very big. He dropped the files he was carrying on top of the pile already sitting on her desk.

“Every man and his dog were at the lunch,” he said. “I was expecting to see you there, especially as you were the one who brought me back.”

“Actually, nobody except Lachlan knows that. He wants to keep that confidential. As far as everyone in the office is concerned, I’ve been away on a training course.”

“Still, you should have been at the lunch.” He drummed his fingers restlessly on her desk. “Where were you?”

“I’ve been put in charge of graduate recruitment. I had to attend a careers fair at one of the universities.”

“Graduate recruitment?” He frowned. “Another of your Special Projects?”

“It’s just for a month or so, until things are more settled.”

She was putting on a brave face, but she couldn’t pretend to herself she was happy doing graduate recruitment. It felt like a slap in the face to be telling students what great prospects they had at Macintyre’s. Great prospects? Yeah, right. And what about all the great prospects she’d let slip through her fingers? She should have protested louder to Lachlan, but he wasn’t an easy man to stand up to. Just seeing Jack’s thunderous face was proof of that, and Jack was no pushover.

“So how did the lunch go?” she asked.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned against her window and gazed out at the cityscape. In his elegant charcoal business suit, he looked every inch the successful corporate executive, triggering memories of her first starstruck days under his supervision, when she’d barely been able to string a coherent sentence together in his presence. She was glad he hadn’t cut his hair. His long, shaggy locks reminded her of how he’d been back on Filemu Island—peaceful, calmer, happier.

“A stunning success as far as Lachlan’s concerned. I was slow on the uptake. Took me a while to figure out why he’d laid out such a public welcome. He’s trying to railroad me into coming back to Macintyre’s, making it look like I’m the prodigal son returning after having learned his lesson.” The ends of his mouth curved down into a sardonic scowl. “I should have known my grandfather wouldn’t change.”

She wished she could put her arms around Jack and kiss away his rancor. Didn’t Lachlan know how lucky he was to have his grandson back?

“What happens now?” She found herself fearing his answer, anxious he would quit Sydney very soon.

With a sharp tug, he yanked off his expensive tie and rubbed his neck wearily. “I’m too old to let my grandfather get to me anymore. I’ve agreed to help one of the teams, and there’s some sort of family get-together tomorrow night. I’m staying a while.”

She exhaled softly, only realizing then that she’d been holding her breath. “That’s…good.”

“Is it?” He turned round. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

Flustered, she tweaked the cuffs of her shirt. “I’m not on anyone’s side.”

His face remained stiff as he surveyed her silk shirt, narrow, pin-striped, navy skirt, sheer stockings, and matching navy pumps. It was her usual discreet office attire, yet somehow he managed to make her feel inappropriate.

“So this is how you look at the office.”

“This is how I’ve always looked at the office. You know that.”

He studied her again before his expression thawed and his voice softened. “Yes, but that was before I saw you on the island in your skimpy shorts with your hair loose down your back.”

Warmth throbbed in her veins. “My shorts were not skimpy. Besides,” she continued in a rush, “when I dress for work, I want to look professional, not draw attention to myself.”

“I didn’t say you’re not drawing my attention.” He lifted the tie neck of her blouse and twirled it round his fingers, causing her heart to race. “Quite the contrary, but what I want from you right now would be very unprofessional.”

Hooded eyes slanted her a heated gaze, and her breath caught. God, how had this encounter gotten out of hand so quickly? This was the first time she’d encountered Jack at the office, and already they were running headlong into temptation. She had to wrest control of the situation before her weakness for Jack got her into trouble.

She stepped backward, releasing her tie neck from his grasp. “Jack, you’re not making things easy for me here. Just because you’ve had enough of Macintyre’s doesn’t mean everyone else has. I’m serious about my career here.”

Sighing, he folded his arms across his chest. “If you were serious, you’d realize how badly Lachlan is using you.”

She pressed her lips together. Why was he having a dig at her? Because he blamed her for bringing him back? “No, he’s not. If my career hasn’t been as stellar as I’d hoped, surely most of the responsibility lies with me.”

“How many hours a week do you work?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Yes, you do. You left your apartment pretty early this morning. I’ll bet you put in at least sixty hours a week.”

“I’m not a clock-watcher.”

His chin jutted out. “And why are you at work today anyway? Don’t you deserve a day off after all the traveling Lachlan made you do?”

“I told you, I had that careers fair today. I needed to come in.”

“Rubbish. Lachlan takes advantage of your good nature and you can’t even see that. You’ve worked for him for so long, you believe everything he says. You’re a fully paid-up, card-carrying member of the Lachlan Macintyre ethos. You’ll work until you drop, just because he tells you to.” A muscle pulsed in his clenched jaw. “I should know. I’ve been there before. But you seem determined to repeat my mistakes.”

The anger in his face scorched her, and the fact his words held a kernel of truth scalded her even further. “Why do you insist on painting Lachlan as some kind of monster? He’s your grandfather, for God’s sake. He’s your family. You don’t know how lucky you are to have family.”

“No!” He slapped his palm onto her desk, making her jump in alarm. He glared at her, his face saturated with towering emotion. “Don’t talk to me about family. I had a family, and I destroyed it because I was so caught up in being the Macintyre he wanted me to be.”

Becky. He’d loved her so much, and he’d never get over her. Just one look at his darkened face told her that. She backed away from him, her heart panging.

At her retreat, he blinked, and the shutters came down over his expression. “I think I’d better leave.”

Alone, she sank into her chair and rested her aching forehead on her knuckles. If she’d known how painful it would be for him, she would never have asked Jack to return.

Chapter Seven

That night Grace opened the door to her apartment, half expecting it to be dark and silent, but instead, light spilled from the living room and food aromas hung in the air. Jack walked out of the kitchen, his face a carefully controlled mask.

“Working late?” he asked, his tone as neutral as his expression.

“Yes. I had some things to finish up.” Plus she’d been reluctant to go home.

“There’s some leftover Chinese takeout in the fridge if you’re interested.”

“That’s okay. I had something to eat at the office.” She shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other, unsure of how to react to this composed Jack, so at odds with the furious man who had slammed out of her office.

A faint line appeared between his eyes. He rubbed his jaw. “I want to apologize for this afternoon. I was way out of line.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I know how you felt about Becky…I understand why you lashed out. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, really. My grandfather riled me, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.” He flexed a hand. “And it wasn’t just about Becky. I’m concerned for your well-being, too.”

His solicitude eased some of the tension from her body. “Well, I accept your apology, and you don’t have to worry about me, so let’s talk about something else.” Relieved that he was still here, she shrugged off her jacket and moved past him into the kitchen. “Want a glass of wine?”

She busied herself pouring out two glasses of wine, and they returned to the living room. Jack took a seat on the couch. A short, not uncomfortable silence ensued as they sipped wine before Jack nodded toward the shelves lining one entire wall of the room. “I couldn’t help noticing all your collections.”

“I guess I’m a bit of a hoarder.” She wandered over to the shelves and rearranged a few items. Her collections of miniature elephants, ammonites, perfume bottles, and Art Deco figurines gave her pleasure every time she handled them. “Some of these pieces I’ve had since I was a child. They’ve followed me everywhere I’ve gone.”

“Must take a long time to pack when you move.”

“Ages, but soon I hope I’ll be making my last move.” She walked to the sliding door that led out onto the balcony. “Over there. That’s what I’m aiming for.” She gestured toward the building on the opposite side of the street.

Jack came and stood next to her. “That place being renovated?”

“I’ve put my name down as an interested buyer.” The late-Victorian former tea warehouse was being converted into apartments, and as soon as Grace had seen the display suite she’d fallen in love with the high ceilings and decorative features. “It’s due for completion next month, but I’m not sure if I’ll be in a position to put down a deposit right away.”

“Why not?”

She sighed and took a sip of wine. “I don’t want to burden myself with a hefty mortgage if I’m not certain I can make the payments.” She twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I…I’m not sure Lachlan takes me seriously anymore. It’s my fault, I know. I should have been more assertive from the start. I should have stood up for myself, been a bit more selfish, but…well, I didn’t.”

Jack appraised her for several moments. “What’s brought this on?”

“You’ve been pointing it out, for a start. But also, I stayed back this evening and waded through a whole pile of CVs from students, and it got me thinking. I was one of those promising graduates once, and look where I am today. I should be a project manager by now or at least a team leader.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? To claw your way up the corporate ladder?”

“Yes, if it gives me that.” She nodded at the warehouse. “I want security, a home I can call my own. If I can’t make a career at Macintyre’s, then maybe I’ll have to start looking elsewhere.”

Jack blinked. “You’re going to leave Macintyre’s?”

“I haven’t decided that yet, but I want to explore my options. I called an old university friend today. She works for another construction company that I heard is hiring. We discussed their vacancies.”

“And?”

“And I might send my résumé to her.” She reached up to loosen the clips holding back her hair, and combed her fingers through the strands. The constricted muscles between her shoulder blades started to untie themselves. She didn’t know what had prompted her to confide in Jack, but it felt good to unburden herself. “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to your grandfather or anyone else.”

“But I could talk to Lachlan, make him see what a bad mistake—”

“No, I don’t want you to.” She shook her head vigorously. “That would look like I was complaining about him behind his back, that I’m too spineless to fight my own battles. I’m a big girl. I’ll figure it out myself.”

He took a seat opposite her. “You must be thoroughly sick of the Macintyre family by now, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

She shrugged off her shoes and concentrated on rubbing the sore spot on her heel. “I don’t mind. It’s not as if I have any family of my own.”

“You have a mother, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you say that? Like you’re not sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure I have a mother.” The knot in her back returned. Grabbing her shoes, she swung to her feet. “I’m going to get changed.”

“Wait a minute. Tell me about your mum.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Nothing at all?”

She paused, sighed. “It’s just, well, we haven’t spoken for a while.”

“How long exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed. “I’m not keeping count.”

“Have a rough guess.”

The glint in his eyes told her he wasn’t giving up, so she shrugged. “Maybe two years, maybe more. Why do you want to know?”

“Strange that you were prepared to go to such lengths to bring me back to my grandfather, and yet you haven’t spoken to your own mother in more than two years.”

“It’s not the same thing at all.” She shook her head, frowning. “My mum and I aren’t estranged. We didn’t have some huge dustup. It’s just…”

“What?” he persisted.

Grace rubbed at a scuff mark on one of her shoes, taking her time before answering, “She’s always moving around from one place to another, always changing jobs, picking up a new boyfriend. We don’t get along. I find her flippant and irresponsible, and she finds me…stodgy and boring, I suppose.”

God knew she’d tried to forge a bond with her mother. For years Grace had cajoled her into spending Christmas with her, envisioning the kind of holidays she’d always yearned for in her childhood and never experienced. She would spend hours decorating a tree, wrapping presents, roasting ham and turkey, but two times out of three her mother would make a lame excuse at the last minute. The third time, she hadn’t even rung to say she wasn’t coming, just failed to show up. The time she was stood up, Grace vowed never to repeat the same mistake. Until Christmas came around again. But eventually she’d given up trying and stopped asking.

“It’s always been me trying to contact her,” she said to Jack. “And it’s hard to do that when she’s constantly changing addresses and never telling me. One day I got fed up with always being the instigator. I decided not to ring her, to wait for her to call me. Well, the joke’s on me, because I’m still waiting.”

A hot tightness in her chest halted her words. It wasn’t tears, but anger choking her. After all these years she was still angry with her mother for not just neglecting her but not even liking her. It didn’t seem right or natural.

Jack placed his hand on her shoulder. “That must be tough for you.”

The weight of his hand comforted her and eased some of the strain off her rib cage. She sucked in air, wishing she could rub her cheek against his fingers.

“Families are the pits sometimes, aren’t they?” she muttered.

“Do you miss your mother?”

“How can you miss something that you’ve never had? But I do worry about her. I’m her only family.”

“Then you should call her.”

She’d never revealed so much about her difficult relationship with her mother to anyone, but Jack seemed to understand her conflicting emotions so easily. She was glad she’d confided in him. Three years ago she’d idolized him from afar, but now she was beginning to know the real Jack Macintyre, and he was so much more than her idealized fantasy. He was considerate, empathetic, and thoughtful, and he wanted the best for her. The notion warmed her heart.

“Maybe I will,” she said. “One of these days.” The pressure of his hand on her shoulder intensified, and the close proximity of his body began to heat her skin.

“Good. Just don’t leave it too late.”

In the ensuing silence, she heard his breathing. She could sense his muscles tensing beneath his shirt. The beating pulse in the hollow of his neck hypnotized her, filling her with the urge to press her lips against that spot. As if in a dream, she saw her hand reaching for him, sliding up the soft fabric of his shirt until her fingers touched the pulse point in his throat. She watched her fingers stroking his skin as though she were a spectator.

The tightening of his hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. He hauled her toward him and she reached up on tiptoes, her mouth meeting his halfway. Their lips crushed together, and the resulting jolt electrified them both. She felt his body shaking against hers as he devoured her mouth.

Clinging onto him, she kissed him back, her hunger leaping to meet his, her tongue sliding boldly into his mouth. She didn’t recognize herself. This wanton wildness sprung from a hidden well in her that only Jack could tap.

She felt his hands rove over her back before they settled on her bottom. The lining of her skirt rustled as he kneaded and squeezed her curves against him, all the while still kissing her mouth and neck. She caressed his wide shoulders, relishing his masculinity, excited by his urgency. He tugged at the zipper of her skirt, and then the piece of clothing crumpled to the ground and he pushed his hands under her shirt. Her breasts were already throbbing, and when both his palms closed over them, a moan of satisfaction escaped her lips.

A vague memory of keeping her distance from Jack whispered through her brain only to be drowned out by the thrill of his thumbs grazing against her nipples. At the back of her mind she knew she was making a serious mistake, but their combusting passion was too much, and she knew she couldn’t resist.

A shrill beeping cut through the lust fogging her brain. Jack nipped her earlobe, his fingers busy with the catch of her bra. The bleeping grew louder and harsher, an intruder in the room.

“Forget it,” Jack muttered against her temple, holding her tight to his hot chest.

“It sounds like my phone.”

“No, it’s mine.” He sighed and lifted his head to glance at the mobile phone vibrating on the nearby coffee table. “Damn!”

A storm of frustration pulsated behind his exclamation. Pulling free, she realized the curtains were wide open, and she was clad in just her shirt, her panties, and her stockings.

“Grace…” Tempestuous gray eyes flashed in his dark face. The phone continued to shriek.

“You’d better get that.”

She scooped up her fallen skirt and shoes and hurried from the room. His voice sounded brusque as he answered the phone, but she didn’t pause to listen as she made for her bedroom. There, she took off the rest of her office clothes and yanked on her sloppiest tracksuit pants and hoodie. Perhaps her ugliest, most passion-killing clothes would douse the fire Jack had lit in her. But she couldn’t forget his sizzling kisses or the feel of his hands possessing her breasts, and when the knock on her door sounded, her body was still recalling the delight of being plastered against his.

Opening the door, she met Jack’s impatient eyes.

“Why did you run out on me like that?” he asked.

The growl beneath his words sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “I didn’t run out. Who was that calling you?”

“My grandfather.”

“Anything important?”

“Nothing as important as what’s going on between us.” He flicked his gaze over her baggy clothing. “Is that what you mean by slipping into something more comfortable?” He shouldered his way into her room and clasped her shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll get rid of it for you.”

The molten fervor in his eyes almost undid her. Just in time, she plucked up the last remnants of her self-control and slipped from his grasp. “I got carried away out there. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

He sucked in a deep breath. His biceps bunched up beneath his shirt as he clenched his fists. “I told you what would happen if you made a move on me. You did, and now I’m going to make good on my promise.”

He shifted toward her. She dodged back. The end of her bed jarred against the back of her legs.

“G-Good grief, are you g-going all c-caveman on me now?” The words came stuttering out as panic and excitement trilled through her. How on earth could she keep on resisting him when her every cell wanted to give in?

His expression darkened with purpose. She had only a split second to realize what he intended before he spun her into his arms and angled his mouth over hers. All her breath swooshed out of her lungs and with it the last remnants of her resistance. Curling her fingers through his hair, she pressed him closer to her and parted her lips eagerly for his probing tongue. He wasted no time, jerking down her offending tracksuit pants, unzipping her hoodie and tugging it over her shoulders. He held her at arm’s length, gazing at her violet satin bra and matching panties.

“Didn’t realize you wore such sexy stuff underneath.” He traced his fingers over the delicate trimmings. “You’re a continual surprise, Grace.”

Anticipation foamed in Grace. Her underwear was damp, and her nipples were swollen with need. He seemed to know what was going through her mind as he continued to tease her, flicking the back of his fingers across the cups of her bra. Finally he undid the catch of her bra before running his hands down her flanks, hooking his fingers into her panties and drawing them down her legs. As the tips of his hair brushed against her bare nipples, the wildfire in her finally overwhelmed her legs, and she collapsed onto her bed.

He spread her thighs wide apart, then leaned over her, placing a hand on either side of her head. A long, quivering sigh rustled past her lips. Surrendering, she gazed up at him with rapt attention, moistness welling up in her center, breasts peaking. She was so ready for him. He only had to touch her and she would come. He took his time examining every bare inch of her. As his face drew near hers, she closed her eyelids, reluctant to show her capitulation so obviously.