Hightower Affairs 2: Bedding the Secret Heiress (7 page)

“Good question.” And one he had no intention of answering since the action had been taken at his request.

T
he city of San Francisco was waiting and Lauren was eager to hit the sidewalks and explore.

Trying to shake off the lingering tiredness her shower hadn’t completely banished, she tightened the belt of the fluffy short white robe the B and B provided and stowed her toiletry items in her bag. She’d slept until six this morning, which was late for her because she usually had to be in the air by then, and given the time difference, she should have been up hours ago.

She blamed her sluggishness on all the tossing and turning she’d done last night. Her bedroom shared a wall with Gage’s, and he must have stayed up late. She’d heard him moving around as if he were pacing, and a couple of times his deep voice had carried through the wall behind her headboard. Who had he been talking to at that time of night?

She opened the bathroom door and shuffled across
the landing. Gage’s bedroom door opened before she reached her room, and he stepped into the hall. Her muscles locked up. She’d forgotten their single rooms shared a hall bathroom.

Against her will she drank in his mussed hair, sleepy brown eyes, beard-shadowed jaw and broad, bare-chested, seriously well-developed body. The man worked out. Shoulders, biceps, pecs and abs like that didn’t happen by accident.

Black trousers, probably from yesterday’s suit, rode low on his hips, transecting a dark line of hair that descended from between his nipples to below his navel. His big feet were bare, his toes long and straight. Like her, he held a toiletry bag.

He belonged on a sexy Corporate Hotties pin-up calendar. Her pulse
whumped
in her ears like helicopter blades, and she couldn’t seem to suck enough air into her lungs. It took a substantial effort to uncurl her toes. “G-good morning.”

His eyes sharpened on her face then slowly descended to the plunging neckline of the wraparound robe and on to her bare legs and feet. Other than the slight expansion of his pupils, his expression gave nothing away. A guy with his money was probably used to models and beauty queens rather than tomboys who wore jeans and no makeup. Not that she cared.

“Morning.” The sleep-roughened voice rasped over her, making the fine hairs on her arms rise.

Conscious of her wet hair, freshly scrubbed face and near nakedness, she clutched her travel bag to her chest. “I’m, uh…done. The bathroom’s all yours.”

To get to the bathroom he had to pass close by her. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne as the air stirred, but mostly she smelled Gage—slightly musky male.
The close confines of a cockpit made someone’s scent easily identifiable. Arousal flushed her skin and tightened her nipples, leaving her hot and bothered and wanting to shed the heavy robe. But that would have to wait until she’d shut the door behind her.

“Excuse me.” She darted across the hall, not relaxing until she’d closed and locked the wooden panel between them. Knees weak, she sagged against the hard surface.

Why him? Why did Gage Faulkner agitate every feminine particle in her being into a whirlwind of certain disaster? It wasn’t fair that the one guy she least wanted to be attracted to would affect her so strongly. But that didn’t mean she’d be stupid and act on the bad mojo.

She listened for sounds from the hall while she hastily pulled on jeans and layered a sweater over her T-shirt then shoved her feet into sneakers. After she heard Gage reenter his room, she grabbed her jacket, wallet and computer backpack and jogged down the stairs.

Esmé met her in the foyer. “Good morning, dear. I’ve set up the breakfast buffet in the dining room. Help yourself.”

Lauren debated skipping breakfast. She wanted to be gone before Gage came downstairs, but her loudly rumbling stomach vetoed that idea. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Lauren nodded and headed for the ornately decorated burgundy dining room. Yesterday morning after Gage had headed for the job site, Esmé and Leon had given Lauren a guided tour and history of the house. Her hosts’ passion for their restoration project showed the hard work had been a true labor of love.

It wasn’t until after Lauren had left for the Internet
café that she’d realized the couple had pried more personal details out of her than she’d ever shared with anyone else, and Lauren hadn’t even seen it coming. But that was okay. Her hosts were harmless. They would never use what they’d learned against her. Unlike Gage, who probably used every tidbit of information as a weapon in his arsenal.

Lauren shook her head as she cut through the doily-and-lace-accented living room. Surprisingly, she liked the house. The decor was frilly and feminine and a bit over the top—a huge contrast to the unadorned home she’d shared with her father. There’d been no time, interest or money for superfluities. The Lynch household had been all about practicality and purpose.

Her father’s no-nonsense nature was one of the reasons she knew he wouldn’t have purposely killed himself…unless he’d truly believed the life insurance money would have paid off Falcon Air’s debts.

Oh, Dad, why did you borrow so much against the company?

Suppressing the stab of grief, she grabbed a plate from the sideboard. Worrying and second-guessing wouldn’t solve anything, and even if she could eventually get her mother to sit still long enough to fill in the blanks, the FAA’s investigation would likely determine whether or not her father’s life insurance paid out. If it didn’t…

She didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to think about losing Falcon Air or what she and Lou would do without the company that had been everything to them. Lou hadn’t worked anywhere else since before Lauren had been born, and he was a bit set in his ways. Starting over at sixty would be difficult for him
if
he could find a job.

Her stomach twisted, whether from hunger or nerves or both, she couldn’t be sure. But she couldn’t resist the delicious-smelling selection on the sideboard. Her mouth watered in anticipation of sampling the crisp bacon, maple sausage, vegetable-filled mini omelets and silver-dollar pancakes topped with cinnamon apples.

Grimacing at the obscene amount of food she’d piled on her plate, she carried it to the table. She’d just lifted her fork when Gage walked in wearing one of his perfectly fitting suits, this one in charcoal with a smoke-gray shirt and a black patterned tie.

He swept her with those dark eyes. “You’ll have to change.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

Definitely not what she wanted to hear. She’d only seen a tiny corner of San Francisco. “I thought we weren’t flying out until Monday.”

“We’re going to the computer component plant I’ve come to assess. If you’re studying business management, then you need to view the principles firsthand and see if you’ve learned enough to apply your book knowledge.”

The idea both attracted and repelled her. She was eager to learn anything that might help her untangle Falcon Air’s financial issues when she returned home. Yesterday while she’d been sitting in the coffee shop she’d done a little Web surfing research on her passenger. According to three major business magazines, Gage was reportedly one of the best corporate troubleshooters in the country.

Maybe he could help her with Falcon?

No. He was looking for something to discredit her, and he was her brother’s spy. Trent didn’t need the kind
of ammo Falcon’s iffy finances would provide to use against her.

The chemistry between her and Gage was an additional complication, especially now that she’d seen him half-naked. Wasn’t it bad enough that she relived that kiss every time she closed her eyes? Now she’d see him shirtless, too. She’d bet a tank of fuel that reel would replay in her head.

Spending the day with him was too risky.

“That’s an interesting idea, Gage, but I have other plans.”

“You’ll go.” His flat, don’t-argue-with-me tone raised her hackles and stirred her temper.

She looked at the breakfast she no longer wanted then at the man she wanted nothing to do with. Was this one of those commands Trent had insisted she comply with? “I take it no isn’t an option?”

“Correct.” Gage crossed to the buffet. While he filled his plate she debated calling her half brother and screaming at him. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. She knew Trent would take sides—and it wouldn’t be hers. But venting would make her feel better. Unfortunately, dramatic hissy fits had never been her style.

But damn her half brother for putting her in this position. Shadowing clients was not in her job description. In fact, under normal circumstances, she would have dumped her passenger in San Francisco, gone back on the assignment roster and returned to pick Gage up three days later. HAMC pilots did not sit around and twiddle their thumbs while their clients worked multiday deals. The flight crews filled the hours of their five-days-on-five-days-off schedules flying other customers.

“And if I don’t want to go with you?”

“Why would you pass on the chance to see your
textbook theories put into practice unless you’re not really interested in learning?”

Something about his tone rubbed her the wrong way. “What are you insinuating?”

“That perhaps you’re playing at being a student until a better opportunity comes along.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“A rich mother. A guaranteed job. A wealthy lover.”

She gasped. Anger boiled in her veins. “I see my half brother has been digging.”

Gage’s eyes narrowed. “You have a lover waiting in the wings?”

Okay, maybe Trent hadn’t been snooping through her past and uncovered Whit. Just as well. She didn’t want to explain how stupid she’d been to believe Whit would marry a nobody like her simply because they’d been long-term lovers. He’d dumped her as soon as the right kind of woman came along.

“My personal life is none of your business unless it affects my ability to keep you safe in the air.” She shot to her feet, fists curled by her sides, determined to get as far away from Gage as possible.

“Your accusations are unfounded. I’m a damned good pilot and better qualified than half of HAMC’s roster. Ask your buddy Trent. He’ll verify that, although he’ll probably choke on the words.

“As for not wanting to learn…You’re way off base, Faulkner. My father is dead. Falcon Air is now half-mine. I want to learn everything I can about running it, but I don’t see how trailing after you will benefit me.”

“Because I’m the best at what I do.”

A snort burst from her. “Lack of confidence clearly isn’t an issue for you.”

“Nor you.”

She gritted her teeth on the desire to tell him to go to hell. “It’s Saturday.”

“There are fewer interruptions from employees on weekends. The CEO and a skeleton staff will be on board to provide what we need.” He sat across from her and dug into his food. His appetite clearly hadn’t been killed by the idea of spending a day with her.

The door to the kitchen swung open and Esmé breezed in with a coffee carafe before Lauren could make her escape. Esmé looked at Lauren’s plate. “Oh, good, dear. I’m so glad you have an appetite. I love to cook, and it pains me when the fruits of my labor go to waste. So many of your contemporaries practically starve themselves with that no-fat-no-carbohydrates garbage.”

Feeling trapped, Lauren eyed the mountain of food on her plate and resigned herself to forcing it down rather than disappointing her hostess even though she knew the man across from her was going to give her indigestion. A full day of it.

Lauren stared at the pile of purchasing orders Gage had given her and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Busywork. Nothing your average twelve-year-old couldn’t do. She certainly didn’t need a business degree to handle what was essentially categorizing and organizing the computer plant’s purchasing history. But she wouldn’t complain. He probably wanted to make her miserable. The jerk. And that was one payoff she refused to give him.

At the other end of the long boardroom table in the windowless room Gage looked engrossed in something interesting. Fighting the urge to wad up a piece of paper and hurl it at him like a snowball, she swiveled her
chair sideways so she wouldn’t have to look at him and crossed her legs. Her foot kicked in irritation. She should be out seeing the sights.

Her best bet was to get through this garbage and make him find something else for her to do—preferably something that required brain cells.

She sorted, stacked and tabulated, adding comments on a pad of paper as she worked until she’d finished the pile. Relieved, she shoved it aside and checked her watch. Two hours. Wasted.

“Done.”

He hit her with another one of those intense looks, the kind he’d been shooting at her while she worked, the ones she’d been trying to ignore, then he frowned and scanned the neatly paper-clipped piles on her desk. “You’re finished?”

“Yes. What else do you have for me?”

He lay down his pen, rose and headed in her direction. “Let me see.”

She stood and walked away from the table to stretch the kinks from her spine rather than be near him. The staff had left refreshments for them. She selected a diet soda loaded with caffeine from a mini fridge and popped it open. The cool liquid slid down her throat, reviving her somewhat.

She didn’t mind paperwork, not really, but she’d rather be behind the controls of a plane than behind a desk. Her father had been the same way. That’s why they’d needed Uncle Lou—who was a whiz with numbers.

“You made these notes?”

Gage’s question made her turn. He held the yellow legal pad she’d written on. “Yes.”

He flipped through the pages. “You’ve made a good
point. By not forming a continuous relationship with one supplier our client is paying a wide range of prices for the same products and not benefiting from customer loyalty discounts.”

“
Your
client,” she corrected. “Every business has its own version of the frequent flyer rewards plan.” Falcon always ordered their parts and fuel from the same suppliers.

“I’ll get you something else to work on.” He crossed to a file cabinet and extracted another manila folder. “You’ll find this a little more challenging.”