What a Girl Wants (18 page)

His Blackberry beeped. An urgent e-mail from his Uncle Patrick. He opened it, scanned it and blew out a low whistle. “Thank you, Uncle Pat.”

“I mean it, Alex,” she shouted from his bedroom. “Don’t follow me.”

“Yeah, okay,” he shouted back. “I won’t show up for lunch.” He fired off a quick thank you to his uncle, and dialed Tim’s cell number. “I need you to keep that lame ass off my trail for the rest of the day. If you can get anything out of him, that would be a bonus.”

“Will do,” Tim answered.

“And did you get the maid’s name and a phone number?”

 “Yup, got that right after you texted me. You’re going to have to use some charm on this one. Hollister does sign her paychecks.”

“Yah, so I brought the towels to Donovan’s room, and—you’re not gonna be happy.”

“Why?” Victor asked, steering the car with one hand and holding onto his patience as he listened to his assistant PI talking to him on his cell phone. “What happened?”

“She was there. Looks like she’s the chick. You know, the one I told you about last night.”

Victor stopped at a red light and glanced at his passenger, applying lipstick. “She? Who?”

“She as in Miss Saunders. She was there with him and I think she spent the night with that Donovan dude.”

Victor was sure his blood pressure had spiked to a dangerous zone. He literally bit his lip to stifle the string of curses that would probably make the Ice Queen sitting next to him blush.
Where the hell are those antacids when I need them?
“I’ll be in touch.” He shut his cell phone and stared at the now-green traffic light, not realizing he was holding his breath.

“Chop, chop.” Crystal Washington clapped her hands. “Light isn’t going to get any greener.”

He stepped on the gas, causing the tires to screech.

“Hey, slow down,” she said.

He accelerated even harder. “You don’t like my driving, take a cab next time.”

“Someone isn’t in a good mood this morning. Whatever. In case I didn’t say it earlier, it was wise of you to pick me up and not leave me to my own devices.”

Wise of him? She was a serious bitch. “You’re welcome,” he said, dryly.

“So, tell me, Vick, what’s new? What’s
he
been up to?”

He needed air. He rolled down his window. “Good weather and a new bistro opened—”

“Ha ha. Now cut the crap and bring me up to speed.”

“There’s nothing to report.” Except that her face and past were being printed up on the national rags as they spoke. “I do recommend you stay far away from the resort and Mr. Hollister, until I can figure out our next move.”

She crossed her legs. “I give the recommendations, hon.”

The woman was an ice queen bitch extraordinaire, but Jeesuschrist-on-a-cracker, she was Halle Berry beautiful. He could only imagine what she looked like in a bikini.

She pulled out her cell phone, and he turned his attention back to his driving.

She turned the car radio off and punched numbers on her phone. She hummed a tune while she waited for her party to answer. “Put me through to George Saunders.”

Saunders? What the hell?
Victor almost ran a stop sign and slammed on the breaks.

She huffed. “He’s not too busy for me. Tell him it’s Crystal Washington.” Sounded like someone was keeping her on hold. “George,” she said. “You know what I want. Mission accomplished?” She laughed, but Victor had a feeling George wasn’t telling her a joke.

“Tsk tsk, Georgie. Do you kiss your
niece
with that mouth?”

Holy shit, Victor thought, what the hell was she up to now? He slowed down, taking a detour so that he could have more time to eavesdrop and figure out what she was up to. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He was certain he’d developed an ulcer. He’d been doing her dirty work against Hollister and Saunders
and
doing Hollister’s dirty work against her. What a mess he’d created with this double agent shit he’d started.

“Georgie, you know what they say. K.I.S.S., baby. Keep it simple, stupid.” She laughed. The woman even had a bitchy laugh. “You get to keep your secrets, and I get the position. I hear all that rain over there does wonders for a gal’s complexion.” She let out another bitchy laugh. “Like I told you before, you didn’t think a plum job like that was going to remain a secret, did you? I do have reliable sources.” She winked at Victor. “And those sources let me in on your family secret.”

Super bitch, Victor thought. She was either going to blow the whistle on him being her source or she was getting her jollies taunting Saunders and him at the same time. From some of her remarks though, he realized that she had obtained more information, stuff he himself didn’t even know. Bitch probably had a source in every major city in the country.

The rest of the conversation was a series of
uh-huhs, hmmms and no damn ways.
Victor couldn’t make any sense of it all.

“Okay, here’s the thing George. I’ve done my homework. I know for a fact that without Max baby’s backing, not only does your magazine, online newspaper and publishing house tank, he could influence your backers to pull out and the new station and bureau across the pond will be history before there’s even a launch date.”

Victor could hear Saunders’s booming voice, but couldn’t make out the words.

“No, you listen to me. I have the truth in my possession. Not your version of the truth, but
the truth.
” She paused. “So, how much does your family mean to you, Georgie?”

George’s voice boomed once again.

“You know what I want. I want him discredited and fired. I want that position, with a higher salary, of course. I think it’s a reasonable price for letting you keep your business and protect your sister’s reputation, is it not?”

Chapter Twenty

“You can’t teach old dogma new tricks.”

—Dorothy Parker

“Madison, welcome.” Maxwell Hollister rose from behind the black granite patio table and extended his hand. “Thank you for joining me for lunch.”

Maddie shook his hand. If she were blind and couldn’t see his mansion or the masculine sophistication he radiated in his tanned designer pants and tailored black golf shirt, complete with initials on the sleeve, she’d still know Maxwell Hollister was wealthy beyond belief. His voice alone sounded moneyed.

She imagined that a lot of people found him daunting, but she worked at not allowing someone’s wealth or status to intimidate her. Having been exposed to Felicia’s faithful membership in the Church of Marrying Money, Maddie had learned how to deal with anxiety when in the presence of towering figures. At some point, she’d envisioned each of Felicia’s men eating a caramel apple while putting on a pullover sweater.

That practice came in handy, especially now.

“You have a pretty smile, Madison.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hollister.”

“I would like you to call me Maxwell.” He pulled out a wingback patio chair and she sat.

“Call me Maddie, and we have a deal.”

He sat across from her. “You don’t like your given name?”

“My mother calls me Madison, my friends call me Maddie.”

She thought she saw his jaw clench, giving his mouth a straight hard line. In the next instant he graced her with a warm smile.

Carl appeared, followed by four young men dressed in colorful Hawaiian shirts and white Bermuda shorts, each holding two large trays they placed on the table.

Shouldn’t have had that extra stack of pancakes,
she thought with regret
.

She had assumed Maxwell Hollister was into haute cuisine, with portions so small she’d have to fill up on parsley. What was all of this?

“Is something wrong?” Maxwell signaled for the young men to stay. “Would you rather have something else prepared?”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all.” She took in the different dishes. “I had a big breakfast.” She gestured to the mound of food. “This looks…delicious.”
And familiar
.

The spread was a replica of Maddie and Reece’s gossip night menu: nachos with the trimmings, chicken wings, lasagna, spicy olives, baguettes served with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and assorted dipping sauces, and no fewer than three types of salads—Caesar, Greek and corkscrew pasta salad, all her favorites. One tray held three bowls of melted chocolate, surrounded by the largest strawberries, kiwi and pineapple slices she’d ever seen.

Apprehension, not hunger, swirled in the pit of her stomach, as if a couple of hummingbirds drunk on tequila had taken up residence there. The feeling intensified when the last tray was placed on the table: chocolate peanut butter pizza topped with roasted marshmallows.

What. The. Hell?

This was beyond odd. There was no way that she and Maxwell Hollister shared the same taste in food. And how would he know that these exact foods were her favorites? At the cocktail party, she’d noticed his chef had prepared some of her favorite desserts, but she’d given him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’d mentioned them in a couple of her articles.

But this?

Carl dismissed the servers and poured her a glass of iced tea. She thanked him, took a sip to wet her parched throat and almost choked when she tasted it. The iced tea tasted
exactly
like her own tea mix—a combination of green, earl gray, mint leaves, cranberry juice and honey.

She hated to admit this, but she was regretting having forbidden Alex from accompanying her. While Maxwell spoke to Carl, she sipped her tea and tried to figure out how she’d quickly and safely escape, if she needed to.

As Carl had led her past the library, she’d noticed a door and window at the far end that overlooked manicured gardens with dolphin shrubs that looked like Chia pets on steroids, and an oval, turquoise-tiled swimming pool. On one side of the pool was a gazillion-dollar view of the ocean and on the other side of the pool was a path. She remembered seeing the shrubs on her walk to the front door, therefore that path probably curved out onto the road at some point.

Carl had escorted her past a conservatory boasting a chandelier with about a thousand crystals on it hanging from the twenty-foot—she’d guessed—ceiling. The sunlight had glistened on the chandelier like jeweled meteors. Okay, that door led outside.

At the cocktail party, she had used the toilet situated down the hall on the left from the dining area. Besides having gold faucets, warmed hand towels and dark green marble floors and counters, there was also a picture window that had a brass crank handle.

Three points of exit noted. Alex would be proud. That is, if she ever saw him again.

Cripes, now I’m channeling Alex with all that Machiavellian paranoia. Okay, focus. I’m a journalist. I’ve met eccentric people in my travels. Yeah, okay, it is a bit freaky that this man would know my favorite foods, but then again, Uncle G. could have told him.

Yeah, that’s it.

She spread a black-linen monogrammed napkin on her knee and perused her last meal.
Okay, stop it. I’m not in any danger. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m not.

“Please. Help yourself,” Maxwell said. “It looks like my new chef overdid it. I asked him to prepare a variety of dishes so you could choose what you’d like today.”

See, an overzealous chef.

Her anxiety disappeared, and they eased into a comfortable conversation about her impression of the island so far, her travels, and her college years. She even managed to taste some of the delicious food, and was surprised that someone like Maxwell Hollister enjoyed nachos with gobs of sour cream and guacamole. Who knew?

She picked up her glass and drained the last of her iced tea. “I’m flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in my work, and that you’ve read so many of my articles—”

“I’ve read all your articles, published essays and your books.”

Maddie managed to stifle a gasp, although, at this point she shouldn’t have been surprised. “Mr. Hollister…”

“Please, Maxwell.”

She placed the napkin on the table and leaned forward. “Okay, Maxwell. I’m going to get right to the point. I know you’re friends with my uncle, and I suspect that
Eye on the World
is getting an exclusive because of that friendship.”

He poured a cup of coffee from the carafe. “Correct. Your uncle and I are old acquaintances.”

She nodded. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I appreciate your hospitality, both the other night at the cocktail party and today…”

He took a sip of his coffee. “But?”

She searched his expression for any signs of annoyance. She didn’t know much about him, but one only had to look at him to appreciate that questioning this man’s motives was probably unwise.

“You’re right, there is a but.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I do question why someone in your position has taken such an interest in me. You obviously went to a lot of trouble to find out what my favorite foods were.”

“No trouble at all.” He smiled. “Your uncle suggested I invite you for lunch. He would do the same if my niece visited Manhattan. George filled me in on your culinary preferences.”

Okay, she’d figured that, and was surprised her uncle even remembered. “Did my uncle also ask you to read my work?”

“That I did on my own. I admit, it’s not my genre, but since you are going to be writing about Makana, and this island is dear to me, I wanted to familiarize myself with your writing style before handing over the exclusive to
Eye on the World
.”

Okay, that made sense. “On behalf of the magazine, thank you. And did my uncle also ask you to set me up with Leslie Brigham?”

He stirred his coffee cup, which was odd, since she noticed he hadn’t added cream or sugar. “I asked Mr. Brigham if he wouldn’t mind taking you out on the town. It is customary in our circle to extend this type of hospitality for visiting friends, relatives and talented writers.” He added a splash of gold liquid from a decanter into his coffee. “I trust he showed you a pleasant evening? Will you be spending more time with him?”

Yeah, that will go over well with Alex.
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but it’s not necessary. As you know, I’m here with Tim Graham and Alex Donovan, and while we are busy working hard and are committed to doing this beautiful island justice, we do find time to socialize together.”

There it was. His lips were a hard, straight line again, but like before, it was as if she’d imagined it.

He took a sip from his coffee cup. “How well do you know Mr. Donovan?”

Biblically, now.
“We’ve been friends for a few years. And since you brought up his name, I’d like to ask you why you haven’t made time to grant him an interview. After all, he is assigned to interview you and write the feature article.”

“You’re a straight shooter. I like and admire that quality. It will take you a long way in the business world.”

“If you like that in me, you’re absolutely going to love Alex.”

She smiled. He didn’t.

Oh what the hell, she was on a roll, might as well go for broke and ask him. “You don’t like Alex, do you?”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. He took his time, drinking the rest of his coffee and replacing the china cup on the saucer. “He reminds me of a reporter I met years ago.” He enunciated the word reporter, the same way one would say terrorist. “A brazen hotshot with a tenuous grip on the truth.”

“I respectfully disagree. I and many others in the industry value and admire his work ethic and integrity tremendously.” She sat back and studied Maxwell for a few beats. “I bet you two have more in common than you realize. You’re both successful men with a passion for your careers.”
And you’re both headstrong and quick to judge each other.

His nostrils flared, but again, it happened so fast, she wasn’t sure if they actually did.

He lifted his cup, as if toasting her. “We can agree to disagree on this one.”

“You don’t like reporters much, and yet, you’ve gone out of your way for me.”

He poured another cup of coffee. “You’re not a reporter, you’re a writer.”

Okay, it was no use arguing semantics with him. But how was Alex ever going to conduct a quality interview with someone who obviously didn’t want to talk to him?

“Madison—”

“Remember our deal?” She winked, hoping to ease the earlier tension. “I’m Maddie, you’re Maxwell.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “Have you ever considered a career in business? Not only are you a straight shooter, you encapsulate a nonarrogant self-assuredness. Combined with that, you are loyal to your friends, and it’s safe to assume that loyalty would extend to your employer. You don’t seem easily intimidated, and even though someone may disagree with you, you don’t back down. That balance is rare for someone so young and in your chosen industry. You have blossomed into a remarkable young woman.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. Of course she was used to a certain amount of praise for her work, but to have someone she barely knew summarize her character this way was a little unnerving
¾
especially since he had said something similar when they had first met.
“You’ve blossomed into a lovely young lady.”

Okay, so the guy was old-school charm.

“Thank you. I did take some business courses in college. But I suspect it takes more than being a straight shooter or knowing the philosophy of supply and demand to succeed as you have in the business world. Besides, to someone like me, whose passion is in the creative arts, going into business would be like having forty gallons of gas without a car to put it in. I wouldn’t be going anywhere too fast.”

“You do have a way with words.”

She poured another glass of iced tea and made an executive decision. Alex was probably not going to like it. Oh well, wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m glad you appreciate that, because I’d like to ask you a favor.”

He leaned forward and tented his hands on the table. “Yes?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions and use my recorder, if I may. With the understanding that your answers will be shared with Alex and it would be up to him whether or not he used them for his article.”

For a moment she thought he was going to say hell, no, but he eased back in his chair, crossed his leg and nodded. “I have no problem with that. With the condition that I am able to refrain from answering certain questions, if I so choose.”

She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Fair enough.” Digging into her purse, she fished out her recorder before he changed his mind. After going through the preliminaries, recording his full name and the date and time, she relaxed. “What do you do to chill out?”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Buying and developing exclusive resorts is my version of
chilling out
. I love to travel and discover hidden gems in the world, such as this island.”

“Retail therapy. Works for me.” She smiled. “What would you recommend young entrepreneurs read?”

“Books that would teach them the science of sales and the art of negotiating, and material that would assist them in gaining a solid understanding of the world’s economic climate and the psychology of people’s needs and desires. These are the keys to developing an effective marketing and sales strategy. I also believe that the best way to learn is to find a mentor, get your hands dirty in the trenches and commit to climbing the ladder with hard work.”

“Did you yourself learn from books or at your father’s knee?”

“All members of the Hollister family have a mind for business. It is something you can learn, but if it is inherent, then the combination is a recipe for great success.”

No wonder Alex loved his job so much. She enjoyed the challenge of devising questions that could give her some serious insight into the complicated man that was Maxwell Hollister. “Do you believe that nature plays a bigger role in one’s success more than nurture?”

“Nurture versus nature?” He paused for a few seconds. “I believe nature plays a larger role than we realize. For example, there have been studies where identical twins separated at birth, raised in completely different environments, have shown striking similarities in terms of life success or failure.” He regarded her with a serious intensity. “What about you? What are your thoughts on this theory?”