Hightower Affairs 2: Bedding the Secret Heiress (8 page)

She flipped through the pages. “The company has an investment portfolio?”

“See which ones you think they should keep and which they should unload.” He returned to his end of the table.

“Gage, if they need liquid cash, why do they have these investments at all? It’s not like the company needs a retirement account. That’s more of a personal thing. Besides, none of these brings in big dividends. In fact, some have lost quite heavily.”

He met her gaze again this time with respect and admiration in his dark eyes instead of dislike and distrust. “Good observation. When you’ve finished that, I’ll give you the notes I’ve made on the project thus far, including a transcript of my initial interview with the CEO. Read over them while I finish up for today, then give me two lists. First, the additional data you’d like to see, and second, options you think the company should consider.”

Surprise made her eyebrows shoot up. That sounded almost like…teamwork. Was it another test? Or did he actually want to hear what she had to say? She couldn’t help but be suspicious. “You want my opinion. Why?”

“You offer a fresh perspective.”

“Right. Like that compares to a trained professional.”

“Lauren, you think outside the box. You’re not constrained by knowledge of what has worked or not worked in similar situations in the past the way a seasoned consultant might be.”

That sounded like a compliment.

“Okay.” She’d give him her opinion and then maybe she could still get some sightseeing done.

But if he kept looking at her that way, as if he might actually enjoy having her here, then there was going to be trouble, because she didn’t want him to like her.

And she absolutely did not want the feeling to be mutual.

He’d underestimated his opponent, Gage admitted as he shoved open the beveled-glass front door of the B and B Saturday evening. “Show me your paper.”

Lauren turned on her low heels. “My economics paper? Why?”

She’d worn her black HAMC uniform skirt and a plain white blouse today. The conservative outfit should have made her look prim and stiff, but at some point during the day she’d twisted her hair up on the back of her head and stuck a pencil in it to hold it in place, resulting in a spiky spray. She looked young and fresh and smart. A sexy brainiac.

Gage rejected the idea, but he couldn’t get rid of the reluctant respect she’d earned from him today. He’d expected her to be deadweight and a real pain in the ass. He had a packed schedule and no time or interest in babysitting, but he’d had no choice except to drag her along if he wanted to keep her from contacting her mother.

He’d given Lauren busywork to keep her out of his way. She’d dug right in without complaint and come up
with several interesting and intelligent observations. She’d ended up saving him time and giving him a perspective he wouldn’t have considered otherwise. They’d actually worked well together, but their truce was an uneasy one.

Esmé entered the foyer carrying two glasses. “You’re just in time. It’s south of the border night. Have a mojito while I put the finishing touches on dinner.”

She pressed tall glasses of iced clear liquid into Gage’s and Lauren’s hands. Green leaves and slices of lime floated near the bottom and white crystals clung to the rim.

“I’ll see you two in the dining room. Dinner’s in twenty minutes.” She headed back to the kitchen, her loose dress floating behind her like curtains blown by a breeze through an open window.

He focused on Lauren who eyed her glass and then him. “I’m not flying you anywhere until Monday, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then I can have this. I love mojitos.” She pursed her lips and sipped. Her eyes closed and her lips curved upward. “Mmm. Mmm. Minty and sweet.”

A crystal clung to her lip. A pass of her tongue wiped it away. He pried his gaze from her mouth and focused on the cold glass sweating in his hand. The sound she’d made had been close enough to a moan to sound almost sexual. An unwanted image of her face flushed, not in the anger he’d deliberately aroused this morning, but in desire filled his brain.

He blinked to clear his head. “I want to see the paper you e-mailed to your teacher.”

She took another sip, watching him with a skeptical gaze from beneath her lashes. “Why? You think I lied about it?”

He’d earned her antagonism. “Not after today. You had a keen grasp on the subject. I’m curious to see how far along you are in your studies.”

“I have fifteen hours of classes left before I get my degree. I can’t go full-time because of work and…well, money.”

Another reminder of what she stood to gain from her association with Jacqueline Hightower. But Lauren had shown she was a stickler for following rules. Would a rule follower stoop to shortcuts and swindling?

“I want to see it,” he repeated.

Lauren stared at him then sighed and shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Maybe after you read it you can tell my half brother I’m not as stupid as he thinks I am.”

“Trent has never called you stupid. And for what it’s worth, I don’t relay everything to him. What’s between you and me is our business unless it directly concerns him.”

Gage carefully filtered out the need-to-know facts. Thus far, there had been very few worth sharing. Trent had enough on his plate, and Gage always carried out his end of a bargain.

“You’re deluded. The Hightower siblings are convinced I’m a greedy lying witch out to cast a spell on their mother and steal their inheritance.”

He didn’t bother to deny her dead-on assessment.

“What they don’t bother to see is that if I’d really wanted to worm my way into Jacqui’s affections or her wallet, I would have moved into the Hightower castle when she invited me. I wouldn’t have found my own place.”

He filed the info away. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t stand the idea of servants hovering around waiting to cook for me or clean up after me as
if I was a child. Besides, I like my space and my independence.” She pivoted and climbed the stairs.

Following her three treads behind, he tried not to focus on her rear end at his eye level. Tried and failed. Lauren was slender, but curved in all the right places. And she had great legs. Long legs. Whenever she’d been lost in thought today she’d crossed those sexy limbs at the knee and kicked her ankle, garnering far too much of his attention. She’d been a distraction. A delicious, delectable distraction.

He huffed out a breath. What in the hell was wrong with him? Acting on the growing attraction between them would bring nothing but trouble. For all he knew she could have been playing him with every shift of her tight little body.

But he didn’t think so. He’d had women in hot pursuit since before he made his first million, and Lauren didn’t give off those predatory signals. In fact, more often than not she acted as if she wished he weren’t around—a novel, but not pleasant sensation.

Trent’s theory was beginning to look shaky. Gage made a mental note to call his buddy to check the status on the missing money. Jacqueline could have simply gone shopping. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dropped bundles of money on a whim before.

He knocked back a swig of his drink. Sweet, cold and refreshing after a long day. A little heavy on the rum. Not his usual Knob Creek bourbon, but not bad. He licked a grain of sugar from his lip. The action reminded him of Lauren doing the same downstairs. His body reacted with a physical kick he couldn’t prevent.

He yanked his thoughts back to the woman in front of him. “This morning you said Trent had been snooping when I mentioned a rich lover.”

Lauren shot a startled look at him over her shoulder as she stopped at her bedroom door. “Excuse me?”

“Do you have a lover waiting for you?” What kind of man would let a woman like her out of sight for months on end?

“I’m not seeing anyone and haven’t for…a while.” She grimaced as if she regretted replying, unlocked her door and after an awkward hesitation stepped inside. “I don’t have a printed copy of my paper. You’ll have to read it on my laptop unless you have a portable printer.”

“Not this trip.” He set his briefcase on the floor by the door and scanned the room. Flowers and ruffles dominated the decor. Not surprising since most of the house looked as if it had been hit by a lace factory explosion. “Boot up.”

She shifted on her feet and nibbled her bottom lip, clearly uncomfortable with him in her room. Then she squared her shoulders, crossed the Aubusson rug and sat at the rolltop desk. She opened her laptop and turned it on. Her room, like his, lacked a spare chair. He’d requested suites with bathrooms attached, but he’d booked at the last minute and both of those had already been taken by honeymoon couples he had yet to see, although he had heard some telltale knocking on the wall last night—presumably a headboard. When his assistant played back his dictation he’d probably wonder what in the hell Gage had been doing.

“What exactly were you looking for at the plant today?”

Lauren’s question drew him back to the present. He sat on the edge of the pillow-laden bed within a yard of her and tried to engage his brain. Work was rarely a top priority when he visited a woman’s bedroom. “Ways to increase efficiency and profitability. Cutting waste is usually the first step.”

“Did you find some? You certainly took a lot of notes.”

“I’m still assimilating data.”

“Ah, yes. Assess, assimilate, communicate and implement,” she quoted his earlier words back at him.

“You paid attention during the car ride to the location.”

“Yep.” Her unexpected smile punched the air from his lungs. “Flying is all about acronyms. All I had to do was make up one to fit your strategy. AACI. Piece of cake. So now what?”

“I’ll take the data I gather back to my office, and my team and I will go over it and brainstorm strategies for improvement.”

“I would have expected you to fly solo.”

She’d read him correctly. “Having a team of specialists allows us to take on more clients.”

More clients meant more revenue. More revenue meant more investments. More investments meant a greater chance of financial security if his business failed. Watching his father’s financial and mental collapse had taught Gage to always have Plans A, B and C ready to implement at a moment’s notice.

Lauren swiveled in her chair to open the file on her computer, revealing the back of her neck and a tiny horseshoe-shaped birthmark just beneath her hairline. Trent had the same one. Gage had noticed it back in college when his buddy had sported a military buzz cut.

Gage couldn’t take his eyes off Lauren’s vulnerable nape. He tugged the pencil from her hair, letting the strands fall and cover temptation. The urge to test the texture of her hair was an unwelcome one.

Her spine went rigid and then relaxed. “Oops. Forgot about that. I stole a pencil. Internal theft—the curse of the corporate world.”

The mischief in her eyes as she looked at him over her shoulder thickened his throat. “Return it tomorrow.”

She lifted her glass, sipped and swallowed, once again drawing his eyes to her mouth the way a Dumpster draws flies.

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Still a workday.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Gage. Today was very interesting and informative. But I haven’t been to San Francisco before, and I’d rather see more of it than the inside of a computer parts plant. My daddy always said take a little piece of everywhere you go home with you even if it’s only in your heart, and I aim to do that.”

If he turned her loose, she’d go back to that damned Internet café. “We’ll work in the morning then sightsee in the afternoon and have dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf tomorrow night. That means we’ll have to work Monday morning, as well, and leave after lunch.”

“We?” Equal parts wariness and excitement warred in her teal eyes.

“I’ve been here a few times. I’ll show you around. But in return, you come to the plant and work with me.”

Silence stretched between them. Her ankle kicked. “Another command appearance?”

“This is more of a personal request. I appreciated your assistance today.”

“I guess that would be all right.” She swiveled back to the computer. “Here’s the document. I’ll get out of your way.”

She made to stand. He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in her seat. The firmness of her muscles surprised him. It shouldn’t have, not with the way she easily controlled her seven-hundred-pound motorcycle or an airplane that weighed several tons. “Don’t move.
I’ll read over your shoulder. That way if I have questions you can see to what I’m referring.”

“O…kay.”

Gage set his drink on the desk, braced one hand on the polished surface and the other on the back of her chair and leaned forward. Her scent wafted up to him, floral, but faint enough he suspected it might be her shampoo rather than perfume. It took several moments for him to be able to focus on the words on the screen. As soon as he did she hooked him with her unique premise.

He reached past her to hit the key to turn the page, his forearm brushing hers. Heat scattered through him, but he disregarded it. Or tried to. Ten pages later, he nodded as he read the closing line.

An even deeper appreciation for her intelligence filled him as he turned his head to meet her gaze. “You’ve argued your theory quite well. Did you come up with the idea or did your professor assign a topic?”

“It’s my idea. I like coffee, and I tend to buy a cup whenever I’m out running my weekly errands. I never have to drive more than a half mile out of my way to get it. But a lot of coffee shops don’t stay in business long.

“In the rush to have a store convenient to every consumer, most franchises allow branches to open up too close together, thereby sabotaging their revenue base and dooming themselves to fail. Even some grocery stores have coffee shops now. The same applies to restaurants and retail chains. The businesses are their own worst enemy.”

She bit her bottom lip as if expecting him to contradict her. But he couldn’t. She was right. Too much of a good thing was never a good thing. But seeing doubt instead of her usual cocky confidence revealed a vul
nerable side she’d been careful to hide from him up to this point.