Lost in Love (2 page)

“Lady Portia Summerhill,” she corrected, thinking of what her mother said. Staying where she was, she looked up at him as though he were a vassal. “You were so enthused to see me at first. What could you have thought I’d come in here for?”

“I thought you were here to offer some of your families artifacts for our private collection now that your father has passed.”

“I’m certainly not interested in giving you anything since you aren’t even considering my application for employment.”

Wexler’s eyes narrowed as he retook his seat. “Are you implying you might bring some of the Summerhill collection here should I hire you?”

He looked like a shrewd rodent. She had the urge to throw a shoe at him. “Yes,” she said firmly, as though it were her idea all along instead of her flying by the seat of her pants. “But only if you hire me as the Summerhill collection’s permanent curator.”

The man licked his lips slowly. “I’d expect some rarities.”

“Of course.” The South Street mansion was full of old pieces—the odd Rembrandt and Chippendale furniture that no one had ever sat on. It wouldn’t be a hardship to pull together a cohesive exhibit. In fact, the idea excited her. She began making a mental list of all the things she could bring with her, like—

“I want the Summerhill tiara,” the museum director said.

Portia blinked. “Excuse me?”

Greed made Wexler’s nose twitch. “The Summerhill tiara, or no curator position for you.”

Catherine’s tiara, as Portia always thought of it. It’d been given to her by Prussia’s king—after an illicit dance in the dark gardens during a soiree in his honor. The tiara was infamous. It was said the Queen Consort of England, Caroline of Ansbach, had turned green whenever Catherine wore it, which was as often as pleased her.

No one had worn the tiara in ages—it was too ostentatious. No one would care if it were bequeathed to the museum, and it was fitting that she had to produce a small part of Catherine to get the job.

Only the tiara was at Suncrest Park, and Suncrest Park and all its contents had been sold.

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Wexler said.

“No, it’s not,” she murmured. Just impossible.

He stood up. “Include the tiara and you’re hired.”

She stood as well. “And if my family doesn’t agree to parting with the tiara?”

The director shrugged. “Then I’m sure there are other museums who’ll entertain taking you as a curator.”

There weren’t, and based on his tone he didn’t believe that either.

She lifted her chin. “I’ll let you know what we decide.”

“You do that.”

The weasel. Straightening the glasses on her nose, she nodded as she left, feeling panic claw at her. How would she get the job when she didn’t have the tiara?

Chapter Two

Jackson Waite hunched over his open laptop, furtively reading the document he shouldn’t have had open at the office, even though he was CEO and in charge and could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But then his office door opened and, with practiced ease, he cleared the desktop and hid the document. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Andrew Quinn, the VP of Waite Hotel Group and the only person who’d barge in unannounced.

Quinn’s head was lowered over an open portfolio. He adjusted his glasses as he flipped through some pages. “I have some contracts for you to sign.”

“Of course you do.” Jack was a glorified figurehead. Quinn was the one who ran things in the company, and everyone knew it—especially Quinn, who secretly wanted to be sitting right where Jackson was.

Quinn looked the part of a successful hotelier, too: tailored suit, polished shoes, expensive watch. His buttoned-up exterior hid an edge that made him shark-like in business. Even his voice was crisp. Sometimes Jack played up his Texan drawl, just to contrast with his starched second.

Anyone else in Quinn’s shoes would have offed Jack, but Quinn had too much integrity and patience. Or maybe the man supposed Jack would get tired of playing Monopoly and go away.

Jack wished
he
could go away. He hated “working” here.

Leaning back, he rubbed his hands on his jeans and propped his well-loved cowboy boots next to the papers Quinn had neatly stacked on his desk. “Do I need to read them?”

“No. One set is the business projections I made for the year. There are a couple leases and a new benefits package for the employees you need to sign off on. There’s also a report on the new European luxury resorts for the board.” Quinn held out a pen. “I’ve gone through everything. I just need your okay.”

“At least you didn’t tell me not to worry my pretty head about it,” he said as he took the pages.

“Your head’s not pretty.”

“Ouch.”

Quinn shrugged. “Don’t go fishing if you don’t have the right bait. And if you’re going to look at porn at work, try to be discreet about it. Jenny could have been the one who walked in.”

The assistant they shared never entered his office if she could help it. Besides, she had enough on her plate answering to Quinn to give Jack much attention.

And he wasn’t looking at porn—it was the prospectus for a business venture he was speculating on. He knew Quinn thought he was a slacker—hell, Jack encouraged that illusion. The more Quinn took over, the easier it’d be for Jack to leave. By his estimation, he should be able to phase out by the end of the year.

Then he could focus on building his own venture firm. Dabbling, like he’d been doing, wasn’t cutting it. To be successful in the risky ventures he preferred, he needed to be all in, and he couldn’t be all in with half his energy pulled away by the hotel group.

Jack didn’t bother to scan Quinn’s document before he signed. “If you were an evil genius, this would be my letter of resignation and a mandate to make you CEO.”

“That would make life easier for everyone, wouldn’t it?”

Would it ever. Everyone would have what they wanted, except his dad, who only wanted Jack to care as much about the business as he always had.

The office door opened again, slamming this time as his dad walked in.

“Speak of the devil,” Jack murmured. His dad sure had impeccable timing.

“You’re pissing away my retirement money, boy,” Hiram Waite bellowed.

His mother Laura walked in calmly after him. “Don’t shout, my love. Your blood pressure will spike.”

“To hell with my blood pressure.” Hiram gestured violently, a paper flapping in his hand. “Why is the European group lagging?”

“This is a surprise,” Jack said lazily even though his gut clenched. He stood and kissed his mom on her cheek. “I didn’t know y’all were in Dallas.”

“Your father brought me to town to take me to the theater.” She glanced at her husband. “Or so the story went.”

Hiram had the grace to look abashed. “I’m taking you to the theater, damn it, but I can also check on my only offspring and ask him what the hell he’s doing to the European group, because—”

“It’s lagging,” Jack finished for his dad. He looked at Quinn.

“There’s been some delay on those properties, sir,” Quinn said without missing a beat. “Jackson just approved the amended plan for their launches, and we were going to go over it this afternoon at the board meeting.”

“We never had delays when I ran things,” Hiram accused with a glare.

Jack tilted back in his seat and eyed the old man dead on. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you never opened any hotels in Europe when you were in charge.”

Groaning, Laura covered her eyes.

His dad reacted exactly the way Jack thought he would. His face flushed and he pointed a finger at him. “Don’t sass me, boy.”

“Hiram, sit.” Laura gave Jack a disapproving look. “Really, Jackson, was that necessary?”

It really was, but he wasn’t going to say that to his mother. Hiram had been forced into retirement after his second heart attack, and he hated every moment of it. The only way he worked out his frustration was by picking fights. Unfortunately, they were always with Jack. But his dad didn’t have any other outlet, so Jack was happy to be the whipping boy, especially if it kept him healthy and feeling vital.

Quinn cleared his throat again. “Jackson and I were just discussing what needed to be done about the English and French properties.”

Hiram crossed his arms. “You need to go there, that’s what you need to do.”

“Quinn was just saying he’s headed over to Europe,” Jack said smoothly.

“Was I?” his VP muttered.

“Yes. Remember? I just cleared it.”

“That’s excellent,” Hiram boomed. “With both of you there, it’ll be sure to get back on track.”

Jack sat up. “I’m not going, Dad.”

“The hell you aren’t.”

“Hiram,” Laura chided, sitting on a chair that Quinn pulled forward for her.

“The heck you aren’t,” his dad amended, increasing his volume to make up for the language’s lack of potency. “You’re going to London, Jackson. I need your eyes there to make sure the Suncrest property is done up properly.”

He couldn’t go to Europe now. He was flying out to New Mexico to check out the water purification plant. “Dad, now’s not a good time for me to go. Besides, Quinn is more than equipped to handle it.”

“Your name is the one on the letterhead,” his dad yelled. “You’re going, and that’s it.”

As he opened his mouth to tell his dad what he could do with his ultimatums, his mom gave him a silencing look. Then she said sweetly, “Hiram, I’d like a moment with our son.”

“But—”

Laura leveled him with a look that put the “steel” into steel magnolia. “Hiram, leave us.”

His dad grumbled but left. Quinn followed discreetly after, humor in his eyes even though his face was a mask of politeness.

His mother waited until the door was closed before she turned to him. “Jackson, I’m worried about your father.”

He stilled. The last time a conversation started out this way he’d ended up an indentured servant to his dad’s corporation—and he still wasn’t free. “Isn’t he eating his fiber?”

“This isn’t funny, Jackson. You know his health is poor.”

“Yes, I know.” It was the reason he was sitting here instead of doing his own thing. Not that he resented it.

Okay—maybe he resented it a little.

The thing was, while he inherited the business gene from his dad, he didn’t love the hotel business. He preferred cutting-edge technologies and ventures. Like the water purifying system he was reviewing now, that had the potential to change the world.

But just out of college he’d promised his mom he’d step in and help his dad run the family business, to take some of the burden off him. Jack figured it’d been fine—he could build his own venture firm on the side until his dad found someone else to take over.

That was twelve years ago.

“Hiram’s doctor said his blood pressure was up again, which isn’t a surprise given how he’s concerned about the new luxury resorts in Europe. They’re his babies. He always dreamed about opening them.”

Jack looked down at the reports Quinn had set on his desk. “They aren’t that far behind schedule.”

“Jackson Waite, are you really going to lie to your momma?”

He sighed. “We budgeted extra in for the expected delays. But before you protest, I’ll take a look and see what we can do to set his mind at ease.”

“You’ll go to England and see about the Suncrest property, is what you’ll do.” His mother stood. “It’s the only thing that’ll set his mind at ease. You don’t want him to have another heart attack, do you?”

Wincing, he stood, too. “Of course I don’t.”

“Well then.” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing.”

“I haven’t said I’ll do anything yet.”

“No, but I know you. You’re a good man, Jackson.” She patted his cheek and left him alone.

He stared after her. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Napoleon was reincarnated in her.

Quinn strode back in and closed the door. “Mrs. Waite says you’re headed to London.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Your mother thinks otherwise.” Quinn sat in a chair and crossed his legs.

“I have things to do here.”

“I bet they have cellular service and Wi-Fi in London. You can still make your 1-900 calls from there.”

“Don’t make me regret promoting you.”

The corner of Quinn’s mouth quirked—his version of a full-on smile. The man was stoic, but damn, he had an excellent business mind.

“Look at it this way,” Quinn said. “If we go to London and check on things, your father will get off your back. Stay here and he’ll continue to pester you.”

“I don’t understand why you going isn’t enough,” he grumbled.

“You’re his heir. I’m just an employee.”

Jack gave the man a bold look. “You’re a helluva lot more than an employee.”

Quinn shrugged. “Fact of the matter is Mr. Waite isn’t going to rest easy unless you tell him everything is under control. And he won’t believe a report unless you see it with your own eyes.”

“Damn it, I hate when you’re right.”

“Then I won’t point out that I usually am.”

“And I won’t say the unflattering term I just called you in my head.”

Quinn adjusted his glasses. “This trip won’t be difficult. We’ll fly over, you’ll take a look around, and that’ll be that. I’ll handle the details like I always do, and you can focus on your water deal.”

Jack stilled. “You know about that?”

Quinn raised his brow.

“Right.” Of course Quinn knew. Quinn made it his business to know everything.

The man stood. “Meredith is already in London overseeing the renovations and decor.”

“Great.” Jack groaned. The last thing he wanted was to spend time with his ex-fiancée. Not that their split had been bad. In fact, she’d been the one to break it off, and they were still friendly, which was nice since she worked for Waite Hotel Group. But his parents liked her—a lot. Especially Hiram, who wasn’t shy about pushing for a reconciliation.

“Look at it this way,” Quinn said. “At least you’ll be a few thousand miles from your parents.”

Jack pursed his lips. “Excellent point.”

Chapter Three