One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (48 page)

The lawyers opened the meeting, talking for some length about the situation—detailing and spelling out the legal implications that, since the Zeppabanca deal hadn't been completed by the prescribed date, any and all understandings between the parties were no longer binding. The parties were now legally free agents.

It was then Maverick's turn to speak. After highlighting the major points of the project, and the benefits that would flow to each of the three partners, he concluded, ‘Royalty Cove has to go ahead.' He slammed a fist into his hand. ‘This is the premier property development for the Gold Coast for the next decade and beyond. We have an opportunity to undertake the most prestigious and yet environmentally low-impact development ever, and show the rest of Australia and indeed the world how it's done in the process.

‘The only way we can achieve that is if we start with the best team in the business—because Royalty Cove deserves the best. Royalty Cove demands the best. Which is why we need Rogerson Developments on board. Quite simply, nobody builds better properties of the kind we're talking about. But we have to be prepared to move as soon as Zeppabanca is back in business. And we need to be prepared to commit now.'

There was something about his voice, Tegan realised, a confidence in those low tones that pulled you along with him, and that made you listen and believe what he was saying must be right. Even now several others around the table were nodding their agreement. It was no wonder he'd reached the dizzy heights he had in business. But he wasn't getting it all his own way. At the other end of the table she could see Phil Rogerson was still wavering as he peered down the table over his steepled fingers.

‘There's no mistaking the concept has merit,' he began cautiously, and Tegan sensed the man beside her stiffen. ‘And I can feel the passion you have for the project. But, given the Giuseppe Zeppa situation, how can we be sure Zeppabanca will want to continue their part in the deal?'

‘Giuseppe was right behind the project from the start.'

‘But if he has to stand down, or should the worst happen…' Rogerson held up his hands in a shrug and nobody was in doubt as to what that worst might be. ‘What if their next CEO isn't enthusiastic, or wants to reconsider? You have to understand my position. I can't afford to be tied into an uncertainty that locks me out of other opportunities. You were aware I had two other partnership proposals on my desk—well, just this morning I received a third, and this one starts in less than three months. I'll have guaranteed employment for my teams for the next three years.'

‘The Royalty Cove deal will see them busy for at least seven!'

‘But may not go ahead.'

‘It
will
go ahead. And to be the best Royalty Cove needs Rogerson Developments on board. There's no question of that.'

‘And, if it does, then when will it happen?' He sighed. ‘I'm afraid I think I'd need an assurance from Zeppabanca that they're going to be party to this deal.'

‘You know Giuseppe is ill. I can't give you that.'

‘I realise that. So maybe we've all been wasting our time.'

‘Then I will give you my personal guarantee!'

Every head swung around in surprise.

‘What do you mean?' Rogerson asked, his eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Your “personal guarantee”?'

All eyes turned to Maverick for the answer to the question on everyone's lips.

‘Simply this. That if concerns about your teams lying idle for any time are stopping you from committing to Royalty Cove, then I'll take that concern right away. I'll cover your teams for any losses they make or any delays while we wait for news on Zeppabanca. You won't be out of pocket, and more importantly they won't be out of a job. Nobody will lose.'

Tegan watched the interplay between the two men, both of them successful, both of them leaders, and yet one risk averse, the other a risk taker. Now Maverick was not merely putting his support behind the project, he was backing it with cold, hard cash, and plenty of it.

Rogerson finally arched one heavily forested eyebrow and grunted, and with that gesture Tegan instantly felt herself transported back to the refugee camp in Somalia, tending a line of women and children waiting to see the visiting
Médecin Sans Frontières
team. And at the head of the queue, sitting on a camp stool while he tended a crying baby, while its hollow-eyed mother watched on hopelessly, had been a late-thirties man with wild hair and bushy eyebrows who'd made the kids laugh when he'd cocked one up high and then waggled them. Everyone had simply referred to him as Dr Sam, but his surname had been Rogerson, she was sure. And the resemblance was all too suddenly unmistakeable.

‘I think we should break for coffee and consider this latest development,' Rogerson went on to say. He looked at his watch. ‘Fifteen-minute break, everyone.'

Pots of filtered coffee and jugs of orange juice appeared on a side table, along with plates of cookies and tiny sandwiches.

Several of the legal team came to talk to Maverick, and Tegan noticed Rogerson being similarly besieged at the other end of the table. She eased away to pour Maverick a coffee and grab herself a juice, wondering if she'd get the chance to talk to Phil at all and ask him about the connection when in fact it was Phil who found her.

‘Finding everything okay?'

She turned in surprise to see him helping himself to a plate of sandwiches, a smile softening his wrinkled face, and she wondered why it had taken her so long to work out the connection. ‘Yes, thanks. I'm surprised you got away from the throng surrounding you.'

He chortled. ‘It's the quick or the dead in this business. I must say, that boss of yours is a very persuasive man.'

Tegan nodded, reminded of that kiss outside the lift, knowing how close she'd come to being swept completely away. Oh, yes,
she knew how persuasive he could be
. She suppressed a shiver at the memory and dragged her attention back to the business at hand. ‘Maverick is passionate about the project, and wanting it to be the best it can be. That's why he wants you on board.'

He shrugged with a nod and took a mouthful of sandwich, and Tegan was once more reminded of Sam. ‘You know,' she ventured, ‘I hope you don't mind my asking this, but you look so much like someone I know. You're not related to Sam Rogerson, by any chance, are you?'

Phil straightened and his blue eyes sparkled. ‘You're a refreshing thing. With that lead up, I was half expecting you to ask me what I thought of Maverick's offer. But yes, my second son is called Sam. He's a doctor with
Médecin Sans Frontières
.'

‘I knew it! Sam's a wonderful man and a great doctor, just a natural with the children. The people love it when he visits. You must be very proud of him and the work he's doing.'

‘Good God, girl! Don't tell me you've been out to some of those godforsaken places he works in?'

‘Oh,' she said, bringing herself up as she remembered who she was supposed to be. Morgan had never been to Africa, let alone anywhere near a refugee camp. ‘Actually no, not exactly, but I've heard all about him. My sister was with GlobalAid and got to work closely in the refugee camps with him. She was always telling me how wonderful he is, with the kids especially.'

‘Well, you know, that's just so good to hear. Because he's a hopeless correspondent. We might hear from him once or twice a year. Drives Doris and me batty. We never know what he's up to.'

‘Then, if it's any consolation, he's doing really well,' she said. ‘I know my sister saw him a month ago just before she left the country, and she said he was looking great and loving the work but still missing home and family all the same—especially as it gets closer to Christmas time again.' In fact Sam had been the doctor who'd agreed to her discharge. They'd had a long chat about the Gold Coast and how he envied her going home.

Phil looked at her for a while, shaking his head slowly, his expression contemplative. Then he sighed. ‘I don't know what to say. That's wonderful to hear. Just wonderful. And your sister told you all this, you say?'

Tegan threw up a silent prayer for forgiveness. She didn't mean to lie, but what else could she do? ‘She just came home after three years away. It all just spilled out. Everything about her life there, and everyone she met. She loved it all.'

‘Well, I don't think I have to tell you that you've made my day,' he said. ‘Doris will be so happy to hear the news. She worries, you understand, as do I. It's the risk, you see. We don't know what he's going through. And naturally we fear for what might happen to him.'

Tegan nodded, understanding only too well. When she'd come home, Morgan had threatened her life and limb if she ever thought about going away and leaving her again. It was hard on family, she knew. ‘Not knowing is the worst,' she agreed. ‘But, if it helps at all, I know that the way my sister and a lot of her colleagues rationalise it—they understand there are risks, and do their very best to minimise them, but at the same time they also believe that there are simply times you have to step outside your comfort zone and take a risk if you want to make a difference in this world.'

He seemed to consider her words for a moment before placing one hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. ‘Wise words, young lady. Very wise words indeed.' Then he fished a card out from his wallet and handed it to her. ‘This has my personal details on it. Call me when your sister's free and we'll arrange a time she can come and talk to us about life in the refugee camps—and what our son's been up to. And thank you again, I can't tell you how thrilled Doris is going to be when I tell her. Now, you better drink your coffee. It'll be getting cold.'

Oh hell, she realised, not her coffee.
Maverick's coffee.
And it was stone cold.

What the blazes was she doing up there? Maverick scowled through the cloud of legalese going on around him and watched. And what the hell could they be talking about that made her smile like that? She'd certainly never flashed a smile like that in his direction.

Then he saw Rogerson reach out an arm and drop it on her shoulder, and his blood pressure spiked. When he saw Rogerson hand her something, his hackles went up twofold.

‘Maverick, did you want to add something?'

He looked around to the expectant face of his senior legal counsel, and realised he'd given voice to the growl that had rumbled through him.

‘No. Carry on,' he assured them, surprised at the extent of his reaction. It's just the deal, he told himself. If she'd done or had said
anything
that threatened this deal and Rogerson's acceptance of his guarantee then she'd pay. And given the strange mood she'd been in lately…

His coffee appeared before him—
finally
. He looked up to acknowledge its receipt, but her features betrayed no trace of the friendly familiarity he'd seen her sharing with Rogerson just a minute or so ago. Instead it was like she'd pulled down shutters over her face, banishing her smile and removing all trace of interest from those changeable hazel eyes.

Damn!

‘Right,' announced Rogerson at the other end of the table. ‘I see no point wasting everyone's time any longer. In fact, I think we can safely bring this meeting to a conclusion. Maverick, what say you?'

Maverick's gut roiled as he threw a damning look in his PA's direction. What the hell had she said to him? Whatever it was, she'd pay for it.

He pushed his coffee away untouched. Right now he was unable to drink anything. ‘I say,' he managed at last, battling to keep the churning going on inside him out of his voice. ‘That all depends on what you have in mind.'

‘Well, I've given your proposal some thought, and I've made my decision. I'm not going to accept your personal guarantee.'

S
OMETHING
inside Maverick snapped, cutting his heartbeat short and leaving only one thought in his mind.

Morgan was dead meat.

This project had been years in the making, years in the putting together, and now when they'd been so close it was all falling apart. And she'd said something to Rogerson during that break, something that had made up his mind.

‘I see.' The words felt like they'd been ripped from him.

‘I'd be surprised if you do,' Phil continued. ‘Because the reason I don't want your personal guarantee is because I don't think I need it.'

Maverick's heart tripped back to life with the shock. But that would mean…

‘So, you're going to commit to Royalty Cove without the guarantee?'

‘Absolutely. Anyone who not only talks like a visionary but who is prepared to put their money where their mouth is has to be someone I can put my faith in. Besides, there are some things in life more important than a guaranteed return.' He paused and winked in Tegan's direction. ‘Sometimes it's worth stepping out of one's comfort zone and taking a risk.'

‘So what happened back there?' Maverick had been brooding a good ten minutes as he drove from Rogerson's offices.

‘What do you mean? You got your deal stitched up, didn't you? At least the Rogerson end of it.'

‘That's not what I meant,' he growled, as he swooped around a line of slower vehicles. ‘What happened between you and Rogerson? Something was obviously going on—the hand on the shoulder, the wink across the room. What was that all about?'

He took his eyes off the road long enough to see the start of a wry smile. ‘Why, Maverick,' she teased. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous.'

He flashed her a look that would peel paint, and hoped she'd feel the blowtorch he'd put behind it. Because he could sure feel the glare she was directing his way in return. ‘Rogerson's old enough to be your grandfather.'

‘So? I liked him. I thought he was genuine and warm, not just another self-aggrandising multi-millionaire out for what he can get.'

Maverick burned. Is that what she thought of him? Is that why she didn't smile at him? But she was wrong. He wasn't jealous—he was livid. ‘What did you say to him?'

Out of his peripheral vision he caught her shrug. ‘Phil Rogerson has a son called Sam, a doctor working with
Médecin Sans Frontières
.'

‘And?'

‘And I…And
my sister
worked with him from time to time. We were just talking about that.'

‘You have a sister?'

‘Just the one.'

‘Who works in refugee camps?'

‘She works for GlobalAid. Or she did. She just finished up a short time ago.'

‘You never told me you had a sister.'

‘Maybe you never asked.'

And he never had. He'd never been interested. Not until now. Somehow the topic of Morgan and everything about her—what she did when she went home at night, who she saw—seemed suddenly fascinating.

‘So it was your sister who worked with this—what did you call him—Sam Rogerson?'

‘That's right.'

‘Then how did you know about him?'

Beside him she shifted, and a brief glance revealed she'd turned her attentions out the window.

‘She told me.'

‘And how did you know Phil was his father?'

She snapped her head around. ‘Look, is all this going somewhere?'

He glanced at her, surprised but not entirely disappointed by her outburst. It was much too fascinating. ‘You tell me.'

‘No, I didn't know, okay? I guessed, and I got lucky. He and his wife hadn't heard from him for a long time, so he was pleased when I told them my sister had seen him just a month ago.'

He steered the car into the underground car park and brought it to a halt, but made no move to exit the car.

‘Morgan,' he said when she reached for the handle.

She turned around to face him. ‘Yes?'

He slung one arm around the back of her seat and leant over towards her, not missing that she shrank back towards the door like she was afraid he was going to pounce on her.

Then again, maybe he was.

The idea had appeal, especially if it would be to continue where they'd left off last night. All night he'd thought about that kiss, where it could have gone—where it
would
have gone—if only she hadn't bolted like the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

‘Did you want something?' she prompted, her hand still on the door handle. Her eyes were suspicious, and her colour was up. Even her breathing was coming too rapid, like she was preparing for battle.

Or something else.

Was she remembering that kiss too? Was she feeling this pull, like it wasn't over, that they still had unfinished business?

‘Your sister saw Rogerson's son a month ago. It was remarkable she told you that.'

‘Look! What is your problem? I expected you to be happy after that meeting. Didn't you just get what you wanted?'

What he wanted?
What he wanted?
He wasn't sure
what
he wanted lately. Other than right now wanting to kiss his sultry secretary senseless.

But she'd already released the catch and was halfway out.

‘Morgan!'

He was out of the car and after her as she made for the lift, her fingers jabbing at the call button like she was clamouring for emergency services.

‘Why are you so defensive about this? It
was
nothing short of remarkable,' he said as she stared at the closed lift doors, her chest rising and falling like she'd just run a hundred metres. ‘Just as it was nothing short of fortuitous.'

This time she swung her head around, her eyes large and luminous in their surprise. ‘Fortuitous?'

She was so sick of his questions, so sick of the constant probing. She knew it was only a matter of time before he caught her out on a lie, a lie that would bring this whole sordid deception tumbling down around her. But he was now saying it was fortuitous. ‘I thought you were angry with me.'

‘I thought I was too,' he said. ‘Because I couldn't work out what you'd done to bring Rogerson around.'

She shook her head, but whether it was to argue with his words, or more as a protest against his menacing proximity, she wasn't sure. He was too close, like a dark presence bearing down upon her, focusing on her so intently it was difficult to breathe. Difficult to think.

It had been easier when he'd been antagonistic, easier when he'd been distant, and a dark fury like a storm cloud had hung over him.

The lift arrived and she fled into the relative sanctuary. A sanctuary that became a prison cell when she turned and realised she was now trapped in a metal box with the very man from whom she'd been trying to escape.

He inserted a card key and pushed a button that would take them uninterrupted to his penthouse office, but then, instead of staying by her side like she was hoping, he turned so his back was to the doors. She flattened herself hard against the wall of the lift, feeling the hand rail pressing into the small of her back.

‘Don't you see,' he said, moving even closer, planting a hand on the wall beside her head when the lift jerked into motion, ‘that if your sister hadn't told you that she'd seen Sam, and if you hadn't thought to mention it today, then Rogerson's response might have been a very different one? He went into this meeting shaky about committing, but something you said made the difference. What did you tell him?'

He was too close. Way too close, so she could feel his heat curling into hers; way too close, so she could study the individual whiskers that made a shadow in the cleft of his chin. And if she could feel his scent wrap around her like a silken ribbon and tug her even closer then he was so close it was damn near fatal. She battled for control of her tongue, felt even that shred of control slipping dangerously away.

‘I don't know,' she managed at last. ‘Phil was saying he worried about his son taking risks in difficult circumstances, and I just told him that sometimes it's worthwhile taking risks if you want to make a difference.'

His eyes glinted in the light and the corners of his mouth turned up. ‘Oh, bravo,' he uttered, a low rumbling whisper that turned her scattered thoughts and her bones to jelly. ‘I gave a long speech about what the project meant for the world and our respective businesses. But somehow you managed to encapsulate what the project meant on a personal basis, for the one man who could've put paid to the entire agreement. But who didn't.'

He reached his free hand out and she flinched, pushing herself back even farther against the cold half-mirrored wall behind her, the hand rail pressing deeper into her spine. But his touch was gentle, little more than mere fingertips against the line of her cheek and jaw.

So why was it enough to set her flesh aflame? Why did it set her breasts to aching—
yearning
—fullness?

Her teeth grappled with her bottom lip. The last time they'd been so close it had ended badly. But then she'd imagined he was interested in Morgan. Her sister had soon put paid to that. Which could only mean that for whatever crazy, nonsensical reason he was interested in her—
Tegan
!

And how was she supposed to fight that?

But then, why
should
she?

Because Morgan is coming back
, a tiny remaining shred of sanity in Tegan's head insisted.
And it's Morgan who'll have to live with any consequences.

‘Maverick…' she pleaded.

He tilted his head, his eyes firmly focused on her mouth. ‘I should thank you,' he muttered. ‘You saved the deal. I should find some way to repay you.'

‘There's no need,' she said too quickly, looking to the side, thinking she could just slip along the back wall of the lift and get some breathing space.

His free hand landed in front of her face, cutting off her escape, imprisoning her in the cage of his arms and drawing her closer with the vacuum of his heat. ‘I could at the very least say thank you.'

She turned to look at him, and immediately wished she hadn't. Brooding magnetism and ‘angel of doom' qualities stared back at her.
And she knew she was doomed.

‘So say it,' she whispered breathlessly, recognising a stab of disappointment that all this build-up could lead to nothing more than a gravelly thank you, but wanting nothing more than to end this loaded anticipation if it was to lead nowhere. Logically there was nowhere for it to go.

He lifted one hand from the wall to curl one finger under her chin, angling her head higher. ‘But mere thanks hardly seems enough for what you've done.'

Blood rushed loud in her ears, a sensual thumping that slowed her thoughts and reactions, and threatened to swamp logic entirely.

And meanwhile the lift slid inexorably skywards, up to where the air was thinner. Already she was feeling the effects—the dizziness, the congealed thought processes.
It had to be the altitude.

‘Then…' she ventured uncertainly, wishing for an end to the suspense—to the anticipation. ‘Then, what?'

His face was like a mask, all stillness, its harsh angles and planes held together by a dark, brooding magnetism that screamed control but looked set to snap. Only his eyes betrayed the turmoil going on inside—dark and filled with heat and burning with desire—desire for
her
. It was all she could do not to launch herself into their molten depths.

He dropped his elbows to the lift wall, framing her face with his forearms, his face hovering just above hers, his warm breath mingling with hers. Her breasts pressed into his chest, the slightest movement setting up a delicious friction that charged them to an aching tautness, turning her already tight nipples bullet-hard.

‘Then…
this.
'

His lips met hers—not so much a kiss as a caress. She melted into him on a sigh. A sigh of relief. A sigh of homecoming.

And it was exactly like coming home. It was like finding your way back to somewhere special and knowing you never wanted to leave again.

If he'd been rougher, if he'd been forceful, she might have found cause to resist—but as it was he moved his mouth so gently; so warmly did he share this meeting of lips that there was nothing to endure, nothing to resist. Only to welcome. His tongue traced the line of her teeth, invited hers into the dance, and she trembled into his mouth. Instinctively she reached out her hands, needing to find purchase on something solid lest her knees give way and her legs buckle beneath her.