The Real Deal (2 page)

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Authors: Lucy Monroe

BOOK: The Real Deal
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Chapter 1
W
ith an accuracy born of years of practice, Simon brought the
katana
down in a precise arc that left the silk scarf hanging in two even sections from the hooks in the ceiling. Moving into the next position, he swung the Korean sword in a horizontal path that sent two scraps of red silk fluttering to the floor.
Pushing his muscles to the burning point, he worked through his form three times and completed an entire set of stretching exercises before taking care of his
katana
and hanging it back on the wall of his private gym. A few swipes with a small towel took care of the wet sheen of sweat on his chest and arms.
He crossed the room and turned out the lights, leaving as the only source of light the moon's rays filtering in through the windows that made up one wall of his gym. Returning to the center of the room, he sank to a cross-legged position on the floor mat. The dark waters of the Puget Sound glimmered, their cold depths calling to the chill in his soul as they always did.
He'd built his home on an island, less than an hour's ferry journey from the mainland and only two hours from Seattle. The perfect location for a man who liked his privacy, it was also easy access to the technology resources he needed for his research.
The entire computer industry was racing to see who could develop a usable prototype of a fiber-optic processor, and he was determined to be the first. It was that need that had sent him in here looking for clarity of mind and an easing of the physical tension that always accompanied his deep immersion in a project.
He hadn't found it. His mind, usually so clear after a workout, spun from one thought to another.
For some reason, instead of focusing on the results of his most recent experiments, old memories demanded his attention tonight. Memories he would have been happy to bury into oblivion, five-year-old memories that had no place in his life today.
He could see Elaine's face, the beautiful features taut with stress, her eyes glistening with tears as she said good-bye. “You've got to understand, Simon. You live in the shadows. I want to live in the light. Eric likes being around people. You're always looking for excuses to avoid them. You want to spend all your time in that stupid lab of yours. A woman can't live like that.”
He remembered each word verbatim.
A woman can't live like that
.
At the time, he had wanted to believe she was wrong, that she'd been making excuses for her own choices. But five years on, he had to concede she was probably right.
After Elaine, he hadn't had a relationship that lasted long enough for him to even start considering marriage. His infrequent girlfriends invariably bailed after the novelty of the sex wore off. He was too intense. Insensitive to their needs. Too wrapped up in his designs and experiments. Too cold. Too uncommunicative.
Some had even decided after having sex, that he was just too big. He wasn't a monster, but damn it, he couldn't help the fact he was not average.
He wanted marriage. A family. A life like the one he had known so long ago before his mother's death, one that had warmth and companionship. Hell if he knew how to go about procuring one, though. He didn't know how to turn down the intensity. He could no more give up his computer experiments than he could will his sex to stay at half-mast during intercourse.
His current project fascinated and challenged him in a way that nothing, particularly no woman, had since he was six years old and programmed his first robot. So, why was he letting old memories taunt him?
But he knew. Eric's ecstatic voice over the phone. Elaine was pregnant with their second child. He was hoping for a girl this time. Simon wasn't jealous of his cousin's relationship with Elaine. He had accepted a long time ago that they made a more natural couple than he and Elaine had ever done.
The fact that their relationship had never progressed to the bedroom should have clued him in long before Elaine's big good-bye scene. But part of his problem, he freely admitted, was a certain amount of cluelessness where women were concerned.
Simon counted Elaine as both family and friend now, just the same as Eric. He made himself a frequent visitor to their home so he could spend time with them and their little boy. The kid called him Uncle Simon and he liked it. It made him feel like he belonged to someone.
But none of that changed the velocity of the lonely winds that howled through his soul as he contemplated a bleak future.
He picked up one of the pieces of red silk that had landed near where he sat. It was soft against his skin, but so light it weighed almost nothing. If he closed his eyes, it would be like it wasn't even there.
Just like him.
Sometimes he thought if he closed his eyes long enough, he would cease to exist, fading into the cold mists that often surrounded his home.
 
 
Amanda mentally went over the game plan for her upcoming meeting with the president of Brant Computers as the elevator made its ascent.
She could barely believe her luck. When she had put the proposal for a friendly merger before the Executive Management Team at Extant Corporation, she hadn't been sure they'd go for it. She'd been almost positive if they did pursue her plan, they would choose someone higher in the management hierarchy to negotiate terms.
That hadn't happened. She'd been chosen over several colleagues to make the initial approach to Eric Brant. He had been receptive and the Executive Management Team had appointed her point man for negotiations.
Her boss had wanted her to take a team with her, but she had convinced him the rapport she had established with Eric could be undermined if other negotiators were introduced at this juncture. Daniel had acceded to her arguments, allowing her to make the trip to Port Mulqueen, Washington, to talk to the president of Brant Computers alone.
Her relief had been enormous since a representative from the company's law firm had been one of the suggested team members. It was inevitable that she have business dealings with her ex-husband given that his firm handled all of Extant's legal issues, but the last thing she wanted was for her first really big break with her company to depend on Lance Rogers's cooperation.
So far, negotiations had gone very well indeed.
She watched the buttons light up as the elevator went past one floor after another without stopping to pick up further passengers. She willed each little circle to lighten and darken without the elevator stopping. She didn't want any delays in her meeting with Eric Brant today, not even small ones.
She wasn't nervous, not exactly. Just impatient. It was a honey of a deal. She couldn't imagine Brant's board of directors not going for it. Not once she'd gotten buy-in from the company president and that's what she was here for. After his encouraging reaction to her first proposal, she wasn't expecting a lot of resistance.
When the deal closed, she'd be one step closer to that position on the Executive Management Team she coveted. At twenty-six, she was the youngest female junior executive in the firm. Her goal was to be the youngest executive, male or female, and she was two years into a five-year plan to make that happen. Her plan would get a major boost when she successfully negotiated the merger with Brant Computers.
A smile of professional satisfaction hovered on her lips as the elevator doors slid open. She adjusted the strap of her purse over the shoulder of her ultraprofessional, favorite red blazer and tightened her grip on her briefcase before stepping out of the elevator. Taking a cleansing breath, she walked toward the semicircular desk in the center of the large reception area. Her two-inch heels made whisper soft noises on the carpet that seemed to fit with the soft music playing in the background and the almost silent clicking of the receptionist's keyboard as she worked at her computer.
Amanda stopped in front of the desk and a blonde of indeterminate age turned to greet her. “Ms. Zachary?”
“Yes.” Amanda smiled.
“I'll just call Mr. Brant's executive assistant and let her know you're here.”
The receptionist picked up the phone, dialed a number and spoke into the mouthpiece attached to her headset. As she listened to what was being said, her gaze flitted to Amanda and then back to her computer screen. “All right. I'll tell her.”
She hung up the phone. “Mr. Brant's earlier meeting has run over. If you would like to take a seat, his executive assistant will come for you when he's finished.”
Amanda acquiesced with carefully concealed impatience, seating herself in an armchair on the wall opposite the elevator. She ignored the magazines laid out in an attractively arranged pile, in order to spend her time waiting in thought.
What was going on?
It could be that a meeting had legitimately gone overtime. The man was president of a major company after all. He could also be exercising psychological strategy in making her wait. But to what purpose? Her previous meetings with Eric had led her to believe he was as excited about the possible merger as she was.
Several minutes passed before an older woman in a dove-gray suit cut in classic lines approached Amanda. “Ms. Zachary?”
Amanda stood. “You must be Fran.” She had spoken to the executive assistant several times on the phone, but this was their first opportunity to meet.
The older woman's mouth tilted slightly in what might be considered a smile. “Yes, won't you come this way?”
Amanda got up and followed the other woman. They stopped in front of double doors, one of which was cracked open a few inches.
“What the hell is the matter with you, Eric?” The deeply masculine voice came out in even tones, but was laced with unmistakable anger. “This is a family held company. Merging with Extant would destroy everything our grandfather and fathers built here.”
“Nonsense.” Eric's voice sounded conciliatory, but louder than the other man's. “Look, Simon, you promised to give her a fair hearing and I'm holding you to your word.”
“I would have promised anything to get Elaine to turn off the waterworks, including listening to some snake-oil salesman's pitch.”
“Our arguing upset my wife, and Amanda Zachary is no snake-oil salesman.”
Before the other man could respond, the executive assistant had knocked on the already opened door.
The voices ceased abruptly.
Fran pushed the door open. “Eric, Ms. Zachary is here.”
There were two men in the room. One stood in front of the windows so his face and expression were cast in shadow, but she could tell he was big, easily six-foot-two.
The other man wasn't quite so massive. His sandy brown hair and engaging smile gave him a look of boyish charm, but his blue eyes glinted with unmistakable intelligence. “Thank you, Fran. We'll take it from here.”
The other woman turned and left. For one completely insane moment, Amanda wanted to call her back. The brooding presence of the man by the window unnerved her.
Then Eric caught her attention by coming forward to take her hand. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Amanda.”
She shook his hand, being sure to grasp it firmly. “The pleasure is mine. I'm looking forward to our discussion.”
Or rather, she had been before this other man had entered the equation.
Eric released her hand and turned slightly. “Amanda, this is my cousin, Simon Brant. He's in charge of research and development for Brant Computers. Simon, this is Amanda Zachary, the representative from Extant Corporation.”
Simon stepped away from the window and she got her first clear view of the man. She knew her negotiator's smile had slipped a little, but she couldn't help it. Simon Brant was a force of nature. Dark exotic looks mixed with a smoldering presence in a Molotov cocktail that set something on fire inside her, something she had been absolutely sure no longer even existed.
Desire. Hot. Molten. Unstoppable. And it washed through her body as if her receptors had forgotten, or never even known, that she wasn't a very sexual person. She felt betrayed by her body. Now was not the time for it to rediscover long-dormant feminine hormones.
Everything important to her was on the line with this deal.
“M-Mr. Brant.” Great. She'd stuttered. She never tripped over her words, not since going through an endless series of speech therapy sessions as a child. However, she'd also never met a man who looked like a cross between a Scottish warlord and Apache chief.
She put out her hand and wished to Heaven she'd ignored the urge for politeness when his big, warm fingers enclosed hers.
For the space of seconds, she didn't speak. Couldn't speak. Something elemental and downright terrifying passed from his hand to hers as he completed the shake.
“Ms. Zachary.”
“Call me Amanda.” The words slipped out, unbidden. She wouldn't have taken them back if she could. It would be awkward to have his cousin calling her by her first name while Simon stuck with the more formal address.

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