The Real Deal (3 page)

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Authors: Lucy Monroe

BOOK: The Real Deal
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He dropped her hand, his gray eyes roaming over her with tactile intensity. “Simon.”
That was it. Just his name, but she knew what he meant.
“Now that the introductions are over, why don't we all sit down?” Eric's voice sounded far away and Amanda had to force herself to decipher the words before nodding her agreement.
Despite the fact it was Eric's office, Simon led the way. He waited for her to sit in an armchair across the room from Eric's large executive desk. Eric and Simon sat at either end of the matching black leather sofa, with Simon taking the end furthest from her. She should have felt relief that his choice had given her a reprieve from his proximity, but the angle at which they sat gave him a clear view of her and vice versa.
It was an effort to turn her attention to Eric. “I didn't realize your cousin would be joining us for the meeting.”
“It's a family held company, Amanda.” Simon gave special inflection to her name. “I'm family and I happen to own a sizable chunk of the business.”
“I see.” She smiled tentatively. “But I had the impression from Eric that none of the other family played a principal role in management of the company.”
“That's true.” Eric gave Simon a hard look. “I'm the president of the company and my cousin rarely shows interest in my day-to-day decision making.”
“I don't call proposing a merger with one of our chief competitors your average day-to-day decision. Wouldn't you agree, Amanda?”
He'd put her on the spot and, in all honesty, she couldn't gainsay him. “It is a big decision, but certainly not one Eric has entertained lightly. We've been discussing the possibilities and ramifications of a merger for several weeks now.”
“It's a pity I wasn't brought in before this then, because you've wasted your time talking to my cousin. I'll never approve what you propose.”
“You don't own controlling interest in the company, damn it.” Eric glared at Simon.
“Neither do you,” Simon pointed out with a silky menace that sent shivers down the back of Amanda's legs.
“What do you plan to do, make this a family war?”
Simon's shoulders tensed infinitesimally and Amanda had the distinct impression that war was the last thing he wanted.
“Perhaps if you would allow me to present Extant's proposal, there won't be any need for bloodshed.” It was a weak joke, but Eric smiled.
“Great idea.”
Simon settled against the sofa cushions and kicked his denim clad, long legs out in front of him. He crossed them at the ankles, one booted foot resting on top the other. His arm stretched along the back of the couch, pulling the knit of his dark crewneck shirt taut over the well-defined muscles of his torso. He was the epitome of “relaxed.”
So, why did she get the feeling he was a tiger waiting to pounce on her unwary person?
One black brow rose. “I'm ready for you to begin, Amanda.”
She'd put up with all the patronizing from men she was going to tolerate in her lifetime during her marriage. She didn't care how sexy this guy was, no one knew their job as well as she knew hers. It was after all, her life. And she was no snake-oil salesman as he would soon see. She gave him a smile meant to convey her confidence in what she had to say, and then launched into the initial proposal she'd given to Eric.
 
 
The smile would have knocked him on his ass if he hadn't already been sitting down.
Man, this woman was hot. Beautiful. Built to stop a strong man's heart, even if she did hide it behind a boxy jacket and long skirt that only hinted at the legs underneath. And she was the damn enemy.
Simon's jaw set and he listened while a husky voice that could have played a starring role in his favorite wet dream told him why he should let his cousin go through with his plans to destroy their family held company.
All right, so she didn't see it as destruction. Why should she? It wasn't her grandfather's dreams at stake here.
She was going on about the increased market share the two companies would enjoy once they were merged.
“Where did you come up with those figures?” he asked, interrupting her mid-flow.
He had to give it to her. She didn't so much as frown at his rudeness, nor did she hesitate before explaining the marketing statistics she'd used to develop her proposal.
“What about the employees? I'm still unclear as to the effect this will have on overlapping human resources.”
He wasn't unclear at all. It meant letting people go. Loyal employees that had a right to expect some loyalty back from the company they worked for. But he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to see his cousin's face when she said it. Didn't Eric care?
She sat forward on the edge of her chair, her expression earnest. “Not unexpectedly, there will be a certain amount of employee attrition, but nothing on the scale of a major layoff.”
“What do you consider a major layoff, Ms. Zachary?”
“Less than five percent of the total workforce for both Brant and Extant will be affected.” She said it like she was expecting accolades for keeping the numbers down.
Eric sat there looking as if he thought laying off five percent of their workforce was no big deal.
Simon uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Do you realize how many jobs we're talking about here? I'd be willing to bet that for the guy who loses his job, just one person let go seems pretty major.”
It interested him that she scooted back in her chair even though he was several feet away from her. “The computer industry is dynamic. Employees who have chosen their career in it understand that.”
“How would you feel if it was your job on the line, Amanda? Would you still be in favor of the merger?”
She blanched, actually flinching at the question. Her job clearly meant a lot to her.
He waited to see how honestly she would answer the question, but Eric intervened. “That's not a fair question, Simon. This is about what is best for the company, not individual employees.”
Simon stood up, his patience disintegrating with his mood. “Maybe I think the company's welfare is tied up with that of the employees.”
Eric ran his fingers through his hair, disturbing the usually immaculate style. “Calm down, Simon.”
“I'm not upset.”
Eric's expression said he wasn't fooled. Simon wasn't shouting, but his cousin knew he was pissed. Big-time.
“Mr. Brant . . . Simon . . . you agreed to hear me out, I thought. I'm barely through the first point in my presentation.”
She had guts, and eyes the color of Hershey's dark chocolate syrup that a man could happily drown in.
Nothing about this merger appealed to him, but the woman did. He'd listen, if for no other reason than to spend more time in her company, learn more about what made her tick. He sat back down.
“I'm here.” He turned to Eric. “But don't you ever use your wife to manipulate me again.”
Eric's relieved smile froze on his face. “It wasn't like that.”
Suddenly, Simon knew it had been exactly like that. He'd been spouting off, but Eric had known Simon couldn't withstand Elaine's tears. He'd also known his pregnant wife was bound to be upset by their argument. “You son of a bitch, you brought it up in front of her on purpose.”
Eric had the grace to blush. “We'll talk about this later.”
“Why? Don't you want Amanda privy to family business? You seem pretty free with the idea of handing over the family company to her.”
Eric's eyes narrowed and the muscles of his jaw tightened. “I'm not handing the company over to her. I'm not handing it over to Extant for that matter. We're talking about a merger, a friendly merger.”
“Eric is right. Brant Computers isn't going to cease to exist, it's going to be bigger than it has ever been.” She was leaning forward again and her blazer parted to reveal the thin white silk of her blouse.
Did she know he could see the shadow of the top swell of her breasts when she did that?
Somehow he doubted it. She seemed completely focused on business. It wouldn't hurt him to do the same thing. He hadn't had as much trouble with his libido since he was a fifteen-year-old wiz kid attending college with fully developed, sexually active women who had turned teasing into a national league sport.
“There may be a company left. Hell, you might even agree to keep the Brant name, but the company my grandfather founded and my father spent his life building will cease to exist, and all the soft-soap in the world isn't going to make that any less of a reality.”
“I don't think you're looking at the big picture.”
“Maybe that's because the picture of Brant employees standing in the unemployment line keeps getting in the way.”
She frowned at that. “Over the long term the employees will be better off because stability will be increased for both the companies.” She grabbed her briefcase and started pulling papers out. “If you just look at these long-term sales forecasts, you'll see that the initial five percent of employee attrition will not only be made up, but there will be steady growth in the number of positions available within the merged companies.”
Simon looked at the papers, but all he saw were two exquisitely feminine hands with neatly manicured nails. He'd give his most recently acquired antique
katana
to have those delicate fingers on his body. He'd give the whole collection to have met this woman in other circumstances.
“Eric, trade places with Amanda. Presumably, you've already seen these numbers.”
Her head came up and he read startled uncertainty in those gorgeous brown eyes before she masked her reaction.
Eric was already standing and the poor little darling had no choice but to do what Simon had suggested. Her initial reaction told him that the idea of being in close proximity to him made her nervous. Was that because he was on the opposite side of this issue from her and she saw him as the enemy?
Or was it because she felt this gut-wrenching physical attraction too?
“Here, let me see that.” He let his hand brush against hers as he pulled the paper from off the top of the pile.
Her fingers trembled
.
An immediate and unexpected reaction took place just south of his belt buckle. He started a mental recitation of the laws and formulas related to thermal dynamics.
“As you can see, future employment projections are quite good.”
He didn't comment. The recitation of the formulas sparked an idea related to his latest fiber-optic experiment. He needed a notebook. Dropping the paper in his hand, he stood up and crossed the room to Eric's desk. It took rifling through three drawers, but he found a legal pad. He started taking notes as rapidly as possible.
He had to test this.
The pad in one hand, he started from the room.
“Simon!”
He stopped at the door and turned his head to the sound of his cousin's demanding voice. He didn't see Eric though, his mind's eye was too focused on his project.
“What about Amanda's presentation?”
“If I've said something to offend you . . .” The soft, husky voice trailed off and succeeded in claiming a corner of his attention.
Amanda.
He wanted to see her again.
“Bring your proposal to my house.”
Her eyes widened and he heard Eric groan.
“My cousin can give you directions.” Then he turned and left, his thoughts consumed with his upcoming experiment.
Chapter 2
A
manda watched the maddening man walk out of the office, feeling like Dorothy before she'd found the yellow brick road. What had just happened?
“He wants me to go to his
house
?”
Eric's expression was one of rueful resignation. He nodded. “Don't take this personally. Simon's brilliant and his mind doesn't work like everyone else's. When he gets an idea, it holds his complete attention.”
“But . . .” One second he'd been reading her figures and the next he'd gotten up and was rummaging through Eric's desk.
“One Christmas, when he was about nine, I think, he got up in the middle of opening his presents and disappeared into his lab until New Years Day.”
“When he was
nine
?” Eric had to be exaggerating.
“Simon was a child prodigy. He graduated from high school when he was eleven. He had a double bachelor's degree in physics and computer design engineering by the time he was fifteen. Four years later he had a Ph.D. in physics.”
She knew what Eric was telling her. Simon was a genius. A cold, sinking sensation settled somewhere around her stomach because that genius didn't want his company merged with Extant. She could see all her carefully laid plans crashing and burning.
“Why does he want me to go to his house?”
A wrinkle appeared between Eric's brows. “I'm not sure. I think he wants you to finish your presentation.”
“But why at his house?” A straightforward business deal had taken a distinctly unbusinesslike turn.
Eric's expression turned thoughtful. “I really don't know. He's a total privacy nut. Him inviting you to his house is out of character, but then so is his showing such a strong interest in the business side of Brant Computers.”
“I'd feel better about finishing the presentation here in your office.” She'd feel more comfortable not having to be in the disturbing man's presence at all, but going to his house seemed way too intimate.
Eric shook his head. “If he's on a new project, it could be days, weeks even, before he comes back to the mainland.”
“Comes back to the mainland?” Her voice came out faint as she considered how disastrous that would be for the timetable on the merger.
“He lives on one of the islands. The Puget Sound is full of them. At least he opted for a home on one that has regular ferry service. You should be able to go and come back in one day.”
Was that supposed to make her feel better? “But couldn't you call him and ask him to meet me here?”
Eric shook his head again, his mouth twisted grimly. “No. Simon is stubborn and like I said, his mind doesn't work like the rest of us. If we want him to hear your presentation, you'll have to go to him.”
“Won't you be participating in the meeting?”
“Like Simon said, I've seen all the numbers.” Eric stood up. “I can't really take the time from my schedule for a duplication of effort. You convinced me. I'm sure you can convince Simon and until you do, further meetings on the subject between the two of us would be ineffective.”
She wasn't sure of any such thing, but she had no choice other than to try. She couldn't let Simon Brant unravel her plans and jeopardize her goals. If that meant visiting him at his island home, that's what she would do.
 
 
Which was how she found herself breathing in the smell of burning diesel fuel on a ferry bound for a small island in the Puget Sound the next day.
She'd tried calling Simon to ask him to meet her again in Seattle. According to the crotchety old man that identified himself as Simon's housekeeper, Simon wasn't available for phone calls. When she identified herself, she'd been told Simon was expecting her.
Since he hadn't so much as given her a time or day for their meeting, she didn't see how that could be, but apparently Eric was right. Simon didn't think like other people.
His housekeeper had told her she was expected for lunch today.
William Tell's
Overture
started chirping away in her purse and she grabbed for her cell phone. Flipping it open, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, chicky-poo, how's it hangin'?”
“Jillian. Why aren't you on the set?”
“We finished taping early. They wanted to do this sunrise scene. I've been up since two-thirty this morning.”
“Uh . . . Jill, we live on the West Coast. Sunsets over the ocean are beautiful, sunrises hidden behind LA's smog and skyline aren't exactly awe-inspiring.”
“We did a desert taping, smarty-pants.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I called to say you've gotta watch today's episode. I've got amazing dialogue and I emoted with all the energy of Bette Midler.”
Shoot. “Honey, I've got an afternoon appointment and the VCR in my hotel room doesn't have a timed taping function.” She thought fast. “But my Ti-Vo is saving it for me at my condo. I'll watch it the minute I get home, I promise.”
“Amanda . . .” Jillian drew her name out for at least six syllables. “I really wanted you to watch this. It's just the first half of the show. Can't you sneak away to the bathroom or something and find a television?”
What would Simon think of taking a thirty-minute break in the middle of their meeting to watch Jillian's soap opera?
“Jill—”
“Please, Amanda. I haven't been this excited about my work since I got the job.”
That was saying a lot. Jillian had had her bit part on the soap for the past six years, longer than Amanda's marriage had lasted. She was a regular, if not a star.
“Okay, I'll try.” She couldn't believe she was saying this. “But I can't promise anything.”
“Thanks, hon! You're the best friend a girl could have. Have I told you that lately?”
“Not in the last week, no,” Amanda said, laughing. Jillian had always been there for her. Through a disastrous two-year marriage and an ugly divorce that took a year to finalize, she'd been a rock in Amanda's life. “But listen, if I can't watch it, can you Fed-Ex me the tape?”
“The way I feel today, I'd fly the tape up to you to watch myself if I didn't have to work tomorrow and Friday.”
Jillian was right. Amanda hadn't heard this much enthusiasm in her friend's voice concerning her work in years. “Hey, maybe you can fly up for the weekend anyway.”
Silence met that. “Are you okay, Amanda?”
Darn. Why were best friends so discerning? “I just asked if you wanted to come up for the weekend. We could do the Seattle thing. Why does something have to be wrong?”
“Because when it comes to work, you are worse than anal retentive. You're so focused, you could give a Zen Buddhist monk lessons.”
She sure didn't feel like a monk, or rather, a nun, not when every time she thought about Simon Brant her hormones started hopping around like rabbits hyped up on sugar. “There's a glitch in the deal I'm trying to work out,” she admitted.
“What kind of a glitch?”
“A big one.” About six feet, two inches, of glitch.
“Bummer, hon. I'm sorry.”
“Me too, but I'm not about to give up.”
“Of course not. The only thing you've ever given up on is men. Everything else gets your try-till-you-die mentality.”
 
 
Driving down the same road for the third time in twenty minutes, she was having difficulty applying the try-till-you-die approach. Where the heck was the turnoff? She'd missed it twice and was now driving slower than she could be walking in the attempt not to miss it a third time. Wait. Was that an opening in the trees? It was. Carefully camouflaged, the opening to Simon's drive could have easily been taken for a natural break in the flora and fauna alongside the road.
Eric had said Simon was a privacy nut, but this was ridiculous. One of them could have mentioned that the entrance to his property was as well hidden as your average state secret. Not that Simon had mentioned anything. He'd told Eric to give her directions and then dismissed the whole situation by leaving.
It was a good thing he was just a business associate and not her boyfriend. That kind of behavior would be really hard to take in a lover.
Fortunately, she reached the gate before her wayward thoughts had a chance to go any farther afield.
She stopped the rented Taurus and pressed its automatic window button. It whirred softly as the glass disappeared between her and the small black box she was supposed to talk into. She reached through the window, inhaling a big breath of fresh, forest-scented air, and pressed the red button below the box.
“Yeah?” There was no mistaking that crotchety voice. She'd only heard it once, but Simon's housekeeper was unforgettable.
“It's Amanda Zachary.”
“Expected you here a good twenty minutes ago, missy. It don't pay to be late if you expect to catch the boss out of his lab.”
She glared at the box and reminded herself that this was business. For business, she could put up with a cranky old man.
“I'm sorry. I missed the turn.”
“Guess you missed it more than once if it took you an extra twenty minutes.”
What was this guy, the timeliness cop? “Perhaps, since I am already late, you would be kind enough to buzz the gates open so that I won't keep your employer waiting any longer.”
“He ain't come out of the lab yet.”
She ignored that bit of additional provocation and simply said, “The gate?”
“Can't.”
“You can't open the gate?” She stared stupidly at the black box, at a complete loss.
“Right.”
“Is it broken?”
“Nope.”
Anger overcame confusion and good sense.
“Then what exactly is stopping you from opening the darn thing?”
“You got to get out of the car. I need to make a visual I.D. before I can open the gate.”
“Since you've never seen me before, what exactly are you trying to identify?”
“No need to get snippy. I done my job. I got a picture of you. No use you asking how. I don't share my trade secrets with just anybody.”
For Heaven's sake.
She got out of the car and stood so her head and shoulders were clearly visible above the car door.
“You'll have to step around the door, if you don't mind.”
Now he decided to be polite, while asking her to do something totally ludicrous.
“What difference does it make?” She glared with unconcealed belligerence at the camera at the top of the gate.
“You got something to hide, missy?”
“Not if you discount a body that isn't femme fatale material,” she muttered to herself as she stepped around the silver car's door.
Thoroughly out of sorts, she threw her arms wide. “Look, no automatic weapons, no hidden cameras, no nerve gas. Are you satisfied?”
“I think I could be.”
No! No. No. Darn it. No.
This had not been the housekeeper's voice, but another, unforgettable one—that of Simon Brant. In a reflex move, she crossed her arms over her chest as she felt heat crawl from the back of her ankles right up her body and into her cheeks. She was going to kill that housekeeper when she got her hands on him.
She was going to pick him up by his toes and hang him above a tar pit. And then she was going to let go.
“Hello, Mr. Brant. I've been informed that I'm late.”
He didn't answer, but the gate swung inward.
 
 
If Simon tried to talk, he was going to laugh and that would just encourage Jacob in his irascible ways. So, he pressed the button for the gate release without answering Amanda. He watched as she climbed back into her car, her dark hair all twisted on the back of her head in a tidy knot. The severity of her hairstyle and the suit she was wearing could not erase the image he had of her with her arms flung wide, her generous breasts pressing against the fabric of her blouse and her eyes glittering with pure temper.
“She's a tad feisty, sir.”
Simon didn't know why the old man called him sir. He'd never been in doubt who was in charge between the two of them, and it wasn't Simon Brant. “I have no doubt she has cause.”
Jacob just shrugged his thin shoulders. “Might have upset her a bit, I suppose. I got poor company manners, sir.”

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