Exposing the Executive's Secrets. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ shiny black fabric. Clay couldn’t help himself. His gaze shifted to her creamy skin. And the camera flashed. Oh hell. Caught looking. Before he could ask the reporter to take another shot Andrea pulled free, pivoted on her very sexy heels and strolled away with a mind-altering sway to her hips.

      Whoa. That was not the same woman he’d left behind. The Andrea he’d known would never have worn a dress guaranteed to make a man forget his manners and his name.

      Reeling from the unwelcome slam of desire, he shook his head and caught sight of his mother’s smug smile. She was up to something—something he was certain would make him regret coming home more than he already did.

      Clay followed Andrea toward the door. After the way he’d left her he’d expected her to want him dead.

      Why would she come to his rescue tonight?

      And what would it cost him?

      “What game are you playing, Andrea?” Clay’s voice rumbled over her, deep and familiar, but with a rough edge Andrea didn’t remember.

      Her heart raced and her breath came in short bursts—not caused solely by her hasty retreat from the prying eyes inside. She reached the deserted gazebo at the end of the dock jutting into the Cape Fear River and wished she could keep on walking. Despite two weeks of planning, she wasn’t ready for this confrontation, but she braced herself and turned.

      With the lights of the Caliber Club behind him, shadow concealed most of Clay’s face. His cheeks appeared leaner and his jaw more sharply defined than eight years ago. Jagged streaks of moonlight reflected off the water in wavering beams. One slashed across his eyes making them a more intense blue than she recalled.

      “I don’t have time for games, Clay.”

      “Then what’s this about?” He jerked a thumb, indicating the club. “A trip down memory lane?”

      “Can’t a woman rescue an old friend from the money-hungry masses without complaint?”

      “Old friends. Is that what we are?”

      Could they ever be friends again? Doubtful. But she could fake it long enough to get the closure she needed. “I hope so.”

      “So this is you being self-sacrificing?”

      His sarcasm stiffened her spine and heated her cheeks with a not-so-subtle reminder that she’d been something of a pampered princess when he left town. But that had changed. She’d learned the hard way not to take anything for granted—like happiness, promises or loved ones. “You have a problem with that?”

      “You never could lie worth a damn. You get a quiver in your voice. C’mon. Spill it, Andrea. Why are we really here?”

      She cursed the telling sign of her agitation and cleared her throat. “We have to work together. So anything that makes your life easier makes my life easier. Saving you from that—” she gestured toward the club “—seemed like a nice thing to do.”

      “You’re claiming this is about work?” More sarcasm. He clearly didn’t buy her story. She couldn’t blame him.

      Pursing her lips, she exhaled in resignation. This wasn’t going as well as she’d anticipated. She’d expected him to be grateful, not suspicious. “I need to know that I can count on you not to bail before Joseph’s back on his feet.”

      His breath hissed. “I have my own business to run. I’ll stay until the headhunting firm I’ve hired locates an interim CEO, and then I’m out of here.”

      She gaped and then snapped her mouth closed. “You can’t hand Dean Yachts over to a stranger. Your father would—”

      “My father has nothing to say about it,” he interrupted in a flat don’t-argue-with-me tone.

      Reeling, she scrambled to make him understand. “The doctors expect Joseph to make an eighty to ninety percent recovery from the stroke. His mental faculties are clear, but his stamina isn’t what it used to be. Knowing you’d be here is the only reason he agreed to stay out of the office while he recuperates.”

      A balmy June breeze whipped her hair across her face and ruffled the edges of her gown, nearly baring her breasts. Clay’s gaze lowered to her cleavage. Her nipples peaked and an ache started deep inside her. Damn. It.

      “I didn’t ask for an update.” Clay shifted deeper into the shadows. In the darkness she couldn’t read his expression. Did he like what he saw? Did he have even one moment’s regret for walking away from what they’d had? Had he thought about her at all since he’d left?

      Stop it. It doesn’t matter.

      But it did. Andrea clenched her fingers around the long chain strap of her sequined evening bag.

      “You should have. He’s your father. In a couple of months he’ll be back on the job unless you rush him and he ends up endangering his health. Give him time to heal, Clay.”

      He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away, presenting her with his back—a broad, unyielding wall of resistance.

      The creaking of the dock boards and the clang of the sailboat lines in the slips broke the silence, but the familiar sounds didn’t have their usual calming effect.

      Ask him why he left.

      But she couldn’t. Not yet. Because she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his answer. What if he told her something hideous and then she had to face him daily for the next few months? But she would get the information out of him before he left.

      Andrea sighed and plucked a strand of hair from her overly glossy—thanks to her friends—lips. She joined Clay at the rail, and the citrus and spice scent of his cologne wafted to her on the breeze. Memories washed over her, tugging at her like a strong riptide. Memories of a night very like this one. High school graduation night. The tiny cabin of his sailboat. Making love for the first time. Learning his body as he learned hers.

      Stop.

      She shifted restlessly and pushed away the past. Okay, so she still found Clay physically appealing. Big deal. That didn’t mean she’d let the current of attraction pull her under. He’d hurt her too badly for her to ever trust him again.

      Stick to the agenda, Andrea. Focus on what you’re good at—your job. And the rest will follow.

      She took a deep breath and launched into her practiced spiel. “Dean Yachts has a backlog of pending orders. You’ll have to plunge into the deep end if we’re to keep up with our production schedule. Your father will tell you whatever you need to know to stay afloat.”

      His jaw hardened. “I don’t need his help.”

      She bit her lip and battled frustration. Mending the breach between the men might be harder than she’d anticipated. “You may not need it, but Joseph needs you to ask for it. He’s depressed and more than a little shaken up by his brush with mortality. He’s looking forward to having you at home.”

      He turned his head and met her gaze. She’d never considered Clay inflexible or implacable in the past, but his face wore both traits now. His square jaw jutted forward. “I docked my boat at Dean’s. I’m berthing there.”

      “Security СКАЧАТЬ