Exposing the Executive's Secrets. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ did you lose control of this meeting? Make your point and leave.

      “We need a strategy for our interviews. It’s important to hide any tension between us from Octavia Jenkins. She’s a small-town reporter with big-city aspirations, and she’s willing to dig up dirt when necessary.”

      His eyes narrowed. “You have dirt?”

      Other than a long list of loser dates and an on again, off again relationship with a Dean’s client? “Me? No. My life’s an open book. You?”

      He hesitated. “Not personally.”

      What did that mean? For the first time she wondered if something or someone besides her had driven Clay from Wilmington. But no. She had to go with the facts as she knew them. Clay’s mother might buy the story that he’d left home because he couldn’t get along with his father, but Andrea didn’t believe it for one second. The Dean men had argued hard and often. Everyone claimed it was because they were too much alike. But their bond had been strong despite the bickering.

      Clay drank from his bottle and then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Andrea, we were lovers. If Jenkins is as ambitious as you said, she’s not going to have to do much digging to uncover that.”

      “No. But it’s not like that’s news to anyone who matters.”

      Pensive furrows carved his brow and a nerve twitched beside his mouth. “How aggressive is she?”

      “I don’t know. Why?” What kind of secrets did he have?

      A shake of his head was her only reply.

      Andrea moved away from the computer and glanced down the companionway. Clay’s bedroom. Her steps faltered, her pulse quickened and her knees weakened. Why did being ten paces from Clay’s berth still get to her? She had no intention of tumbling back into his bed. But an old familiar ache filled her belly.

      Nostalgia. That’s all it is. Ignore it.

      She had to get out of here even though they hadn’t settled on a story to feed Octavia Jenkins yet.

      “We’ll talk later about the reporter. I have a conference call in a few minutes. I’ll see you in an hour for the production walk-through.”

      Clay snapped his cell phone closed and dragged a hand over his face. The pushy journalist had laid waste to his plan to delay the dates as long as possible. If the Miami headhunters found an interim CEO quickly, then he’d have been able to return home without fulfilling his end of the auction bargain.

      Cowardly? Probably. But he didn’t know if he could date Andrea, spend hours with her by candlelight and firelight and walk away again. No, he wasn’t still in love with her, but he was far too attracted to her for his peace of mind. Falling for her again would be too easy. But nothing had changed. In fact, his inability to stick with one woman more than a few months since leaving Andrea reinforced the fact that he might be like his father and incapable of fidelity.

      He checked his watch. Damn. Late for his meeting with Andrea. He snatched up the safety glasses required anywhere on the property other than this dock and the sales building and left his yacht behind. Andrea met him at the end of the sidewalk.

      How could a woman look attractive in bulky safety glasses and rubber-soled shoes? And yet Andrea did.

      Clay shoved on his glasses and cursed his errant hormones. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Phone call. Can you change your plans for tonight?”

      Eyes wide, her head whipped toward him. “Why?”

      He accompanied her through the security gate and across the pavement toward the first metal building. “Because the reporter is demanding an interview to discuss our first date. That means we need to have one unless you want to blow her off.”

      “We can’t do that.” She dipped her head and tugged at her earlobe. Years ago that had been a sign that she was uncomfortable. Was it still?

      “I suppose I could.” She looked about as excited as she would if he’d invited her to spend the evening in a mosquito-infested swamp without bug repellant.

      “The dinner cruise has an opening tonight. Where do you live?”

      “I have a house on Wrightsville Beach.”

      Regret needled him. Eight years ago they’d discussed buying a house on the beach together. “I’ll pick you up at seven. The boat sails at seven-thirty. I’ll need directions to your place before you leave.”

      “I’d rather meet you there. That will give both of us more time to get ready.”

      The door to the building opened before he could reply. Andrea greeted the man and then turned to Clay.

      “You remember Peter Stark, don’t you? He’s our production manager now.”

      “Good to see you again, Peter.” Clay offered his hand. The man hesitated long enough before shaking Clay’s hand to make his lack of welcome known without being flagrantly rude.

      The cold shoulder shouldn’t have surprised Clay but it did. Peter had been Clay’s mentor-slash-babysitter from the first day Clay had set foot on Dean’s soil. The man’s allegiance clearly belonged to Andrea now.

      “How’s it going, Peter?” Andrea asked.

      “Right on schedule except for those cabinets.” Peter addressed Andrea. “The fancy wood the owner requested isn’t in.”

      “I’ll make a—” Andrea stopped and glanced at Clay as if realizing that would be his job now. “Clay can call the distributor to check status when we get back to the office.”

      “We could make do with mahogany,” Pete insisted.

      “My grandfather always said, ‘The customer’s not paying us to make do. He’s paying us to make what he ordered.’” Clay lived by the quote since his clients often made illogical design requests.

      “Yeah, well the wood’s holding up everything else in line.”

      “I’ll get on it before I leave today. If all else fails, we’ll cancel the order and go with my suppliers.”

      “Your daddy won’t like that,” Peter challenged. “We’ve dealt with this company for twenty years.”

      “My father’s not running the show right now. I am. If a company can’t deliver, then we’ll find one that can—just like our customers will if we don’t give them what they’ve asked for. If the holdup is a problem, then shift the line. Bump the next order in front of this one. I’ll make sure the client understands the delay.”

      The scene repeated itself as they circled the facility and Clay reacquainted himself with familiar faces. Employees addressed Andrea. She redirected them to Clay. By the time they left the building Clay wondered why his mother had begged him to come home. The employees trusted Andrea. They didn’t trust him.

      Considering he’d left town rather than live a lie or risk failing Andrea the way his father had failed his mother, the lack of trust rubbed salt in an open wound.

      Three

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