A Bargain with the Boss (11 page)

“This isn't about me.”

“Your childhood?” he repeated.

“Fine. We were poor. My mom was single. She drank. A lot.”

He digested the information. “I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

The orchestra switched songs, but he kept on dancing.

“It was a long time ago,” said Amber. “Truth is, it impacted Jade more than it impacted me.”

“How so?”

“She had a hard time settling into life. She quit school, left town. Then she bounced from job to job. She always picked the wrong men.”

Interesting, but Tuck was far more curious about Amber than he was about Jade. “And you? Did you pick the wrong men?”

She gave a little laugh. “I didn't pick any men at all. Well, not many. I had a boyfriend in high school. But then I graduated and started working. I took a lot of night-school courses at community college, so there wasn't much time for a social life.”

“You don't date?” Tuck couldn't help but contrast his own active social life.

“Occasionally. Casually.” She glanced around the opulent ballroom. “I have to say, this is the most extravagant event I've ever attended. I guess I should thank you for the experience.”

“Anytime.” He was serious.

His brain ticked through the information she'd just given him. He liked the idea of what he thought she had to mean.

“So you're saying...” He tried to frame the question. “How do I put this...”

“Don't you
dare
ask me about my sex life.”

As if anything on earth would stop him. “Tell me about your sex life.”

“Shut up.”

He gave a brief chuckle. “I'll tell you about mine.”

“I've read about yours.”

“Not the details.”

“Nobody wants the details.”

“I disagree. Reporters ask me about them all the time.” He maneuvered them around the crowd to a quieter spot on the dance floor.

“Do you answer?”

“No. If I did, they'd be disappointed.”

“Did you just tell me you're a bad lover?”

“What? No. I meant that I'm not as practiced as people assume.” He hesitated, then went for it. “Not that you'd have a basis for comparison.”

“You're outrageous.” But her tone was laced with amusement.

“I won't argue with that. But I'm also available. You know, if you're in dire need of—”

The end of her fist connected sharply with his shoulder, startling him.

“Ouch.”

“You better believe,
ouch
,” she sniffed with mock offense. “I had a boyfriend.”

“Not since high school.”

“And I've had offers since then.”

He knew that was true. “At least a dozen tonight alone.”

She looked puzzled.

“You're not paying attention, are you?” he asked.

“To what?”

“To all the men in the room eyeing you up.”

She seemed surprised. “It's the dress. And maybe the hair. Probably the shoes.”

“It's all of that,” he agreed. “But it's more than just that.”

He couldn't help himself. He splayed his hand across her back, urging her close, molding their bodies together.

“Tuck.”

“I won't pretend I'm not attracted to you.”

The word
attracted
was the understatement of the century. He was wild about her, burning hot for her, growing more so by the hour.

“Jackson's here.”

It took a moment for her words to make sense. He'd pictured their conversation taking an entirely different turn.

She signaled the direction with a nod and Tuck easily spotted Jackson in the crowd. He stood out in blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a worn leather jacket. It was easy to tell from his expression that he had some news.

Tuck quickly escorted Amber from the dance floor, meeting up with Jackson at the edge. The three of them made for the double doors that led to a quiet foyer.

“Dixon bought a car,” said Jackson when they emerged into the relative privacy of the long, high-ceilinged, glass-walled room.

“When?” asked Tuck.

“Five weeks ago, a three-year-old Audi convertible. He paid cash.”

“Is he still in Scottsdale?”

“Didn't stay here long,” said Jackson. “We tracked the car to a marina in San Diego.”

Tuck's anticipation rose. “Did you find Dixon?”

“There, he bought a sailboat.”

Tuck waited for Jackson to elaborate.

“Forty-footer. Paid cash.”

The situation was getting stranger by the second.

“I thought you were watching his bank accounts,” said Tuck.

“We are. Does your brother normally carry that kind of walking-around money?”

Tuck didn't know. But that did seem like a lot of money to have at his fingertips. How long had Dixon planned this little adventure?

“Did you find the sailboat?” asked Amber.

“It left the marina weeks ago and hasn't been back.”

They all stared at each other in silence.

“I doubt he sank,” said Tuck. “There'd have been a distress call. We'd have heard from the authorities by now.”

“Probably,” said Jackson.

“Was it equipped to sail solo?”

“It was.”

“Something's not right,” said Amber.

“No kidding,” Tuck agreed. There were plenty of things not right in this.

“When he headed for Scottsdale,” she said, “even though it was a secret, he left a letter for your dad, and he left a number with me. He was that careful. There's no way he'd sail off into the Pacific without telling anyone at all.”

“That's exactly what he did,” said Tuck.

His worry about his brother was rapidly turning to annoyance. What had Dixon been thinking?

Amber was shaking her head. “Not without any word at all. I can understand that he didn't like it at Highland Luminance. And clearly he can afford a nice boat. But he's not irresponsible. He's trying to clear his head so he can do a good job at Tucker Transportation. He's not trying to harm it.”

“Trying or not,” said Tuck, “that's exactly what he's doing.” He really wished Amber would stop defending Dixon.

“He...” She snapped her fingers. “That's it.”

“What's it?” asked Tuck.

“Jamison,” she said. “Dixon would have contacted Jamison. He didn't know anything about the heart attack. As far as he's concerned, your dad's still running the company. We searched through Dixon's accounts. And we've been monitoring Jamison's work email, but not his personal email.”

Jackson swore under his breath. He was instantly on his phone giving instructions to one of his staff.

Tuck had to admit it was possible. It was even likely. It certainly made more sense than anything else right now. For weeks now, Dixon could have been operating under the assumption they knew his plans. He thought Jamison was running the show. He had no idea Tuck was making a mess of it.

Dixon was still gone. And Tuck still had to find him. But at least it made a little bit of sense now.

* * *

It was late into the night, and the three of them were back in Tuck's hotel suite when Jackson received a copy of an email from his investigator. The original had been sent by Dixon to Jamison's little-used personal email address. Amber was relieved they'd found an answer and happy there was a logical explanation for Dixon's behavior.

“It was sent from an internet café the day he left San Diego,” said Jackson from where he was sitting at the round dining table. “He says he plans to spend a few weeks sailing down the Pacific coast. He apologizes but tells your dad to have confidence in you. He knows you can do it.”

Tuck shook his head. “Not under these circumstances.”

He'd parked himself in an armchair beside the flickering gas fireplace.

Amber had chosen the sofa. She'd kicked the shoes off her sore feet and curled them beneath her. The cushions were soft under her body, while the heat from the fire warmed her skin. Her brain had turned lethargic at the end of such a long day and she would have loved to let herself fall asleep.

“Can you answer Dixon's email?” Tuck asked Jackson.

“Easy. But he'll have to stop somewhere and log on in order to see it.”

“He might not check,” said Amber. “The point of the whole exercise was to get away from everything.”

“He's been away from everything,” said Tuck. “It's time for him to come back.”

“Before he's ready?” she asked. She understood Tuck's frustration, but Dixon had a right to take some time to himself.

Tuck sat up straight and his voice rose. “How much time does the guy need?”

“You tell me.” Her annoyance gave her a renewed shot of energy. “You're the expert. You've had nothing but time to yourself for years now.”

He frowned. “Not by choice.”

“They held a gun to your head?”

Jackson rose, closing his laptop. He muttered something about having work to do as he headed for the suite door.

Tuck didn't react to him leaving. His attention remained focused on Amber. “They did everything possible to keep me at arm's length.”

She found that hard to believe.

“You think I'm lying,” he stated.

“I know you had an office. You had keys to the building. Dixon invited you to meetings.”

“Meetings where my father took great pleasure in setting me up for failure.”

“How?”

“By cornering me with arcane questions to prove I didn't know anything.”

“
Did
you know anything?”

He glared at her and she regretted the question.

“I mean,” she said, attempting to backtrack, “you could have studied up, surprised him, turned the tables on him.”

“That seemed like a lot of work to impress a guy who only wanted me gone.”

“Why would he want you gone?” Tuck might be a bit of a rebel, but what father wouldn't be proud to have him as a son?

“Because he liked Dixon better. Parents aren't all perfect, Amber. They don't automatically love their children.”

“Your father loves you.”

Even as she uttered the statement, Amber realized she had no idea how Jamison felt about Tuck. She was under no illusions about automatic parental love.

She shook her head, regretting her words. “I'm sorry. I don't know that. I don't know anything about it.”

Tuck blew out a breath. “It's okay.”

She gave a little laugh. “I don't even know whether my own mother loved me.”

His gaze turned sympathetic.

Uncomfortable, Amber sat up a bit straighter, attempting to explain. “I'm not sure my mother knew how to love anyone. She said she loved us. I even think she wanted to love us. But she was so incredibly self-absorbed, she couldn't see past her own needs and desires.”

“And your father?”

“Long gone before I had any memory of him.”

“Did he support you at all? Financially?”

Amber couldn't help but cough out a laugh. “I'd be surprised if he stayed out of jail. My mother had extraordinarily bad taste in men.”

“Where is she now?”

“She died. It happened while Jade and I were still teenagers.”

Deeper sympathy came up in Tuck's eyes, softening his expression, making him look approachable, sexy. This was not good.

“How are we talking about me?” she asked.

They needed to get back to arguing.

“You helped raise your sister?”

“She was sixteen when it happened. I was eighteen. There wasn't much raising left to do.” And by that time there hadn't been much of an opportunity to change any of Jade's habits.

“That's when she dropped out of school?” he asked.

“She took off after a few months. I didn't hear from her for a while.”

Tuck rose and helped himself to a bottle of water, holding one out for her.

She nodded and accepted it.

He sat down at the opposite end of the sofa. “What did you do?”

“I graduated from high school and got a job.” She twisted the cap and broke the seal. “With Dixon. He took a chance on me.”

“That's surprising,” said Tuck.

“I worked hard. I promised him I would, and I did.”

“I believe you.” Tuck stretched one arm along the back of the sofa. “No wonder you have no patience for me.”

“I wouldn't say—”

“It's way too late to protest now. From where you're sitting, I had it all, every advantage, every privilege. My education was paid for, and I walked straight into a VP job in Daddy's company.”

“I've never complained about my employment.” She'd been grateful for it. “Well, up until you fired me anyway.”

“You're back.”

“I am.”

He seemed to ponder for a moment. “You think I squandered my birthright.”

“Those are your words, not mine.”

“Then, give me your words.”

She took a minute to come up with an answer. “I think you've always had a lot of options. And most of them were very pleasant options. It's not hard to understand why you'd choose the easiest path.”

“Ouch.”

“Who wouldn't?”

“Apparently not you.”

“That's because I never had any easy options.” The memories of her teenage years brought a knot to Amber's stomach. “I could work my butt off and only just get by, or I could give up and spiral down like my mother.”

She took a drink, letting the cool water bathe her throat.

“Some might say spiraling down would be the easy path,” said Tuck.

“To a point. But after a while, it gets a whole lot harder.” The thought of living like her mother—the drinking, the smoking, crappy housing, used clothes, the carousel of shabby men—made her physically ill. She took another sip.