Baiting the Boss (14 page)

“Easy for you to say.” She pulled her hand free. “In a few days you’ll leave, and none of this will affect you, but I’ll be left to cop all the sly looks and innuendos.” She began to pace about the office. “How am I ever going to convince people to take me seriously around here? I’m having a tough enough time convincing your grandfather I’m worth more, but now, whatever new position I get, people will instantly assume it was because of you, not because of my abilities.”

“You’re fretting too much. Everyone knows I don’t work here anymore and whatever influence I have is strictly limited.”

“That’s not true.” She halted to scowl at him. “Everyone’s seen your grandfather kill the fatted calf for you. You’re still his golden boy, whatever happens. This is all your fault.”

He frowned back at her, his eyes sparking. “All
my
fault? You weren’t exactly fighting me off back then, or did I miss something while your tongue was in my mouth?”

Damn him. Jack was right. It was her fault, too. She should have been on her guard; she shouldn’t have let herself lose all control.

At the very least she should have made sure the door was shut.

But it was too late now. By the close of business today, she’d be known as that woman caught kissing Jack Macintyre with his hands emblazoned all over her butt.

“You’re right. I must bear responsibility for this.” She braced herself against her desk. “You’d better leave. I can’t afford to be seen anywhere near you anymore.”

“I didn’t realize I was that toxic.”

Wearily, she rubbed the back of her neck. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

He sighed. “I know. You’re right. I’m jeopardizing your career.” He pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on her desk. “Here’s your spare key. Thank you for your hospitality. I won’t bother you anymore.”

She watched him leave her office. The wayward part of her wanted to call him back, to shut the door and to hell with the consequences, but the habits of a lifetime held her back.

…

Jack arrived at the restaurant a little late for his dinner appointment with his grandfather. He’d been holed up all afternoon reviewing budgets for the Malaysian project and hadn’t seen his grandfather all day. He’d been avoiding Lachlan’s floor on purpose because he didn’t want to bump into Grace.

He’d behaved badly toward Grace; he acknowledged that now. She was the most caring and generous person he’d ever met, and she deserved a proper relationship, something he couldn’t offer her or anyone else. It had been wrong to sleep with her, to kiss her at work in front of her colleagues. Instead of giving in to his selfish desires, he should have put her needs first. No wonder he couldn’t tamp down the guilt every time he thought of her, which was far too often, because dammit, he missed her. His hotel suite was a byword in luxury, but as yet he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in it, perhaps because it lacked the one thing he wanted—Grace’s warm, sweet, arousing presence.

The maître d’ led him through the busy restaurant to his grandfather’s table, where he saw Cameron rising to greet him.

“I thought the three of us should have a meal together,” Lachlan said by way of explanation. “We haven’t had a chance to be alone since you got here.”

Jack greeted Cameron and ordered a beer. He was glad to see his cousin. Maybe his presence would help ease the rough patches between himself and Lachlan.

“How are things with the Malaysian team?” Cameron asked.

Jack scanned his cousin, wondering if either he or Lachlan had heard the gossip about him and Grace. More than three days had passed since the incident, and although he’d received one or two funny looks from people, he hadn’t detected a roaring rumor running through the company. But then again, he wasn’t part of the day-to-day operations of the business. Plus, people would be more wary about repeating gossip in his presence. Grace, on the other hand, might be experiencing something totally different. Sly looks, insinuations, winks—once again, guilt swelled in his gut.

“I’m getting into it,” he answered quickly, wanting a distraction.

Over steak and a baked potato, he discussed the project with his cousin and grandfather. It was understaffed, he told them, and advised them to increase the team. Lachlan disagreed, but Jack held firm.

“You’re a notorious taskmaster, but I find employees work better when they’re not under constant and unrealistic pressure.”

“I don’t like my staff going soft and lazy.”

Jack sighed as he pushed his plate away. “You asked me to go over the numbers, and that’s my conclusion. Take it or leave it.”

Lachlan ruminated over that while they ordered coffee and a round of Scotch. “I suppose you’re right,” he eventually conceded. “I don’t want anything to go wrong with this project. I’ll see about adding some extra people.”

“You won’t regret it.” Jack sipped his whiskey, glad he’d convinced his grandfather.

“I knew it was a good idea to ask you to take a look.” Lachlan swirled his Scotch in its crystal tumbler. “Pity you can’t stay a little longer and see it through to signoff.”

Jack kept his tone patient. “As I’ve already told you, I’m leaving the day after the foundation ball.”

“I don’t see what the big rush is. Didn’t you say you had to stop work on that village hall because of some supply issue?”

“I have some business of my own to take care of.” Jack hadn’t mentioned his nonprofit venture to his relatives and didn’t intend to until it was finalized. It was his own private project and nothing to do with Macintyre’s.

“But you can’t deny you’ve enjoyed working here.” Lachlan bent forward, a calculating glimmer in his sharp eyes.

“Okay. I admit it.” Jack sighed. “But don’t think that’s going to change my mind.”

Lachlan raised his hand to stall him. “Wait just a minute. Before you go any further, let’s lay our cards on the table.”

“I already know what your cards are. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Fine. I’m a bulldozer. I know that, but hear me out.” Lachlan lifted both hands in a mea-culpa gesture. “I want you to come back to Macintyre’s and take over from me as CEO. It’s no secret. Cameron knows this. We’ve talked about it already.”

Cameron nodded. “I want you back too, Jack. For my own selfish reasons, I’ll admit, but also because I believe it would be best for the company.”

Lachlan grunted. “When Cameron joined the business, I was hoping he’d be the one to succeed me, but yesterday he told me he wants to transfer back to Perth to be closer to his children.”

Jack squinted at his cousin. So Cameron had made his intentions clear while Jack was still in Sydney. A preemptive strike to nip Lachlan’s expectations in the bud. Smart move for Cameron, but not so smart for him.

He faced his grandfather. “Granddad, you don’t need a family member to head up Macintyre’s. You have plenty of executives to choose from. Pick one of them and start grooming him or her to take your spot. You don’t need me.”

Lachlan sat silent, scowling. Jack braced himself for the expected invective, but instead his grandfather sagged, his shoulders slumping beneath his jacket.

“I know I drove you hard the last time you worked for me. But you have to understand I only pushed you as hard as I pushed myself. From a very early age, I learned the only way to succeed was by driving myself harder than anyone else.”

The knuckles on his gnarled hands whitened as he gripped the arms of his chair. Jack recalled what Grace had told him about Lachlan’s dyslexia, and an odd compassion sprouted in him. All too often he’d heard Lachlan speak like this, but only now did he know the real reason behind the tough words, and he couldn’t help but be moved.

“If you come back to Macintyre’s, it’ll be different this time.” Hope threaded through Lachlan’s voice as Jack remained silent. “You’ll be the CEO. You’ll be in charge. You can do things your way. Of course, I’ll still be the chairman and no doubt I’ll still be a pain in the arse, but these days you seem to have no problem telling me where to go.”

Hesitating, Jack glanced around the crowded restaurant, trying to get his thoughts into order. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

Lachlan set down his whiskey and sat forward. “Is it Becky? Do you still blame me for her death?”

Becky. His heart squeezed at the mention of her name. Turning away from the other two men, he peered out the window overlooking the street, but all he saw was the reflection of his own face, tight and ghostly in the glass. Around them, diners chattered, plates clinked, and waiters bustled. The unrelenting cacophony drilled into his temples.

“I blame myself, not you.” He faced his grandfather. “I was the one too busy for her.”

Cameron put a hand on his shoulder. “It was an accident, Jack. Nobody blames you. You shouldn’t blame yourself, either.”

Jack didn’t bother to contradict him. Nothing anyone said would ever convince him otherwise, and it didn’t seem fair to drag his cousin into his emotional quicksand.

“I’m not coming back to Macintyre’s, and I’m not coming back to Sydney.” He glanced between his grandfather and his cousin, wanting to impress this statement on them both. “I like my life the way it is.”

Both men watched him in silence, disappointment etched in their expressions. Lachlan clawed at the tablecloth, his cheeks mottling, a sign of antagonism all too familiar to Jack.

“So. All my years of struggling to hold onto the family company are for nothing,” Lachlan rumbled bitterly. “I might as well not have bothered. I might as well sell everything off now and play golf all day.”

Jack snorted. “Don’t be so melodramatic. You hate golf. And you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you couldn’t go to work every day.”

Still glowering, Lachlan pursed his lips. “It’s true, I’m a workaholic. But there are other things I’d like to do. For instance, I’m a great-grandfather, and I haven’t even seen my great-grandchildren.”

“Nothing’s stopping you from seeing them.” Jack clamped his jaw. He’d said his piece, and he wasn’t backing down. “After the last couple of years, I hope you’ve finally come to realize that my decision is final. I’m sorry to disappoint the both of you, but my mind’s made up.” He set down his whiskey tumbler and pushed to his feet, reaching for his jacket slung across his chair. “It’s been good having dinner with just the three of us. I hope we can do it again before I leave.”

He left the restaurant before either one of them could argue with him. He was through arguing. But as his taxi sped him back to his hotel, the words he’d said came back to haunt him.
I like my life the way it is
. That’s what he’d said to Lachlan and Cameron, but did he believe it himself?

Chapter Nine

In the harried days leading up to the Macintyre Foundation ball, Grace barely saw a glimpse of Jack at the office. He was working on a different floor, and she was ensconced with Louisa for hours, sorting out arrangements for the ball. Jack was avoiding her, and given that half the office knew about their clandestine kiss, it seemed prudent, but it didn’t stop her from missing him. She was in love with Jack, and even though she knew he didn’t return her feelings, she still wanted to see him, to speak to him, to store up as many memories of him as possible before he left.

When she compared Jack to her ex-boyfriend, she realized she’d never truly been in love with Daryl. She’d refused to go with him to Africa, citing her desire to buy her own apartment, but that had just been an excuse. If Jack asked her to go sailing around the world with him in a tiny yacht, she’d say yes in a shot. She loved him, and she’d go wherever he asked her to go. Being with him was all that mattered.

Jack had opened her eyes to her true nature. He’d even helped her recognize her feelings about her mother. In between her work, she began to track down her mother, methodically working her way through past addresses and old contacts. Eventually she traced Cheryl’s current phone number.

One evening, with Rose at her side for support, she made the call and spoke to her mother for the first time in more than two years. The conversation was stilted. Cheryl sounded more wary than enthusiastic to hear from her only child, but Grace persevered, determined not to be put off. She learned that Cheryl was living with her current boyfriend on the outskirts of the city. She helped him out with his concreting business and sounded surprisingly content.

“How about you? Still slaving away at that Macintyre’s place?” Cheryl eventually asked.

Grace spoke a bit about her job, but it became clear Cheryl wasn’t very interested. As the conversation petered out, Grace hoped her mother would invite her for a visit, but Cheryl merely rang off with a vague promise to “see her sometime.”

Grace put down her phone, feeling exhausted after the ten-minute conversation.

Rose put an arm around her. “See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It wasn’t so great, either.”

“Aw.” Rose squeezed her. “It’ll get better next time.”

Rose was a good friend, but Grace wished it was Jack sitting beside her. He would really understand. He would know why she felt relieved, disappointed, and accepting all at the same time. She might never have a close relationship with her mother, but she had stopped railing against her deprived childhood. There was no sense in holding onto old resentments—she had to let them go. She’d reestablished contact, and she would continue calling her mother on a regular basis, even if Cheryl didn’t reciprocate. Maybe one day her mother would be glad to hear from her.

“Are things really going well for you at work?” Rose asked as they made cocoa together in the kitchen. “I thought you were getting antsy there.”

“I just said that for my mother’s benefit. I am antsy. In fact, I’m so antsy I sent off my résumé to that friend of mine I told you about.”

“That’s a smart move. No harm in finding out what’s out there. You’ve been stuck in a rut for too long.” Rose handed Grace a steaming mug of cocoa.

“Yes, it’s time for me to make some serious decisions.”

As Grace sipped her cocoa, she studied the building across the street, where the renovations were practically completed. All the scaffolding and building detritus had been removed and a big For Sale banner erected.

Her dream of owning her own home seemed more distant than ever before. She couldn’t take on a mortgage while her career was in limbo, and by the time she sorted herself out, most likely all the best apartments would already have been snapped up. Of course there were other places, but for months she’d watched the ones across the street being built and invested a lot of emotion into the idea of owning one of them.

Did she even have the motivation to go out there and find another place? Falling in love with Jack had jumbled all her priorities. What had once seemed like rock-solid concerns had become uncertainties. Perhaps everything would return to normal once Jack was gone. His absence would tear at her, but the sooner Jack left, the sooner she could start to get over him.

…

“Can we talk?”

Grace glanced up from her desk to see Jack at the open door to her office. Instantly her heart skipped. “Uh, sure.”

He moved toward her. “How’s the ball coming along?” He nodded at her computer monitor. “Lots of last-minute glitches to fix?”

From his angle he couldn’t help seeing what was on her screen, she realized.

“Actually, I’ve been indulging in a bit of daydreaming.” She tilted the monitor toward him. “This is the penthouse apartment in that building I told you about. It’s just been listed.” For a couple million-plus dollars. Way out of her price range, but she needed a little distracting. The ball was tomorrow, and she’d been swamped with mundane tasks.

“Nice pad,” Jack commented after he’d studied the photos.

That was an understatement, but then luxury homes weren’t a novelty to him. Briskly, she closed down her browser and clasped her hands together. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you out for lunch,” Jack said. “I thought we could go to Chang’s tomorrow, like we used to.”

Her chest panged at the mention of their old lunch place. “Oh! No, I couldn’t.” To go back to Chang’s and pretend nothing had changed since they’d last visited was more than she could handle.

“Okay, not Chang’s then. Probably not the right place. How about Marque? I hear it’s the latest three-hat restaurant. I’m sure I can pull some strings and get us a reservation.”

Biting her lip, she picked up a pen and twirled it in her fingers. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t have the time. I’m sorry.” She didn’t have the heart to be wined and dined by Jack on the eve of his departure. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I don’t like leaving when there’s all this unresolved tension between us. We used to be friends, or at least I thought we were, and I’d like us to be friends when I leave.”

The mention of his leaving filled her with an icy weight. Hearing him say it compounded the finality. “Of course we’re still friends,” she said.

“Are we?”

“Yes.” She nodded and fiddled with the pen some more. Friendship was all he could offer her, but that still meant a lot to her. “So,” she continued on a more upbeat note, “you’re heading straight back to Filemu Island?”

“I am. I want to finish the village hall and get my school project off and running soon. If there’s one thing you’ve showed me, it’s that I shouldn’t be wasting any more time.”

She pictured him back on the island, working shirtless in the balmy weather, and her throat tightened.

“I have an idea how you could help the islanders even more,” she said, determined to stick to practicalities. “When I was on Filemu, Tupua told me how he wished there were more opportunities on the island for young people, so they’d have more incentive to remain instead of moving to the bigger towns. I was thinking that rather than paying for contractors to come in and build the school hall, you could use the opportunity to involve the locals. Get them to design the school they’d like. Give them on-the-job training so they have the skills to maintain the buildings. It would take more time and money to deliver the project, but in the long run you’d make a far greater impact.”

Jack studied her with renewed respect. “Grace, that’s a brilliant idea.”

His praise made her warm all over with pride. “You think so?”

He nodded. “Definitely. I’ll be sure to incorporate that in my plans.” He paused, his eyes soft with appreciation. “Sure you can’t make lunch tomorrow? It’d be great to discuss this further.”

For a second she wavered, longing to bask in his admiration a little longer, but she knew she’d only be making things worse for herself. “I’m sorry, I really can’t. Too many last-minute tasks for the ball.” She pushed to her feet. “If you don’t mind, I have a meeting to go to.”

“Of course. Please don’t let me hold you up.”

He nodded politely and left without trying to press her.

…

“I specified purple orchids for the centerpieces.” Louisa jabbed a finger at the offending flowers. “These are white!”

Grace consulted her notes. “Actually, according to this original order to the florists, you did ask for white orchids.”

Louisa pouted. “I distinctly remember changing my mind and deciding purple would be much better.”

“Yes, but did you tell the florists that?”

Louisa flicked back her hair, looking offended. “I thought you’d take care of the details.”

A swift retort rose to Grace’s lips, but over the past few days she’d found it easier not to descend to Louisa’s level. Instead, she said mildly, “I would have, if I could read minds.”

Louisa puffed out her cheeks as if ready to argue the point, but then she shrugged. “I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it,” she conceded. “But purple would have been so much better!” With another toss of her head, she stalked away in a cloud of expensive but cloying perfume.

Grace shook her head. Trust Louisa to chuck a wobbly about something as insignificant as the color of the flowers. In her opinion, the ballroom looked spectacular. Everything was ready for the big night. The parquet dance floor gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and the circle of linen-clad tables sparkled with glass- and silverware. The first guests were expected soon, and she and Louisa had arrived early to see to the last-minute arrangements.

Tonight would be work for her. She would be up and down all night making sure everything ran smoothly behind the scenes, leaving Louisa free to mingle. Grace didn’t mind. She wasn’t in a festive mood. Not when she knew this was Jack’s last night in town. He would be here at the ball, of course, but she didn’t expect to talk to him much. The other guests would monopolize him, and she’d be too busy overseeing the event.

So really, she had no reason for going to so much trouble with her appearance tonight. No reason at all, except she wanted to look her best for Jack. She’d bought a new dress, an elegant, red chiffon gown that fell in soft folds around her hips, and high-heeled, silver sandals. She’d styled her hair into gentle waves around her cheeks. She wanted to look as attractive and feminine as possible, if only for one night.

Her thoughts about Jack were cut short by Louisa storming back and demanding to know why the guitarist in the band had studs in his nose. By the time she’d convinced Louisa that nose studs would not bring down the tone of the ball, Lachlan arrived.

“Everything going to plan?” he asked as he approached Louisa and Grace.

“Just.” Louisa rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve been rushed off my feet!” Then, catching Grace’s wry look, she added, “Grace has been a big help to me, Dad. You must let me borrow her when I put on our Melbourne Cup function.”

“Of course,” Lachlan said. “I’m sure Grace won’t mind, will you?”

Grace was too flabbergasted to reply. No way was she going to be turned into Louisa’s party planner, but before she could protest, Louisa darted off to meet some new guests. Grace turned to Lachlan as all her pent-up frustration came to a fast boil.

“Do you have a moment for a quick talk?” she asked him.

She must have spoken in a more abrupt tone than usual because Lachlan took one look at her before steering her away to a table in a quiet spot. Motioning her to sit, he pulled out a chair next to her.

“I want to thank you for helping Louisa with this function,” he said before she could speak. “I know how difficult she is to work with, but you seem to have a knack with her.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Grace said, slightly mollified by his words. “But what I have to say isn’t specifically about Louisa.” She clasped her hands together and drew in a steadying breath. “I’m not sure how best to broach the subject, so I’ll just come out and say it. Lachlan, I don’t want to be your Special Projects person anymore. I want a transfer to another position.”

Lachlan gaped at her. “What are you talking about?” he finally spluttered out. “You can’t transfer now. You’re my Special Projects person.”

She shook her head sadly. “We’ve talked about this before. I want to do something else. There’s nothing special about Special Projects. It’s just a euphemism for doing stuff nobody else wants to do.”

Lachlan’s chest swelled. “That’s poppycock! I need you in Special Projects. You’re of vital importance to me and to the company.”

“I’m only important to you because it’s convenient for you having me around.” Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms as she struggled to keep her voice even. “But I’m tired of doing mundane things like recruiting graduates and organizing balls. I want to do things that matter. I
know
I can do something more meaningful.”

Lachlan’s face flushed as his anger mounted. “Oh, so suddenly taking orders from me is mundane, is it? It doesn’t matter much to you, is that it?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She massaged her temples tiredly. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring up such a delicate subject at a time like this, but she was sick of biting her tongue and suppressing her resentment.

“I suppose you’ve already been job-hunting behind my back,” Lachlan barked.

Her gaze slid away from him. “Well…”

“I knew it! You’re looking for another job and you’re using that to try to blackmail me. Well, it won’t work. Not with me. You’ve got some nerve, after everything I’ve done for you! Goddammit, is there no one I can rely on these days?”

He hauled himself to his feet and glowered down at her, patches of red fury staining his cheeks. “Girl, you better hope you’ve got another job lined up, because I expect to see your resignation letter on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

She stared after him with growing alarm as he stomped off. She hadn’t meant things to go this far, but she’d underestimated Lachlan’s volatile temper, and now she was as good as fired.