Baiting the Boss (2 page)

…

Jack’s bungalow stood on the very edge of the village, a little apart from everyone else’s homes. A bit like Jack himself, Grace thought. He’d always been one to stand out from the crowd. The bungalow, like the others she’d passed along the road, was a simple wooden structure, raised off the ground on stilts, with a thatched roof and generous deck. The outside walls were only built halfway to the roof, topped with screens and roll-up blinds for privacy. He led her onto the front deck and gestured toward a couple of loungers piled with bright cotton cushions.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” He disappeared inside.

Grace settled herself on a cushion, glad to be out of the blazing sun. Fishing rods and a well-waxed surfboard leaned against the wall. On the beach just beyond the garden, a couple of canoes lay on the sand. A hammock strung beneath the palm trees rocked in the strengthening breeze that stirred the damp hair at her temples. She breathed in the salty air, only to jerk upright as Jack returned bearing a tray with a jug of iced tea and two tumblers.

She wished he didn’t have that effect on her, but she’d been infatuated with him almost from day one, and his mere presence had always unsettled her. Apparently after three years, that hadn’t changed, much to her chagrin. It didn’t help that her attention was drawn to the muscles in his legs rippling as he sat down, or that she fidgeted as he studied her, as if she were a puzzle to be solved. He had buttoned up his shirt, and she wondered if that was because of her. Good thing, too. She didn’t need to be distracted by his abs when she had a delicate task ahead of her.

“Lachlan sent you, didn’t he?” He poured a glass of iced tea and passed it to her.

Her hand wobbled slightly. “Yes, he did.”

“How did you track me down?”

“It wasn’t that hard.” She shrugged. “I had to go through the Department of Foreign Affairs. It took a while, but I persisted.”

“I see.” He swallowed a long pull of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. “And why are you here?”

She took a sip of her iced tea. The cool liquid slid down her throat, chasing the sourness from her mouth. “It’s…your grandfather.”

“He’s ill?”

“No…” How much simpler if Lachlan were ill. She wouldn’t have had to make this long trip. She would have simply rung, and Jack would have come back to Sydney without argument. She knew he would have.

“No, Lachlan isn’t ill, but he’s getting on. He turned eighty this year, and he wants to step down from the CEO position.” She gave Jack a pointed look. By rights Jack should’ve been the CEO by now. Three years ago, at the age of thirty-one, he’d been primed with plenty of experience, and Lachlan had been ready to relinquish the position.

“So why doesn’t he retire?” Jack asked carelessly. “I’m sure there are plenty of executives who could step in.”

“Lachlan hasn’t met anyone he thinks is qualified enough.”

Jack’s mouth tightened into a flat line. “Because none of them is a Macintyre, I suppose.”

His sarcastic tone made her glance down at her drink. The multimillion-dollar construction company had been started by Jack’s great-grandfather and was one of the biggest privately owned companies in the country. With Jack out of the picture, the company was now owned by his grandfather and his two aunts.

“Lachlan’s tired of the uncertainty. It’s wearing him down and it’s not good for business when there are rumors going about that Macintyre’s might not survive a few more years.”

He looked up sharply. “What do you mean? As far as I can tell Macintyre’s is in good financial shape and there’s nothing to stop it growing.”

“Every ship requires a captain, especially in these economic conditions. Your grandfather needs a succession plan. If your family can’t agree on the next CEO, then they might decide it’s better to sell everything to an outsider.”

“Sell off Macintyre’s!” Jack shot to his feet, sloshing his drink. He put down the glass and paced about the deck, raking his fingers through his unruly hair.

The sight of his long, rumpled, dark hair captivated her. A strange, uncomfortable warmth roiled through her belly as she wondered what it would be like to touch his hair.

Jack halted. “I can’t see my grandfather ever allowing it,” he said.

She sucked in her lower lip as she stood and faced him. “Actually, selling the company is Lachlan’s idea. But only as a last resort, if nothing can be resolved.”

In the few minutes they’d been on the deck, the skies had rapidly clouded over, and the afternoon had grown murky and muggy. Jack had been right about the fluctuating weather. The damp breeze ruffled Jack’s loose hair around his shadowed face.

He sighed. “I guess this is where you tell me the part I’m not looking forward to.”

She wiped her hands on her shorts. Humidity thickened around them, and a bead of sweat rolled down between her breasts.

“Lachlan would like you to come back to Sydney with me.”

“And do what?” he shot back.

His scraping tone caught on her nerves. She was just the messenger, and she’d done enough tiptoeing around him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, resting her hands on her hips. “Maybe catch up with your family? Talk to your grandfather? Check on everyone you haven’t seen in the past three years?”

In the gloominess, his eyes glinted like sea ice. His voice lowered to a rasp. “Is that a hint of criticism I detect in your voice, Grace?”

She gulped. He appraised her as if noticing her for the first time as a real person, not just a human telegram. And he didn’t seem to like what he saw.

“Criticism? Er, no, of course not.”

He glared at her a few more moments. “Liar.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re lying. You think I’ve been neglecting my grandfather, my family, my
obligations
. You think I’m a no-good slacker. Don’t you?”

As his lip curled disdainfully, unexpected anger came whirling out of her. “How dare you sneer at me like that?” she fumed at him, a hot flush suffusing her head. “This is my first trip overseas, and do you know what I’ve had to endure just to get here? Fourteen-hour flights, single-engine propeller planes, Wally and his stinking boat, and now you have the temerity to look down your nose at me. How dare you? You should get down on your knees and thank me for coming all this way just for
you
!”

He started as if he’d stepped on a snake. But between the stifling heat and the bilious sea journey, her blood was up, and she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of her mouth.

“For three years you’ve done nothing but…but work on your frigging tan while you surf and fish and laze about—” She waved recklessly at his hammock, surfboard, and fishing tackle. “You used to be someone I admired, but now you’re just a—a spoiled, selfish tycoon and it’s about time you started thinking about others for a change!”

An awful silence swelled up between them, a silence that seemed to throttle all the air from her lungs. He stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on her, his chest moving up and down with the force of his breathing. Just as the silence became unbearable, lightning split across the sky. She flinched, and a second later the heavens opened up, releasing a torrent of rain.

Jack spun on his heel and stalked into his bungalow. Grace stared after him, then, heart pummeling heavily, she followed him inside. Soft sea-grass matting greeted her feet as she stepped into the large room fronting the deck. In the dimness she made out Jack moving about as he lit an oil lamp in the corner.

“Look, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.” She had to raise her voice above the roar of the rain.

He straightened up, his tall figure bathed in soft yellow shadows. “Don’t apologize. I probably deserve everything you said.”

“I wasn’t apologizing for what I said, just the way I expressed it.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh?”

She swallowed hard. The tension radiating off his granite shoulders was palpable, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She might find him unnervingly attractive, but she couldn’t ignore his current behavior.

“I know you’ve had a hard time these past few years, but so have other people. You’re not the only one who’s suffered.” She hesitated before plunging on. “I-I shouldn’t have called you spoiled and selfish, but you don’t plan to ignore your family forever, do you?”

He stared at her blankly for several moments. Then he gestured toward a set of comfortable-looking rattan settees in the center of the room. “Take a seat. The rain shouldn’t last too long. Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thank you.” She perched on a couch and rubbed her upper arms, flustered by his stonewalling. “Jack—”

“You can spend the night at Tupua’s. He and his wife have a spare bedroom. Don’t worry. He’s the son of the village chief. You’ll be perfectly safe with him.” Jack continued to speak in a disinterested tone, as if she were merely a stranded backpacker. “The weather should be calmer tomorrow. Wally will be able to take you back, no problem.”

“Take me back?” She sat upright. “But I’m—”

“Supposed to bring me with you. Yes, I know.” He smoothed down his mane of hair, and the motion seemed to calm his ill temper. “I’m sorry my grandfather sent you on this wild-goose chase. You should have refused.”

“You obviously don’t remember your grandfather well.”

He laughed without any humor. “Okay, he’s a relentless steamroller. Look, none of this is fair on you. When you leave tomorrow, I’ll give you a letter for the old man explaining the situation to him. Rest assured you won’t be blamed for anything.”

“So you won’t be coming back to Sydney with me?”

“No.” Hands balled in his pockets, he stared out at the torrential rain, his profile a rocky cliff against the watery backdrop. “I know what my grandfather wants. He wants me to join Macintyre’s again. He wants me to be the next CEO.”

“It’s what he’s hoped for all these years.”

“Not going to happen.” He continued to study the deluged garden. “I learned my lesson. I’ve sacrificed too much for Macintyre’s.”

“Sacrifice? I hardly think it’s a sacrifice when your grandfather’s handing you the top job on a silver platter.”

“Don’t cross me on this, Grace. My mind’s made up.”

His steely glare brought her up short. Her instincts were right. Jack wasn’t going to trot meekly back to Sydney with her. But her entire career, which was currently going nowhere fast, depended on convincing him. She’d have to fight him every step of the way, and that wouldn’t be easy, given her weakness for him.

Chapter Two

Grace shook her head. “Jack, if I had a grandfather like yours, I’d cling to him.”

“Pity relatives aren’t transferable.”

“He cares about you.”

“Only as long as I obey his commands.”

She sighed. Sure, Lachlan was curmudgeonly, but he definitely missed his grandson. In contrast to her own mother, who didn’t seem to care whether she was dead or alive. Jack didn’t appreciate what he had.

Determined not to give in, she decided to try a different tack. “You must like it here if you’ve stayed a whole year.” Through her investigations, she knew he’d drifted around Europe and Asia for two years before ending up in the Pacific.

“What’s not to like? The people are friendly, the weather’s good, and I can work on my tan all year round without someone commenting.”

His pointed look had her shifting in her seat. “Yeah, well, I was trying to make a point.”

“Trying to guilt trip me, more like.” He gestured around the room. “Does it look like I’m living the life of a spoiled tycoon?”

She glanced at the modest interior. The room they were in served as a combined living, dining, and kitchen area. A far corner had been fitted out with plain white cupboards, a small fridge, and a gas cooker, while behind the cane settees stood a scrubbed pine table and chairs. Not too luxurious, but then again he was idling away on a tropical island. Not that she’d say that again. She’d already criticized him more than she’d ever imagined.

“That depends.” She tapped the coffee table in front of her. “Does this conceal a hidden entrance leading down to your Batcave?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

Obviously her attempt at lightening the atmosphere had failed. “Sorry, I was being flippant.”

He eased back in his chair, looking slightly less grim. “Critical and flippant. I don’t remember you being so forward.”

“How do you remember me?” she couldn’t help asking.

His eyes glimmered like barbed wire. “Quiet, earnest, self-effacing.”

“Hmm. You make me sound like a nun.”

“Well, you are devoted to Macintyre’s.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It can be.” He tilted his head to one side, weighing her. “So tell me, what have you been up to since I last saw you?”

The last time she’d seen him had been at Becky’s funeral. He’d been ashen, bleak, while she had quietly wept for his wife and for him. She hadn’t been the only one to cry for him. Just about every female who worked at Macintyre’s held a secret or not-so-secret crush on Jack, and the entire workforce had turned out for the service. Grace had been lost in a sea of mourners, but she didn’t think anyone could have cried more for Jack than she had.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Since you left I’ve been with Lachlan.”

“In what capacity?”

“I’m head of Special Projects.”

“Special Projects?” He frowned. “But that’s just a euphemism for… ”

She couldn’t help grimacing. Trust Jack to know precisely what Special Projects meant. She tilted up her chin. “Glorified assistant?”

“Yeah,” he bluntly replied.

She sighed. “It’s true. I’ve been your grandfather’s glorified assistant for the past three years. He has a proper administrative assistant for his correspondence and meetings and all that day-to-day stuff. I’m called in to do whatever else crops up that nobody else will do.”

“Like tracking down his black-sheep grandson.” He offered her a quick smile.

At the curl of his lips, her heart did a weird flip. She hadn’t seen that flashing grin in a long time, but it hadn’t lost any of its impact on her. She couldn’t help grinning back. “You really are a special project all on your own.”

His smile faded. “But you could be doing more challenging work. I’ll admit being assistant to the CEO is an invaluable learning experience, but staying in the same position for three years doesn’t exactly do wonders for your career.”

Grace frowned. How typical of Jack to go straight to the heart of the problem. Although she’d made herself indispensable to Lachlan, her career was going nowhere fast.

“Your grandfather has been good to me,” she said. Like when she’d had an emergency appendectomy two years ago. Lachlan had made sure she received the best medical treatment, paid all her bills, and visited her both in hospital and at home, insisting she take all the time she wanted to recover. She hadn’t received so much as a get-well card from her mother.

So Lachlan deserved her loyalty. And besides, he’d virtually promised her a transfer to a more substantial role if she brought his grandson back to Sydney—not that she’d tell Jack that.

“He’s good to you because you don’t step out of line,” Jack said.

“I’m in it for the long haul. I’m not treating my job at Macintyre’s as a temporary stopgap I can chuck in to go beach bumming.”

He leaned forward. “So you’re in it for life, are you?”

“It
is
my life!” She willed herself to maintain eye contact with him.

“Yeah, so why waste it being an old man’s overpaid lackey?”

“Overpaid?” A brain flash zapped through her synapses. “I’m not paid enough to take this kind of crap.” Shoot, had she really said “crap” to Jack Macintyre? She pressed her fingers against her flushed cheeks.

“Touché.” Jack gazed at her with a mixture of bemusement and respect. “I guess I am behaving crappily, and you’re the last person to deserve that.”

Grace drew in a breath. This conversation with Jack was like wandering drunk through a minefield. “I only meant that my career at Macintyre’s means a lot to me, and I’m willing to make some sacrifices, but it’s not a prison sentence.”

“Isn’t it?” This time there was no mistaking his bitterness. His eyes held a harsh glitter and she had the feeling he wasn’t seeing her at all. “I hope you don’t regret your devotion one day.”

She drew back. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head and pulled himself out of his chair. “Never mind. Forget what I said.”

But she couldn’t forget. Not when his hands were clenched like rocks at his sides, and the tendons in his arms stood out like steel cables. Whatever he meant by his words, Jack had never forgotten it.

“So you’re determined not to come back to Sydney?”

He nodded, somber. “Looks like it.”

“Not even for a brief stopover? I can’t see what you have to do around here that’s so urgent.”

“Hey, I’ve got a lot of fishing and swimming and lazing to do. It’s going to keep me busy for months, maybe years.”

She crimped her lips at his refusal to face life. He and his grandfather were so alike, but at least Lachlan had made the first attempt to heal the breach between them. “You used to be so driven, so focused,” she said. “Surely you can’t be happy doing nothing.”

“Who said anything about being happy?”

This time, the bleak look he shot her made any further argument shrivel on her tongue. She had no comeback to his rhetorical question. Whatever her objectives were in taking Jack to Sydney, making him happy wasn’t on the list.

…

It was growing dark by the time the rain petered off and Jack showed Grace the way to Tupua’s place. A dense purple dusk thickened among the dripping trees, and night insects chirruped in the forest. Dim yellow light spilled out from the bungalows as families gathered on their decks, their murmuring voices mingling with the aromas of spicy stews and baking potatoes rising in the still air.

Beside him, Grace squeaked as she stumbled on the squelchy track. “Oh, damn.” She lifted her sandaled foot out of a water-filled pothole and tried to scrape off the sticky red mud in the nearby grass.

“Sorry about that. You didn’t see the puddle?” he belatedly asked. The hole had always been there, and everyone avoided it without thinking.

“I can’t see much of anything!” A note of exasperation crept into her voice.

Jack looked about him. He could see his way perfectly. He’d walked this road so often he could do it with his eyes shut, but he supposed it might seem dark and rough to a city girl used to bright lights and concrete pavements.

“Don’t they have any streetlights here?” She began to hobble forward again.

“We have a couple down by the harbor, but we don’t really need any here. All the electricity on the island comes from a local generator, and we don’t want to waste fuel.” He crooked out his elbow at her. “Here, take my arm if you’re having trouble.”

She hesitated before hooking her hand into his arm. They walked just a few meters before she began slapping her legs frantically.

“Mosquitoes,” she explained, still beating at herself. “Worst time of the day for them, and the beasts always make straight for me.”

Must be that sweet scent of hers and all that smooth, creamy skin.
The thought popped into Jack’s head before he knew it. She did smell rather nice, like gardenia, and her arm pressing against his was soft and silky, but now wasn’t the time to be reminded of her feminine charms. Frowning, he tugged her along. “Didn’t you bring any insect repellent?”

“Yes, but it’s in my suitcase.” She sighed. “I guess I’m a city girl through and through. I prefer my wildlife adventures strictly in documentaries.”

Tupua’s bungalow came into sight, and Jack saw his friend sitting on the outside deck playing with his two children. As they approached, Jack called out, and Tupua levered himself to his feet.

“Oh my,” Grace murmured beside him.

That was the usual reaction from people when they first saw Tupua. The islander was a few inches shorter than Jack but about twice as wide, with a chest like a barrel and legs like iron pistons. His nose had once been broken, which only added to his fierce Polynesian warrior appearance, but Jack had never seen him lose his temper.

He clasped hands with Tupua before introducing him to Grace.

“Welcome to Filemu Island,” Tupua said to Grace in his gentle, mellifluous voice. “Please, come inside and meet my wife.”

They entered the bungalow and greeted Mary, his wife, who flashed her usual shy smile before ushering Grace to the spare room reserved for the occasional visitor. Tupua offered Jack a beer, and they sat outside on the deck while the toddlers tumbled over them and the last rays of the sun streaked the clouds with crimson. In a couple of brief sentences, Jack filled in Tupua on Grace’s arrival. His friend absorbed the news without comment. Probably he’d already heard everything several times over. There were few secrets in a small place like Filemu, and those secrets had to be well guarded. Plus Sefina, who’d taken Grace’s suitcase, was Tupua’s younger sister.

The women returned, Grace now wearing beige cargo pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and they ate dinner out on the deck—freshly caught emperor fish, rice, beans, and coconut pudding with fruit.

“How long are you staying?” Tupua asked Grace as he offered her a platter of sliced mango.

“Well…” Grace darted a look at Jack.

“She’ll be returning with Wally tomorrow morning,” Jack said firmly.

“Will I?” A faint, stubborn line appeared between her steady brown eyes.

He nodded. “The weather will be kinder tomorrow. You’ll have a much smoother ride.”

“I don’t think I—”

At that moment the youngest child spilled his drink and started to cry. Mary gathered him up and carried him inside, the older sibling trailing after them. In the sudden quiet, Tupua speared a piece of mango and said, “You’re welcome to stay with us for a while, Grace.”

Jack shot his friend a hard stare. What was he up to? “That’s kind of you,” he replied, “but Grace is needed back in Sydney, aren’t you?” He swiveled back to Grace.

She contemplated him, her expression pensive, as she scooped up the last of her coconut pudding. “I suppose so.”

He wasn’t being very nice to her, but the sooner she left, the better. Not just because he didn’t want to be reminded of his grandfather, but also because he wasn’t prepared for the effect Grace had on him. Once, he’d only considered her an employee, a quiet, unpretentious sort-of friend he could enjoy laksa with, but three years on, he was noticing a whole lot of other things about her, things that invaded his senses—like her soft skin, shiny hair, dimpled smile. Things that made his chest tighten.

He wanted her gone. Then he’d be able to breathe easy again. He turned to Tupua and resolutely changed the subject, and Grace fell silent.

Soon after the meal had finished, he rose to leave, and wasn’t surprised when Grace followed him down from the deck. He lifted his hand, stalling her just as she was about to launch into speech.

“I’ll save you some breath,” he started. “Nothing you say is going to make me change my mind. I’m not leaving.”

“But you don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

He scowled down at her. “I don’t know why on earth my grandfather sent you out.”

She pressed her lips together, looking piqued. “Because he thought you might have the decency to listen to me.”

“What exactly did he tell you to do? Does he honestly expect you to drag me back no matter what?”

“Of course not,” she said. “He said it was important for the future of the company that you return to Sydney to settle things.” After a moment’s hesitation, her voice tempered. “You know, it’s not easy for a man like your grandfather to seek help. He didn’t feel comfortable asking me to do this for him.”

“He didn’t need to ask you to do anything. He could have written me a letter or made a phone call.”

“Some things can only be said face-to-face.”

Resentment surged in him. She should have refused to do Lachlan’s dirty work for him, but instead she was defending him. “Well, I’m saying to your face that my answer is no.”

She squared off to him, color rising in her cheeks. “There you go again, not thinking of anyone but yourself. I understand why you felt the need to get away after Becky’s death, but it’s been three years now. Most people in your situation don’t have the luxury of just bumming around for all that time. They have to face up to their responsibilities. And what about your family? Don’t you owe them anything? After all, if it weren’t for Macintyre’s, you wouldn’t be in a position to do whatever you please.”