Her Alpha Saviors [The Hot Millionaires #2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

Dancing. That’s probably why he was late. He’d have been clubbing in Southampton the night before and hadn’t rolled out of bed yet.

Skye tripped lightly up the stairs to her office on the first floor. Hannah, an older lady from the village who came in to clean every day and had done for as long as Skye could remember, had the vacuum cleaner running over the threadbare corridor carpet.

“Morning, Hannah,” Skye said cheerfully. “Lovely day. Spring’s finally in the air.”

“Morning, Skye. Aye, it is that.”

Skye carried on toward her office without breaking stride.

“Here, don’t go in there,” Hannah yelled after her. “Go and change first.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go in,” Skye said, laughing over her shoulder. “But the bills won’t pay themselves.”

She forged ahead, aware that she must look a real sight if even Hannah remarked on it. She didn’t find the smell of sweaty horse the slightest bit offensive, but she supposed other people might be less enlightened. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her long leather riding boots were splattered with mud, as was the rest of her. The shirt that had started the day white was now covered in horsy grease, and her skintight jodhpurs had definitely seen better days.

“Good job no one can see me,” she muttered, pushing open her office door and stopping dead in her tracks.

A strange man was lolling in her chair, booted feet resting on her desk as he flipped through her private papers like he had every right in the world to do so. He was tall, Skye noticed, probably over six foot, with thick dark hair, an olive complexion, a square jaw sporting a day’s worth of designer stubble, and piercing navy eyes, currently assessing her with derision reflected in them. Probably in his midthirties, he was definitely the sort of guy who’d turn heads.

He was also trespassing.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

The navy-rimmed irises lazily ran the length of her body, assessing her in a way that infuriated Skye. It was as though the man was undressing her and wasn’t that impressed when he finally peeled back her clothing. What a nerve! He continued to loll in her swivel chair, tipping it back to the point where she thought that gravity must surely take over and topple it backward, taking him with it. It would serve him bloody well right! Apparently unaware of his perilous situation, the stranger continued to size her up like she was a piece of merchandise for sale in a shop window. Skye’s fiery temper, her main failing, was in danger of getting the better of her.

How dare he!

“I ask again, who are you, what are you doing in my office, and for that matter, who let you in?” She tapped her riding crop against her booted leg, furious when a curling smile crept slowly round his admittedly attractive mouth. “The pub isn’t open yet.”

Finally he stood up, causing Skye to swallow several times and take a defensive step backward as she absorbed the full impact of his imposing physicality. Seated, he was formidable. Standing, he was in a league of his own, and not only because his taut, muscular body was making a profound impression of Skye’s sex-starved self when she least wished to be impressed. There was just something about him, an air of supreme confidence, a presence, a not entirely civilized male aura that caused the walls of her small office to shrink in on her as he continued to appraise her.

Skye shook her head to dispel the lascivious thoughts that flooded her mind. Since when did a good-looking man make her pussy leak and her thoughts to turn to sex?
Get a grip, Skye.
This man was a real force of nature—a temporary complication she could well do without. Not that it really mattered since he wouldn’t be staying. He was just irritating, that was all.

He was definitely over six feet tall. All that black hair and eyes almost as black were unsettling enough to make her eyes drift lower. He wore a white dress shirt open at the throat, with the sleeves rolled back to display strong forearms dusted with more black hair and large hands with long, capable-looking fingers. His long legs were encased in well-worn jeans, and there were equally well-worn boots on his feet.

Who the hell was he? He wasn’t from around these parts. Skye would definitely have remembered. She might have given up on men, but that didn’t mean she was blind. He couldn’t be a debt collector. Debt collectors didn’t dress like wannabe cowboys.

“If you can’t even keep track of the date,” he said in a soft American drawl, “then it’s little wonder this place is falling down round your ears.”

She gasped. “You’re Blanchard.”

“Got it in one, Ms. Harrison.”

“But you’re not due until tomorrow. The fourteenth.”

“I think you’ll find that our appointment was for today, the thirteenth.”

His tone was so condescending that Skye felt moved to physical violence. Her eyes drifted toward the calendar on her wall. Who the hell did he think he was? Well, she’d enjoy putting him right. She reached past him to her appointment book and flipped through the pages.

“There, see,” she said, stabbing her finger at the page for the fourteenth. “I’ve blocked out the whole day for you.”

“Wrong day,” he insisted. “You need to get a more efficient secretary.”

More efficient, hah! She couldn’t afford the luxury of anyone to help with the paperwork, much less a secretary. The phone was answered by whoever happened to be closest. That often meant the kitchen staff, Hannah, or even one of the regulars in the bar. That was what had happened this time, she recalled. She’d been run off her feet behind the bar on a rare occasion when they were busy and her help hadn’t turned up. Someone took the call for her and scribbled the details on a piece of paper. Who the hell was it? She knitted her brow, trying to recall, but the looming menace crowding out her office made coherent thought next to impossible.

Anyway, what did it matter? She could hardly blame one of her customers for cocking up
the
most important appointment in her rapidly disintegrating world. Jay Blanchard possessed the power to make or break her business. She hadn’t thought he’d even respond to her cry for help. A business such as hers was probably too small to even register on the radar of such a high flyer. She’d been euphoric when he e-mailed to say he was interested, convinced she would be able to save The Fox from the receivers after all, and now she’d blown her chances with this annoying hunk by not being prepared for him. Whatever must he think of her?

“Sorry,” she said meekly. “We seem to be at cross-purposes. Can’t think how that happened.”

The expression in his eyes softened, but only fractionally. “No harm done. We’re early anyway.”

“We?” Skye had thought it would be just him, which was bad enough.

“My partner is taking a look around while we wait for you. Hope you don’t mind.”

Like it would make any difference if she did. And what was all this about a partner? She didn’t even know he had one.

“How did you get in?”

“We knocked at the front door, obviously. The cleaning lady finally opened up for us.”

Skye flashed a brief smile. “She must have taken a liking to you. Hannah doesn’t usually have much time for strangers.”

“You don’t say.” There was an ironic twist to his lips. “I thought she was gonna chase us away with her broom. Fortunately Luke’s good with old ladies.”

“Luke being your partner?”

“Someone take my name in vain?”

A head popped round the door, followed by a body that made Skye blink several times in stark admiration. Jay Blanchard clearly didn’t mind the competition. Hell, why couldn’t just one thing have gone right for her? If Blanchard had been old and fat, like she’d built him up to be in her mind, she might have been able to win him round. No chance with these two. They probably had babes falling over them everywhere they went. Skye, at twenty-eight, was way beyond babe status. Not that she’d ever fallen into that category, nor had she wanted to, but that wasn’t the point.

Thoroughly disgruntled, she stole a glance at Luke as he and Jay spoke quietly together, pointedly excluding her. He was almost as tall as Blanchard, had a shock of thick, curly brown hair and darker brown magnetic eyes that appeared to find life amusing. He was almost but not quite handsome, his face displaying hints of tough resourcefulness beneath that cheerful exterior. He looked as though he took care of himself as well, which was as annoying as heck. He’d shed his jacket, supposing he’d arrived wearing one, and his short-sleeved shirt displayed rippling muscles at work when he reached up to push the hair away from his eyes. Skye appreciated men with good musculature as much as the next girl and admitted, at least to herself, that she was enjoying the view as she watched them conduct their private conversation.

It was a moment before she realized they’d concluded it and were watching her watching them. Needless to say, Blanchard’s expression was sardonically amused, like her reaction was no more than he’d expected because women gaped at him all the time.

Not this one, buster!

“See enough?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“More than enough,” she said briskly. “If you’ll give me a minute to change, I’ll see you downstairs and we’ll go through my proposals. I’m sure you’re very busy, so I won’t delay you for long.”

“This is Luke Savage,” Jay said. “Luke, meet Ms. Harrison.”

Luke extended a hand, which Skye reluctantly took. She was surprised by the way she reacted to the touch of his fingers as they firmly grasped hers. She felt it all the way to her pussy. Damn, she’d gone too long without a man in her life. Not that she had any time for sex. All the same, if by some miracle she managed to save The Fox, she needed to organize herself better so that she could actually get a life that didn’t revolve around work, work, and more bloody work.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Harrison.”

“Call me Skye. Everyone does.”

“Nice ride?” Luke asked, taking his turn to rake her body with his gaze. Only his was more appreciative than Blanchard’s, giving Skye’s ego a much-needed boost.

“Great. Sorry, about the mix-up with the dates. I should have been here.”

“Yes,” Jay said, his unwavering gaze strangely unsettling. “You should have.”

“Well, I am now,” she snapped. “It’s still before nine in the morning, so you haven’t lost much of your precious day.” She opened the door before her temper got the better of her. She could not afford to upset this infuriating man, she reminded herself. He was her last hope. “Hannah,” she yelled.

Hannah was dusting the pictures on the walls immediately outside Skye’s office. Skye suppressed a grin. They’d hung there forever, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d been so thoroughly cleaned. An exaggerated account of Skye’s first meeting with her would-be rescuers would be all over the village by lunchtime.

“Would you please take these gentlemen to the snug? And be a love and make them some coffee.”

“Aye, right enough. Then you get yourself out of them dirty clothes and smarten yourself up a bit,” Hannah said, shaking a finger at Skye. “Whatever must they think of you?”

What indeed? Skye, used to Hannah’s habit of mothering her, didn’t bat an eyelid when she took her to task. The two Americans appeared bemused by it.
Welcome to English country life, guys.

“I won’t keep you five minutes,” she said.

Skye marched through the door that had closed behind Hannah and which Jay opened for her. She ran back down to the kitchen, out the back door, and up the external staircase to her private apartment in the attic. Still mortified to have gotten the dates wrong, she wondered how she could possibly regain the ground she’d lost with the wretched man. First impressions were
so
important. She could see that Jay Blanchard thought she was hopelessly out of her depth running this place. To her, its familiar tattiness was soothing, and she barely noticed it. Seeing it through his eyes, she supposed she couldn’t blame him for harbouring doubts. He was probably used to the best of everything.
Great way to live, if you can afford to.
She didn’t have that luxury and never had.

Skye stepped out of her soiled clothes, allowed herself ninety seconds under a tepid shower, dried off, and attacked her tangled hair with a brush, mulling over her options as she yanked it through the knots.

“Ouch!”

She really didn’t have any, options that is. She couldn’t afford to let resentment stand in the way of saving The Fox.
She would just have to
somehow wow them both with the brilliance of her business plan, of all the things she knew she could achieve at The Fox,
given the freedom and money to do so, and convince them to give her a chance.

Failure was simply not an option.

* * * *

Jay and Luke watched her disappear from sight and then exchanged a speaking look.

“I suppose you already knew she was a looker.” Luke expelled a soft, appreciate whistle as her butt disappeared round a corner. “You might have warned me.”

“I didn’t realize the package was quite so well put together.”

“This way, gentlemen,” Hannah said. “And I’ll thank you not to talk about Skye that way. She ain’t one of your commodities, or whatever it is you high-flying types deal in, but a human being, just like you.”