Baiting the Boss (6 page)

But then, as he was beginning to discover, not many people were like Grace.

As he studied her, a force as palpable as gravity pulled him toward her. He bent forward to catch her subtle scent that had been teasing him all night. She smelled of gardenias, and as he looked at her hair rippling over her shoulders, he was slammed by a sudden impulse to run his fingers through that silkiness, to bury his face into its shininess and breathe in her fragrance. An urge to touch her, to peel back her reserve and free the sensuality simmering just below the surface, sprung upon him.

“Thank you for dinner…” She trailed off as she met his eyes. From her expression, he knew something of his inner turbulence must be showing.

A glimmer of light from an outside lamp bobbed across the contours of her silken shoulders. The compulsion to slide the thin straps of her dress off those shoulders and press his mouth against her velvet skin throbbed in him, as insistent as the croaking of the frogs in the undergrowth. Heat pounded in his groin, and before he knew it, he was powerfully erect. And he hadn’t even touched her! Just the sight of her body was enough to arouse him to fever pitch.

The darkness of the night cloaked him, disguising the raw urges rushing over him. Hell, what was the matter with him? He’d only had one beer, for chrissakes, and he couldn’t control himself. He sucked in a lungful of air, clenching his fists.

“So when are you leaving?” His voice was harsher than he’d intended, snapping the tingling connection between them. Her smile vanished.

“I didn’t realize…” She collected herself, leveled her shoulders, and drew in a quick breath. “I thought I was being useful these past few days.”

“You have been useful.”

“But?”

But she was also distracting him in new and dangerous ways, and he wanted her gone before he succumbed. If he kissed her like he so desperately wanted to, his resolve to get her off the island might crumble away, endangering his primary determination to remain on the island.

“You’re delaying the inevitable.” By sheer force of will, he kept his voice deliberately cool and unsentimental. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be able to tell my grandfather the bad news.”

“So you’re determined not to come back.” She waved her hand around. “You’d rather stay here than do something useful.”

“I’m fixing up the hall. Isn’t that useful?”

“Sure, it’s admirable, and I’d applaud you if you were just an ordinary bloke. But you’re not. You’re Jack Macintyre, and you could accomplish so much more—”

“By slinking back to Sydney and kowtowing to my granddad?”

“You make it sound so—”

“For your information, I am thinking of doing more. The school here is falling to bits, just like most of the schools on these islands. I’m planning to start a nonprofit organization to build new schools, not just in the Sullivan Islands, but wherever they’re needed in the Pacific.”

Her mouth fell open. “But why didn’t you say something before?”

Jack shrugged. “You seemed to take so much pleasure in my ‘bumming around,’ I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I—” she hotly began before she gave a rueful nod. “I guess I did jump to conclusions. But Jack, if you want to help this island, don’t you think working with the Macintyre Foundation would make more sense? You could leverage our construction expertise and contacts and get more bang for your charitable buck. Oh, the more I think about it, the more important it is you return to Sydney, not just for your grandfather, but for your nonprofit work. Don’t you agree?”

Why did she have to look so eager? His idea for a nonprofit organization had been kicking around the back of his mind for weeks. Repairing the village hall was all very well, but it wasn’t enough. He
had
been bumming around for too long now, and it was time to make himself and his wealth useful. He owed that much to the people on this island. And if he did return to Sydney, he’d be able to organize his school-building project more quickly. But the last thing he wanted was to have his idea hijacked by Macintyre’s and become embroiled in family politics again.

“No, I disagree completely,” he said flatly. “I don’t need Macintyre’s input. I’ve got my own money and my own expertise. Don’t try to use this to lever me, Grace.”

She looked like she might continue to argue, but eventually she sighed in capitulation. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Jack.”

“But you can at least see that I’m not frittering my life away.” Somehow, this seemed important, that she respected him even if she didn’t agree with him.

“I see that, yes,” she slowly replied. “And I’m glad. For you.” She studied him, renewed consideration in her eyes. “And if you’re truly resolved not to return to Sydney…”

“I am.”

“Well, then.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “I guess I could make the Monday flight to Kiribati and then catch a connection back to Sydney.”

“You’re giving up?” He could hardly believe it.

She pursed her lips. “You don’t want me to?”

Of course he did. He wanted her to give up and leave. But part of him didn’t. Part of him was still focused on her lips, wondering what they’d taste like pressed up against his while he cupped her neck with one hand and explored her curves with the other…

It hurt all over to snap his attention away. “Sure I do.”

“Then I’ll be out of your hair first thing Monday,” she said.

Monday was five days from now. Factoring in the boat trip, she’d only be here for another four days. Four days. He could handle that.

“Good. You’ll be able to come to Tupua’s father’s birthday party before you leave. It’ll be quite a bash.”

Four days would fly by in no time. He could rein in his desires for that long. But all the way back to his place, he couldn’t erase the memory of Grace’s scent or the swell of her cleavage or the generous curve of her lower lip. He wanted to kiss her, no denying it. Wanted to kiss her badly, not only on the lips but all over her delicious body. His urges weren’t just physical. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her better. The snippets she’d told him about her unsettled childhood and her ex-boyfriend had intrigued him and whetted his appetite for more.

Ah, shoot. He had to stop fantasizing about her. Digging his fingernails into his palms, he strode through the tropical night, but when he reached home he was still stirred up, and the only remedy was a long, ice-cold shower.

Chapter Four

Filemu islanders sure knew how to throw a party, Grace thought as she surveyed the packed space. Tupua’s father, the village elder, was turning sixty, and the entire island had gathered together to celebrate in the almost complete village hall. Everyone had brought platters of food to share, and the grass mats were crowded with fish, prawns, rice, cassava, plantains, and other vegetables Grace couldn’t identify, as well as pineapple, mango, and coconut cake.

Grace sat with Jack, Tupua, and Mary. She smiled and chatted and accepted every kind of food offered to her, but she wasn’t in the party mood. She’d failed Lachlan and herself. He’d be cantankerous and bitterly disappointed not to get his grandson back, and her dreams of a better job and buying her own home would retire to the back burner, at least for the foreseeable future.

Deep down lurked another reason she wasn’t looking forward to her departure two mornings from now. In the past few days, she’d gotten to know Jack a lot better. When she’d arrived, she’d thought the man she’d once looked up to had become nothing more than a selfish loafer, but after working alongside him, she knew there was so much more. More that he could achieve, for himself and for Filemu Island, if he returned to Sydney. She hated seeing him fritter away his potential almost as much as she hated the thought of not seeing him anymore. The crush she’d had on him had morphed into something more substantial. They’d exchanged confidences about families. Jack had made her laksa in tribute of their shared lunches. He’d even held her hand, however briefly, and empathized with her. She’d thought his stubbornness would help dilute the burning attraction she felt for him, but it only exacerbated her weakness. He’d won, she’d lost, and she didn’t want to say good-bye to him.

After everyone had eaten their fill, the empty dishes were taken away, traditional ukuleles and drums brought out, and young and old began to dance. Jack sat cross-legged beside Grace, his raven hair brushed back from his forehead, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin as he clapped along in time to the music. Glancing at him, Grace felt her heart flip. Her heart stuttered too often in Jack’s presence.

Sefina approached him, hips swaying suggestively, finger crooked in an invitation to join her in the dance. He laughed and shook his head, but Sefina persisted. In her peacock-colored sarong with a garland of frangipani flowers around her neck, the girl looked exotic and irresistible. After a token resistance, Jack shrugged and allowed Sefina to haul him to his feet.

Grace’s chest pinched as she watched Jack dance with Sefina. The girl shimmied in time to the exuberant music and beamed up at him, her admiration plain for all to see, except perhaps Jack, who was hamming up his moves. As Jack grinned down at his dancing partner, the drums beat louder, feet pounded faster, and Grace’s chest clenched tighter. An enormous shadow loomed over her. Tupua grinned at her, his large paw held out.

“How about we dance, Grace?”

With a laugh, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Tupua danced slowly to teach her the steps. At first she followed him hesitantly, but after a while she set aside her inhibitions and threw herself into the routine. The floor shuddered as Tupua jigged about with surprising nimbleness. Soon Grace was breathless and her hair was sticking to her neck, but she was having too much fun to care.

Eventually the music came to an end. By now the heat was stifling, so after thanking Tupua for the dance, she threaded her way outside. She walked away from the crowded hall to where the lights faded into shadow and stood there a few minutes, breathing in the cooler air.

A twig crackled behind her, and the prickling on the back of her neck told her immediately it was Jack. She turned, her heartbeat revving up.

“Just needed a breath of fresh air after all that dancing,” she said by way of explanation.

“You were quite the hit back there.”

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve never been to such a great party. I’ll be telling everyone about it when I get back to Sydney.”

He looked at her a moment and blew out a breath. “You know, I just realized something. You’ve been here almost a week, and all you’ve done is labor for me gratis. You haven’t had any time to see the rest of the island.”

“Oh, I’m not that much of a sightseer, and I like being useful.”

“You’ll take your last day off and relax and enjoy yourself. I insist.”

She didn’t want to take her last day off. She wanted to spend what little time she had left with Jack. “No, I don’t need to relax—”

“Grace.” Stepping forward, he held her by the shoulders. “You do.”

Christ, how could she relax when his merest touch set her skin a-tingle? Bracing herself, she replied, “Okay, maybe I do.”

He stood brooding over her for a few moments. “You know, when you first arrived here, I acted like a boor. I apologize for that. You don’t deserve to be embroiled in a private family quarrel.”

“I’ve never really understood why you and Lachlan fell out.”

When she’d worked under Jack, she would never have asked such a personal question, but after everything she’d gone through since leaving Sydney, she thought she deserved some explanation.

“I guess you’re entitled to ask.” He moved across to a stone bench and dropped onto it, motioning for her to follow suit. For several moments after she sat beside him, he remained silent.

Eventually he said, “I don’t have to tell you what a slave driver my grandfather is. He pushes all his employees hard, but he reserves his toughest discipline for his family, especially us men. As a child I hardly saw my dad. He was always working late, going on business trips. When I was nine, my dad and mum and I went on a trip to Western Australia. It was the first family holiday we’d had in ages.” His voice tightened. “We were at the beach. Mum got caught in a rip. Dad went to help her… ” Jack shook his head, glanced away. “But neither of them made it back.” The tendons in his neck stood out. “Lachlan treated me just the same as my dad when I joined the company. I had to work harder, do better, achieve more than everyone else, simply because I was a Macintyre. I could handle all that pressure, until I married Becky.”

He paused a while, and the strain in his face moved Grace to murmur, “Jack, you don’t have to tell me any more.”

“But I want to.” He looked at her. “I’ve never wanted to talk about this, but now it seems right.” Resting his elbows on his knees, he kneaded his knuckles as he continued. “Becky had never lived outside Rhode Island, let alone the States. She was homesick in Sydney, and I didn’t help matters by working long hours. The day she died, I was supposed to drive her to a party in Palm Beach, but I canceled because of some report I needed to get done for Lachlan. She drove up by herself, and that’s when she had the accident.”

He stopped, his knuckles bone white as he gripped his fist. Grace swallowed. If she gave into her instincts and covered his hand with hers, Jack would stop talking, and she didn’t want that.

“After her funeral I was a wreck, so I took some time off,” he said. “Three weeks later, you know what Lachlan said to me? He told me the best way to get over it was work and lots of it. He wanted me to get on a plane and fly out to Japan to rescue a botched business deal. Get over it!” He laughed bitterly. “I told him to get stuffed, I wanted out. We argued. He told me never to come crawling back to him, that I was finished.”

He sat up, his face grim, and tunneled his fingers through his mussed hair. “I am finished. Finished with being a Macintyre.”

The heavy finality of his words weighed down on Grace. “I understand,” she murmured.

“Do you?”

The rawness in his eyes bit into her, but she couldn’t look away. “You blame yourself for Becky’s death. Yourself and Lachlan. I see why you don’t want to go back to Sydney or get involved with Macintyre’s again.”

The iron set of his shoulders relented an inch. “So you get why I behaved so churlishly when you sailed up wanting me to drop everything and trot back to Sydney with you?”

She nodded, pleating her fingers around the folds of her dress. She understood Jack’s demons, but she also knew Lachlan, and she couldn’t remain silent.

“Do you know why your grandfather cracks the whip with you? I’ve worked with him closely over the past few years, and only recently did I discover he has dyslexia. He masks it very well and would rather die than talk about it. Times have changed, but when he was growing up people didn’t know much about dyslexia. He must have been labeled stupid and slow by his teachers. But he’s far from stupid. He’s managed to stay on top of a huge company like Macintyre’s, and he does so by putting in long, grueling hours.”

Jack stared at her. “Granddad? Dyslexic? I find that hard to believe.”

“When I found out—totally by accident—he was furious, ordered me to mind my own business. I don’t think he’d willingly admit it to anyone.”

“But what has that got to do with his treatment of me?”

“Your grandfather had to fight tooth and nail to keep Macintyre’s. He wanted you to be as tough and committed because you were the one who was going to run it next.”

Jack let out a deep breath before tilting his head to study the night sky. In the near distance, the ukuleles had slowed to strum out a torch song, and someone began to sing in a rich, low voice.

“When you’re caught up in the thick of things, it’s hard to be objective,” Jack said. “I remember Lachlan always grumbling when I didn’t come top of the class at school or university. I never knew why he was so fixated, but now I think I understand.”

In the hush of the night, the singing rose and filled like a billowing sail, and the plaintive notes of the love song resonated through Grace, thrumming her nerve endings.

Jack turned to her, his eyes large and open in the dimness. “Thanks for telling me. At least I know why my grandfather is so driven and pushy.”

The appreciation in his expression made her gulp. “I don’t expect you to change your mind,” she said. “I see now why you never want to return to your old life.”

Because he’d lost Becky, and he’d never love any woman the way he’d loved her. Grace could see that now. It made her heart ache, but she knew he’d found some inner peace in his island life, and she would never want to drag him back into his old abyss. The best thing she could do for Jack was leave him to his tropical paradise.

She stood up. “I’m glad you left. It was the right decision for you.”

He rose to his feet and stood over her, his lips quirking. “Where are you going?”

“Um…back there?” She gestured toward the hall.

“It’s too crowded there.” He held out his arms. “Dance with me?”

Without waiting for a reply, he took her into his arms and twirled her around in time to the music. She could hardly hear for the pulsing of blood in her ears. The vigor of Jack’s body enveloped her, flooded her until she felt as if she was drowning. The warmth of his torso radiated through his thin cotton shirt, while the brawn of his thighs brushed intimately against her flimsy sundress. They might have been naked, she thought hazily. Naked and dancing under the stars.

Her fingers eased along his upper arm, exploring the definition of his impressive biceps, and then her hand slipped over his chest and detected the deep beat of his heart. He gathered her closer, bending his head to brush his lips against her hair. The music rose, the singer’s voice pulsating with universal longing, echoing the hunger leaping in her. Dizzy, she leaned into Jack, surrendering to the song and to her yearning. He cupped her face with both hands and brought his mouth down on hers.

She melted into his embrace, her mouth softening against his, telling him all too plainly how much she wanted this. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he deepened the kiss, devouring her eager mouth. Passion blazed off him as he caressed her with his lips, and when his tongue slid over hers, white-hot excitement spiked through her. His kiss reached deep into her and unlocked a part of her she hadn’t even been aware of.

Standing on tiptoe, she pressed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his chest rubbing against her breasts. Jack was a voracious kisser. He kissed her cheeks, her chin, nipped at her earlobes, nibbled at her neck, before returning to her mouth. All the while his hands explored her back and waist, finally settling low on her hips, and when he pulled her tight into his body, the growing bulge in his groin was unmistakable and incredibly exciting.

The song drifted off, the ukuleles faded into silence. A collective sigh rippled through the quiet night.

Jack tore his lips away from hers. “Hell,” he muttered, his arms slackening.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She was so dazed with lust she could barely see. “What…?”

He put her firmly away from him and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

His rasping voice made her heart sink. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

His head jerked up. “Of course I bloody well enjoyed it,” he growled. “That’s the problem.”

She took in a couple of deep breaths. The blood was still singing in her veins, her body quivered and pulsed, and her lips felt swollen and moist. His wild, impetuous kiss had shaken her to her core, but given his reaction she couldn’t let him see how much it affected her.

“There’s no problem,” she made herself say. “It was just a kiss. I’m not making a big deal of it.”

“You’re not?” Something like chagrin flared across his face.

She wiped her mouth and shrugged. “What can you expect when you have a warm night, a torch song, and a few kava drinks?”

Not to mention a sexy hunk she’d had a crush on for too long. She’d never expected to find herself kissing Jack, and she never could have imagined how incredibly passionate it would be. But after that first moment of madness, Jack had pulled away. Maybe because he’d just been talking about Becky. Becky had been everything to him, whereas she was an impulsive fumble in the dark.

“You’re taking this well.” He still looked nonplussed.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He scowled. “That’s the last of my worries.”

Then what was he worried about? That she’d read more into the kiss than was warranted? Her heart squeezed at the thought. She had to leave before she gave herself away.