Much More Than a Mistress (6 page)

Of course it was. He was toying with her, pushing her buttons. The question was why? Because he could?

She joined the group of people waiting by the elevator then followed them inside when the doors opened, standing against the back wall. The spot where she'd stood last night with Jordan.

The worst part of last night was the realization that if he really
had
kissed her, she would have let him. She was not the kind of woman to let men she barely knew kiss her. Nor did she base her self-worth on looks, or the attention she got from the opposite sex. But when Jordan stroked her fingers and gazed into her eyes, she'd never felt so attractive, so
wanted
in her entire life. Or so confused and dejected when he turned away.

He'd made a complete fool of her, and she had made it all too easy. Her only consolation, upon arriving home and reading the file that had been faxed over from Edwin Associates, was learning that Jordan Everette hadn't always been the charming, handsome, confident man that he was now.

Though she would have pegged him for a jock, and probably class president, she couldn't have been more wrong. According to his file he used to be a scrawny, awkward, socially inept intellectual with an IQ in the genius range. He had graduated top of his class in prep school and attended an Ivy League college, where he not only grew several inches in height and took up weight lifting, he completed the business program a full year and a half early.

At the age of twenty-one he'd inherited a trust fund that he immediately invested and multiplied exponentially within only a few years. He could have lived in luxury and never lifted a finger for the rest of his life, but he chose instead to embark on a career with Western Oil, where he climbed the ranks with record speed. To meet him, one might suspect he'd made it where he was on personality and charm alone, but that wasn't the case at all. He'd worked damned hard.

The current CEO had plans to step down soon and if she believed what Jen told her at lunch yesterday, Jordan
had a decent shot at his position. If he wasn't guilty of sabotage, that is.

The doors opened at the top floor and she stepped out. She showed her badge to Michael Weiss, who smiled and waved her past, and said hello to Jen on her way through the lobby.

“Aren't those just the cutest shoes!” she said, admiring Jane's peep-toe Dior pumps.

“Thanks.” She didn't usually spend a week's pay on shoes, but they were really cute, and though the heel was a whopping four inches, they didn't pinch her toes. “Is Mr. Everette in yet?”

“Eight on the nose.”

She forced a smile. “Great!”

“Oh, and happy birthday.”

She blinked. “How did you know it's my birthday.”

She smiled cryptically. “You'll see.”

Adding curiosity to the nervous knots in her stomach, Jane walked down the hall. She had already decided that if Jordan—make that Mr. Everette—said anything about last night she was going to act like it was no big deal. She stepped into her office, jerking to a stop before she reached her desk. Sitting on the corner, with a mylar balloon stuck in the center, was an enormous arrangement of butter yellow roses. At least two dozen.

She dropped her purse in her chair and leaned down to inhale the delicate scent. There was no card, and nothing lying on her desk. Who in the world—

“I wasn't sure what kind to get,” Jordan said from behind her and she whipped around.

He stood in his office doorway, and her heart dropped so hard and fast at the sight of him, it sucked the breath right out of her.

She had tried to convince herself last night that he wasn't
as amazingly handsome and devastatingly charming as she first thought, but he really was. And despite last night, if he were to walk up to her, take her in his arms and plant a kiss on her right then and there, she probably wouldn't do a damned thing to stop him.

Where was
Practical Jane
when she needed her?

“You did this?”

“Guilty.”

If he was trying to butter her up, it was
so
working. “They're beautiful. How did you know it was my birthday?”

“I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

And he obviously
wasn't
going to tell her. “Well, thank you. They're lovely.”

“Don't take your coat off,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because we're leaving.”

W
e? As in the two of them.
Together?

“Um, where are we going?” Jane asked.

“To the refinery. I told you I would bring you along the next time I went.”

She looked at the inbox on her desk, piled high with work that still needed catching up on. “But I have so much work—”

“It'll keep.”

“But—”

“I'll go get my coat. The limo will be waiting.”

He disappeared into his office. He clearly wasn't taking no for an answer. And the idea of being stuck in a car with him after last night made her knees go squishy.

He was back a minute later with his coat on. “Let's go.”

Having no choice in the matter, she snagged her purse off the chair and followed him to the elevator.

“Can you take my calls?” he asked Jen as they passed
her desk. “I'm taking Jane on a tour of the refinery. We'll be back later this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mr. Everette,” she said.

Later this
afternoon?
How long would the tour take? And would she be spending the entire time with him?

Michael must have pressed the elevator button for them because the door opened as they were approaching. They stepped inside, and as the doors slid closed, her heart climbed up to lodge in her throat.

Would he stand too close again? Bring up what happened last night?

Thankfully his phone chose that moment to start ringing. He looked at the display and said apologetically, “I have to take this.”

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief and silent thank-you for the caller's convenient timing. He talked during the entire ride down to the lobby and the walk to the limo that was waiting for them outside the front door. She got in first, sitting with her back to the driver, and he slid in across from her. He was still talking as the car pulled out of the lot and headed east.

She sat back and tried to relax, hating that she felt so awkward and inept around him. When she worked at her parents' practice her competence had never been in question. In fact, she usually felt as though she was butting her head against the ceiling, desperate to break from the confines of the position her parents kept her in. She knew she was damned good and she had wanted to prove it, but they were always holding her back. As an investigator she felt completely out of her element and was flying blind, but at least they were giving her a chance to prove herself.

She glanced at Jordan, thinking that she would kill to see a photo of what he'd looked like when he was still in his awkward, geeky phase. Probably not half as awkward and
geeky as she had been. Despite being two years younger than her classmates she had been several inches taller than most of the other girls, and straight as a board from neck to knees, with no sense of fashion and a bad case of acne that weekly visits to a dermatologist couldn't even clear up. Not to mention a sister who took morbid satisfaction in reminding Jane on almost a daily basis just how pretty she
wasn't.
To say that she had self-esteem issues was a serious understatement.

She wondered what her life would have been like if instead of constantly tearing her down, her sister had tried to help her. If, when Jane complained to her mother that she wasn't as pretty as Mary, her mother had told her that she was pretty in her own way, instead of saying, “You have something better than beauty, Jane, you have brains.”

If her own mother didn't think she was pretty, there was clearly no hope for her.

She looked out the window, watching the city pass by, feeling inexplicably sad. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was fooling herself into thinking anything had changed. Maybe the kind of pretty she had now, the kind that came from layers of overpriced cosmetics, didn't count anyway, because underneath it she was still the same Plain Jane. Maybe all she was doing was cheating the system.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She turned to find Jordan watching her. She was so lost in thought she hadn't even realized he was off the phone.

“It looks like it might rain again,” she said.

“I've never known the threat of rain to make someone look so sad.”

Did she really look that sad?

She shrugged. “I'm just ready for spring. I've never been much of a cold weather person.”

“Do you have any special plans tonight?”

“Plans?”

“For your birthday.”

Oh, that. “Not tonight. But I'm having dinner with my family on Friday.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

“Two brothers, one sister.”

“Older or younger?”

Why the sudden interest in her family? And wasn't she supposed to be pumping
him
for information? “I'm the youngest.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I know how that is.”

“You just have the one brother?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. But if she kept him talking, she might learn something valuable to the case.

“Just Nathan. Although why my mother had children at all is a mystery to me. She wasn't exactly maternal.”

“Mine was Supermom. She had a full-time career and was home to help us with our schoolwork every night.”

“There it is,” he said, gesturing out the window as they approached the refinery.

She had driven by it hundreds of times but she'd never actually been there. The sheer size had always astounded her. With all its stacks and towers and maze of pipes and tubing that seemed to stretch for miles, it was a wonder they could make heads or tails of it. “So, you're in charge of all of this?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yep.”

She could see that he took a tremendous amount of pride in that fact.

“But I don't do it alone. I have a stellar staff.” He pointed to a building at the south end of the complex. “That's our research facility. We employ several of the leading scientists in the field of alternative fuel, and devote more money annually into biofuel development than any of our
competitors. I'm particularly interested in the use of algae as an alternate energy source. We're even considering a company name change to reflect the changing industry.”

She had no idea Western was so versatile. “It sounds as if you really love what you do.”

“It's an exciting industry to be a part of right now.”

“What made you get into the oil business?”

“My brother.”

That was sort of sweet. “You wanted to follow in his footsteps?”

“Actually, I did it to piss him off.”

She must have looked really surprised, because he laughed.

“Okay, that wasn't the only reason. I figured it would be a stepping stone to something bigger and better. Turns out I really liked it. And I'm damned good at it. So good that I'm going to be CEO.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

“That's because I am.”

“It doesn't bother you, competing against your own brother?”

He locked his eyes on her, and something in his expression made her knees feel squishy. “I believe that when you want something, you should go after it, all pistons firing. Don't you agree?”

Normally a question like that, spoken with such a suggestive undertone, would have her scrambling back into her shell. Instead she heard herself say, “I guess it just depends on what you want.”

A grin curled his lips, but before he could reply the limo came to a stop and the door opened. She breathed a sigh of relief, because with that single comment she had exhausted her arsenal of witty comebacks. This flirting
business sure wasn't easy, but with a little practice she just might get the hang of it.

She had figured that while Jordan conducted his business there, he would assign someone to take her on a tour, but that wasn't the case. He took her on the tour himself. Not only was the refinery a fascinating and complicated operation, it was obvious that everyone—from the managers to the men on the line—liked and respected him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. Jordan greeted the workers warmly, shaking hands, addressing almost every one of them by name. And his vast knowledge of the inner workings of the plant completely blew her away. By the time they finished the tour she knew more about refining oil than she ever imagined possible. And after seeing Jordan there, interacting with the people, she simply could not imagine him willingly doing anything to cause damage or harm here.

“So, what did you think?” he asked when they were in the limo and on their way back to Western Oil headquarters.

“I actually had a really great time. I never imagined an oil refinery could be so interesting.”

“There wasn't time today, but someday soon I'll take you to the research lab. That's where the real magic happens.”

“Are you in charge of that too?”

“That's my brother's territory, but I love hanging out there. My second choice to majoring in business was science.”

“What made you choose business?”

“There's more money in it. And I'm good at it.” His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his coat pocket. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

She looked out the window while he talked, realizing,
after they got back into the heart of the city, the driver was taking them in the opposite direction of the corporate building. Either he was lost, or Jordan had a stop to make before they went back.

The limo pulled up in front of Café du Soleil, one of the priciest French restaurants in the city. He obviously had a lunch date. She imagined he would send her back to the building alone, then the limo would go back and get him when he was finished.

Jordan hung up his phone just as the attendant opened the door to let him out, but he didn't move. “Ladies first.”

Confused, she said, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I suppose we could eat in the car, but it's much nicer inside.”

Wait a minute.
She
was his lunch date?

“Earth to Jane.”

“We're eating here? Together?”

His brows rose. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?”

“No!” she said, laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the question. What woman wouldn't want to be seen with a man like him? “Of course not, I just…”

“It's your birthday, and since you don't have plans for this evening, you get a nice lunch.”

“That's really sweet of you, but you don't have to do that.”

“I don't have to, but I want to.”

And she wanted him to, too. But what if someone she knew was there, and her cover was blown? Not that this was a regular hangout for her. It was about two stars out of her price range. And other than the people at Edwin, no one knew where she was working.

“If you don't like French cuisine we could go somewhere else,” he said.

She was being silly. Of course she wouldn't run into anyone she knew there. And she couldn't ask for a better opportunity to get to know him.

“Lunch here would be lovely. Thank you.”

They got out of the limo and went inside, Jordan placing a hand on her back as they walked through the door.

“Mr. Everette,” the pretty young hostess with an authentic-sounding accent said. “So nice to have you back.”

She took their coats, handing them off to the other young woman standing nearby and said, “Right this way.”

Jane glanced around as they walked through the restaurant, relieved when she didn't see anyone she knew. She did notice the appreciative looks women cast Jordan as he passed, though. Not that she blamed them. Had she she been dining there, and he walked in, she would have looked at him exactly the same way.

The hostess seated them near the window and said, “James will be right with you.”

She was barely gone ten seconds when James appeared at the table. He addressed Jordan by name, listed the specials, then took their beverage orders. Jane ordered a Perrier.

“Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass of wine?” Jordan said. “Or better yet, champagne, since it is your birthday.”

“I shouldn't while I'm working.”

He grinned. “I promise not to tell your boss.”

She was about to decline, and had to remind herself that this was not about her “job” at Western Oil. This was about the investigation, and pumping Jordan for information. For that, she could be the type of woman who imbibed at lunch.

She smiled and said, “In that case, I'd love some.”

He ordered an entire bottle and the waiter trotted off to fetch it.

“I take it you eat here often, Mr. Everette,” she said.

“Often enough to know that the
boeuf bourguignon
is to die for.”

She looked at the menu, which was written entirely in French. And since she couldn't read French, she set it aside and said, “Then I think I'll have that.”

“I have an idea,” he said. “How about, when we're not in the office, you call me Jordan?”

“Okay. Jordan.” It was completely ridiculous, but using his first name seemed so…intimate. “Does Tiffany use your first name when you're not in the office?”

He grinned. “No. And in answer to your next question, no, I don't take her out to lunch either.”

“That wasn't my next question.”

“Well, I figure it was bound to spring up eventually.”

James reappeared with their champagne and poured them each a glass, then he took their orders. When he was gone, Jordan held up his glass and said, “A toast, to your…twenty-third birthday?”

He definitely knew what to say to make a girl feel good. “Twenty-ninth,” she said, lifting her glass.

“Get out. You don't look a day over twenty-five.”

She clinked her glass against his and took a sip. Of course it was delicious.

Jordan took a sip, then set his glass back down. “So, what was your next question?”

She opened her mouth to answer him, glancing past him at the the man walking in her direction from the restrooms. Her breath caught and her heart dropped, and her first instinct was to slide out of her chair and hide under the table. This
could not
be happening.