Australia: Wicked Mistresses(65)
“Dad was nearly resigned to the fact that you didn’t want it,” Nick said moodily. “But now—he’ll do anything to have both of us on board.”
“The will stated that I can’t sell my shares to you, but I can vote with you, Nick. Tell me how you want to play it. And remember, the old man can’t put off retiring forever—he’s seventy next month.”
“Since Mom died, there is no reining him in.” Nick scowled at the newspaper on his desk. “Her past friendship with Elanor Lake was the only thing that stopped him from going after Syrius years ago. He’s using the court case as another tactic to postpone announcing his retirement.” He reached out and turned the paper toward Adam. A good portion of the front page covered the court case—and Jordan Lake’s wardrobe. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” His mother’s illness and subsequent death, Adam’s presence or absence—his father threw excuse after excuse into the pot to put off the inevitable.
Adam nodded thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure he’s got something else up his sleeve to get at Syrius. He was being very cagey at lunch, always a sign that he’s plotting something.”
Nick tugged on his earlobe, a wry grin on his face. “I’ve tried telling him that once he’s retired, he can spend twenty-three hours a day going after Syrius Lake if he wants to, but he’s adamant he wants to bury him before he retires.”
Nick wasn’t alone in thinking his father would win the defamation case, but had a nasty feeling that the small victory wouldn’t appease him for long.
Adam cast an interested eye over the newspaper. There was a footnote to the court case: Jordan Lake’s birthday bash tonight, organized by her father. The paper called it an “ostentatious display of wealth.” He tapped the paper idly. “I told you. The best way to stop this stupid feud is to get Jordan Lake to fall for you. That man cannot, it seems, deny his little girl anything.”
Before Nick could respond, Jasmine entered with a tray. She set it down on Nick’s desk and lifted the coffeepot. Adam leaned in closer than he had to, Nick noticed, and held up a cup, smiling into her face. “How long have you worked for my brother, Jasmine? Must be nearly five years.”
Jasmine blushed to the roots of her severely pulled back auburn hair. “Yes, I—ah—think so. Nick?” She raised her eyes to him.
Nick nodded, mildly surprised by her discomfort. He’d known English-born Jasmine for years. Her composure was legendary. “Have I told you, Jasmine, that my younger brother is nothing but a flirt and not to be taken seriously?”
He noticed the slight tremble in her hand as she poured the coffee, and how resolutely she kept her eyes on the task at hand and nowhere near Adam’s face. Could his calm, efficient, very proper personal assistant have a thing for Adam?
Adam raised the full cup and saluted her. “Why don’t you give all this up and come work for me? London’s where it’s at.”
Jasmine kept her eyes averted and poured Nick’s coffee, apologizing when she slopped a little in the saucer.
“Thanks,” Nick said drily as she finished and left the room.
He glanced at his brother and warned, “Don’t even think about it. She is much too good for you.”
Adam turned his palms up innocently, then glanced toward the door. “You work too hard if you haven’t noticed how very lovely she is, in a quiet sort of way.”
“I don’t want you messing with her,” Nick told him shortly. “Good staff are hard to find, and you’re leaving soon.” His brother’s trail of broken hearts stretched a million miles.
Adam shook his head, amused. “You’re too good, Nicky. You wouldn’t dream of tupping your personal assistant, just as you wouldn’t dream of going after Jordan Lake and risking Dad’s wrath. Mom was right, you need to live a little.”
That was a low and quite unnecessary dig. His brother referred to the letter Melanie Thorne had left with her lawyer to give to Nick at the will reading. “You’re a good son, Nick, strong, ambitious and loyal.” Christ, he sounded like a golden retriever! “But it’s time you learned to live. Want something you shouldn’t. Take something you have no right to. Fight the good fight and have some fun.”
He didn’t know what the hell his mother was on about, but she was right in that he always did the expected thing.
After Adam had gone, Nick got up and opened his office safe. Inside were three jewelry boxes, his bequest from his mother, gifts from his father over the years. There was a blue diamond cluster ring, a necklace with a centerpiece of a four carat blue diamond and a pair of blue diamond earrings.
Nick had the relevant documents from the IGI, the world’s largest gem certification and appraisal institute. He knew the worth of the stones. He also knew that his mother would expect him to present these priceless gifts to his bride one day. And Nick always did what was expected of him, didn’t he?
He glanced at the newspaper on his desk. She wouldn’t expect him to give blue diamonds to Jordan Lake, he was sure of that. Neither would his brother, and his father would probably disown him if he found out.
Nick closed the ring box and returned it to the safe, wondering what Jordan herself would think if her Friday lover gave her diamonds. He lost himself for a long moment, imagining the incredulity in her blue eyes.
He closed the necklace box, berating himself for even considering changing the dynamic of a relation-ship—a good relationship—based on sex.
His hand reached toward the box containing the earrings, and at that point, he fully intended closing it and replacing it in the safe with the others. But something made him pause and lift the box toward the light above. Would she wear them? She might if she recognized that the jewel’s electric blue were very similar to her own eyes, especially when she was helpless with lust—like earlier in the stairwell.
He closed the box and put it in his pocket. Nick was going to do something irresponsible for once. Not for her or for anyone else. Just for himself.
Three
Later that day, as the first mad rush of desire ebbed away, Nick rolled out of bed and picked up his suit jacket from the floor. “I have something for you.”
Jordan lay in the middle of the big bed with the sheet pulled up around her middle, a sharp contrast between the pristine white sheet and her lightly-tanned body. The slight flush on her skin was fading, her breathing more steady than a minute ago. She lifted her chin, watching him curiously.
“But first…” Nick grabbed the edge of the sheet and tugged it away, leaving her naked.
She maneuvered herself into a sitting position and crossed her long legs at the ankles, but made no effort to clutch at the sheet or cover herself. He liked that she was totally without guile or vanity in this room. It occurred to him that he also felt comfortable standing, walking around in front of her naked. Had he ever felt this level of ease with a casual girlfriend before?
Unable to recall, he offered her the jewelry box.
Jordan hesitated before taking it, her eyes on his face. “A birthday gift?” Her voice was low and puzzled.
Nick perched on the edge of the bed. “If you like.”
She dragged her eyes off his face and opened the box. Her mouth moved in surprise, a soundless question. She tilted the box this way and that and finally spoke, still looking at the earrings. “Nick, a man gives me diamonds. What am I supposed to think about that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t think about it at all.”
She looked up at him, a crease of perplexity between her eyes that he’d never seen before. He silently cursed himself for confusing her. What was he thinking, messing with the natural order of things? “Don’t read anything into it,” he said a little roughly. “I believe I thought more of my own pleasure than yours.”
The little frown deepened, as if she couldn’t make sense of it.
Damn Adam and his crazy notions. Nick exhaled loudly and leaned toward her. He picked up one of the precious, glinting jewels, brushed her hair behind her ears and went about fitting it. “They matched your eyes. I wanted to see you naked, wearing only these. That’s it.”
That wasn’t it. Hadn’t he done it because he was sick of being labeled the good son, the one who never rocked the boat?
Her face cleared, as if she’d solved a riddle. “They’re a gift for your mistress.”
Nick’s lip curled in distaste. He hated that word. “I don’t think of you as my mistress. Neither of us is married. We’re free to indulge ourselves.”
She gazed at him solemnly. Nick picked up the other earring, pried the butterfly clip off and indicated that she turn her head.
She obeyed. “What do you think of me as then?”
“If we have to put a label on it, I’d call you my luxury,” he said as he pushed the other earring through the piercing in her lobe. He secured the post and drew back, looking at her face.
“Your luxury.” She nodded and her smile was without reproach. “I’ll save them just for this room. They’ll be our secret.”
Nick sat back, admiring his handiwork, thinking she did indeed look spellbindingly luxurious. Her golden hair, a mass of loose curls today, cascaded over her shoulders like the caps of a choppy sea captured and molded in gold.Yesterday, in court she’d worn it straight and smooth.