“Maybe I’m tiring of the traveling, the women, the excitement—or it’s tiring of me.”Adam grinned. “I’m setting up an entrepreneurial start-up company. Savvy people with big ideas apply for funding and mentorship, but it’s not just another angel investment company. I’m thinking big—global—and with some big names behind me.”
“You’ve been watching too much reality TV,” Nick said drily, but it was an interesting notion and one he’d like to hear more about. “Who are your investors?”
Adam named several captains of industry and IT. “I have my eye on a couple of big names, investors who will bring expertise and notoriety, not just money. If all goes to plan, I’ll be ready to roll in the new year. But I could use a good man here. New Zealand is ripe for this type of opportunity.” Adam turned to him with a glint in his eye. “It’s not that different to what you do here, except that most of your clients are retirees and farmers.” He approximated a yawn. “Be in on the ground floor, new innovative ideas, the future of the country.”
Nick smiled, welcoming an old memory. “Remember when Dad used to bring us here on Saturday mornings before rugby? I’d watch him, listen to him talking to clients, working them. For all he’s a bit rough around the edges, he knew how to treat people.”
“So do you.” Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re just more refined.”
Nick returned to his desk and sat. “Thanks, Adam. I appreciate the offer, but like you, I’m doing what I want to do.”
Adam nodded. “I know. I’m just saying, you have options.” He started for the door, then turned back. “Are you going to tell me what is going on between you and the Lake girl?”
Nick involuntarily glanced at the photo in the paper. His assault on Jordan’s affections had hit a temporary snag with her father’s heart attack. She wasn’t likely to view his advances with a friendly eye while Syrius was in any danger of leaving this mortal coil.
But it was still the best option open to him, especially in light of his father’s intransigence. And she was more than just a roll in the high thread-count linen of a five-star hotel. Nick hadn’t even started showing her how much more.
But she would be the first to know. Meeting his brother’s curious gaze, he smiled. “Nothing,” he said firmly. “Nothing at all.”
“Yeah, right,” Adam muttered skeptically and sauntered to the door. “See you later, big brother.”
Seven
“This beautiful Marlborough Sounds property for three million dollars, going once.”
Nick scanned the crowd for the flash of blue silk that would give her away. He’d caught glimpses only, which probably meant she was avoiding him. It was nearly the end of the evening and he had only just arrived in time for the big item being auctioned tonight. He’d planned it that way.
“Three million dollars going twice.”
A few faces close to him turned and nodded, their expressions curious and friendly. This was a media-free event, in as much as a hundred or so of New Zealand’s high society could be secret. The organizer had wanted it that way. If Reverend Parsons hadn’t filled him in on Jordan’s full involvement in the charitable Elpis Foundation, he’d be pretty miffed at throwing away a king’s ransom just to impress a woman.
“Sold to the highest bidder.”
Strangely, Nick felt little emotion for the huge outlay. No doubt his conscience would prick him tomorrow, especially when Adam or his father found out, but it was his own money he was using.
The auctioneer appeared and led him to a discreet table upfront, but to the side of the sumptuous ballroom to allow the dancing to resume. A couple of acquaintances patted his shoulder or winked as they passed but he invited no further conversation. His goal was to see Jordan.
“Please sit, Mr. Thorne,” the auctioneer invited. “Can I get you some champagne?”
“No, thank you. Could you fetch Jordan Lake for me, please?”
The older man’s face leaped with surprise and anticipation, but he immediately bowed his head. “Certainly. Feel free to look over the sale documents.”
For the last three days, Jordan had refused to return his calls and after her performance in the car park, he was reluctant to go to her address. This morning, a wealthy client let slip that she was attending a charity auction for the Elpis Foundation. Nick recalled seeing the name in Jordan’s apartment and that Russ Parsons was involved.
While he waited, he flipped through the pages of the Purchase agreement and assorted documents. Even with the real estate photographer’s skill, the property looked shabby. The ad said the lodge was built at the turn of the century and still retained its “old-world charm”—another way of saying dilapidated. For one brief second, he wondered what the heck he was thinking.
But then he smelled her perfume, heard the swish of silk and the uncertainty of her voice when she spoke his name.
Nick got to his feet and stared at her for so long that the auctioneer who’d accompanied her backed off quickly. Jordan sat down stiffly.
She looked absolutely incredible. If he could recapture this moment in his mind forever and a day, he would recall every detail: the shade of her dress that matched her eyes—and the blue diamonds at her ears, he thought with a stab of triumph. Her glorious golden hair piled high with ringlets coiled around her face. The exact shade of pale pink lipstick as that which graced her fingernails, and her toenails, if he remembered correctly. The dress was a dramatic sheath of crisp silk, strapless, with a split bodice that emphasized her bust and cinched in her waistline. She was every inch the princess.
“You look lovely, Jordan,” he said simply.
“Thank you. I’m—surprised to see you.”
“Didn’t Russ tell you? I asked him for an invitation, since mine obviously got lost in the mail.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him,” Jordan said, smoothly ignoring his dig.
“My mother has always attended his church. He was a regular visitor to my parents’ house during her illness.”
Russ couldn’t have been more enthusiastic with his endorsement of Jordan’s many virtues. Tonight’s glittering shindig she’d organized on the smell of an oily rag, begging favors all over town. Nick learned that she’d set up the Elpis Foundation with her own money a year ago. He heard all about her volunteer work at a free medical clinic and numerous other projects she had initiated.
And about her refusal to have her name associated with any of it. That interested him most of all.
He realized he was still gazing at her face when she shifted and cleared her throat.
“If you’d like to sign the contract…” she said with a pointed look at the papers on the table.
Nick sat down, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just as soon as you have the last dance with me.”
She shook her head, confirming that she didn’t trust him an inch—or was she worried about being seen with him? He observed that no one was paying them any attention. The orchestra was two minutes into the feisty Die Fledermaus and they were mostly obscured by the throng of dancers moving around the floor.
He faced her and leaned forward. “Come on, Jordan, do all your stalkers throw away a couple of mil just to impress you?”
She gave him a guarded look. “Some of my father’s closest friends are here.”
“I’ve just topped your sales for the evening. He’ll understand.”
“He’s not well,” she retorted. “And anyway, this isn’t the last dance.”
“Good, then you have a few minutes to explain why you think I’ve been stalking you.”
Jordan sighed, staring moodily into the dance crowd. “You know why. The silver car. The big burly man with dark glasses, watching my building and following me everywhere.” She picked up the pen, turning it over in her hands. “He gave me the creeps, staring at me all the time.”
Nick decided not to point out that any red-blooded male in the world would have to be blind not to stare at Jordan Lake, especially tonight. “For someone who’s made a career out of spicing up the gossip pages, you seem a little tense about some old photographer.”
Her brows knitted in irritation. “It wasn’t a photographer. I confronted him when he followed me into a coffee shop and he denied it—why would a newsman do that if his paper is about to run a story?”
Nick shrugged, skeptical. “What made you think I had anything to do with it?”
Jordan hesitated. “I—I remembered how you looked when you came around that night, when you thought I’d been with Jason.”
“How I looked?” She flushed prettily. “Angry. Jealous.”
Nick leaned back in his seat. “And I don’t have the right to be jealous, do I?” He knew he didn’t. He’d given nothing of himself to this relationship, such as it was.
She looked down at the pen in her hands.
“I swear to you, Jordan, I had nothing to do with anyone following you. I was as invested as you were to keeping our meetings under wraps, especially with the court case going on. What possible reason…?”