Tegan let her sister prattle on about the wedding plans and the weather and the gorgeous scenery. She had to admit she couldn’t in all honesty begrudge her sister the good time. Morgan deserved it, after all she’d done to look after their father in his last months. When she hadn’t been working flat out for Maverick, she’d been helping their father. She’d shut herself off from the world and she deserved this chance for a break.
If only Maverick had been able to see that, and had approved Morgan’s request for leave, it would have saved them all some grief.
Tegan was already at work the next day when Maverick arrived. She flicked him no more than a frosty glance, with a cool ‘Good morning’ to keep it company, and continued typing up what looked like the agenda for this morning’s meeting that he’d left on her desk last night.
Likewise he didn’t hesitate as he breezed past her into his office. She might want to pretend that kiss last night had never happened, but he’d already forgotten about it.
He threw himself into his chair, took one look at his desk and swung his chair around so he faced the golden strip of beach and sapphire sea instead. He was still there when there was a knock on the door ten minutes later.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’
He swung around and let go a gruff ‘No,’ designed to sound like a ‘yes’.
‘That agenda you wanted,’ she said, approaching his desk without looking at him. ‘And the mail.’
Today she had on another of those God-awful suits again, this time some bland coffee colour. It was probably a decent suit, except that it somehow managed to disguise every curve he knew was hidden away underneath. Knew, because he’d had a taste of them last night.
She dropped the papers on his desk and turned, and he almost growled. Even the back view gave nothing away. His gaze lowered, and he felt his brow knit into a frown. So she’d dispensed with her experiment with lace-topped nothingness and reverted to the heavy-artillery leg camouflage. It was unnecessary, given he wasn’t interested, but probably a wise move. At least she wouldn’t inadvertently provide any distractions during their meetings today.
‘Morgan,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair to pick up the prepared agenda.
She stilled at the door and half turned, staring at a spot on the floor. ‘Yes?’
‘Make sure Rogerson’s people get a copy of this before the meeting,’ he said, holding up the agenda. ‘And I’ll need you at the meeting to take minutes. I’ll be leaving in an hour. Can you be ready?’
Her eyes lifted, frosted cola and lime that should have chilled him to the core, but only served to make his blood boil long after she’d snipped out a single ‘Fine’ and left the room.
It was good she was back to something approaching what he expected of her in terms of her efficiency, but she couldn’t have given him a clearer or louder ‘hands off’ signal. And did she really think that was entirely necessary? Did she really think he was going to come anywhere near her again after what had happened?
Not likely!
‘Rogerson’s a tough old bird,’ Maverick explained while he negotiated his obsidian-black Mercedes SLK convertible north along the Gold Coast Highway. ‘Very old-school. He was nervous about the deal before Giuseppe’s collapse. Now he’s liable to back out completely if we don’t offer some assurance that the deal will go ahead.’
Tegan took Maverick’s explanation to mean that Morgan and Rogerson had never met. As it was, she could hardly ask. She’d spent much of yesterday explaining why she was doing things differently. Today she was determined to show him that the old Morgan he knew was back in business.
So she pressed herself back in the luxurious leather upholstery, surrounded by the type of man-toy extravagance she’d forever associate with this man. She tried hard to ignore the smell of fine leather which combined with Maverick’s signature scent into a heady combination featuring key notes of power, wealth and testosterone, intoxicating characteristics that wound their way into her psyche despite her best efforts. Beguiling. Alluring. Dangerous.
But he would not affect her; she wouldn’t let him. Today was back to business, pure and simple. And, from his behaviour so far, Maverick was in total agreement with her on that.
‘So what happens if Rogerson won’t play ball?’ she asked, looking out the window so she didn’t have to be reminded of the way his trousers moulded to the lean muscled length of his legs. ‘Or he does, and the worst happens and the Zeppabanca deal never gets off the ground?’
He smoothly changed lanes and overtook another vehicle. ‘It will go ahead, I have no doubt. But Rogerson had another two parties courting them with major building proposals before I put this deal with Zeppabanca to them. Those parties would be only too happy to have a second bite at the cherry and sign him up now. That’s what we have to act to prevent today—to ensure Rogerson is still in place for when we do go ahead.’