Saving the CEO(57)

“Jack!” said the older man. “Glad to have you on the island.”

“Glad to be here, sir. Your house is beautiful.” It was odd to see Jack the cutthroat CEO act deferential. “May I introduce Cassie James, my senior exec director of finance? Cassie, this is David Wexler.”

Cassie smiled and shook hands, and everyone was friendly as can be, but Senior eventually asked the question she’d been waiting for. “Where’s Carl?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “Carl is in Mexico. He sends his regrets. Cassie is up to speed on the file, though.”

Just then a woman who looked to be older than Junior but younger than Senior glided in. She wore drapey cream clothing Cassie associated with rich women.

“Ah,” said Senior. “This is my friend Tania.”

Jack had given Cassie the lowdown on the Wexlers, including the fact that Senior had been widowed five years ago and was currently seeing an art dealer-slash-society lady.

Wexler Senior turned to his son. “Brian, you know Jack. This is his finance person, Cassie James.”

Junior did not speak, just raised his eyebrows and looked Cassie fully up and down. A little shocked, she looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but the others were moving farther into the great room to a sitting area on one end. “Well,” he drawled, “this meeting just got a little more interesting, didn’t it?”

If he meant what she thought he meant? Gross. She offered him a vague smile and followed the others farther into the room. Jack had coached Cassie to expect the trip to start out social. Wexler was old money and hospitality was bred in him. He would also want to show off the “cottage.” Cassie had to bite her lip to keep from scoffing every time she heard the place referred to as a cottage. It was made of logs, she supposed, so there was that. But she’d never seen a log cabin like it. Warm, exposed wood on every surface inside—well, every surface that wasn’t covered with enormous paintings and fine Persian rugs. And centered in front of the window at the rear of the great room was a spectacular Christmas tree at least twenty feet high.

Coffee was rung for; a tour was given. Cassie let her guard down a little as her nerves settled. Wexler Senior was formal but cordial. Tania may have been a trophy girlfriend, but she was funny and friendly. The only wild card was Brian, aka Junior. He didn’t talk much, but he stared openly at Cassie in a way that made her want to squirm and do up the top button of her blouse. Still, she’d been led to expect he was a loser. And if he was always like this, there did seem to be an opening for Jack to convince Senior to sell to him rather than hand the company over to his son.

“Why don’t you young people go snowshoeing?” said Wexler Senior. “Then you can wash up and rest, and we can talk some shop after dinner. Brian, you can show them the north face of the island, hear some of Jack’s ideas. He’s only ever looked at a map of the island. It will be good for him to see it in person.”

Junior rolled his eyes behind his father’s back, which Cassie thought inordinately rude, but he rose and gestured for Cassie and Jack to follow him. They suited up, and once outside, he led them to another pair of snowmobiles, sighing a little as he loaded the snowshoes onto the back of one of them.

“Not a fan of winter?” Cassie asked, wanting to fill the silence.

“Snowboarding, yes, or skiing,” he said. “But clomping around a deserted island on snowshoes? No thanks.” Brian really did sound like a disgruntled teenager, forced to endure the agony of a family vacation. “You know how to snowmobile?” Junior asked, eyeing her up and down again, though this time she was dressed in snow pants and a parka, so there wasn’t much to see.

“No. I can ride with Jack, though,” she said.

“No, you’re with me. Mine’s the two-seater.”

Cassie could see in Jack’s face that he was going to object—his own two-seater was parked on the other side of the house—so she shook her head slightly at him and said to Junior, “Great.”

He insisted she take the front seat, and once they started, she realized her error. Brian was effectively wrapped around her, his front against her back, his arms around her body.

“How does it feel to have a 130 horsepower engine between your legs, Cassie?”

Gah. She pretended not to hear him over the motor. She might have to negotiate hazard pay with Jack, in compensation for being sexually harassed by this ingrate. Now, more than ever, she wanted Jack to walk away with this deal done.

The afternoon was salvaged, though, because the island really was stunning. It possessed a stark winter beauty, bare trees outlined against blue sky, the low sun bathing everything in yellow light.