Saving the CEO(58)

“I bet the stars are amazing out here,” she said as they trudged along, still trying, perhaps futilely, to engage Junior in civilized conversation.

He only shrugged. She listened as Jack laid out his vision for an eco-lodge, luxurious yet respecting the natural setting of the site. He described architect-designed cabins situated so they blended into the landscape, hiking trails that preserved the old-growth woods, a natural beach stocked with canoes since no motorized vehicles would be allowed on the island.

She snuck a glance at him as he talked. His eyes were bright, his cheeks pink from the cold. Her heart squeezed. He was almost unbearably handsome in his winter gear, all bundled up yet still radiating heat.

Then she looked at Junior. His eyes were glazed over. He must have felt her attention, though, because he snapped to and did a weird smile-leer thing at her.

Okay. Jack was getting this island. End of story.

…

Jack knocked on Cassie’s door a bit before the five o’clock cocktails they’d been instructed to attend. She was housed on the top floor of the building, and he was a floor below on the second. He couldn’t have asked for better arrangements. He needed as much separation as possible between them. Because the sight of her clomping around with her dark hair spilling out of her green parka hood, all color and curves against the white snowy backdrop—well, let’s just say it was a good thing it had been cold out there today. The last thing he needed was for this fragile deal to go south because he was caught creeping into his senior executive director of finance’s room at night. She already faced an uphill battle convincing Senior that she was credible. Being the boss’s piece wasn’t going to help.

Oh, and there was also the part where they were done. Relationship, entanglement, whatever—over.

“Hi!” she said, stepping back to let him in. “Is this okay?” She twirled, showing off a long-sleeved black silk blouse, a dark purple pencil skirt, and low black heels.

“Perfect,” he said, and meant it. She managed to look polished but not overly formal. He might have added that perhaps the skirt hugged her ass and hips a trifle too tightly, but he checked himself. Just because he had a dirty mind where she was concerned didn’t mean there was anything wrong with the skirt.

“So Junior is a bit of a piece of work, hey?”

He laughed. “Yeah, he’s pretty much the textbook entitled, spoiled, rich kid who never grew up.”

“Because he never had to work a day in his life,” she said, her top lip curling up on one side. Coming from Cassie, that was probably the worst insult possible. “But I like Senior. And Tania.”

“About Junior,” said Jack, who had just come from a one-on-one with Senior.

“Yeah?” She turned to the full length mirror opposite the bed and whipped out a tube of lipstick.

“David just told me he won’t sell if Brian is opposed.”

“What?” She stopped, one lip scarlet-ified, the other her natural Cassie pink. The juxtaposition was oddly erotic. He took a step toward the door.

“He might not sell anyway, but if Brian objects, he definitely won’t.”

“Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it?” she asked. “Brian will object, won’t he?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple. You hit on it yourself—he may like the idea of helming a big company, but he might be self-aware enough to realize that he doesn’t actually want to work.”

“Hmmm.” She went back to her lips. “A self-aware lazy good-for-nothing!”

“A buyout might suit him fine—take the money and run. We’ll have to feel him out.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sat on Cassie’s bed. “I’m no closer with Senior, though. I can’t figure him out. He seems open to my ideas, but I think he wants Brian to want the company. Yet he must realize that putting his son at the helm of the family company will mean its ultimate demise.”

She turned, perfect geisha-girl red lips smiling at him. “Families are complicated.”

He sighed. “That’s why it’s so much easier not to have one.”





Chapter Fifteen


After a dinner of the most amazing duck confit Cassie had ever had—okay, the only duck confit Cassie had ever had—everyone retired to a small den-like room to start talking business.

“I’m just going to level with you, Jack,” said David. “I’m not sure you’re the right man for Wexler Construction. The eco-resort—I get it, I guess. But aren’t you trying to transition into being more of a Caribbean sun-and-surf type developer?”