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Instead, he crossed his arms and settled back for the fight to come, the fight he’d been waiting for. ‘What’s it to do with, then?’
She stood and began pacing the room. Bristling with a tight and furious kind of energy. Her accent broadened then. Nothing like the smooth tones she’d obviously cultivated, those of a stateless world traveller. Hers was now a curious mix of Southern belle and French ingénue. The exotic sound of it raked down his spine as surely as her neat fingernails would.
‘Revenge. Been there. Done that. Won’t do it again. You don’t care how well the business is performing, you only care that it’s important to me so you can punish me with it, which is petty.’ She wheeled round and stopped, her eyes shining brightly as if there were tears there. Was she going to cry over this? Something sharp and painful stabbed in his chest. He rubbed at the spot. ‘If there’s anyone in this room like my father, it’s you.’
‘I’m nothing like your damned father.’ He would not be compared to that man, ever. In response, she gave a sharp, bitter laugh.
‘You’ve decided that because this place is mine, you’re going to take it away. So tell me, how aren’t you like my father? What is this, if not spite? Because, sugar, it sure isn’t about business, since you know nothing about mine.’
He gritted his teeth, wanted to stand, face her and shout to the room that he was better than Hugo Chevalier. He’d proved it, in every way. Especially now, by winning. Except... Eve looked upset. The colour was high on her cheeks. Breathing hard. The tightness round her eyes that still sparkled too brightly. He didn’t make a habit of upsetting women. He’d been taught better by both parents.
But more than that, if he broke through the anger, the emotion, there were things Eve said that didn’t add up. Because she’d been given everything by her family. Money, security, running the French business. If there had been the expectation she wouldn’t succeed, it had still been an opportunity some would almost kill for. Even then, she felt she’d lost...
‘What did your daddy take away from you, Eve?’
Something flashed across her face as if she was stricken, and then melted away so fast he might have been mistaken. She walked to the French doors overlooking the flower fields and pulled the gauzy curtains aside as she stared at the view.
‘That’s not important anymore. This place is.’ She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. ‘I want to stop dwelling on the past and look forward. So, are you going to call in the debt? If so, I need time to re-finance.’
He heard the message loud and clear. He was the past, and that’s the box she’d locked him into, but today there was still a niggle of something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something he’d missed. Since Eve, he’d honed his observational abilities because he wasn’t going to be blindsided by anything ever again. He’d get to the bottom of this, sooner rather than later.
‘What if I was the bank? How would you sell it to me?’ He didn’t know why he was asking these things. Maybe he could indulge her, maybe he was going soft, maybe if the business stacked up...
‘What did you say?’
She turned around slowly, like she didn’t believe he could be reasonable and was waiting for the trick in his words. He didn’t like that at all and didn’t know why it mattered to him so much.
‘Talk to me about your flowers.’
Even if this was the smallest of chances, she’d take it. She’d spent most of the night working on a proposal that she’d outlined in the car on the way from the airport the minute Gage had told her they were coming here. This was her one shot at saving what she’d fought so hard for. She strode to the table and turned her tablet to him. ‘It’s in here. Prove to me this is just business.’
He took the device and read. What she’d prepared was rougher than she’d like. There’d been little time to perfect it and too many emotions roiling around for it all to be cold, hard numbers and facts, but it would have to do. And still she had more, a snippet of information that she hoped would show Gage the possibilities. Excite him as much as it excited her.
He worked through what she’d done, scrolling through the document, his expression giving nothing away. She became transfixed by his hands. The way the veins stood out as an elegant cording under his skin. T
he strength she knew they held, cradling the device like it was something precious. His perfect fingers with their blunt, square nails shifting, moving back, forward. Sliding over her screen in the same gentle way he’d used to stroke her skin. Stopping...
He’d stopped. She swallowed down the knot tightening in her throat and sat at the table as Gage looked up. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing her. The business was sound, the farmhouse rented most of the time, it was paying its way and its bills. These were things she knew a man like Gage would be looking for. Yet she couldn’t get a read on his thoughts when he looked at her like he was trying to peer inside her.
‘When did you prepare this?’
‘Last night. I told you I couldn’t sleep.’
Everything stopped at that moment. Even the birds outside seemed to have fallen silent, the breeze dropped. Like the world was holding its breath for her.
‘Well done.’
The warmth of that small praise flooded over her, like the first brush of morning sun on her skin. No one had ever thanked her for her efforts or the job she did. Too many wanted to tear her down, whispering about how she’d been handed her position by her daddy, rather than earning it. No one knew the price she’d paid to be here, what she’d lost in the process. How much harder she’d had to work than anyone around her.
‘But,’ he went on, and she stilled. Her heart rate spiked. There was always a caveat, a ‘but’, a sting in every tail. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me?’
Of all the things she’d read about Gage, there was one thing she should never have forgotten, that part of his skill in business was due to his freakish instinct. His ability to mine the secrets no one else could. He was right about there being more, but she could never let him have all of her secrets. She’d held them too close, for too long, until they’d become part of her. The burden she always carried.
‘Why do you think there’s more?’
‘This document...’ He motioned towards her tablet now lying on the table. ‘It shows an excitement, a passion. Sure, the business is holding its own, but there’s nothing here to be passionate about.’
Their eyes locked. A glorious heat settled in her belly then unthreaded and curled its way through her. The air seemed electric with possibilities, each one tempting but as unattainable as the other. Her passions had stopped being about a person long ago and had become about the little things accessible to her day to day. The smell of a rose, the cool breeze brushing sun-warmed skin, the sweet burst of a chunk of wild strawberry in this morning’s jam. But now...
