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She left him standing there, staring after her, his jaw practically on the ground. Why was she always thinking Jared was different when he so categorically wasn’t? Maybe she was the one losing her sense of judgment.
CHAPTER FIVE
JARED HAD RUN the path around the rocky beaches of the Cap for fifty minutes before he gave up trying to figure out what had happened last night and pulled up into a walk, sweat dripping from his chin. Given the lack of information coming from Bailey, the only thing that was clear was that Alexander Gagnon, Davide’s heir apparent and the man who would own the decision as to whether to link Stone Industries and Maison Electronique in a five-year strategic partnership, knew his CMO intimately enough to call out a mole on her behind.
The thought had his already-pumping blood charging through his veins. He scowled and swiped his T-shirt over his face. Bailey had said she’d met Gagnon once, he’d propositioned her, and she’d turned him down. So how would he know about the mole? And why, in God’s name, was that a more pressing question for him than what he was going to do about the changing dynamics of this deal and the impact on his future?
He let out a colorful curse and raked his T-shirt over his face again. Why wouldn’t Bailey tell him the truth? What could be so horrible about her past that she couldn’t tell him? That Alexander would call her on? He’d seen that look before, the one on Bailey’s face last night. It was the exact same one his father had worn when the hounds had closed in. When his inability to escape had become inevitable—when all of his carefully constructed lies had started to unravel.
His chest tightened. He did not tolerate secrets. What he should do was march up there and tell Bailey she either came clean or she was out. There was too much riding on this pitch…this deal, not to have complete transparency. But the fact was, she was his ace in the hole. Davide loved her and her ideas. So eliminating her from the pitch was a nonstarter.
A massive bird of prey flew in from the sea, its wingspan at least eight or nine feet across. His gaze followed it as it arced and headed inland. A vulture? It reminded him of Alexander the way he’d tracked Bailey with his eyes last night. It had been beyond the look men had when they coveted something. It had been something else entirely…
He turned toward the house, his mouth twisting in a grimace. He’d been right from the beginning. The mystery that was Bailey had a history. A history that could blow the lid off this deal if he didn’t find out what it was and defuse it. Now.
He made his way up the stairs toward their rooms, refusing to let himself address the other lethal ingredient flavoring the situation: the heat that had exploded between them last night. It was one thing to acknowledge an attraction. Another thing entirely to act on it. Because when the cat was out of the bag, it was all too easy to do it again.
Out of the question.
He let himself into his room, picked up his cell phone and dialed the PI he used to track his father, just to make sure he was alive, every now and again.
Danny Garrison picked up after almost seven rings with a sleepy, “’Lo?”
“I need you to dig up everything you can on my CMO, Bailey St. John.”
There was a rustling sound in the background. “You do realize at some point I do go off the clock?”
He looked at his watch on the bedside table. Eight a.m. He hadn’t even thought about the time difference. “Sorry. But I need this yesterday.”
“Considering it is yesterday for me,, no problem.” Sarcasm dripped from his PI’s voice.
“Focus on her time in Vegas. She went to school there.”
“Am I looking for anything in particular?”
Jared stared out at the cerulean-blue sky. At the vulture that had looped back over the seashore looking for breakfast.
“Something she’d want to hide.”
* * *
Bailey shrugged out of an orchid-pink silk shirt, her third choice thus far, and tossed it on the bed. Nothing, nothing felt right about this presentation happening in thirty minutes. Nothing had since she’d laid eyes on Alexander Gagnon and realized it was him.
She snatched the pewter-gray version of the same shirt off a hanger and tugged it on. She needed to walk into that room today and nail the presentation. Forget the past and focus on the future. But her churning stomach wasn’t cooperating.
Her hands fumbled as she pulled the shirt closed and did up the tiny pearl buttons. Would Alexander play nice? And if he didn’t was she now playing Russian roulette with Jared’s future? With this deal? Could she afford to do that? Should she just pull herself out now and accept the fact that her past had caught up with her? Do the right thing?
Her fingers tripped over the buttons, making her curse and focus her concentration. Surely Alexander had better things to do than focus on a bruised ego. He had a major directional partnership to consider for Maison. A company to take the helm of. He would be all business.
The knot in her stomach said differently.
Maybe Jared would fire her first for the inexcusable things she’d said and get it over with.
She shoved the last button through the slippery material with a vicious movement. How could she have kissed him? How could she have done that of all things? She didn’t feel lust like that for men. Didn’t let them close enough to even inspire it because her father had taught her that men were dangerous, unpredictable. Better avoided.
The arrival of their once-a-month welfare check had sent her father on his infamous benders like clockwork, typically ending with him trashing their house and whichever one of them had particularly annoyed him that day. Her mother had shielded them from him when she could, taking the punishment and sending her girls to the neighbors, but that had only made them feel worse when they’d arrived home the next day to a fresh set of bruises on their mother’s face.
Add to that her experience as a dancer, and complete abstinence had been her solution.
A sharp knock on the connecting door brought her head around. She tucked a stray hair back in her chignon, turned and walked over to open it. Storm cloud Jared was in attendance today, his blue eyes crackling with electricity. All business.
“You ready?”
She nodded. “Let me get my notes.”
Her prep stuff was in a pile on the desk. She’d left the notes on top, ready to grab, but last night in her agitation she’d thrown another pile on there and they didn’t seem to be anywhere as she riffled through them, flicking pages upside down.
“Bailey.” She hadn’t realized he’d moved until he was beside her, his hand closing over hers. She looked up at him, teeth tugging at her bottom lip.
“They’re right here, I just can’t—”
“Bailey.” He took the papers out of her hands and put them down on the desk. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Who is Alexander Gagnon to you? We are partners in this. I need to know what’s wrong so we can handle it together.”
She brought her back teeth together before she blew this entirely and pulled her hand free to continue searching for the notes. “He is nothing to me. I told you that.”
“Then why are you a total disaster?”
“I am not a disaster.” She rounded on him fiercely, eyes flashing. “This is personal, Jared, and I won’t have it brought into this.”
His mouth twisted. “Were you there last night? Because I was. Alexander is now the deciding voice in this deal. He did not take his eyes off you all night and then he followed you to the washroom where he was extremely confrontational. So don’t tell me it’s nothing, Bailey. He is an issue. And I won’t have it affecting this deal.”
She sank her hands into her hips. “Then pull me out.”
“I can’t pull you out. Davide adores you. He loves your thinking.”
She pressed her lips together mutinously. She would rather die than tell Jared she’d been a stripper. A man who thought so little of women he’d written a manifesto about their place being in the bedroom. She could only imagine how derogatory he’d be. It made her stomach curl. As did the thought that he wouldn’t want her anywhere near this deal.
He let out a muttered oath, his gaze on her face. “Tell me it wasn’t something illegal. Whatever it is you’re hiding.”
Illegal? She stared at him in disbelief. What the? The flare of anxiety in his eyes, the frown furrowing his brow, made it hit home. His father. Of course he would be afraid of scandal…. Her stomach lurched dangerously. She wanted to tell him, to reassure him it had everything to do with her, but she could not.
She put her hand on his arm, her gaze imploring him. “It’s nothing like that. It’s a personal matter Jared, that’s all. You need to trust me on this.”
He stared at her long and hard. As if he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Then he let out a long breath. “Okay, this is how we’re going to play it. We are going to walk into that room, blow them away with our ideas and win this contract. You are not going to be distracted. You are not going to address Alexander in any way, shape or form unless he asks you a question. Play to Davide, play to the other two. But do not let Alexander shake you.”
Relief flooded through her. He wasn’t going to push her. She could have kissed him except that had been a bad idea. “Got it,” she said firmly. “You can trust me.”
