Tempting the Negotiator

“This is the sleep-out,” said Jake, leaping from the Jeep and waving at the shed. “You’ll be comfortable here, I hope.”

There was not an ounce of sincerity in what he said. Wordlessly, Sass wriggled out of the backseat and dropped onto her heels, which immediately embedded themselves in the dusty driveway. Jake hauled out her bags and led her up the steps onto the deck of the “sleep-out” and into the room.

It might have been a shed once, but now its walls were painted a pale yellow that echoed the late-afternoon sun. The front wall had been replaced with glass doors that overlooked the grassy reaches of the garden to the sun-spangled bay beyond. The view was a million bucks, but the furniture had a knock-kneed look. There were no drapes at the windows. The place was big but smelled musty.

“Here’s the bathroom,” he said, opening a door to the side. “You can use the house’s kitchen. I was going to move some of the boys out here but thought you’d prefer to have some privacy with five blokes around.”

“Five!”

He smiled at her shock. “It’s a bit of a bad boys’ home—not that the kids are bad as such, just a little wild. They’re with me for six months as an experiment in early intervention.”

His tone implied that a lawyer might not understand the concept, but she glanced at him in surprise. Jake didn’t look like a social worker. In fact, he seemed a little wild himself with his tangle of tawny curls. There was an exotic slant to his high cheekbones and a honey tone to his deep tan. His legs were long and muscular—not an office worker, she decided. The battered shorts were, of course, another clue.

She looked around. “Can I get on the Internet here?”

Jake shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve never bothered getting it. Cell phones are pretty useless, too, most of the time. Reception is patchy. You can get all that in Whangarimu, though. Come on, I’ll show you the house. Like a cup of tea?”

“I’d love a coffee if that’s okay.”

“American. Of course.”

Sass was impressed. There was nothing in his tone, but she’d just been insulted. Silently, she followed him to the house, her heels sinking into the shaggy lawn.

The building had excellent bones, with a wood exterior and deep veranda. Going inside, however, was like walking into Man Zone. The lounge was beautiful, with French doors and a generous windowseat in the eastern wall, but it was cluttered with sagging furniture and DVDs and PlayStation games. A large television and Xbox dominated one corner. The dining room had a huge table sadly in need of a polish and buried in books and papers.

In the kitchen, cupboards hung open, dishes were piled in the sink. The breakfast things were on the table. For a brief, horrible moment Sass flashed back to the chaos of the trailer home she’d grown up in, a far cry from the immaculate order she surrounded herself with these days.

“Place is a bit of a tip, I’m afraid,” Jake said, not sounding the least apologetic. “Now, coffee, did you say?”

She looked around for his coffee machine as he put the kettle on. Then she watched as he opened a tin of instant, chipped at it for a second—God, how old was it?—then heaped a teaspoon of lumps into what she was relieved to see appeared to be a clean mug.

“Where are the kids now?”

“Should be back from school any minute, but they won’t stop to talk—the waves are too good. They’re all mad keen surfers. That’s why they’re with me. They’re preparing for the nationals and this location is unbeatable. Milk? No—just black? There you are, pull up a chair if you like.”

“No thanks, I’ll take the coffee over to the sh—sleep-out?—and start settling in if you don’t mind.”

“Suit yourself. Dinner around eight okay for you?”

She shook her head and put on a smile. “That’s kind, but no thanks. I’m beat. I’d like to have an early night.”

It was true she felt light-headed with exhaustion, but there was also no way she was going to eat anything out of that kitchen till she’d had time to fumigate the house. Coffee mug in hand, she began heading out, her system singing in anticipation of a cigarette.

“One more thing. This is a smoke-free zone. Several of the boys have quit. I’m sure you understand.”

She turned to look at him. He looked back.

“Sure,” she said slowly, her fingers tightening on the mug. “I understand.”

Back in her quarters she kicked off her heels with vehemence, opened her bag and for a second gazed longingly at her cigarettes. Later, when they were all eating dinner, she would sneak one behind the sleep-out. From under her cigarettes she pulled out her BlackBerry. Sure enough, no reception. Great. The toughest challenge of her career and here she was, stuck in the remotest corner of the bottom of the world with no line out.

Sass was good at her job, damned good. Some called her The Great Persuader, others The Great Manipulator. Whichever, she was the original fix-it gal. But she’d had to work twice as hard and be three times better than any male colleague just to be noticed. For seven years, Sass had given her life to her job, her sole goal being to one day make senior partner, aka join The Boys who ran Paradise Resorts. Her break had finally come last week when she’d been summonsed to Mr. Brixby’s office.

For the first time since she’d started at the company, he’d led her to the sofas in the corner instead of consulting over his desk. They’d sat and he’d looked her right in the eye.

“Sass, we are sending you to New Zealand. I’ll be honest with you. Profits are down and the company desperately needs the injection from a new resort. Something fresh. I know,” he said, raising his hand as Sass went to speak, “Branston’s idea is fanciful. But we need something that will make people sit up, take note. We need a new direction and we’re all counting on you to make it work. Will you do this for us, Sass?”

And Sass, contrary to her usual thoroughness in checking out details beforehand, had looked back into those shrewd eyes and said, “Why of course, Mr. Brixby.”

He’d even patted her hand. “I knew we could rely on you. Your level thinking and charm might make all the difference.”

He didn’t say outright that this might secure her place with The Boys in the vacancy McKenna’s retirement had left, but the way he’d said it… Her heart had leaped and his words had continued to warm and sustain her right up until she’d seen Kurt’s smirk. Then she’d realized he believed she stood no chance at all, and that she’d take the rap for his enormous blunders. Worse, while she was trapped in this black hole, he’d be right there, ingratiating himself with The Boys.

Unable to stand being inside, she wandered out, down the steps of the deck toward the beach. Walking barefoot on grass brought back memories of racing late to school, playing catch…and it felt strangely good. She drifted to the ragged edge of the lawn and down the bank onto the sand. That felt good, too. She wrapped her fingers around her mug of coffee, took a sip, then grimaced. That was another thing she needed. Already she was making a shopping list in her mind.

The water was wonderful and she stood ankle-deep, feeling her frustrations ebb into the sea. The sun was gentler now, sinking low in the sky, and she raised her face to it. She hadn’t just stood, enjoying the feeling of sun and water, for who knew how long. She breathed in deeply, eyes closed, the salty tang carrying the whisper of romance and exotica.

Her eyes snapped open. She was most certainly not here on holiday, and she pulled her thoughts back to the ridge behind her, with its p

. Was that why Kurt had been so happy to off-load this deal onto her? What a mess. She’d have to watch her step closely if she was going to succeed.

Her host’s casual appearance didn’t deceive her. She’d seen the stubborn lines around his mouth, had noted the pugilistic set of his jaw. In the past Jake would have been in the front line of battle; with his height and reckless determination he would have led the men behind him and intimidated those he faced. Well, she wasn’t about to be intimidated. All the same, she needed to tread very carefully. If he caught one whiff of what she knew, then the deal—and her whole future—would be toast!

CHAPTER THREE

“LAST MAN HOME MAKES breakfast,” yelled Brad as he leaped down the hill from the ridge. The rest of the boys broke into a run, chasing him with whoops and threats, their surfboards bouncing and swinging as they raced.

Jake let them go, glad to have this moment to himself. Dawn had broken while they were out on the water, turning the waves pink and yellow, and now he breathed in, enjoying the soft salt tang. The sky was translucent blue and the harbor stretched out in tranquil high tide. It was unthinkable that this early morning peace and beauty, unchanged for a thousand years, should now be threatened.

The boys, still whooping, had disappeared around the corner of the house when, inexplicably, their cries died midyell. Curious, Jake loped down the steep driveway, and as he rounded the house, saw what had silenced them. Sass, in a black swimsuit, had emerged from the sea and was making her way slowly up the beach toward them. Brad whistled under his breath; Paul gulped. The twins blushed red and exchanged abashed, sideways grins. Jake couldn’t blame them. Though her swimsuit was modestly cut, it molded to her. Clearly, they grew them tall and lithe in Texas, with long legs that could—Jake swiftly blocked the highly inappropriate thoughts that crowded into his mind. An understandable reaction, he told himself. The natural response of a year’s self-enforced celibacy.

She smiled, but Jake was surprised to see her pause as though unsure, shy even, as she eyed the lineup of young males.

“Hey, you must be the gang Jake spoke of.”

“Yeah,” said Jake, collecting himself. “The lanky one is Paul, the twins Mike and Mark—don’t worry if you can’t tell them apart, no one can—and Brad’s the one with his tongue hanging out.”

Brad threw him a look as he shifted his board to his other arm and held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.” His formal manner, however, was undermined by the thoughts so clearly written all over his adolescent face.

Sass moved forward and Paul swallowed again as she shook Brad’s hand. “I’m Sass. Pleased to meet y’all.”

Then she turned to shake the other boys’hands, spell-binding each in turn with her smile, which, Jake had to grudgingly admit, was friendly and in no way playing up the obvious effect she was having on them all.

“Nice swim?” he asked.

“Yes, the water was lovely. I woke early—jet lag I guess—and it looked so inviting I couldn’t resist. How was the surf?” Her Southern voice floated lazy and warm, complementing the early morning air.

“It was awesome! Do you surf?” Brad asked.