John slammed a big, fat finger into her chest and said, “Just because you studied history in school you think you’re qualified to run a multimillion-dollar company?”
“Keep your hands off her,” Rick said with a growl, stepping in front of Lessa.
“We made a mistake giving her the chairmanship,” John said, his face red with anger. “The stock has gone down ever since.”
“There were other factors at work.”
“How can you defend her?” John asked. He shook his head, disgusted. “Her father almost ran this company into the ground and apparently that’s her intention as well.”
And suddenly all the anger Lessa had felt regarding her father’s shabby treatment burst to the surface. Her father had considered John Roberson a friend, yet according to Rick, he had betrayed him. “How dare you talk about my father that way,” she said, clenching her fists as she took a step toward him. But Rick was too fast.
“Time to go,” he said, grabbing John by the lapels and hoisting him away.
As Rick hustled John toward the elevator doors, Lessa glanced around at the crowd that had gathered to watch the fireworks. “Sorry about that, everyone. Go enjoy the party.”
As the crowd slowly dispersed, misery set in. After all this work, what people would remember about the Christmas party was not the shrimp or the decorations or the fact that there was a bar on every floor. It was that the chairman of the board had almost punched a fellow board member. She made her way over to the bar and ordered a glass of wine. She had already drunk half of it by the time Rick reappeared.
“Thank you,” she said.
He gave her a look that said all was not well. “Could I talk to you privately?” he asked.
She set down her wine and followed him toward a darkened hallway. Suddenly he pulled her into an empty office and shut the door. He turned on the light and faced her, his eyes dark and controlled. “Are you attempting to sell Antigua?”
“Not yet, no,” she said calmly. “Although there is an interested buyer.”
He took a step toward her. He was towering over her, his mouth set in a frown. “We’re not selling Antigua. You’ve wasted your time.”
“I found a property in Florida that has a lot of potential,” she said, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “It makes sense to sell Antigua now, before the other resorts on the island are developed. We could use the money to finance the Florida property. Anyway, I’m still getting my ducks in a row. I wanted to lay it all out for you.”
“And what if I disagreed?” he asked. “We’ve ruined a relationship with whatever buyer you’ve strung along.”
“I haven’t strung anyone along. I told them exactly what the circumstances were.”
She could see him hesitate.
“Let me show you what I’ve done. Give me a chance.”
Before Rick could respond, the door flew open. The director of marketing entered arm in arm with the director of finance. When they saw Lessa and Rick standing in front of them, their jaws dropped in surprise. They moved away from each other. “We were just, um, looking for…some more napkins,” the director of finance said quickly.
“So were we,” Lessa said. “None in here.” Rick followed her out.
“We can’t talk here.”
“Tomorrow morning. We’ll discuss everything before I contact the buyer.”
“Tomorrow morning won’t work,” Rick said. “I have a meeting that I can’t change.”
“Please, Rick, give me a chance. Let me prove to you that this will work.”
He hesitated, looking at her sternly. She could almost see the inner machinations of his mind. “Then we’ll do it now. Get your coat,” he said. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Lessa found Fran on the second floor. “I have to go.”
“You’re going? You can’t go! We haven’t done the toast.”
“You’re going to have to take care of it. Rick and I need to discuss Antigua.”
“You’re both leaving?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Yes, but-” But what? She couldn’t very well deny an affair. So instead she shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you for taking care of things.”
“Sure,” Fran said, obviously stunned that the CEO and the chairman of the board would be leaving so soon and so together. “Have fun.”
Fun, she felt like saying, was the last thing she would be having. She had never seen Rick so angry-not even when she’d fired him.
“All right,” he said as they walked to the car. “Where to? Your place?”
Her place was not a good idea. She could just imagine trying to work with her aunt sitting at the table with them, making snide comments about Rick. “Your place,” she said without hesitation.
Without saying a word, Rick turned the car toward his apartment.
Even though Lessa was the one who’d suggested that they go back to his apartment, Rick couldn’t help but feel that this was a bad idea. It might have been okay if she weren’t wearing a skintight red velvet dress that left little to the imagination.
But where else could they go? he asked himself defensively. Besides a restaurant, a coffee shop or any of the other million places that were available in New York City.
“How long have you lived here?” Lessa asked as they stepped inside the elevator in Rick’s building.
He thought for a moment. “Five years.”
Anger. He had to hold on to his anger. How could she presume to sell his property without even conferring with him first?
The doors opened directly into his apartment and they stepped out. He turned on the light. He took her coat, trying hard not to notice the curves beneath her dress. He hung up her coat as she walked over to the window and admired the view. She turned back to face him and asked, “Are you putting up a Christmas tree?”
“No. I never do. As I told you, I’m usually gone for Christmas.”
“But you’ll be in town this year,” she said.
He would not allow himself to indulge in another personal conversation. It was too dangerous with them alone in his apartment. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” he asked gruffly, nodding toward the table. She sat down beside him and began to talk.
An hour later, she looked at him and said, “Well? What do you think?”
He sat back, impressed. He had to admit that the proposal was not as farfetched as he’d initially thought. She had done her research. She understood the problem of the competing marketplace in Antigua as well as the potential and future worth of the property in Florida. “I’ll take a look at this Florida property,” he said after thinking it over. “Set up an appointment.”
She smiled, obviously proud of her accomplishment. A lock of her hair fell over one eye and he had to stop himself from pushing it away. She may not have succeeded in convincing him entirely, but one thing was certain. He was not ready for her to go. He suddenly realized he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten at the party and was fairly certain she hadn’t either. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“I have a housekeeper who keeps me stocked with some basics. Or we can order in.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said with a smile. He led her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. She bent down and looked inside.
“Anything good?”
“You’re right,” she said. “Basics.” She handed him a package of eggs. She put a block of cheese on top and grabbed a loaf of bread.
“Omelets?” he asked.
“No. I’m going to make a soufflé.”
“A soufflé. Can you cook? I thought your aunt cooked for you.”
“I’ve picked up a few tips along the way,” she said with a smile.
An hour later, his apartment was filled with the warm, homey smell of fresh-baked biscuits and a fluffy soufflé.
When they sat down at the table, she waited for him to take a bite. “It’s great,” he said, eliciting a smile from Lessa.
There was something about her smile, something about the tenderness in her eyes that tugged on his heart. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, a desire to take her in his arms and protect her from the world.