‘What sort of things?’ asked Jane warily, twisting her martini glass between the finger and thumb of her right hand, her left lying protectively in her lap.
His mouth stretched in a charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Oh...the principles once ardently defended that one is prepared to compromise, the dangers ignored, the traps that one can be lured into out of the desperate need to feel back in control...’
With a jolt Jane noticed the thread-like mark bisecting his lower lip, only noticeable when the corner of his mouth tilted at that particular sardonic angle. A tiny scar, almost healed and scarcely detectable—except to the person responsible for putting it there—and the victim himself.
‘I think
I’m quite aware of the pitfalls of business, thank you,’ she said, taking another sip of the clear, frigid liquid.
‘If you were, I doubt you would find yourself in your present untenable position,’ he pointed out succinctly. ‘Your lack of qualifications and inexperience probably had a large part to do with your failure.’
As usual the accusation of failure hit her like a blow upon a wound. Her spine straightened. ‘I might not have any formal qualifications but I had practical training that’s worth any number of theoretical diplomas...nearly ten years involved in almost every aspect of Sherwood’s—’.
‘My goodness, that long...?’
His mockery stung. How dared he dismiss her achievements so lightly? ‘My father would never have allowed me to take over if he hadn’t known I had the ability—’
‘Since he didn’t have a son, he had no choice, did he?’ Ryan interrupted. ‘How that must have stuck in his craw. Mark never did have much respect for women.’
With a few brief sentences Ryan made her feel like a little girl again, desperately trying to win the unqualified approval that she knew would never be forthcoming, no matter how good, how clever, how worthy she proved herself to be.
Jane glared at him. ‘I was the best person for the job!’ she said icily. ‘I knew that company inside out.’
And loved it. She had felt more at home in her cosy office than she had done in the huge, ostentatious, designer-decorated house that Mark Sherwood had built as a monument to his success. After her father’s enforced retirement, work had become even more of a refuge from the tensions at home. In her office Jane had felt safe, strong, empowered by the respect accorded her position, insulated from the doubts and uncertainties that plagued her as soon as she stepped over the threshold of her father’s house and faced the daily barrage of complaints and criticisms.
‘If you have such a low opinion of my professional capabilities I don’t understand what I’m doing here.’
‘Oh, you will,’ he murmured, his gaze sliding past her shoulder.
‘What are you—?’ She halted as he rose, his cynical expression eclipsed by a smooth smile of greeting as he held out his hand to the stocky middle-aged man with unnaturally dark hair who had come to a halt by their table.
‘Hello, Dan, glad you could make it.’
‘How could I have bypassed such a tempting offer?’ the older man chuckled in an Australian drawl, enthusiastically pumping the outstretched hand while his spaniel-brown eyes slid sideways to Jane’s startled face. ‘Hello there, little lady.’
Before she could react to the patronising tone Ryan intervened suavely. “Little” is a definite misnomer, as I’m sure you’ll soon discover for yourself. Jane, I’d like you to meet Dan Miller. Dan owns a construction company in Queensland. He’s over here to sign some contracts with Spectrum. Dan, this is Jane.’
The omission of her surname seemed vaguely insulting, but Dan Miller didn’t seem to notice anything lacking in the introduction. ‘Pleased to meet you, honey.’
Jane set her teeth in a smile as she found both her hands taken and squeezed. Inside her left glove Jane could feel the unknitted bones grinding against each other, and a familiar red-hot throb began to radiate through her wrist when she finally managed to extricate herself.
She barely heard the words the two men exchanged as Dan Miller eased his weight into the chair on her left. Her attention had been so focused on Ryan that she hadn’t noticed the extra table-setting. Now she realised that he had never intended for them to dine alone.
‘I thought this was going to be a private meeting,’ she murmured in an undertone as Dan Miller turned to discuss his drink order with the waiter.
‘Is that what I said?’ he murmured back, eyes glinting with mockery.
‘No, but that was the obvious conclusion,’ she admitted stiffly.
His dark head dipped and she automatically leaned closer to hear his words. ‘I try never to be obvious—it makes one predictable. And when one is predictable one is vulnerable...don’t you agree?’
Was he implying that she was too easily predictable? Jane frowned, nibbling at her glossy lower lip. Her father had always accused her of being the opposite...too prone to ‘womanly whims’ to make logical business decisions.
‘You look tense,’ he continued in that same, velvety deep voice. ‘Why don’t you stop worrying and enjoy your meal?’ he invited softly. ‘One of the reasons I brought you and Dan here is because the hotel chef has a justifiably magnificent reputation, so let’s not risk spoiling our appetites by conducting business on an empty stomach, hmm?’
His cobalt eyes were hypnotically persuasive. ‘Relax and be sociable...Dan’s an extremely valuable contact and he’s only in town for the night; I’m merely asking you to help me make his evening a pleasant one. I promise you’ll be amply rewarded for your efforts in keeping him entertained...’