“No. I mean…” She lowered her gaze again. “What I actually said, Dillon, was that I can’t… can’t do that.”
“Can’t kiss a business associate?”
“Can’t kiss anybody.”
She heard him set his coffee mug on the edge of her desk. His clothing brushed against the cushion of his chair as he scooted forward. “You can’t kiss anybody?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“That’s my business.”
“And now it’s mine,” he said, raising his voice.
Bravely, she flung up her head and glared at him, then wished she hadn’t. His forearms were propped on the edge of her desk, and he was leaning forward slightly. The summer sun had brought out light streaks in his hair. His bare arms, his wide chest, his face with its mustache and steady hazel eyes, all exuded a masculinity that both fascinated and repelled her just as his kiss had.
“The subject is closed,” she said huskily.
“For now, maybe.”
She glanced down to the work on her desk and cleared her throat. “I’d like to discuss these bids so that you can make a decision.”
“All right,” he said slowly.
He had agreed, but, for the duration of their meeting, he continued to gaze at her in that steady, unflinching way that made her uncomfortably warm. He did everything with that same damned intensity—work, stare… and kiss.
* * *
“Goddammit, I’m getting sick of this shit.”
Ivan wasn’t referring to his disability or the wheelchair, although he slammed his fist down on its armrest. He was provoked by the contract lying on the stumps of his thighs, the contract that Neal had weaseled from Mrs. Parker.
“Who in his right mind would pay half a million dollars for that sorry parcel of land?”
“It looks like I’ll have to,” Neal said grimly.
“What in blazes could she want it for?”
“Maybe nothing more than to put a railroad trunk through. According to the papers, the plant will be shipping goods overseas out of Port Royal. Whatever she wants it for, it’s bad news for us.”
Neal stared down at the contract, his brow furrowed. “That’s probably only Jade’s first offer. GSS has got money coming out its ass. She’ll keep upping the ante until Otis gives in.”
“Pour me a drink,” Ivan growled.
Neal poured a stiff bourbon for himself, too. He had put up a good front for Jade earlier that morning. Actually, she had hit the nail on the head. For the first time in his life, his confidence was taking a beating.
Jade wasn’t as easily maneuvered as he and Ivan had fooled themselves into thinking. She had patently ignored his phone calls. She claimed to have thrown away the roses he sent her. She had spread a communitywide fever of interest in the new plant. He had a sick feeling in his gut that she was going to get the best of them.
His daddy was old and crippled. His voice still carried, but did people really listen to him anymore? How much clout could Ivan wield when a new industry moved in? Ivan had been known to manipulate people by bartering with coveted jobs. Before too long, he might have to beg people to work for him.
Neal surveyed his surroundings. The Aubusson rugs, the Spode china, the Waterford crystal—all were heirlooms from his mother’s family, all were priceless. He enjoyed having the biggest, fanciest house in the county. He liked driving a new car every year. He like being Neal Patchett and what that name meant in this town. Goddammit, he didn’t want things to change at this stage of his life.
He glanced at his father, who sat hunched in his wheelchair, and realized that their future couldn’t be trusted to an old amputee. His daddy wasn’t up to fighting this battle, but he had coached his son on how to fight dirty. It was time Neal flexed his own muscles.
“Here’s what I’m going to do, old man. I’m going to the bank and sign a note for five hundred thousand dollars.”
Ivan glanced at him sharply. “Using what for collateral?”