Sex, Lies and the CEO Page 9

  “Yes,” said the housekeeper, her critical gaze taking in Darci’s clothing. “How did you get so dirty?”

  Darci struggled not to panic. “I was down on the floor. It’s so tiny.” She held up the earring. “I can’t believe I actually found it.”

  She couldn’t help reflexively smoothing her hair. The lights were still on in the storage room, and she’d left records strewn all over the floor. She racked her brain for an excuse to stay downstairs.

  Then she landed on one. “I’ll just go lock up the wine cellar and meet you upstairs.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” said the housekeeper.

  “No need,” Darci quickly put in.

  The quick retort earned her a suspicious gaze.

  “It’s no trouble,” said the housekeeper, her expression implacable.

  Darci guessed the housekeeper thought she was going to steal a bottle of wine. And who could blame her? Darci knew she was acting as if she was up to something.

  “Estelle?” came a man’s voice.

  “Down here, Mr. Massey,” the housekeeper called in return.

  “Oh, there you are.” A tall, attractive thirty-something man strode toward them.

  His gaze turned curiously to Darci. “Hello?”

  “This is Darci Lake,” said Estelle. “She visited Mr. Colborn on the weekend and lost an earring.”

  “Shane was nice enough to give me a tour of the wine cellar,” Darci explained, ordering herself to remain calm.

  “I’m Justin Massey,” said the man. “Shane’s attorney.”

  Darci’s brain sputtered for a moment. She couldn’t help thinking that if she got caught, this was the man who would grill her in court.

  “Nice to meet you,” she managed.

  “Shane mentioned you.”

  “He did?” Darci searched Justin’s expression for any trace of mistrust.

  “All good, I assure you.”

  “Thank you.” She relaxed ever so slightly.

  “Did you find your earring?”

  “I did.” She held it out to prove it.

  “Then that’s good news.”

  “I was just going to lock up the wine cellar.” She held her breath, hoping against hope that Justin would need Estelle’s assistance.

  “Estelle?” asked Justin, turning his attention away from Darci.

  Yes, yes, yes! Darci’s brain sang out.

  “I need a couple of boxes from the file room.”

  No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. What were the odds?

  “Is the trolley around?” he asked.

  “Ben will know where it is,” said Estelle. “I’ll have him bring it over.”

  “Thanks, Estelle.”

  The woman produced a cell phone, moving slightly away to make the call.

  “You work for Colborn Aerospace?” Darci asked Justin.

  She was torn between attempting to stop him from entering the file room and running as fast and far as she could.

  “Eight years now,” said Justin.

  “So you’ve known Shane all that time?”

  “Longer,” said Justin while Estelle’s voice carried on in the background.

  “I just met him,” said Darci.

  “At the fundraiser. I know. He seems to like you quite a lot.”

  “I like him, too.” It was an honest answer. She did like Shane. She was out to discredit his father, not Shane himself.

  “He told me you read the book.”

  “I was curious.”

  “It’s mostly lies.”

  She fought an involuntary smile. “Are you his wingman?”

  Justin shifted. “He doesn’t usually need one.”

  “I don’t imagine he does.”

  Shane was a charming, sexy billionaire. He could recite whatever he wanted in bed, and women would still line up around the block.

  “Ben will be here shortly,” said Estelle, coming back to them. “I’ll help Miss Lake close up the wine cellar.”

  “No need,” said Justin. “I can keep her company.”

  There was a brief appearance of discomfort on Estelle’s face, but she promptly smoothed out her expression. Obviously, she wasn’t about to disagree with Justin. But Darci had raised the woman’s suspicions, and that had been a big misstep on her part.

  “Thank you,” Estelle said to Justin.

  As she walked away, Justin turned to Darci. “I don’t think she wanted to leave us alone.”

  Darci pretended she hadn’t noticed. “Was that your take?”

  “She probably thinks I’ll make a pass at you.”

  Darci drew back in surprise. “What?”

  Justin chuckled. “She’s protecting Shane’s interests.”

  “I don’t think that’s—”

  “It’s admirable,” said Justin. “Loyalty is rare and valuable.”

  “I suppose,” said Darci, realizing Justin’s assumption was a whole lot safer than the truth.

  “To the wine cellar?” he asked.

  “I have the key.”

  As they made their way down the hall, Justin glanced at his watch. “We’re well within the cocktail hour.”

  She assumed he was joking. “You’re saying you’d steal Shane’s wine?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “You’re his lawyer.”

  “As such, I’m declaring my power of attorney over his wine stash. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch.”

  “It’s too much of a stretch,” said Darci. Though she couldn’t help thinking an intoxicated Justin might give her a fighting chance at sneaking away to fix her mess in the records room.

  “You have no sense of adventure,” he said.

  The comment startled a laugh out of her, which Darci quickly turned into a cough.

  She couldn’t try to get Justin drunk—on Shane’s expensive wine—so she could snoop some more into his company records. Could she?

  They arrived at the wine cellar, and she determinedly extracted the key. No. She wouldn’t do that. She had to set some limits on her behavior.

  “Last chance,” he said.

  “Close the door.”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of some of the very rare vintages in here.”

  “Shane told me his father was a collector.” She was careful to keep her tone neutral. But the wine was somehow emblematic of the differences in Dalton’s and her father’s circumstances.

  “Dalton definitely liked the finer things in life.”

  “Did you know him?” Darci saw an opportunity for more information.

  Justin nodded. “He was a brilliant, hardworking man.”

  “He built Colborn Aerospace all by himself?”

  “Started with nothing but ideas.”

  Darci clamped her jaw, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Went from a one-man shop to a ten-man shop, then a hundred, then a thousand. He was a tough man to work for, hard-nosed, exacting. Not everyone liked him.”

  “I’ll bet,” she said.

  Justin pulled the heavy door shut, and she turned the key to lock it.

  She crouched to secure the key behind the panel.

  “Looks like he trusts you already,” said Justin from above her.

  She rose. “Do you mind showing me the records room?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  Because, if she was really, really lucky, he’d turn his back for a few minutes, and she’d have a chance to hide her mess.

  To Justin, she gave a shrug. “This big old basement fascinates me. I’d like to see a little more of it.”

  “It’ll be a disappointment after the wine cellar.”

&n
bsp; “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

  Six

  Shane had spent three days in Europe with Tuck and Dixon, visiting five potential customers, including Gobrecht. The Beaumont deal was shaky but still intact. The president of Gobrecht had agreed to meet with Shane, but then had said he was in talks with an up-and-coming firm named Ellis Air. Shane knew of Riley Ellis. They were both the same age, and both Chicago natives. But Ellis Air had never been a factor in the industry before now. He’d tried to explain the risks of going with such a small firm to Gobrecht, but they weren’t in the mood to listen.

  Now, back in Chicago and back at the mansion with Darci, he let the frustrations from the business trip slide away as she fed a biscuit to each of the dogs.

  As Gus and Boomer gobbled them down, she took a half step back, glancing up at Shane, her expression a mixture of fear and pride.

  “They’re your friends for life,” said Shane.

  She glanced at the dogs. “They still look hungry.”

  “They always look hungry. Don’t buy into it.” He reached out and took her hand. “Let’s walk.”

  The second the word walk was out, the dogs both bounded off in the usual direction.

  “They like walks?” Darci asked on a laugh.

  “They think it’s their job to patrol the perimeter.” He pointed to a bark-mulch path that wound through the gardens. “They love it when reinforcements come along.”

  The dogs raced out in front in the Sunday-morning sun. The air was warm. Robins were out in the oak trees, and the roses were coming into bloom. The lawn was freshly cut, the scent crisp around them.

  Darci wore blue jeans, a mint-green tank top and a pair of ballet flats. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with strands flowing free at her temples. If she was wearing makeup, he couldn’t tell. And her only jewelry was a pair of tiny gold earrings.

  “Estelle said you lost an earring?” he asked while the dogs romped a few dozen yards ahead, crisscrossing the pathway, sniffing at the gardens along the way.

  “An opal,” said Darci, her gaze tracking Boomer. “My grandmother’s. They have huge sentimental value for me. I don’t have much that belonged to her. So I really appreciated the chance to come back and look for it. It took a while, and I had to check all over the place, but I eventually, you know, tracked it down... So I was happy.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, smiling at her rush of words. “You met Justin?”

  “I did.” She drew in a very deep breath.

  “He said you asked about the history of Colborn Aerospace.”

  “I did.” She paused. “I was interested in the history.”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  Her hand twitched in his.

  “And it’s okay.” He lifted the hand to kiss it. “I’d be curious about me, too. I’d probably be tempted to do a little research.”

  “I’m...” There was a thread of apprehension in her voice. “I mean, it’s not...”

  He’d clearly unnerved her. That hadn’t been his intention. “I know you’re not a gold digger, Darci.”

  She seemed to consider his words. “Right. Okay. How exactly do you know that?”

  “Because gold diggers don’t play hard to get.”

  Her expression faltered. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  He backpedaled. “I don’t mean to say you’re doing it deviously. But you do call a halt whenever I get close.”

  “I do,” she agreed.

  “It’s been my experience that when women are looking to set a trap for me, they don’t say no to much of anything, climbing Mt. Logan, community trash pickup, mud wrestling.”

  “Mud wrestling?”

  “I sometimes get creative to see how far women will go.”

  “You’re nasty.”

  “They can always say no.” He found himself smiling. “Like you do. And that’s honest.”

  She wrinkled her nose while she shook her head. “I definitely won’t be doing any mud wrestling.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It’s an offensive spectacle, full of bikinis and leering louts.”

  He tugged her to a halt and stepped in to face her. “Did I ask you to mud wrestle?”

  “No.”

  “Have I ever pushed you to do something you truly didn’t want to do?”

  “Not with words.”

  “Nor coercion or money.” He’d been nothing but respectful.

  “True,” she agreed.

  “You just say no.”

  “I do.”

  “To anything that doesn’t feel right.”

  Disquiet flitted through her eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I’m agreeing with you.”

  With the sun on her face, the breeze lifting her hair, the sheen of her lips, the subtle scent of her perfume, it all seemed straightforward to him.

  “I want to kiss you,” he said.

  “Don’t.” She quickly put a palm against his chest.

  “Don’t kiss you, or don’t want to kiss you?”

  “Both.” Her gaze held his, and the air seemed to heat between them.

  “Why?” he asked. They’d kissed a couple of times. “It’s just a kiss. How can it not feel right?”

  She seemed to have to think it through, and he took that as a good sign.

  “It’s not always that things don’t feel right in the moment,” she said. “Sometimes things feel right, and I say no anyway. Because they’re not right. And they can never be right. And it doesn’t matter how much I want them to be.”

  “Darci.” He put his hand over hers, struggling to keep his expression serious. “Did that make sense inside your head?”

  She tugged her hand away. “You’re mocking me?”

  “Because you’re overthinking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I still want to kiss you.”

  “Well, I don’t want to kiss you.”

  “You’re lying.”

  She hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. Can we just walk?”

  “Yes.” He stepped to her side and took her hand again.

  They strolled in silence while he dissected her words. Something was off. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  He took a stab. “You’re not married, are you?”

  “Let it go, Shane.”

  “Seriously? You’re married?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Ever been married?”

  “No. You?”

  “You don’t think you’d have found that online?”

  Gus did a circle around them, dodging between them, then loping off.

  “I suppose,” she said.

  “I checked you out, too,” he told her. “Didn’t find much.”

  “I try to keep a low profile.”

  “Are you in the witness protection program?”

  “Something like that.”

  Was that it? Had he nailed it?

  “Are you in danger?” he asked. “Because if that’s it, if you are, I have resources—”

  “I’m not in any danger.”

  “An old boyfriend?” he asked. “Is he jealous? A stalker? Is that why you were asking about security?”

  “I wasn’t asking about security. You told me about your security.”

  “Then you asked for details.”

  She gave a wordless exclamation of frustration. “There’s no stalker ex-boyfriend. Jeez, Shane. Kissing you is starting to look a lot better than talking to you.”

  It was all the invitation he needed, and he didn’
t hesitate for a second. He spun her around, latched an arm across the small of her back, tugged her in and pressed his lips to hers.

  She went still with shock. But then her body softened. Her lips parted, and she kissed him back.

  Okay. So that was the answer. The direct approach.

  He enfolded her deeper into his embrace, widened the kiss and teased her tongue out with his. Her curves were delectable, her breasts pressed against his chest, her skin hot against his.

  One of the dogs zipped past, brushing the back of his legs, but he ignored it, bracing his feet apart to hold her steady.

  Then both dogs barked, and she broke the kiss. “Oh, no.”

  “It’s just a kiss.”

  “We can’t do this.”

  “We didn’t do anything.” He’d wanted to do something. He wanted to do a whole lot. He’d wanted to haul her off into the pool house and make frantic love to her for the rest of the day.

  “We’re playing with fire.”

  Again, he struggled to figure her out. Who cared if they were playing with fire? What was the worst that could happen?

  She was clearly attracted to him. And she was obviously a healthy, sexy, amazing woman. What could be holding her back?

  He racked his brain for a plausible explanation.

  “Are you saving yourself for marriage?” he asked.

  “No. No, that’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?” He found himself growing impatient, an edge coming into his voice.

  She withdrew her arms and stepped back.

  He could have kicked himself.

  “I wish I could explain,” she said.

  “You can explain.”

  “No, I can’t. I really have to go.”

  “If your plan is to intrigue me, I’m intrigued already.”

  She backed away, shaking her head. “I thought I could do this.”

  “Do what?” Baffled was too mild a word for what he was feeling.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned.

  “What did I say?” he called. “What did I do?”

  But she was leaving. Her brisk stride turned into a jog.

  He took a first step, intent on going after her. But he knew it was useless. There was nothing more he could say, and he’d be wrong to press her.