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‘I have to win this pitch, Fern. I have to. I can’t f—’ Nora broke off and hung her head as the full enormity of what she’d been about to admit hit her. The last thing she needed was to give Fern the impression she was about to crumble if she failed.
Her vision blurred as she looked down at her hand. She’d have to cancel the pitch. So be it. These things happened. Except, usually she did everything in her power to ensure that these things didn’t happen. Not to her. Providing strong leadership had been what she’d been trained to do by the best in the business—her father. She hated that lately, every business move she made, had her questioning herself. When she’d heard on the grapevine that Eleanor Moorfield was thinking about returning to London, Nora had suited-up, taken the gamble and approached her directly. Now, it stung to have to admit that a little multi-tasking may have defeated her and made her look as if she wasn’t quite as super-efficient and in control as she liked to appear. It was beginning to look as if she deliberately sabotaged her own success.
She breathed in sharply. She did not like the sound of that. Not one little bit.
‘Why can’t you ask someone else to do the pitch for you?’ Ethan asked from where he was stationed the other side of her. ‘You must have account managers who usually handle this sort of thing.’
‘I don’t want to ask any of them to handle this particular meeting for me,’ Nora answered, realising the statement looked as though she couldn’t delegate. Why hadn’t she said something more along the lines of: she liked to lead by example or keep her hand in? Not that she needed to explain herself to him.
‘Why don’t I do the pitch for you?’ Ethan asked.
Nora’s mouth dropped open and she craned her head to look up at him as if he was insane. The raised eyebrow she got back in response suggested its owner cared not one jot what she thought of him.
‘Why don’t you…?’ Again she flapped her hand-shoe in his face. ‘Because despite all evidence to the contrary, I’m in the market of showing KPC in the best possible light at all times. I’m not about to put a complete stranger into a meeting it’s taken me weeks to set up. I don’t know you from Adam.’
‘Hey,’ Ethan held up his hands as if to ward off any histrionics. ‘I rather thought you were making a case for all hands to the pumps. But go ahead. Be Miss Independent. It’s working out really well for you, so far.’
Indignation battled alongside embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry, I seem to have missed the part where you mentioned you were a property acquisitions lawyer, salesman or account manager or used to securing major business contracts.’ She raked her gaze down to his battered trainers and back up again. ‘You’re not even dressed appropriately.’
‘But maybe he could do it, Nora,’ Fern said.
Her head whipped in the opposite direction to stare at Fern. ‘You’ve only just met the man.’
‘But, well, he’s kind of family, isn’t he?’
‘He is not family. Besides, if he’s anything like his brother, he’ll get distracted by something pretty before he even gets to the meeting.’
In the stark silence Nora couldn’t quite believe she’d been so rude. Asking for help was new enough to her. Graciously accepting it was obviously still at the conceptual stage.
The urge to run and escape was immense. A feeling that was becoming increasingly persistent of late.
‘It seems to me,’ Ethan said, as if her words had had no effect, ‘you need someone who can represent your company without making a fool of himself, charm the client into outlining their needs and then promise you can deliver those needs within a reasonable time and for a reasonable fee. I don’t see a problem. I am such a guy.’
His arrogance astonished her. But while she sat there staring at him like a stunned mullet, couldn’t she actually see him charming Eleanor Moorfield right out of her shoes?
‘The idea is preposterous,’ she said to counteract the vivid imagery.
‘Clock’s ticking,’ he said patiently, testing her resolve.
‘You’re not even wearing a suit.’
He turned to indicate two travel bags stowed by the desk and she remembered he had said he’d come from the airport.
Her mind raced. It would take months to scout out another client the size and scope of the Moorfield brand. By then, KPC might still be surviving, but would it be flourishing under her guidance? What would she have if she didn’t have KPC? Her brother Jared had his own corporation and a beautiful new fiancée. Her sister, Sephy, had a fledgling business and a darling daughter. It was up to her to keep the family company run by someone in the family. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might run her father’s legacy into the ground—not when she believed so much in the company and not after Jared had helped her set KPC back on track for a bright future.
She looked at Ethan. At this point, what did she have to lose? If he didn’t land the account, no one within KPC would be any the wiser and she’d just work her butt off finding another lucrative contract to beef up the company’s profile. If he did land the account…
No.
She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.
But the thought of the Moorfield account slipping away…
She looked at the wall clock before her gaze settled back on Ethan. ‘But why would you help?’ she asked without filtering.
For the first time since she’d laid eyes upon him, his casual demeanour altered slightly and for all the caution she threw at herself, she was intrigued by the chink in this knight’s armour.
‘Call it family loyalty,’ he said, obliquely.
Chapter Two
‘So in between rescuing damsels, what is it you actually do?’
Ethan heard Nora ask the question from where she’d nervously set up camp outside her executive bathroom door. Whatever she’d taken from his reference to family loyalty had had her relenting and agreeing to show him the presentation after he got changed into a suit.
Ethan braced his hands on the marble vanity and stared hard into the bronze-toned mirror in front of him.
What was it he actually did?
Allegedly he was in the business of helping people. Whether he continued to get to do that was another matter altogether after the risk-assessment report was filed.
Turning away from the mirror, he searched his bag for his wash kit. He didn’t know what all the fuss was about. He’d got the kid out, hadn’t he? Like any other member of the team would have left him there if there’d been even the remotest chance of getting him out. He hadn’t placed anyone else in danger. Surely the important thing was that Pietro was alive and hopefully back with his family by now—not whether going into that building had been reckless and against protocol.
Ethan turned back to the mirror and ran a hand over his day-old stubble, realising he didn’t have time for a shave anyway.
God, he was tired. The insomnia was getting really bad. But he’d deal with it. No need to make it complicated. No need to dwell.
Angling his head toward the door he went with the job he hoped he would still have after the report was submitted, rather than the job title stamped on his passport. ‘I work for a charity that organises disaster relief. I go to whichever disaster zone I’m deployed to and help provide shelter, water, food, etc.’
Silence.
He wished he could see her reaction. He was willing to bet she was standing on the other side of the door with a sexy little ‘v’ etched into her un-Botoxed forehead, her tempting mouth dropping open slightly in shock.
‘And you’ve come back recently?’ she asked.
‘Via a quick stopover to see my brother, yes.’
‘Where is it you’ve been?
Ethan blew out a breath. ‘Northern Italy.’
‘Where the earthquake was?’
‘Yeah.’ Ethan deliberately kept his eyes open to stop the memories flashing before his eyes.
‘So…you have a really important job, then?’
‘If you want to think so,’ he said lightly. He smiled, imagining it might be a little hard to reconcile what she’d just heard alongside her previous judgement of him.
‘So…the Love Rat must have done something really bad to necessitate you coming home and then here.’
Huh. Clever.
His smile turned wry. He supposed he couldn’t really complain about the Love Rat tag she’d used for Ryan. It was quite the accurate description of the brother he had known before Ethan had deliberately started working so hard; he hadn’t had time to keep up regular contact.
He wasn’t going to hide from telling Nora where Ryan was. It was why he was here. But right now he had an opportunity placed before him that meant he didn’t have to think about the situation he’d left behind in northern Italy or about how seeing his brother really made him feel. Right now he wanted to do something he knew he could do, and do well. And if it helped burn off the latent energy so that maybe at some point later today he’d be able to sleep, even better.
Probably after he got some sleep things would go back to feeling simple and he’d stop worrying that his boss was going to judge him negatively for something any decent person would have done.
Realising he’d left his other bag behind, he called out, ‘Can you pop through to reception and pick up my garment bag, take out the blue suit and bring it to me?’
‘What did your last slave die of?’
Ethan looked in the mirror, liking how her harrumphed tone put the twinkle back in his eyes. ‘Happiness when I came out of the bathroom naked to fetch my own clothes?’
As he started removing jacket, top and jeans, he tried to make out more dark mutterings from the other side of the door before it was opened a notch and his clothes were pushed through the tiny gap and dumped on the chair inside the door. A few seconds later the door opened a little bit wider and she mumbled, ‘There was no tie in your bag.’
‘Oh, yeah. Don’t use them.’ He had no problem meeting her curious gaze and as her eyes dropped lower to take in his chest and the ink that wrapped around his right pectoral and shoulder, his grin grew impossibly wider. ‘Too restrictive.’
She shut the door firmly between them.
He chuckled. He might be suffering from insomnia, but even the fug of running on empty hadn’t diminished the spark of attraction between them.
Unbuttoning the white shirt, he shucked into it.
Settling back into life after a deployment was always hard. Granted, he usually had the satisfaction of knowing he’d done a good job and all he could to help.
This time everything was different.
This time…well he wasn’t willing to take that one out of the box for analysis quite yet. All he knew for certain was that for the first time in a long while he’d questioned his ability to make a situation better and he’d questioned his ability to keep doing a job he loved so much. Especially during the hours when he’d been talking to Pietro, trying to figure out how to get them both out. Shaking his head, he put the suit on and determined to think about something else.
For his brother to track him down and make contact was unusual, but when the first phone call from Ryan had come, Ethan had remained calm.
Relaxed.
Calm always got him through deployment. And relaxed had always got him through dealing with his family, and in particular, his kid brother.
He’d accepted that phone call with the deliberate laissez-faire attitude his brother was so expert at, and when Ryan had told him he was in trouble, he hadn’t asked near enough questions.
Ethan was going to carry the guilt of that for a while, no matter that in his opinion his brother hadn’t ever known what real trouble was. Never saw what Ethan saw every day in his work. Ryan’s version of trouble could be alleviated by him simply growing up and changing his attitude.
His brother had had to call a second time before Ethan properly computed what was going on. By then, coinciding with being called into his superior’s tent and told to take some leave while they filled out their report, the last thing he had been feeling as he packed his bag to take the plane home to the UK, was calm and relaxed.
Ryan needed his help. Of course Ethan would help.
Any concern over the fact that his own future hung on the outcome of a report could be relegated to second place.
He only hoped getting Sephy King on board with his idea to help his brother wasn’t made more difficult by her older sister, Nora.
Nora King.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Not a princess in skyscraper heels with defiant fiery button-brown eyes and the dreamiest, creamiest, palest of complexions, though.
She was the living embodiment of the corporate females he deliberately avoided these days, but there was something about her that slammed right into him, leaving him a little breathless. Even with the business-as-usual façade she wore, he could see the struggle she was trying to survive underneath. How she couldn’t quite hide the fact that grief had stripped her bare and she didn’t know what to do about it.
He’d seen that same hollowed-out shocked look on people’s faces when their worlds had exploded and they’d been left to try and rebuild what they could.
Combing his hair back from his face, he thought about the woman on the other side of the door. He really shouldn’t, but damsels in distress being something of a rarity these days, he felt like indulging himself.
Probably not the wisest move; especially as the plan had been to sort things for his brother, so he was ready to go and finish the job he’d started if he got the call from the charity. When, he got the call from the charity. He wasn’t going to waste energy thinking negatively.
Nora was standing by her uncluttered glass desk when he entered the office, her head angled towards his luggage as if trying to absorb all the information about him she could by osmosis. It occurred to him that no woman should be able to look that regal while having a shoe stuck to her hand, but Nora made it look easy. And sexy. Or maybe the insomnia was finally tipping him over the edge.
Buckling his belt he walked over to the garment bag and took out a pair of formal shoes to put on. He supposed if he was going to be back for a while he’d have to get used to being suited and booted again.
Doing this presentation for her and taking her to hospital to get her parted from her shoe would definitely help take the edge off the restlessness that came with being back.
Maybe taking her out afterwards would help keep that restlessness at bay. Especially if he took her somewhere colourful, lively, relaxed and about as far removed from the crumbling half-finished job he’d left behind him.
His gaze swept over the rigid set to her shoulders and the way she sucked on her bottom lip. On second thoughts, perhaps he’d take her somewhere quiet. Intimate. No distractions.
‘I can’t believe you don’t have a tie with you,’ she said.
‘You’re lucky I have the suit with me.’ He usually travelled lighter, but he’d had the King’s world in mind when he’d packed. If he wanted their help, he’d figured a bit of conformity would ease the way.
‘I don’t know why you would bring a suit but not a tie,’ she continued.
Ethan smiled inwardly at the genuine suspicion in her voice. He bet Nora liked her guys bound by the formality. Traditional. Safe. Boring. He caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Brush up as well as the next guy?’
Nora seemed to consider his question seriously. What? Was she actually weighing him up against every other guy? The notion had him wanting to puff out his chest and give her something a little more concrete for her to use in comparison.
Slowly she walked over to him, her fingertip tapping against her lip and everything within him stilled. He felt the air displace softly as she lifted her arm to brush a piece of lint off his shoulder.
‘You’ll do.’
He breathed out. ‘So glad you approve,’ he said, his voice deeper with her so close. ‘I guarantee you Eleanor Moorfield will.’ He liked that that brought her head up. Liked the spark that flared briefly in her eyes before she got herself under control. ‘You want to show me this presentation, Princess?’
She really looked as if she didn’t. Great, in the short space of time that he’d been changing had she lost confidence in him? He should have told her about his other job. ‘I guess now is a good time to tell you that when I’m not volunteering for the charity I run a chain of deluxe leisure facilities.’ He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, unused to having to sell himself quite so much. ‘I’m not a virgin at talking to potential clients.’
Nora regarded him silently for a few moments and mumbled an, ‘Okay,’ as she rounded her desk to switch on her laptop and bring up her presentation, then gestured for him to sit down and read through it.
A whole sixty seconds passed before she suddenly said, ‘Wait. You’re part of Love Leisure?’
‘I guess you could say that I am Love Leisure. Problem?’
‘No. No, of course not.’
Despite not liking that she looked more impressed by what he’d just revealed than she had sounded when he’d told her about being a disaster-response team member, he still found himself wanting to alleviate any doubt. Love Leisure’s success was paramount in providing enough income so that he could volunteer as a rapid-response team member on pretty much a full-time basis and as it was his name above each of the branch doors, he intended to keep it successful. ‘I have good people in place so that the business runs like clockwork while I’m away, but I do keep my hand in when I’m back. You don’t need to worry. I can do this.’ He returned his attention to reading through the entire pitch, nearly getting to the end before the nervous foot-tapping beside him became too pronounced.
‘This is fine. I can work with this.’
‘Hang on. If it’s only fine—’
‘Relax,’ he reassured when the foot-tapping started going into triple-time. ‘You give good presentation.’ He loved the way she blushed. He exited the PowerPoint presentation and logged into a business-networking site so that he could search the designer’s profile. ‘So where are you meeting this Eleanor Moorfield?’ he asked.
‘The Savoy. She has a suite.’ Nora glanced at her watch. ‘We can talk some more about KPC on the way.’
‘You’re not walking in those?’ Ethan said, pointing incredulously to her feet.
Nora glanced down at her shoes. ‘What’s wrong with these?’
‘They’re not a little difficult to walk in?’
‘I am a woman, Ethan. I can walk in any shoe you put in front of me.’
‘Okay, let me put it another way: have you actually seen what the weather is like outside? You’ll ruin them before you get halfway there. We’ll take my rental. What are you doing?’ he asked as Nora reached across the desk for her phone.
‘Calling Eleanor’s assistant to tell her it won’t be me doing the presentation.’
‘Don’t do that. Don’t give her any opportunity to cancel. She won’t mind if I show up in your place. Trust me.’
Nora looked at him as if he’d used the dirtiest two words in the English language. He caught the glimmer of something at the back of her eyes and wondered whether she was actually going to let him do this for her. ‘Come on,’ he said picking up the laptop before she had time to think. ‘We can go over everything in the car.’ As she followed mutely alongside him, he wondered if it was him she didn’t trust, or herself. Except, she was CEO of a company that had been going for decades. You didn’t rise to that position without being good at what you did. Well, you could rise to that position, he thought, glancing once again at the portrait of her father as they headed out, but you couldn’t keep that position. Not if you weren’t good.
By the time they pulled up outside the Savoy, Nora was looking pale and pensive. Ethan went through the presentation highlights again. It didn’t seem to help. If anything, she looked as if she was about to pass out.
‘You don’t look nervous,’ she accused. ‘Why don’t you look nervous?’
‘What is there to be nervous about? This will be a cinch.’ He shot her his most disarming smile.
‘And there was me thinking that nerves helped a person perform better.’
‘Interesting, but I’ve never had any complaints about my performance.’ He tried not to laugh as her eyes transformed into huge saucers. ‘Look, I’m good at thinking on my feet. I promise not to give the company secrets away and I won’t sign anything put before me. I’m going to go in now.’
Nora glanced at the valet patiently waiting to take the car. ‘Where shall I wait for you?’
‘How about the Starbucks across the street? When you see the car being brought around, you’ll know I’ve finished.’
‘Okay. Good. That’s good.’
Ethan released his seatbelt and was about to open the car door when he felt Nora’s hand, or rather, her shoe, on his forearm. ‘Ethan, thanks. I realise it may not look like it, but I really do take KPC incredibly seriously.’
‘No problem.’ He opened the car door and scooped up the laptop. He nodded towards a hotel doorman to open the passenger door for Nora and walked confidently towards the hotel’s entrance.
Forty minutes later he was getting into the car, impressed with the speed with which Nora had managed to sprint across the road in the shoes she was wearing, to be at his side.
‘Well?’ she queried.
‘How about we get in first,’ he said.
‘So get in already,’ Nora answered, jogging around to her side of the car to pull open the car door and slide in gracefully, which amazed him all over again, considering she still had a large bag covering her arm.
She waited a nanosecond for him to pull out into the traffic. ‘Well?’
‘It was interesting. I think it went well.’
‘You only think? Damn it. I knew it. Cancelling would have been better. What was I thinking, letting some complete stranger take over? I mean just because I’ve heard of Love Leisure, it’s not remotely the same industry as property services.’
‘Little joke.’ He smiled as he heard her inhale. Turning his head to briefly look at her, he said, ‘Relax, it went well.’
‘Oh.’ The confidence in his voice seemed to appease her a little. ‘What’s in the goodie-bag?’ she asked, craning her head to the back seat, where he had placed the large glossy, burgundy, signature Moorfield bag.
‘Something that tells me I know the meeting went well.’
She remained silent, but against the hum of the car’s motor he could practically hear her brain chugging away, trying to decide between staying polite and demanding to know what went on with Eleanor Moorfield.
‘So what happens now?’ she finally asked.
‘Now we wait.’
‘Oh.’ There was a lengthy pause and then he felt her turn her head towards him. ‘In case you haven’t worked it out already, I’m not that good at the whole waiting thing.’
Ethan stopped at the traffic lights and turned his head, grinning from ear to ear and feeling invigorated. ‘I’m sure I can come up with a way to pass the time.’
‘I have to tell you,’ Ethan told Nora as he eased the car out of the hospital grounds an hour later and headed back into traffic to drop Nora off at her office. ‘Your definition of a debriefing and my definition of a debriefing differ considerably,’
Bad jokes and double entendres aside, Nora was still having trouble believing how deftly he’d organised someone to see her in the casualty department after insisting on waiting for her. He’d taken one look at how quiet and uncomfortable she’d become the closer they got to the hospital and, once more, assumed the knight-in-shining-armour title. A couple of those artfully aimed sexy smiles of his and she’d bypassed triage and was being ushered into a cubicle for treatment.
‘Maybe I’ll have to check out your version, one day.’ Oh, she did not just say that! If the chemicals they’d put on her hand to melt the glue had tongue-loosening properties, oughtn’t they to warn a patient about that?