Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin

Three

His blunt honesty knocked the wind out of her. What was she supposed to do with that?

It’s not like she could say, “Hey, I think you’re really dreamy. Oh, and it kind of pisses me off.” Or even worse, “I’m woefully underqualified for this job. I’m barely keeping my head above water here and if you knew how close I was to drowning, you’d get me fired.”

Instead, she decided the easiest way to show him where she was coming from was to tell him a story of her own. “I was twelve when my parents moved here from L.A. Even though it’s only an hour and a half away, there’s a world of difference. My father accepted a job as the Worths’ gardener. My mother as their housekeeper. I grew up above the Worths’ garage. We may have been the hired help, but they never treated us that way.”

He was studying her, elbows propped on his knees, expression intense. Under his gaze, her breath seemed to catch in her chest. It was disconcerting to have him watching her so closely.

She was used to dealing with stars who only cared about your opinion when you were talking about them. But Ward seemed to actually be listening to her. Just like he’d listened to her staff during the brainstorming session.

Suddenly, the room felt tight and small. Like he simply took up too much space. She inched forward to shove her feet back into her shoes, then stood and nodded toward the door. “I’m going to go clean up the conference room. If you want to keep talking, come along. But if we leave that fruit out much longer, it’ll go bad.”

She knew he’d follow her, of course. It seemed like Ward rarely did what she wished he would. As they walked down the hall, she continued talking.

“I know it sounds like I’m just telling you my life story. But you have to understand, moving here from L.A., it saved my family. Not just my immediate family, but everyone. Once we moved here, aunts and uncles followed.”

His gaze narrowed slightly, obviously considering her words, but not yet fully understanding. How could he?

She turned to face him fully. “It may sound cheesy and cliché, but Vista del Mar is a special place. It’s not perfect. Sure we have our problems, but we also stick together. And we take care of our own. It was the perfect community to grow up in. To raise a family. At least it used to be. But now that Rafe Cameron has returned and bought Worth Industries …” She let her voice trail off as she realized how that sounded.

Ward must have keyed in on her tone of voice. “Can I assume you don’t wholly approve of Rafe?”

She ducked away from his appraising stare and studied the conference room. The detritus of their brainstorming session remained scattered throughout the room. She busied herself first with finding the lid to the fruit tray.

“I don’t want to speak badly of him.” She positioned the plastic lid in place and snapped it on with precise movements. “He’s your friend.”

Ward obviously didn’t share her sudden need for busyness. Instead, he lowered himself to the conference chair at the head of the table and stretched his legs out in front of him. “He’s also your boss.” There was a subtle edge to Ward’s voice. A word of warning, perhaps.

Okay. So that’s where the line was drawn. Good to know.

She nodded brusquely, ready to turn her attention to the muffin tray. There was only one muffin left. Banana nut chocolate. Her favorite. She left it out on the tray. She might need a healthy dose of chocolate later.

“Don’t get me wrong, I certainly appreciate all he’s doing with Hannah’s Hope.”

“Glad you appreciate the millions of dollars he’s committed to pouring into the community,” Ward said wryly.

Ostensibly, Rafe was head of the board of directors for Hannah’s Hope. But as far as she could tell, he wasn’t very invested in its success. He’d plopped Ward onto the board to be the face of the charity and then added in Emma, at Ronald Worth’s request. Plus, Emma was universally loved. So having her on the board buttered up the local community. Emma, who’d long been involved in other charities, certainly had the experience and the town’s goodwill, but Ana couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe had included Emma solely to give the illusion of continuity between the Worth Industries that had been and the new regime to come.

Still, people in town were nervous. People who’d been at Worth Industries for years had been let go or were taking early retirement. Rumor had it, Rafe was bringing in his PR expert, Max Preston. Ana couldn’t help feeling suspicious about why a PR expert was needed.

She ignored Ward’s subtle dig and continued talking. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve noticed the whole feel of the town has changed. People are nervous. Worried. If Rafe closes down the factory, it would be disastrous for Vista del Mar.”

“I’m aware of that. But none of that has anything to do with Hannah’s Hope.”

“Of course it does. I could be more efficient at my job if Rafe were more involved.”

Ward frowned, not in an annoyed way, but more as if he was figuring out if he could help. “Involved how?”

“Just more involved.” She cleared away the last of the snack plates and grabbed a napkin with which to wipe down the table. “I’ve met the man precisely once and only for a handful of minutes when Emma brought me down for my official interview.” She resisted making air quotes around the word interview, but was unable to keep the disdain from her voice. Instead, she swiped the last of the crumbs into her waiting palm.

Her entire interview had consisted of waiting for over an hour, only to be led into his office, have him give her the once-over and return his attention to the laptop open in front of him. “Emma thinks you’ll do a good job. Don’t disappoint her.”

That had been the entire interview.

She dusted the crumbs off her palm and into the trash. There. That was better.

“You should be careful what you wish for,” Ward chided her. “Rafe can be an extremely demanding boss.”

She looked up to find him studying her with that intensity she found so unnerving. Funny, she’d thought it was the proximity that made him so nerve-racking. But it turned out he was disconcerting no matter how big the room.

“True though that may be, I would still appreciate a smidge more involvement from him.” She crossed to the chairs where the whiteboards were still propped. An eraser sat on one of the chair cushions, still in its plastic wrapper. “Other than the one time we’ve met, he’s only communicated via email. Every time I’ve sent him a question, he’s responded the same way.” She ripped the plastic off the eraser as she lowered her voice to mimic the way she imagined Rafe would sound if he were to take the time to actually pick up the phone and call her. “‘I trust your judgment.’ That’s all he says.” She rubbed the eraser across the slick surface of the whiteboard. It was oddly satisfying to strip away the evidence of the brainstorming session. If only all of her problems were that easily dealt with. “I’ve started to think he’s just copying and pasting from previous emails.”

“Or, he trusts Emma’s recommendation.”

While she’d been busy taking out her frustration on the whiteboard, Ward had stood and crossed to her side. She glanced up to find him standing far too close. Close enough for her to see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. How had he moved so silently?

She sucked in a deep breath and was once again struck by the scent of him. So clean and crisp. When she spoke, her words came out almost as a whisper. “He barely knows Emma.”

She cleared her throat, annoyed with herself for being distracted. Ward’s gold-flecked eyes were the least of her worries. But … what were her worries again?

Right. The fact that Rafe didn’t know Emma well enough to trust her opinion. And he knew Ana even less well. Given her scanty qualifications, how could she view Rafe’s trust as anything other than negligence?

“But he’s known Chase for years. If his brother trusts Emma, then Rafe does, too.” Ward reached out a hand to her arm.

Obviously, he meant it to comfort her, but instead it sent tiny fissures of awareness coursing through her. And then she looked down at it. His hand was large. Strong and powerful. His fingertips rough against her skin. And just so … capable.

Her breath rushed out of her lungs. It hit her then. This wasn’t just the strong and masculine hand of an attractive man. This was Ward Miller’s hand. The hand he used to do all that fret work for which his songs were so famous.

Something giddy and girlish stirred within her. Something deeply feminine. She felt her breath coming in short bursts as warmth flowed over her.

She forced her gaze from that spot on her arm where his skin touched hers, only to find herself looking up into his eyes, again. Dang it. Those were some dangerous eyes. They were eyes she could lose herself in.

Which was so not good, seeing as how lost she already felt.

She shook her head to clear it and tried to remember what she’d been saying. Hannah’s Hope. Right. How overwhelmed she felt. “I just … could use a little guidance. More involvement. More hands-on.”

“Well, then. You’re going to love me,” he murmured.

Then her gaze darted once again to where his hand still rested on her arm. Why hadn’t he moved it yet? Why hadn’t she simply stepped away? She felt heat flood her cheeks and she jerked her arm away.

She forced a stern note into her voice. “This isn’t a joke. Hannah’s Hope is important. It’s not just a charity, it’s an opportunity to bring together the whole community.”

“I knew that already,” he said, his own tone devoid of charm or humor. “Rafe convinced me of that before I even came out here. You’re right about one thing.” He gently pried the eraser from her hand and began cleaning the second whiteboard. “You can’t depend on Rafe.”

She forced her attention away from the smooth confident movement of his hands, surprised at his bluntness. “But—”

“He’ll do right by Hannah’s Hope. I guarantee that. But it would be shortsighted of you to rely solely on him for financing. You need to get more money flowing in and you need to get the word out about what you’re doing. That’s what I’m here to help with.”

His voice had that low seductive quality again that beckoned to her. Made her all too aware of how vulnerable she felt. And made her wish she had more crumbs to clean up.

Thankfully, he seemed unaware of it as he continued, “The Cara Miller Foundation has a lot of good people working for it. If you don’t trust me or Rafe, then at least trust them to do their job.”

She clenched and unclenched her hands in front of her, hating how nauseated she felt at hearing her own concerns voiced aloud. “So you think bringing someone in from CMF to do my job would be better for Hannah’s Hope?”

“Whoa—” He held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “That’s not even close to what I said.”

“But you do think someone else could do a better job?” Resentment spiked through her. Who was he to criticize the way they were doing things? He was a musician. It’s not like he had any hands-on experience running a nonprofit … okay, so he did have hands-on experience. “I’m sure that when you started the Cara Miller Foundation, you hired all the best people in the industry and were able to get things up and running in nothing flat.”

She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. The Cara Miller Foundation was known all over the world for its work in early childhood healthcare. But she had no doubt that part of what had made the Cara Miller Foundation so successful was Ward. He’d brought the full force of his personality—not to mention his considerable wealth—to bear in the charity.

She released a deep breath, determined not to take out her frustration on Ward. Even if he was friends with Rafe, it wasn’t his fault that Hannah’s Hope was little more than an afterthought to Cameron Enterprises’ purchase of Worth Industries.

She paced to the far side of the conference room, but even that far away from him, she felt like his nearness was smothering her.

“You have to see where I’m coming from. The Cara Miller Foundation is a study in efficiency and effectiveness. The work you’ve done is …” She shrugged, looking for the perfect word. “Legendary.”

His lips curved in a faint smile, graciously acknowledging her compliment. “Thanks. CMF has a lot of great people working for it.”

“Exactly,” she agreed grimly. “And Hannah’s Hope has me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shook his head ruefully.

“I’m not one to pull my punches. Especially not when I’m dealing with my own failings.” She sighed, scraping her hair off her face, even though only a few locks had escaped. “I desperately wanted this job. And I desperately wanted to be great at it. And I’m just …” She floundered, finding it harder than she imagined it would be to put her own shortcomings into words. “I’m not as good at this as I expected. I thought the volunteer work I’d done in L.A. would be a solid groundwork for this. Plus, I’m smart. I’m hardworking, I’ve never failed at anything in my life. I thought that would be enough. But so far, it’s not. The sheer minutia associated with setting up a nonprofit is completely overwhelming me.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she snapped her mouth closed, wishing she could take them back. Jeez, of all the people to gripe to … Why’d she pick one of the two people who could summarily fire her? The board held her job in their hands. Emma would never vote to fire her, but if Ward persuaded Rafe, they’d have the majority.

But when she met his gaze, there was more understanding there than censure. His lips were twisted in a wry smile. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m not even afraid of failing. I just don’t want to disappoint others. In the four years I worked in Hollywood, I dealt with some of the most difficult personalities in the industry. After that, I was so sure I could handle anything.” Now she did laugh as she admitted, “God, I hate being wrong.”

He walked to where she was, then gently turned her to face him. “You weren’t wrong. You can do this.”

The fervor in his eyes, the sheer conviction nearly took her breath away. She was struck all over again by how handsome he was. By the fact that Ward Miller—Ward Freakin’ Miller—was here, mere inches away from her. Talking to her like a colleague. She shook it off. This was so not the time to wallow in his intense sexual appeal.

Abruptly, he dropped his hands and shoved them into his back pockets. “I remember all too well how hard it was to get CMF started. Sure, I had staff. I had hired the best people in the business, but I wanted to do most of it myself. I needed something to keep me busy.”

She found herself practically holding her breath. It had been three years since his wife had died. Still, she didn’t imagine that was something you ever got over.

She’d looked him up on Google when Emma first called to tell her he was the third board member. After carefully tucking all her girlish fantasies back away, she’d realized that she knew very little about what he’d been doing in life since he’d disappeared from the public eye.

The web had enough details about Cara’s death to satisfy the most morbidly curious, up to and including Ward’s last words to her.

She’d been so disgusted by the invasion of his privacy that she’d immediately closed the window, feeling a bit unsavory for reading even as much as she had. Losing a loved one was hard enough, but to have your grief splattered all over the tabloids for public consumption, that was … well, just unimaginable.

“It must have been extremely hard to lose her,” she said now.

He nodded, his expression patient, somehow accepting of her awkward, fumbling condolences. “If I could start CMF,” he continued, “then so can you. That’s why I’m here to help.”

But she shook her head. “It’s enough that you’re on the board, that you’re being the face of Hannah’s Hope. I’m certainly not going to ask you to do my job on top of that.”

“I’m not doing your job,” he argued. “I’m doing my job.”

“I don’t understand.”

He smiled at her obvious confusion. “You don’t know what CMF does, do you?”

“It provides healthcare for impoverished children.”

“That’s half of what the Cara Miller Foundation does.” His grin lit with mischief. Like he was about to share a secret. She felt herself leaning toward him. “When I started CMF, that was my intent. But along the way I realized how hard it was to start a nonprofit. I quickly realized that without the financial and personal resources I had, I never would have gotten anywhere. That’s why I started the other branch of CMF.”

She frowned. “The other branch?”

“Yes. Helping kids was Cara’s thing. But that’s not what really excites me.”

“What is?” Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the double meaning behind her question. But she quickly forced her embarrassment aside. Yes, there seemed to be an attraction simmering between them, but he seemed determined to ignore it. And if he could, then she certainly could, too.

She forced her attention to the topic at hand. She’d thought she knew exactly what the Cara Miller Foundation did. She’d thought she knew exactly why he was here. Just to provide a glamorous face to promote Hannah’s Hope. Had she been wrong?

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

“A little bit,” she admitted, chagrined because he seemed to read her as easily as if she had thought bubbles dangling over her head.

“Let me back up. Have you ever heard the term business incubator?”

“I think so.” She’d read an article in the paper not too long ago about them. “They’re companies whose sole purpose is to help new companies get started, right? “

“Exactly. The secondary branch of the Cara Miller Foundation—the branch that doesn’t get a lot of publicity and isn’t in the news all the time—is a nonprofit incubator. We find people with great intentions and dedicated personnel and we help them get their nonprofit off the ground. We don’t do the work for people, we just provide them with the training and resources they need to get the job done.”

“I had no idea such a thing even existed.” Surprise—no, to be honest it was out-and-out shock—washed over her. “How did I not know this?”

“I don’t know.” For a second he looked as baffled as she felt. Then he quickly shrugged it off. “Rafe certainly knew. It’s why he asked me to be on the board.”

“Yes, and he’s been such a font of information,” she muttered drily. “If that’s why you’re here, I should have been told that before you showed up.” Her indignation crept into her voice. She didn’t like being kept out of the loop.

“I thought you were.”

“Well, I wasn’t and—” But she broke off, frowning as she tried to summon up exactly how the conversation had gone the night Emma had called with the information about Ward coming.

What had Emma said about Ward? Had she even really listened to Emma’s explanation? There’d probably been a solid thirty seconds during which Ana had dropped the phone and silently squealed in excitement.

And then, a few minutes later, it had really hit her. Ward Miller. Working with her. But working for Rafe.

Her excitement had given way to unease. All of her reallife knowledge of celebrities had slammed head-on into her fandom. To do her job, she’d have to bury her fantasies. To protect Hannah’s Hope, she’d have to be suspicious of his every action. She’d have to set aside everything she wanted to believe about him.

Throughout that epiphany, Emma had kept on talking, possibly explaining exactly everything Ward was bringing to the table. And Ana’s cynicism had made her miss it.

Now, she cringed. “It’s possible that Emma explained everything and I just didn’t hear her.” She sighed, massaging the tension in her forehead with her fingers. “That must be what happened. Emma wouldn’t have purposefully left it out.”

Emma put her heart and soul into her charity work. Which was why making sure Hannah’s Hope flourished was so important. Ana couldn’t bear to let Emma down. And knowing what she knew now, she didn’t want to let Ward down, either. If he wasn’t going to immediately kick her sorry butt to the curb, if he was going to give her another chance, she was going to grab it with both hands and never let it go.

Full of renewed resolve, she straightened. “Okay, Mr. Nonprofit Incubator, you’re the expert. Where do we go from here? “

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