“I bet your hair and nails are always perfect,” Jared teased.

“Is there something wrong with a professional appearance?”

“Not when you’re being professional, I guess. But I think—and maybe this is just me—you’d look great messed up.”

“Messed up?”

“Maybe mussed up.” Jared leaned close. “You know, tousled, disheveled …” He stroked Victoria’s cheek with the tip of his finger. “Thoroughly pleasured.”

Heat raced through her body. “Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met?”

He grinned. “Not always.”

“Most of the time, I bet you are.”

She wished she could find a reason to step away from him and not give in to the urge to touch him. Still, she laid her palm on his chest. “You aren’t my type.”

“You aren’t mine, either.”

But he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her anyway.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the beach and more tales from the Robin Hood gang! My trio of friends, like the legendary characters, are ready to fight injustice again.

But while the concept seems simple, the solution isn’t.

In this chapter, the ladies are escaping the stifling NYC heat and are off to the shore for balmy breezes, although Victoria isn’t the toes-in-the-sand, beer-in-my-hand type. She’s in beautiful, peaceful Southampton to do what else—work!

Unfortunately, her host—and a wily jewel thief—have other plans.

Victoria has the support of her best friends, of course, and the added perk of a gorgeous, adventurous cowboy, Jared McKenna, who can’t keep his hands off her, but in between moonlit cruises, she discovers everything is changing. Her perception of right and wrong, her realization of what really matters in life, and the love she might find in a very unlikely place.

Don’t miss the exciting conclusion of the FLIRTING WITH JUSTICE series: Calla and Devin’s story, Undone by Moonlight, is arriving in November.

Wendy Etherington

About the Author

WENDY ETHERINGTON was born and raised in the deep South—and she has the fried-chicken recipes and NASCAR ticket stubs to prove it. An author of nearly thirty books, she writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband, two daughters and an energetic shih tzu named Cody. She can be reached via her website, www.wendyetherington.com. Or follow her on Twitter @ wendyeth.

Breathless on the Beach
Wendy Etherington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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1

“It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.”

—Earl Warren

New York Tattletale Labor Day Weekend Edition Those Who Have, Do! by Peeps Galloway, Gossipmonger (And proud of it!) Well, kids, with summer winding down, tradition dictates the posh and influential of NYC gather in Southampton for one last gasp of fun and sun.

I hear (from sources I’d have to give away my priceless collection of original Versace gowns if I revealed—not gonna happen, BTW!) there’s a new product coming from the prestigious firm of Rutherford Security that’ll change the way the rich and famous store their gems and secrets.

No doubt more will be heard by those lucky enough to have received a coveted invite to the longtime Southampton socialite Rose Rutherford’s fabulous house party.

Mrs. Rutherford’s husband, Raymond, made his money in Texas oil in the eighties, but though he met his fate nearly fifteen years ago in the arms of his stripper mistress, he had the decency to invest in lucrative beach-front property, providing Rose with the perfect locale for entertaining. Among the high-end guests will be her son, Richard (yes, everyone in the family has the R moniker), who chose the lovely and tasteful Ruthanne as a mate.

Also of interest on the guest list is the inclusion of two (yes, dos!) executives from Coleman Public Relations. Both Peter Standish and Victoria Holmes (of the Holmes Family Cardiac Wing at Midtown Memorial) are attending the weekend house party.

Is Mrs. Rutherford just that generous to PR execs or do we smell heated competition for something?

Hmm …

Certainly jealousy will rear its ugly (but column-worthy) head, which is much more fun than a leisurely cocktail hour by the pool, anyway. So stay tuned!

On the agenda are wild water excursions provided by Flaming Arrow Adventure Tours. Calls from this office by yours truly for details were unreturned (as if that would deter your loyal and tireless columnist!?!), but don’t you worry, dear readers, I’m on the case!

I’m informed that Jet Ski riding, scuba diving, boating and other activities involving the potential for bodily harm have been scheduled. (Dear heaven, count me out!) But then I hear the adventure guide is none other than Jared McKenna, and trust me, rabid followers, he is hot, hot, smokin’ hot. So maybe extreme sports are a hobby to consider after all …

Kiss and tell—please!

—Peeps

P.S. Catering to be provided by Shelby Dixon (recently highlighted in this column!)

TAKING HER FOCUS OFF THE clogged Manhattan traffic at a stoplight, Victoria Holmes shifted her hard, determined gaze between her two best friends. “I’m getting this contract or else.”

“Or else what?” Calla Tucker asked, folding up her newspaper and placing it neatly on her lap.

“Or else she blames us,” Shelby Dixon answered.

Pleased her pals had gotten the point so quickly, Victoria stared through the windshield of her Mercedes and ordered her stomach to cease its churning.

She was going to get the contract—and the promotion. Like her mother before her, she’d given everything to Coleman PR.

But your mother’s a legend, and you don’t quite measure up, do you?

Didn’t she? Victoria always worked nights, weekends, holidays. She brought in high-dollar clients with high-dollar campaigns. She oozed ambition and confidence, even though her mother had been the youngest senior VP in the history of the firm and nobody ever let Victoria forget it.

She schmoozed. She demurred when necessary. She represented the firm with the utmost in professionalism. She deserved her own senior VP title and corner office. She’d earned the right to step from behind her mother’s long shadow and prove she hadn’t clung to her coattails to attain success.

Didn’t she?

“This Rutherford contract will put me over the edge,” she muttered.

“She’s talking to herself again,” Calla said from the backseat.

“Let her be,” Shelby said. “She’s barely slept in the last week. She’s punchy.”

Victoria scowled. “You both know I can hear you, don’t you?”

Calla patted Victoria’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, sister. We’ve got your back.”

Shelby laughed. “And I’ve got your stomach.”

Despite her mood, Victoria was grateful for her friends’ support. As a caterer, Shelby was giving up the long weekend with her live-in boyfriend to serve as chef to the Rutherford house party they were attending in Southampton. Calla, a travel writer, was hoping to make good use of both her camera and her keyboard.

“You know I appreciate you guys coming with me,” Victoria said, making an effort to soften her tone. “I need these meetings to go smoothly.”

“Hey, I’m just happy to see the Rutherford estate.” Calla sounded slightly awestruck. “It’s been featured in Architectural Views countless times over the years. Maybe I’ll get my own magazine piece out of this.”

“And I’m grateful for the business,” Shelby said. “After the June bridal season it was a long, booking-free summer.”

“You were exhausted after all those weddings,” Calla pointed out. “You needed a break.”

“Why doesn’t that rich lover of yours recommend you to all his rich friends?” Victoria asked.

“He does, but he’s got a business of his own to run. Besides, just like most of the friends you recommend, the affluent have been in the Hamptons all summer. I’m too small of an operation to be hauling equipment and supplies out there every weekend.”

“I’m sure Rose Rutherford’s gourmet kitchen has everything we need,” Calla said.

“The housekeeper assures me they do,” Shelby explained. “Plus, she was willing to let my food suppliers deliver everything directly, so I didn’t have to bring the van.”

“I’m not arriving at the Rutherford estate in a catering van,” Victoria insisted, cutting between two cabs to take the next right onto East Thirty-second.

“Heaven forbid anybody thinks you have a domestic for a friend,” Calla teased.

Victoria met Calla’s gaze with a glare in the rearview mirror. “I’m not a snob. Appearance is important for getting this contract.”

“And I’m not a domestic,” Shelby stated firmly. Then added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being one …”

Shelby turned and exchanged a meaningful look with Calla.

“I saw that,” Victoria said. “Since I’m the one who’s driving, aren’t you two worried about me being both deaf and blind?”

Shelby cleared her throat. “I was reminding Calla that this weekend is about you getting the Rutherford Securities contract, even though she could be tanning and ogling lifeguards, and I could be naked between the sheets in a beach-side hotel with my man.”

“Wow, that was some look,” Victoria said drily.

“Have you heard any more about Coleman Sr.’s rumored retirement?” Shelby asked, obviously guessing Victoria’s temper was too cutting for humor.

She nodded. “They’re announcing next week after the holiday. I got it straight from his secretary.”

“Why’d she tell you?” Calla asked.

“Because I, unlike her boss, never forget her birthday or Secretary’s Day, or that her favorite flowers are daisies or that she likes chocolates filled with caramel.”

Shelby angled her head. “How do you remember all that?”

Victoria shrugged. “I have a file on everybody. Trust me, ladies, the key to a smooth ride up the corporate ladder is making nice with the real power brokers—the assistants.”

Which she’d learned straight from The Legend, namely her mother. The reminder dulled her resentment. Victoria didn’t expect people to pity her because she had to live up to excellence.

But besides her mom, there was her attorney father, her cardiac surgeon grandfather and the Holmes foundation run by her grandmother and cousin to measure her success against. All in all, a pretty daunting yardstick.

“So when Coleman Sr. retires,” Shelby said, “Coleman Jr. inherits the long-awaited president’s position, and their valuable client Rutherford Securities is up for grabs.”

Victoria’s mouth went dry with anticipation. “And the senior VP corner office gets a new occupant.”

Shelby patted her leg. “You’ll get it. Nobody works harder than you. Don’t worry.”

But Victoria was worried.

Thanks to her influential family connections, she had been invited by the Rutherfords to their annual Labor Day weekend party. She was going to use the opportunity to talk to Richard, Rose’s son, about a strategy to promote an innovative new product that Rutherford Securities had developed.

The future of her career and her reputation among her infamously affluent family rested on the next few days.

Calla leaned forward between them. “So what cool security thing does ole Rich need a PR strategy for? I loved those commercials where the chimpanzee disables the security system by banging on the control panel.”

Victoria winced. She had a strict policy against silly animals in campaigns, particularly in a serious industry like home and business security. “That was an ad for motion sensor cameras.” One Coleman Sr. had come up with, yet another reason it was time for him to retire and let her take over the account.

Shelby looked up from the list she’d been scribbling. “Would the police or animal control have been alerted about an intrusion?”

“Both, maybe. But this new venture for Rutherford is completely different.” Victoria pressed her lips together. The idea seemed out-of-date to her, but she’d once done a campaign for bubble gum that changed colors the longer a kid chewed it. The actual product was irrelevant. “It’s a safe.”

“Safe from what?” Calla asked.

Without success, Victoria fought the blush—a blush—creeping across her face. “Not safe from anything. A safe.”

Her friends exchanged another one of those looks just before Shelby tapped her pen against her lips. “One of those big, heavy, metal things you store valuables in?”

Victoria flexed her hands on the steering wheel. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s …” Shelby began.

“Innovative,” Calla finished.

“Oh, please stop,” Victoria said. “It’s on the left side of nutty. But with banks failing and consumer confidence in traditional investments falling, it might strike a chord.”

“Better than burying your cash in the backyard,” Calla said.

Shelby nodded. “Especially since I don’t have a backyard.”

“Supposedly, this one’s got a state-of-the-art computer chip that makes the dial and tumbler thing passé,” Victoria said, aware the simpleness of the product was going to be the biggest challenge to overcome. “Regardless, Richard’s going to invest a lot of money to convince people this is a must-have electronic gadget.”

“Invest with you,” Calla said a little too brightly.

“Yeah.” Victoria got on I-495 and headed east. An old-school product with a futuristic upgrade? This was exactly the campaign that might, just might, outpace her mother’s crazy-at-the-time idea of investing in websites to promote things. “’Cause I deserve it. Don’t I?”

JARED MCKENNA WIPED SWEAT OFF his brow as he tied the fourth and last Jet Ski to the Rutherford estate’s dock.

Despite the privileged puffballs he’d be entertaining all weekend, the hard work was relished and the view appreciated. A few cottony clouds hovered in the broad blue sky. Whitecaps dotted the blue-green Atlantic and looked like a welcome respite from the oppressive heat enveloping the city and coast for weeks.

Originating from Montana, Jared wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the humidity of the East, but a breeze kicked up, cooling his face. The Jet Skis bobbed merrily in the sea, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Though the warmth of the sun called, he figured he’d better check in with everybody at the house.

He walked up the dock and along the sidewalk to the back door and found Marion Keegan, the housekeeper, bustling around the kitchen. “How’s the prettiest lady in New York?”

Her pale face turned red. “You’re a devil,” she said in a musical Irish accent.

He grinned. “I try, Mrs. K, I try.”

She straightened an already perfect bowl of fruit that was sitting on the center island, then pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and poured him a glass. “We have a real chef coming for the weekend.”

Noting her awed tone, Jared leaned against the counter. “Do we?”

“Sometimes Lenny’s cousin comes in to help with the cookin’—he works at some chain restaurant in the city.”

“Lenny?”

“Mrs. Rutherford’s chauffeur. More usual, it’s me making chicken salad.” She paused and sighed. “Or Master Richard fires the grill.”

Since Jared had worked for Rose Rutherford several times in the past, he’d gotten a healthy, but not always pleasant, dose of her son, Richard. Wanting to be called “master” while not being one in any way described him entirely. Richard had started Rutherford Securities with his family’s money and influence, and at least had the sense to hire people who knew what they were doing. While he’d been busy decorating his office and having power lunches with his country club golfing buddies, the company became a success—heaven knew how.

He’d be eaten alive by a slow-moving, milk-producing cow on any ranch worth a damn.

“Those nights we wind up ordering from a restaurant in town,” Mrs. K finished.

“But not this weekend.”

“No.” Her expression brightened. “Shelby’s a caterer in the city, and her supplier brought the most wonderful ingredients. I can’t wait to see what she does with them.”

“It’ll be a barn burner, I’m sure.”

Mrs. K swatted his arm. “Oh, go on with ya, Jared dear, I think Mrs. Rutherford was aiming for something more sophisticated. She made it clear she wants the good silver, crystal and china set out each night.”

“Uh-huh.” Based on the range of high-energy activities he’d been hired to pull off, he thought the guests would be lucky to sit upright at the end of the day, much less enjoy elegant entrées prepared by a city chef. “So this is an adventure weekend for gourmets?”

“You know Master Richard. He likes his appearances.”

So why hadn’t the Rutherfords plopped a captain at the wheel of their yacht and taken their guests for cocktail-filled rides along the coast?

Because Richard was determined to prove his manhood.

Jared just hoped his insurance rider would cover accident by arrogance.

“I expect gourmets will be all over,” Mrs. K said, continuing her unnecessary straightening of the kitchen knickknacks. “The chef’s a friend of Victoria Holmes.” She raised her blond-going-gray eyebrows. “Quite the family.”

Jared knew the influential Holmes crowd. At the direction of Victoria’s mother, Joanne Holmes, and the family’s charity foundation staff, he’d once put on a ranch fantasy weekend for a group of their benefactors. Finding the lady cold and distant, he’d put all his effort into giving the city-born teens the country experience of a lifetime.

Despite dealing with the occasional difficult client, however, he loved his business—though he didn’t have to work at all. He had assets as solid as his weekend employers’.

But Mrs. K couldn’t know about that.

No one save his accountant, his office manager and his immediate family knew he didn’t just work at Flaming Arrow Adventure Tours, he owned it.

He’d come to the Rutherford estate for the house party because he genuinely liked Rose, and organizing wild weekends for high-powered executives was as good a challenge as any.

Fighting frustration with city people who looked down on those who worked with their hands had simply become part of the job. His hands, as well as his father’s and grandfather’s, had made them millionaires many times over. Hard work made the results all the more satisfying.

Maybe that was why Richard annoyed him so much. He always seemed determined to take the easy route.

“Where are Rose and Richard?” he asked the housekeeper.

She scrubbed a spot on the marble counter that Jared couldn’t see. “They’re gettin’ ready for the guests. Mrs. Rutherford had a stylist come out to select all her clothes for the weekend. They should be finished soon.”

A stylist who made house calls on holiday weekends and picked out a grown woman’s clothes for her as his mother had for him. When he was four. It was a strange, strange world sometimes.

Footsteps sounded on the back stairs, and seconds later Ruthanne, Richard’s wife, strolled in. Dressed in a bright floral dress and gold jewelry, and carrying a wide-brimmed straw hat, she radiated youthful energy and was the perfect contrast to her husband’s overblown self-importance.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Ruthie.” Mrs. K crossed to the fridge. “I made lemonade this morning. Would you like some?”

She smiled broadly. “How sweet. Yes, thank you.”

“The Jet Skis are ready whenever you want to take a ride,” Jared said.

“We’ll probably wait until after tea.” Ruthie accepted an ice-filled glass from Mrs. K. Pausing before taking a sip, she said, “You remember the guests aren’t actual daredevils like you.”

Jared snapped his fingers. “Damn. There goes my plan to hang glide off the nearest lighthouse.”

Lemonade sloshed over the rim of her glass as Ruthane whirled. “Jared, you’re not really—”

He held up his hand. “I know how to handle tenderfoots.”

“They’re not all that delicate,” Ruthie said, linking arms with him. “You’ll like …” She stopped as she noticed the housekeeper on her hands and knees. “Mrs. Keegan, what are you doing down there?”

“The lemonade, Ms. Ruthie.” She rose and tossed the paper towel she held in the trash. “A chef’s kitchen should be spotless.”

“This kitchen is always spotless, and there’s no need to put on airs for my friends.” Ruthanne’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Though I’m not sure about this last-minute couple my husband invited.”

Distracted by the sun’s glare through the back window, Jared wished he’d followed his first impulse and laid out on the dock instead of heading for the house. He’d always rather be outside.

“Jared?” Ruthie said, drawing his attention. “You’ll like my guests. Richard has some business thing going on, as usual, but we’re determined not to let the weekend be boring. Who wants to sit around a stuffy old boardroom all day?”

“Some do.” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Naturally, that’s where you come in.”

“My favorite spot.”

Ruthie patted his forearm. “You’re looking fit as always. What diet are you on?”

“The Jet Ski riding, hang gliding one.”

She sighed, leading him to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. “I have to watch every bite I eat. I must be crazy to invite Shelby out here.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before the intercom on the wall buzzed. “Rutherford residence,” Mrs. K answered.

“Victoria Holmes, Shelby Dixon and Calla Tucker at the gate to see Ruthanne Rutherford.”

Mrs. K pressed a code on the numbered panel. “Yes, we’re expecting you. Come up the driveway, please.”

While the housekeeper rushed around the kitchen, wiping spotless counters, Jared rattled off the weekend activities for Ruthie. In addition to a small yacht and Jet Skis, the Rutherfords had a powerboat for pulling water skis and inner tubes. He also had scuba diving and fishing trips planned.

“It’s Friday, Jared,” Ruthie commented. “We’re going to do all that before Monday?”

He glanced at his watch. “We could do it all by sunset if you like.”

As she shook her head ruefully, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Mrs. K exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron as she shot out of the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Ruthie said, watching the housekeeper rush down the hall. “It’s like a celebrity coming to the house.”

Jared hoped the noted chef could cook something hearty. He wasn’t much on complicated sauces and names of dishes nobody but a native-born Parisian could pronounce. Personally, he’d enjoy a nice, thick steak.

The hallway was soon filled with female voices, and Jared rose as the group approached the kitchen. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead. How diversified.

Ruthie received hugs; he got curious stares.

At his height—six foot four in bare feet and no boots—he guessed his towering presence was a bit intimidating.

To some, anyway.

He spotted the Holmes heiress immediately. She looked like her mother, but not. Her icy-blue eyes warmed as she talked to her friends, then narrowed when aimed at him. Of the women, she was also the tallest, nearly six feet in the blade-sharp black stiletto heels she wore.

She was stunning, but not his type at all. Cool perfection wrapped in moneyed NYC sophistication. When Ruthie introduced them, her smile was as distant as a Montana winter.

She extended her hand. “My idea of adventure is a massage at the spa, so I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other this weekend.”

As he took her hand, heat slid through his veins, surprising him. There was something about her … something challenging, interesting. He found himself considering ways to thaw her out.

“Your mother didn’t like me much when she first met me, either.” He smiled as suspicion flitted through Victoria’s eyes. “She warmed up eventually.”

2

VICTORIA PULLED HER HAND AWAY from Jared McKenna and resisted the urge to make a fist to dispel the tingling sensation she’d gotten from touching him. “You know my mother?”

“I took her and some teens from the foundation on a cowboy adventure weekend last year.”

Victoria remembered her grandmother mentioning the event, as Nana was determined to get her daughter out of the city and into a wide-open space. Something about fear of dust and a lack of vitamin D. Victoria had been thrilled she hadn’t been recruited.

Fear of dust was a documented condition that specifically targeted people with a mostly black wardrobe.

Victoria raised her eyebrows at the man before her. “My mother rode a horse?”

“No, but the kids and the staff did, and they loved it, so she was happy.”

How could he tell her mother was happy? Had she actually smiled? Complimented him? Joanne didn’t warm up to people, either.

Even big, hot outdoorsmen.

Especially big, hot outdoorsmen.

He had ridiculously broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a deep tan that could only come from spending endless hours in the sun. No lack of vitamin D there. With his wrinkled T-shirt and khaki shorts, bare feet, windblown dark hair and laughing brown eyes, he seemed the antithesis of any man she’d be interested in.

And yet he’d survived a weekend with her mother. If there was anything Victoria admired, it was resiliency.

This guy was the walking, breathing picture of rugged.

“Hi, Ruthanne,” Shelby said from beside Victoria. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“You, too. And call me Ruthie. Everybody does.” Her gaze flicked to Victoria. “Except Vicky, of course.”

Victoria clenched her jaw. Her name was not Vicky. She, in fact, hated to be called that—as Ruthanne well knew.

Before she could remind her friend of that detail, Shelby asked a question about her supplies for the weekend, and all the other women followed Mrs. K on her tour of the kitchen and pantry.

“The pantry requires a tour?” Victoria asked, though only Jared was around to hear her.

“They used to have a footman haul stuff the full ten feet from the pantry to the counter, but he wasn’t fast enough, so he was let go.”

Victoria resisted the urge to smile. The house was certainly like something out of the English countryside, and the perfect setting for formal servants. But clearly, Jared the Rugged wasn’t a history major.

“Footmen don’t work in the kitchen,” she said.

“You’d know.”

“How? I live in an apartment in Manhattan. I don’t have a footman.”

“A maid?”

“I use a cleaning service.”

“Every day?”

“Every week.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a particular reason you’re interested in my domestic situation?”

That crafty grin appeared. “Long as we’re on the subject … do you have a live-in boyfriend?”

“No,” Victoria answered, before she thought to tell him her relationships were none of his business.

“Sleepover boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how this—”

“Pretty cranky response, so I’d say no. I bet you kick them out fifteen minutes after sex.”

“I do not.”

“After a one-for-the-road drink?”

“No.”

She gave her lover a bottle of water before he left. And they all left perfectly satisfied. What was he implying? That she was lousy in bed? That she was cold and methodical like her mother? Not that she knew about her mom in bed, anyway.

In fact, the whole idea of her in the throes of passion seemed wrong.

Maybe Victoria had been fertilized in a petri dish. And why, before now, hadn’t she ever thought to ask that question? It made perfect sense. Given her grandfather’s proclivity toward science and brilliant surgical techniques, why hadn’t she wondered—

Halting her runaway thoughts, it occurred that in less than a minute Jared had more information about her personal life than her assistant had in five years.

Victoria glared at him. “So I guess those muscles in your biceps don’t cloud your brain power, do they?”

His eyes softened to a shade of gold. He lifted his arm and flexed the muscle. “You noticed, huh?”

He had to be kidding with this come-on. “Look here, buddy,” she said, leaning forward, only to continue in an urgent whisper, “I don’t have time for your games. I’m not here to flirt or banter or have sex—which I’m great at, by the way. I’m here to get a promotion. Richard Rutherford’s account is going to secure my future. I don’t know who you think you’re playing—maybe the mealy daughter of the legendary Joanne Holmes—but I’m not her. I’ve got my own success and agenda, and that’s going to take me to the top.”

“Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?”

“I …” She stopped, humiliated to realize a heated flush was crawling up her neck. There was no way she was turned on. She was … surprised.

But nobody caught her off guard.

“You need to take a big step backward, cowboy,” she said, keeping her voice low and firm.

“Me? You’re the one who moved closer. You step back.”

“I will not.”

“So what do you suggest we do, since we’re already this close?”

“We’re not going to do anything.”

“No ideas? Fine.” He slid the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “I have a few.”

“Everybody getting settled in?”

At the sound of Richard Rutherford’s voice, Victoria leaped away from Jared.

Her heart pounded against her chest. What was she doing? How could she have forgotten even for a minute her reason for coming to the house party?

She approached Richard as he stood by the kitchen counter. Her professional smile was now in place and all distracting thoughts about Jared McKenna set aside. “Richard, it’s so good to see you. What a lovely spot for a weekend party.”

“Thank you, Victoria.” Wearing a browny-beige-and-yellow argyle sweater and khaki pants, he looked like the picture of Casual Rich Man on Weekend Golf Outing. “We’re pleased to have you as our guest.”

His formal speech struck her oddly. It was classic Richard, but it was wrong. That damn Jared. His easy, casual manner had spoiled normalcy.

“I know we’re all going to have a great time,” she said, “but I was hoping we could find a few minutes to talk about the new campaign.”

Richard smiled. “I’m sure we will. Business is pleasure, after all.”

“Exactly.” That was normal. How could she have gotten distracted by some barefoot cowboy wannabe? Correction, adventure tour guide. What kind of job was that, anyway?

For romantic liaisons, she had more sophisticated men in mind. For professional pursuits, she had a plan, and she was making it work.

It had to work.

The intercom buzzed again. “That’s probably our other guests, Mrs. Keegan,” Richard announced, as the housekeeper bustled back into the kitchen. “When they get to the house, bring them into the front parlor. We’ll have tea there and let everyone get acquainted.”

Jared started toward the back door. “I’ll make sure all the equipment is ready to go.”

“No, no.” Richard waved his hand. “Join us for tea. It’ll be easier to introduce everyone at the same time.”

Jared looked as if he’d rather handle a live rattlesnake.

Victoria had to agree with his foreboding. She couldn’t imagine that big body perched on one of Rose’s antique settees or holding a dainty china cup.

But the rough-and-tumble Mr. McKenna, thankfully, wasn’t Victoria’s problem. “Who else is coming?” she asked Richard. “Anybody I know?”

Maybe he’d invited some executives from his company. Wouldn’t it be convenient if she got to meet the vice president of operations? Or even marketing? She could impress all the decision makers in one fell swoop and have the contract ready by the time she got back to the office on Tuesday, the day Coleman Sr. announced his retirement. She could almost hear the champagne cork pop.

She was so caught up in her fantasy, she almost didn’t catch the name Richard said.

And when she did, she was sure she was hallucinating.

“Did you just say Peter Standish?” she managed to query around the lump in her throat.

He nodded. “And his wife, Emily. Charming couple. They really—”

“I’m sorry.” Victoria could hardly believe she was interrupting him, but it was vital she dispel her delusion before anyone noticed she was on the verge of panicking. “Not the same Peter Standish who works at Coleman?”

Richard smiled as if he’d given her a particularly clever gift. “The very same. All one, big, happy family.”

Victoria’s mouth went dry. “But …”

Calla darted to her side and slid her arm around her waist, obviously noticing that Victoria needed the support. “Richard, would you mind if I took some pictures of the property while I’m here this weekend? I’m hoping to do an article for Atlantic Magazine.”

“Snap away. In fact, after tea I’ll show you where Beach-side Homes shot their summer spread.”

“Oh, would you?” Beaming at him, Calla stepped forward and linked her arm with Richard’s. “I want all the details.”

Victoria stared, frozen, as they headed out of the room. She could hear Shelby and Mrs. Keegan preparing tea and trays of cookies, but their voices seemed to float to her from a long way off.

“Who’s Peter Standish?” Jared asked from close behind her. “One of the lovers you kicked out without so much as a one-for-the-road drink?”

She didn’t have the strength for a comeback, or even to move away. In fact, she considered turning around and laying her head against his wide, muscular chest—if only for a second. “My office rival,” she said woodenly.

“What do you do?”

She swiveled and wished she hadn’t, since their faces—specifically their lips—wound up mere inches apart. “My mother didn’t tell you?”

Confusion swam in his eyes. “Not that I remember.”

Why would she? She’s The Legend; I’m the trainee. “I’m a vice president at Coleman Public Relations.”

He straightened, and she was almost sorry for the loss of closeness. “Ah … the new safe.”

Victoria scowled. “What do you know about it? It’s supposed to be top secret.”

“Rose told me.”

Victoria found that an odd way for a temporary employee to refer to the venerable Rose Rutherford. But then her hostess had a fair amount of charm, which she was rumored to dispense heavily on cute, young guys.

“You really think you can convince people to spend several grand on a big metal box?” he asked.

My mother could. Dispelling all doubt, Victoria lifted her chin. “Given the right motivation, I can convince people to spend several grand on anything.”

“And what’s the right motivation this time?”

“The Rutherford Securities contract and a senior vice presidency.”

“One the unwelcome Mr. Standish is also up for?”

“Not if my boss has any sense.”

“Does he?”

“Most of the time.” She fisted her hand at her side. “What is he doing here? Why is he ruining my plans? Why in the world did Richard invite him?”

“Your boss?”

Victoria sighed. Jared had already proved he wasn’t dense. Being difficult, however, seemed to come just as naturally. “My rival.”

“Want my opinion?”

“You ride horses and consult on corporate politics?”

His eyes darkened for an instant, and she knew the insult had hit home. She was unprepared when his reaction made her feel guilty, though.

When had she gotten so mean?

Victoria had never been particularly gentle, but her obsession with ambition had changed her. Tact was rare outside of landing a deal. Vulnerability was reserved for only a few. Was her desire to live up to her mother’s legacy so important? Was it really impossible to be successful and yet different from her?

“I watch people,” he said, his anger restrained, yet apparent. “Mostly people like you. You run around in circles, chasing each other, or the next big deal or trophies and promotions. Seems to me like a giant waste of time.”

What else is there? she almost asked. “And what do you do that’s so much better?”

“I chase adventure,” he said, his voice quiet and deep. “Wanna join me?”

She dismissed the spark of desire she felt. She had bigger things at stake than sex. And abandoning a lifetime of climbing the corporate ladder wasn’t an option. Hell, ambition was coded into her DNA. “Can’t,” she said, forcing strength into her voice that usually came naturally. “I need this promotion.”

“You probably deserve it.”

“I do.”

“So you surely realize why Richard invited you and your rival to the same party.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Richard likes to be the center of attention.”

“Of course he does, but how do you know—” She stopped as his intention became clear. “Richard wants us to fight for the contract.”

Jared nodded.

Victoria wanted to scream over the injustice. If Peter got the Rutherford contract instead of her, he’d likely get the senior VP position, too. Her grand plan was crumbling around her, and all before the weekend had even started.

“If it matters,” Jared said lightly, “I’m rooting for you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I like winners.”

“And you think I’ll win.”

“Call it a hunch.”

3

WHILE THE SUN BURNED invitingly outside, Jared drank tea and learned tons of useless information.

The temperature was ninety-one, the traffic was murder, a local politician had been caught in an illicit affair with his assistant, and Richard and Peter had played golf earlier in the week, which led Rich to tell his buddy about the new safe and the impending PR campaign.

Jared didn’t consider chasing a little white ball across manicured lawns an actual sport, but he recognized that more deals were made during such mundane silliness than were negotiated in boardrooms.

Standing in the corner, since he didn’t trust the structural integrity of Rose’s antique furniture, he bit into a cookie and realized one positive thing—Chef Shelby could cook.

He had no doubt Victoria was mad enough to chew nails, but she held her teacup and smiled indulgently as the golfing buddies recounted their round.

“Are they going to tell us about every stroke on every hole?” he asked Shelby, who had approached him with an offer of more cookies, which he gratefully took.

“Apparently.” Watching the pair demonstrate teeing off at hole fifteen, she angled her head, seeming to feel the same confusion Jared did. “Guys at home in Georgia brag about shooting animals in the woods and drinking beer.”

“Guys in Montana are pretty much the same.”

“Richard isn’t really going to hire that goofy suck-up Peter over Victoria, is he?”

“I’m not sure management is his strong suit.”

Shelby focused on Jared, obviously suspicious about how a ski and scuba expert understood corporate hiring. “Oh?”

“Not my specialty, either,” he said casually. He was going to have to be more careful what he said if he planned to pull off his disguise as a mere employee. “‘Course, I’ve made bad decisions myself. He once talked me into letting him parasail.”

“Sounds fun. How was that a bad idea?”

“He’s afraid of heights.”

“Which he discovered once he was a hundred feet in the air, I’ll bet.”

Jared winked. “You got it.”

“I can’t imagine what’s keeping Mother,” Richard said loudly, dragging Jared’s attention back to the rest of the group.

“Oh, gee,” Shelby muttered to Jared. “We’ve already gone through all eighteen holes?”

“Seemed like a lot more.”

As Shelby laughed, Victoria glared in Jared’s direction. What’d he do? Turncoat Richard got indulgent smiles, and he got the brunt of her temper? How was that fair?

He could use some fresh air. “I’m sure Rose’ll be down in a minute,” he said to the assembly. “While we’re waiting, why don’t we head outside? I’ll show everybody what we’ve got planned for the weekend.”

Setting their teacups aside, the group followed Jared out of the room.

“I’m not really good with animals,” Victoria said as she passed him at the back door.

Richard moved up beside her and slipped his arm around her waist. “Not to worry. The horses are upstate in a show. Jared has water sports set up—Jet Skis, fishing gear and scuba equipment. Something for everybody.”

She fixed her gaze on Jared. “All that, huh?”

He stared right back. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate anything you think you might like.”

Calla, walking behind Victoria, giggled, clearly getting the double meaning in his offer. Victoria ignored him and picked up her pace down the brick stairs.

She was going to fall and break her neck in those ridiculous shoes.

Before he followed the guests, he noticed Shelby and Mrs. K loading the dishwasher. “Come on, ladies. You, too. You can’t stay cooped up in the kitchen for four days.”

The housekeeper waggled her finger. “With all you’ve got goin’ on, Jared dear, everybody’s got to be properly fed.” Nevertheless, the two women followed him out the door.

Once there, Jared took a deep, relieved breath.

Hot though it might be in the sun, he’d been claustrophobic in the house. Crystal blue-green water dotted with white-caps brushed the pristine sandy shore. Clumps of sea grass bracketed the wooden dock jutting toward the ocean. Boating traffic was fairly light today, though by Saturday afternoon the waterways would be teaming with crafts of every shape and size.

When a man had this kind of view, why waste time looking at anything else?

Not to mention that kind of view.

He watched Victoria’s backside sway as she strolled onto the dock. Though her hand was tucked around Richard’s arm, Jared was confident he’d feel her touch soon enough.

Even out of his element, he had a fair amount of charm. And he couldn’t wait to use it to break through the reserved shell around Victoria Holmes.

Whistling, he joined the others on the dock. “Is this everybody?”

“Except Mother,” Richard said.

“And her gentleman friend, Sal,” Ruthie added. “He’s arriving around dinnertime.”

Rose had a boyfriend? Good for her. Plus, romance on as many fronts as possible could only help his cause with Victoria.

Especially since, at the moment, she seemed determined to monopolize Richard, for reasons that had nothing to do with passion.

Still, a little moonlight, a good meal, a stroll on the beach … Maybe Jared could get Victoria to set business aside for a while.

“How many of you have ever scuba dived?” he asked the assembled group.

Only Peter’s and Victoria’s hands went up.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” her colleague said smugly. “I’m an expert diver.”

Victoria pressed her lips together as if resisting the urge to contradict him. “I went on a couple of dives in college, if that counts.”

“It does,” Jared assured her. “It’ll come back to you. For everyone else who’s interested, I can teach you the basics in the pool in an hour or so. If you’re comfortable, we can go on a short dive. If not, there’s plenty of snorkeling equipment to use.”

As Jared explained all the activities available, the importance of not doing anything alone, and the tentative schedule he’d worked out, he discovered Peter was apparently an expert at everything. And yet Jared would bet his best saddle the guy didn’t know how to swim competently, much less that he’d dived at the Great Barrier Reef.

“Anybody want to hop on a Jet Ski?” he asked to stall Peter’s next overblown story.

As he’d expected, nearly everyone refused. He’d discovered city people had to gradually warm up to fun. This crowd would probably walk down the steps of the pool rather than simply dive in.

Calla, his only volunteer, ran up to the house to get her suit on, but the others wanted to unpack and get ready for dinner. Shelby and Mrs. K had to start making the meal.

“Steak?” Jared asked hopefully as he descended the ladder toward the Jet Ski floating there.

“Thai food,” Shelby called down. “Fish cakes, grilled pork satay, cucumber salad, baked shrimp with noodles, and chicken curry.”

Mrs. K clasped her hands. “Doesn’t it sound exotic? Shelby’s going to show me how to make everything.”

Climbing on the watercraft, Jared saluted. “Based on the cookies, I have full faith in both of you. But is there steak in my future?”

“Monday,” they said as one.

“For future reference,” Shelby added with a wink, “Victoria loves Thai food.”

Jared had no doubt she did. Exotic and spicy fit her perfectly.

He started the engine, then glanced up to spot Richard walking toward the house with Peter on one side and Victoria on the other.

Why the image bothered him so much, Jared wasn’t sure.

Instead, he focused on his job. He helped Calla onto the Jet Ski, and she held on for dear life as he streaked through the waves, jumped the crests and turned his face to the sun and salty spray.

The vision of Victoria’s stunning face wouldn’t go away, however. He compared the blue of the sea to her eyes. He remembered the startling black sand of Waianapanapa Beach in Maui, and how her hair would blend into it like an ancient exotic goddess merging with the land. He wondered how she’d fare on the open waters, unconstrained by obligations and ambition.

Calla had no such restraints and soon was ready to take the controls of the craft herself. Jared stood on the shore, watching to be sure she didn’t run into trouble, and wondering why the buxom blonde didn’t move him the way her friend did.

In all his travels, he’d learned some bits of truth. Don’t grab live stone crabs without gloves or a high pain threshold. Don’t hang glide with anybody after three cocktails. Don’t trust an African tribal guide who says crocodiles are “babies at heart.”

To that knowledge he’d add that chemistry wasn’t always a definable concept.

Calla was delightful. But Victoria was trapped in her orderly, fluorescent-light world, and he desperately wanted to release her.

“Any chance of getting Victoria on a Jet Ski?” he asked her friend after he tied off the machine and they’d climbed back onto the dock.

Calla’s gaze met his before quickly skittering away. “I don’t see how.”

“She’s here on business, not fun.”

“As always.”

“What kind of men does she date?”

Calla’s steps faltered, as if she hadn’t expected him to be so direct, but she recovered quickly. “Jerks,” she muttered with a shrug.

“Jerks?” he repeated, as if that was music to his ears.

“Rich jerks.” She waved her hand. “Oh, they all have great hair and pretty faces, successful careers, 401Ks and portfolios. But they’re superficial and—” She clamped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She broke into a brisk stride.

He caught up to her, bringing her to a stop. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I shouldn’t have answered.”

“We had a … moment earlier.” He wasn’t sure that was the way to describe the intensity of the spark that had ignited the instant Victoria had touched him, but that was all he had. “I was only wondering if she’d be interested in somebody like me.”

Calla grinned. “You like her.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Calla’s gaze trailed over him. “Great hair and pretty face, check.”

When she paused, he finished her thought. “But a 401K and portfolio, not so much.”

“You don’t have either, I guess?”

He did. But why should that matter? Why did it always matter? “Do I need them?”

Calla frowned, and he knew she was thinking of a way to let him down gently, to tell him that Victoria was particular and, being a successful woman herself, only hung out with guys who moved in her same circle.

He could move in those circles. He simply chose not to.

Too much artifice. Too many hangers-on. Too many people who clung because he had the means to buy a round for the house.

Been there. College in L.A. had schooled him in more ways than business management.

“She needs a regular guy,” Calla announced to Jared’s surprise. “Clearly, her pattern of brief relationships with shallow men isn’t working out. And if she ever stops focusing on her career twenty-four hours a day, she’ll see that.”

“Would she really? I’m a regular guy,” Jared said confidently, since he was—sort of.

Calla widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Are you? What an amazing coincidence.” She winked. “You two could make a great couple.” She jogged toward the house, calling her thanks as she left him.

Smiling, Jared turned for the shore. He hadn’t expected details from Victoria’s friend, especially since he’d had no right to ask about her love life in the first place.

Rich jerks who don’t hang around long, huh?

Good thing he usually concealed his ownership of the company. His clients thought he simply worked for the firm, same went for the host and guests this weekend.

One regular guy at your service, Ms. Holmes.

TWO HOURS LATER, DRESSED FOR dinner, but still missing her usual confidence, Victoria strode into the kitchen. “I need a martini, stat.”

While Shelby continued to chop vegetables, Calla jumped off the counter where she’d been sitting and headed to the fridge. From the freezer side, she pulled out a filled and frosted glass. Two extra-large olives speared on a toothpick floated inside the liquid.

Calla handed over the drink. “We figured you’d come asking for this.”

Victoria took a grateful sip, the harsh bite of the olives and liquor suiting her sour mood perfectly. “Where’s Mrs. Keegan?”

“In the wine cellar,” Shelby said. “So vent away.”

“What the hell does Richard think he’s doing?” Victoria asked her friends.

“Haven’t got a clue,” Calla answered, returning to her perch on the counter.

Shelby dumped chopped celery into a mixing bowl. “It’s got to be some kind of ego thing. Like having two dates to the prom.”

“Why would you want to have two dates to the prom?” Calla asked.

“I wouldn’t.” Shelby shrugged. “But some people would.”

“This is business,” Victoria reminded them. “Not social hour. And highly unprofessional.”

Calla shook her head. “Shelby’s got a point. There’s nothing technically wrong with it, apart from being underhanded and sneaky. But that’s business as usual for you.”

“He invites me and my friends for a relaxing weekend, tells me about his supposedly top secret new safe, then asks my competition to tag along and work directly against me for his contract. How do you figure that’s business as usual?”

“It’s like an on-the-job interview,” Calla said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Obviously, Coleman’s retirement isn’t the big secret you thought it was, and Richard wants to pick the best person to replace him for the ad campaign.”

Victoria contemplated the remaining contents of her glass and wondered if downing it in one swallow would make her look as desperate as she felt. “Thanks for your support, best friend.”

Calla sighed. “You have my support, as always.”

“Come on, hon,” Shelby added. “A competition between you and Peter hardly seems fair. Maybe you should spot him ten points or something.”

“Let’s not go that far,” Calla said. “Didn’t you hear him bragging earlier? The sooner he gets knocked out in this bout, the happier we’ll all be. And you …” She waggled her finger at Victoria. “We’re not happy about what Richard did, but you have to admit it makes sense. Frankly, it seems like something you’d do.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Take that back.”

“Since when did you get so thin-skinned?” Calla asked.

“Since my mother called me and wanted to know why I hadn’t been promoted yet. And did I realize she’d been the youngest senior VP in the history of the company, and did I know I hadn’t met that goal, and did I want her to call Coleman Sr. and put in a good word.”

Silence fell.

Calla’s face went red, and Shelby paused her dinner prep. “When did this happen?” Shelby asked gently.

“A few days ago.” Victoria was already regretting her outburst. She wanted to earn her promotions. Wanted to be a success without her mother’s help. “Same old, same old. I don’t know why I let her get to me.” Victoria waved her hand in dismissal. She would never live up to The Legend. But, damn, she wanted to make a respectable race out of it. “How was the Jet Ski?”

Calla smiled widely. “That is one hot cowboy.”

The spurt of jealousy that shot through Victoria caught her off guard. “I thought you were crazy about Detective Antonio.”

“I am sometimes,” Calla said, “but he’s mad at me right now.”

“Why?” As far as Victoria had been able to tell, the attraction went both ways.

Calla rolled her eyes. “Who knows? He’s as ornery as a wet cat.” Looking smug, she added, “Anyway, Jared’s interested in somebody besides me.”

Victoria sipped her drink and said nothing.

“I’m with Calla on this one,” Shelby stated. “There’s no way you haven’t noticed, V.”

“Does anybody else think it’s ironic for Richard to be trolling for PR executives for a safe campaign, while at the same time hiring Mr. Adventure to keep us running around like deranged daredevils?”

Clearly not deterred by Victoria’s attempt to change the subject, Calla slid off the counter and moved toward her. “Come on. Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“No,” Victoria returned, completely honest. Cute was nowhere in the same hemisphere with Jared McKenna.

Strong, capable and smokin’ hot? Absolutely.

Finishing her martini, she set the glass on the counter. “I’m leaving now. Thanks for the drink.”

“You like him,” Calla insisted, blocking her exit.

Victoria scooted around her friend. “What is this—middle school?”

“We were all silly girls once,” Calla called after her.

Though she paused in the doorway, Victoria didn’t turn back. “I wasn’t.”

Rolling her shoulders, she moved down the hall to the stairs. The house boasted a variety of decks and sunrooms, and Victoria was intent on reaching the one outside the third-floor game room.

She really wished she could give in to her friends’ light mood, and before Peter had shown up and spoiled her weekend—along with the near certainty of her promotion—she might have. Now, however, the stakes had been raised, she was knocked off balance and she had to get her stance back in a hurry, or she’d be the one lying on the mat.

As she stepped through the French doors and onto the balcony, she was glad she’d changed into a sleeveless blue dress. The summer heat showed no sign of abating.

But the crashing waves against the shore helped her state of mind and reminded her of her own strength. Even with the complication of her rival, she’d find a way to win Richard’s business. Failure wasn’t an option.

“I’m not sure I could ever get used to that view.”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she whirled.

Jared was stretched out on a lounge chair, a beer bottle in his hand. As he rose, the long, strong length of him towering over her, she took a second to calm her runaway pulse, as well as notice he’d changed clothes. A perfectly pressed white dress shirt covered his broad chest, and the tips of scuffed brown boots peeked from beneath his dark jeans.

“I didn’t realize anybody was up here,” she said, resisting the urge to lick her lips as a breeze ruffled his dark hair and warmth rose in his brown eyes. Why did he have to be so damn appealing?

“Since you didn’t immediately scowl at me, I kinda figured that.”

“I don’t scowl at you every minute.”

“Most minutes.” Setting his beer aside, he joined her at the railing, resting his forearms against the wood. “Calla and I missed you on the Jet Skis earlier.”

“I had my hair and nails done this morning. I didn’t realize Richard was planning Water Weekend Adventures from Hell. Do you have any idea what a blowout at a top Manhattan salon costs?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t care.”

“Nope. But I bet your hair and nails are always perfect.”

“They are. Is there something wrong with a professional appearance?”

“Not when you’re being professional, I guess. But I think—and maybe this is just me—you’d look great messed up.”

“Messed up?”

“Maybe mussed up.” He leaned close. “You know, tousled, disheveled …” He stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Thoroughly pleasured.”

Heat raced through her body. “Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met?”

He grinned. “Not always.”

Despite her earlier anxiety, she found herself smiling back. “Most of the time, I bet you are.”

She wished she could find a reason to step away from him and not give in to his touch.

How about your potential contract? Your job? Your promotion? Simple common sense?

For once she ignored the warning from her conscience. “Did my mother really warm up to you?”

“Nope.”

“So why did you say she did?”

“I was flirting with you.”

Victoria laid her palm on his chest. “You aren’t my type.”

“You’re not mine, either.”

But he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her anyway.

4

WITH HIS HANDS FULL OF THE elegant and volatile Victoria, Jared fought to keep his touch soft. Being tentative wasn’t really in his nature, but though his instinct was to press her against the nearest wall and ravage her like some randy cowboy who’d ridden the range for far too long, he didn’t think that impulse would fly.

He pulled her close, and angling his head, slid his tongue past her lips. He kept his moves slow, steady … enticing. She let a low moan escape, and desire shot through him as if he’d touched a live wire.

He moved his hands down to her hips, holding her against his erection. The pressure felt both amazing and frustrating.

Breathing hard, she jerked back.

He’d pushed too hard, too fast. Shoving his hands in his back pockets, he grappled for composure. Hell.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strained. “I shouldn’t have—”

He held up his hands. “I made the first move.”

“I wanted you to.” Clearly regretful, she shook her head. Her perfect, creamy skin was flushed. Her crystal blue eyes reflected confusion. “We have nothing in common.”

His gaze met hers. “No, I’d say we have exactly one thing in common.”

She didn’t flinch. He hadn’t expected her to. “I guess we do.”

He licked his lips and tasted cotton candy. His palms tingled with the need to touch her again.

“It’s my lip gloss,” she said, obviously realizing the nature of his struggle. “It’s flavored.”

“Like candy? I would’ve laid money on you preferring steak au poivre.”

“Meat-flavored lip gloss?”

“Right.” He reconsidered. Obviously, he had steak on his mind. Or his stomach. “Champagne?”

She gave him her first genuine smile. “That’s more like it.”

He extended his hand, which she took. “I bet we can find you some in this palace.”

“That’s an adventure I can get excited about.”

They headed downstairs, and though she let go of his hand when they reached the ground floor, he felt they’d crossed a bridge together. He wouldn’t have bet cotton candy and smiles could come with a single kiss, but he figured if he was going to pursue this attraction—and he was—he ought to get used to surprises.

In the parlor, most of the other guests were assembled for the cocktail hour.

The men, with the exception of Peter, were drinking whiskey, while the women, plus Peter, enjoyed champagne. Jared and Victoria exchanged a knowing glance, but he otherwise kept his distance.

This contract was important to her, and he wasn’t going to be the one to spoil her plans.

Especially since he had his own ideas for her. And them.

Bottled-up stress required a release, after all. He’d be happy to provide her plenty of physical activity to burn off the tension. A Jet Ski or boat-related outing would do her wonders.

Rose, as she was famous for, made a dramatic entrance.

Wearing a peacock-blue silk gown, completely overdone for both the season and the occasion, she swept into the parlor when everyone was half into their drinks and Mrs. K had already brought a round of hors d’oeuvres.

“I’m so sorry to be late,” Rose said breathlessly. “I couldn’t seem to get my hair to do anything tonight.”

Her deep red hair was perfect, as always. But trouble with her style wasn’t likely to be the main topic of conversation, since around her neck lay a stunning diamond-and-sapphire necklace. The fathomless blue center stone was octagonal-shaped and easily the size of an egg.

As the women stared—Peter’s wife, Emily, let out an actual gasp—Richard smiled indulgently at his mother’s antics and poured her a glass of champagne.

“You’re not the last to arrive, Mother,” he said, handing her the cut crystal. “Sal isn’t here yet.”

Rose’s pink-painted mouth moved into a pout. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”

“He’s probably looking for his sunglasses,” Ruthie said in an uncharacteristic show of bitchiness.

The necklace was a bit blinding.

Richard quickly covered his wife’s gaffe by introducing Rose to her guests. Jared got a flirty smile, which he was used to with Rose. He wondered if boyfriend Sal, who could be anywhere from twenty to eighty, given Rose’s predilections, was the possessive type.

“I trust you have everything you need to give my guests an unforgettable weekend?” she asked.

“I do.” Jared brushed his lips across her powdered cheek. “But you’ll be the one who’s remembered.”

“Jared,” Peter said, his tone teasing, “you can’t have the keys to the boats and the full attention of our beautiful hostess.”

More smoothly than Jared would have previously given him credit for, the executive led Rose to a settee and launched into a string of compliments about the estate.

Having already become buddy-buddy with Richard on the golf course, apparently the PR man had decided to move on to bigger, more powerful prey. It was a smart choice. Richard was certainly a momma’s boy. If Rose preferred Peter over Victoria, the Rutherford Securities contract would go to him.

Victoria didn’t miss a beat and positioned herself next to Richard. “Is it rude to talk about business before dinner?”

“Not if that’s what you want to do,” he said graciously. Bracketed between his wife and the stunning Victoria, he seemed, in fact, more than pleased. He directed a wink at Calla. “I assume we can count on your discretion about our developing products and strategies.”

“I’m a reporter at heart,” she said in her twanging Texas accent. “I know how to protect my sources.”

With three women focused on him, and Jared as a standby to impress, Richard gave a description of his new safe. The words state-of-the-art were used five times and breakthrough technology no less than three. “The digital control panel can be configured for your own four-digit code, voice print or, on the superior model, a retina scan. It’s breakthrough technology.”

Okay, four.

“Fascinating,” Victoria said, looking for all the world as if she believed it.

“Interesting” was Calla’s neutral response, just before she shot her friend a questioning look and took a sip of champagne.

Ruthie smiled indulgently at her husband. “Isn’t he clever?”

Actually, a team of engineers and computer techs were clever.

Twenty years ago.

The whole fawning business turned Jared’s stomach. Because one of the fawners was the woman he wanted? Probably.

But not completely.

Jared’s conscience warned him to sip his whiskey and say nothing. But he couldn’t keep his reservations to himself. Victoria would probably wind up promoting this flawed product. “Don’t many governments, including our own, already use codes with much higher numbers than four, plus voice prints and retina scans for access to sensitive rooms and data?”

“Perhaps,” Richard admitted. “Not that they’re willing to share the technology behind their developments. The area of personal security is largely ignored for higher purposes. It’s time we take back control of our own lives and valuables. My safe will allow the common man to dictate his own destiny.”

Why would he need a PR firm? It seemed obvious Richard could orchestrate his own publicity just fine.

“I wasn’t aware of your interest in security, Jared,” Richard added with a smug smile. “You know something about codes, voice prints and retina scans?”

“Sure. I’ve watched a spy movie in the last decade.”

Victoria scowled; Calla covered up a laugh with a cough.

“Fiction,” Ruthie reminded him. “Who takes that seriously?”

“People don’t trust banks. Or the government.” Richard held tight to his glass, his annoyance obvious by his white-knuckled grip. “We’re giving them another option.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea for the times,” Victoria said, her gaze shifting to Jared’s long enough to deliver a warning glare. Richard, naturally, got a dazzling smile. “It’ll be the next big thing. Tell him about the ability to change the code remotely with a mobile device.”

“If the security is compromised for any reason,” Richard began, “an alarm will sound on the mobile device you choose, allowing you to either change your code or lock down the safe.”

“Compromising the security of a safe involves opening the door,” Jared pointed out. “By the time you punch in the new code, the thief’s already run off with your valuables.”

Their host looked smug. “The alarm begins with the first incorrect number pressed on the keypad.”

“What if the safe owner presses the wrong number?” he asked.

“Then obviously he or she will ignore the warning alarm,” Richard said easily.

“Plus the code’s only four numbers,” Jared reminded him. “By the time you get the signal and reconfigure—even if you’re holding your precious mobile device next to your ear at the time—the thief’s already inside.”

“It works,” Richard insisted. “I’ve seen it.”

Victoria laid her hand on his shoulder. “Of course it does.”

The woman who had vibrated at Jared’s touch, whose lips had moaned for his kiss mere minutes ago, was focused totally on Richard. The contract. Winning.

Maybe he’d been kidding himself about her response, about the need they shared. “Sorry.” He gave his host a curt nod. The security might work, and perhaps Richard was explaining the technology wrong—not surprising, actually. “My bad. I need some air. I’ll see all of you at dinner.”

Jared strode down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. If Victoria wanted to play Richard’s game, she was welcome to it. He wanted a different kind of adventure.

DINNER WAS DELICIOUS. If only the conversation surrounding the meal could measure up.

Victoria needed a much sharper knife than the sterling silver one beside her to cut the underlying tension.

Richard maintained his role as charming host, Ruthie relaxed her criticism of her mother-in-law and Rose soaked up everyone’s praise. But they also tiptoed around the obvious minefield of Victoria and Peter being office rivals and fighting for the same contract—the one controlled by the charming host.

Plus, Victoria could practically see waves of resentment rolling off Jared, like a tsunami destined specifically for her.

Getting the safe to work was the engineers’ problem. She just had to convince people to buy the damn thing. And why Jared cared a whit about quality control at Rutherford Securities, she had no idea. He and Richard seemed determined to be at odds with each other.

She shouldn’t be surprised. In her experience, different types often disagreed.

Richard was upper-crust Southampton; Jared was humble Western cowboy.

And why the latter suddenly had such great appeal, she had no idea. Though, as much as she loved her job, she had to admit that lately she’d found unexpected pleasure in attending her family’s charity events, reminding her that some people were still genuinely surprised by kindness. Victoria spent most of her waking hours in boardrooms. It was the only life she knew. But seeing her hard work benefit somebody besides her financial advisor and her own ego was refreshing.

Sal Colombo, Rose’s gentleman friend, was charming, affluent and genuine. Unlike the men she’d dated, success didn’t always translate to an overblown ego. In her fierce drive to the top, she’d somehow forgotten that.

“The pork is excellent,” David Greggory, Sal’s personal assistant, said, bringing Victoria back to the dinner conversation. “I wonder what spices the chef used.”

“Knowing Shelby, something handmade by Italian nuns.”

Sitting next to her, David frowned. “Nuns are great cooks? Maybe I should have gone to church more often.”

Victoria blinked. Humor was largely lost on this gathering. David was clearly witty as well as efficient. About thirty years old, he had blond hair, a plain face and wasn’t wildly attractive, but was dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, which made her certain he knew his way around uptown Manhattan.

“How long have you been with Sal?” she asked him.

“Six months. I worked in the city for years and was burning out fast.”

Victoria nodded. Though she thrived on the energy there, she knew others who didn’t. The pace could be brutal.

“I decided to change course,” David continued. “Now the most challenging feat I accomplish is managing Sal’s social calendar. It’s heaven.”

Victoria would go nuts in thirty seconds. But David looked tanned and content, so it must be working for him. He’d consulted with Rose on the decorations for the grand Sunday night party, and since he’d found himself at loose ends for the weekend, he’d been included among the houseguests at the last minute.

Rose laughed just then, drawing Victoria’s attention. Jared was leaning close, obviously the source of amusement. How nice.

If only she didn’t have to look across the table at his handsome profile, she could remember she wasn’t here for hot kisses and moonlit nights. She was here to get a contract.

But the man was a serious pleasure to have in her sights.

Rose laid her hand alongside Jared’s rugged jaw as she spoke to him, and his smile flashed.

Okay, maybe Victoria was a little jealous.

While Mrs. K cleared the dishes, Sal settled back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “You should tell your guests about the history of your necklace, my dear.” His pale blue eyes sparkled. “It’s quite a tale.”

“Well …” Rose gestured with her right hand, the middle finger of which was dominated by what had to be at least a seven caret yellow diamond. “Sal is right, as always. First off, it’s rumored to be cursed by jealousy.”

Peter froze with his lips against his water goblet. Victoria’s gaze flicked to Jared before returning to Rose. And Emily’s attention shot to her husband’s profile.

Not that anybody at this table would know anything about jealousy.

With that thought, Victoria recalled the adventure she and her friends had embarked on in the spring, project Robin Hood.

Shelby’s parents had been the victims of a retirement swindle. And with the cops not taking a serious interest in the case, the three friends had boldly taken the law into their own hands and gotten justice for those they loved.

As it turned out, envy had had a starring role in this latest tale, as well.

Tracing the edge of the diamond-encircled sapphire, Rose continued her story. “The sapphire is 99 carats and was mined in Sri Lanka in the 1920s. The diamonds were added by an expert jeweler and set into a necklace for Olivia Howinger, a famous European actress of the day. Her beauty drove men to madness. Alabaster skin, radiant blue eyes, and of course, she was a redhead.” Rose patted her own auburn curls. “But the man who finally captured her heart was a hotheaded Italian count. Unfortunately for both of them, the attention Olivia received from men didn’t end at her marriage. They continued to send her flowers and gifts, flirt with her at parties and restaurants. The count was beside himself with jealousy and determined to make himself the sole focus of his wife’s attention.

“So he had the necklace commissioned and presented to her on her birthday. Which only served to bring more attention to Olivia. One night, he walked into a busy French restaurant, expecting to see his wife waiting for him at their favorite table, only to find another man in his seat. The count shot them both on the spot.”

“How horrible,” Emily whispered, as if the scene were playing out before them.

“In a delicious way,” Rose said, winking. “The necklace was sold at the auction of the count’s estate after he was hanged, and ever since, it’s inspired envy and possessiveness in all who’ve laid eyes on its flawless beauty.”

Calla, Sal and Peter clapped. David shifted in his seat. Victoria’s gaze found Jared’s, and the heat between them surged brief ly, before he glanced away again. They weren’t compatible in the least, she reminded herself, and the sooner she accepted that, the easier this weekend would be.

“Bravo, darling,” Sal said, patting Rose’s hand.

Though it was an engaging story, real people had died. It seemed incredible that a single woman or a sparkling blue rock could cause so much suffering, but kingdoms had risen and fallen for less.

And while Victoria loved pretty things and had her share of sparkles, she couldn’t understand wanting to own something with such a bloody history. Rose was an entirely different kind of woman.

Notorious is as notorious does.

“Thankfully, she has a foolproof safe to keep the gems out of greedy hands,” Richard said, his expression smug.

Rose smiled indulgently at her son. “What would I do without you, dear?”

For a second, Ruthie looked as though she might suggest something—and not a nice something—but then she pushed back her chair. “Why don’t we have coffee and dessert in the sunroom? The sunset is lovely from there.”

As they all walked toward the back of the house, Victoria found herself behind Jared and Calla. “Quite a story,” her friend said to him.

“It’d make a nice sidebar to your magazine piece,” he suggested, angling his face toward her.

When had they discussed Calla’s article? During the Jet Ski ride Victoria wasn’t interested in so she wouldn’t mess up her hair? Why did that suddenly seem stupid and superficial? And why did he and Calla have to look so lovely together?

Calla shook her head. “I doubt Rose would let me take pictures for publication. I sure wouldn’t want everybody to know I owned something so valuable.”

“I doubt Rose will care,” Jared said. “She’s got a foolproof safe, after all.”

When Calla laughed, Victoria took the opportunity to move around the two and make her way out to the patio, where she pretended to concentrate on the sunset.

She couldn’t possibly be jealous of her friend, any more than she had been of Rose during dinner. Victoria didn’t work herself up into a lather about men. And she certainly didn’t care who Jared spoke to, flirted with, or anything else.

Her attraction to him was an anomaly. Any woman would be fascinated by him. But Victoria didn’t generally follow the crowd. She’d always forged her own path, no matter how hard it might seem.

That damn necklace probably was cursed by jealousy. Had to be. Why else was she fuming in the middle of a magnificent sunset?

She should be with Richard, regaling him with her brilliant ideas for the campaign. In fact … was there a way to convince him and Rose to use the necklace in print ads? I trust my son with my most valuable possessions. Shouldn’t you?

Cute and sweet, but with the added hits of scandal and class.

It was a possibility. Or at least a place to start.

Cheered, she joined everyone else in the sunroom in time to hear Jared suggest a boat ride after dessert. All the guests agreed, and Ruthie insisted Mrs. K and Shelby come along, as well.

On the way to the dock where the small yacht was anchored, several people complimented Shelby and the housekeeper on the delicious meal. Mrs. K beamed, and Shelby accepted the comments with her usual modest professionalism. Victoria felt certain that even if this weekend did nothing for her or Calla, Shelby would gain new bookings.

With the sun’s heat fading, and a breeze kicked up by the elegant boat cutting through the waves, the night had turned divine.

Victoria stood at the stern, watching the wake chop the sea to a frothy tower of white. How long had it been since she’d let her hair tangle as salty wind whipped against her skin?

Her parents had a place near Rose’s. She rarely came out. She was too busy working, making contacts, bustling around the city. No wonder Jared enjoyed his job so much.

Not that she’d trade her future corner office for a faceful of sea spray, but she could understand the appeal.

“Hi, sweetie,” Shelby said as she slid her arm around Victoria’s waist. “Catching a wave?”

Victoria extended her hand over the side of the boat, felt the cool sprinkle of droplets. “Nearly.”

Calla bracketed Victoria on the other side. “Any chance we’re going to get you more than fingertip deep in that water?”

“Yeah.” Victoria tucked her blowing hair behind her ears so she could see her friends. “I might dangle my feet.”

“In the pool,” Calla added, clearly skeptical.

Shelby smirked. “Wearing a big hat and a heavy layer of sunscreen.”

“You’re dissing sunscreen?” Victoria asked.

“No way,” Shelby said.

Calla grinned. “Provided the tough, tanned and broad-shouldered Jared McKenna doesn’t use it all up.”

Shelby’s eyes lit with interest. “He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

“I was finally in a good mood, I really was,” Victoria lamented, then pointed at Shelby. “And you have a man. Stop lusting after …” She stopped, bit back a curse.

Fighting the wind, Calla wrangled her long blond locks into a ponytail. “After yours?”

“Jared isn’t mine,” Victoria insisted.

Calla leaned in. “But he could be.”

Despite herself, Victoria was curious how Calla had gleaned that information. “How do you know?”

“I’ve got eyes,” she said a little too casually. “I see him staring at you.”

“And you looking back,” Shelby stated.

The last time her pals had those determined expressions on their faces, Victoria had found herself neck-deep in an undercover sting operation against an unscrupulous retirement-fund swindler. “Are you two going to bug me about this guy all weekend?”

“Yes,” they answered together.

“Fine, then. I like him.” Facing her friends, Victoria was careful to keep her voice brisk and not allow her imagination to provide visual aids of the man in question. “He’s smart, strong-willed, resilient and irritating.”

“And gorgeous,” Calla added, poking Victoria’s arm.

“I’ve got eyes.” Victoria narrowed hers. “I can see that.”

“How’s he irritating?” Shelby asked. “I think he’s charming.”

“He’s … challenging,” Victoria returned, deciding that was the right word to describe the alternating highs of attraction and lows of annoyance she felt in Jared’s presence.

“You like challenges.” Calla’s attention flicked to a point over Victoria’s shoulder. “Don’t you?” she asked, her voice louder.

What was with her? “Sure, but …” Victoria glanced behind her.

Where Jared stood.

Her heart stopped—and not just because she was curious about who might be steering the boat. “How long have you been there?”

He looked thoughtful. “Let me think….” Then he gave her a broad smile. “You like me.”

Victoria whirled to her friends and hoped her glare scorched them on the spot.

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