And this was just business, of course. Either the literal business of the loan Dartmoor so desperately needed or, more likely, the business of letting Jake have his moment of revenge.
The Yacht Club was the perfect place for it. Everyone they knew would either be in the building or hear about it the next day from someone who was. Strategic planning had always been Jake’s strong suit.
“Madi.”
Another clever strategy. He’d thrown her off-balance by appearing from the deck behind her rather than from the bar. She turned to face him.
Dear lord, the man was gorgeous. Shirt open at the neck, hair tousled by the wind, blue eyes crinkled against the brightly lit space – he was every woman’s dream. Her dream.
And her nightmare. Walking away from this man was the hardest thing she’d ever done. The hole it left inside her still bled at odd moments. Now, for instance. She could only stare at him while he waited for a simple greeting she couldn’t quite muster.
He smiled, but not the smug smile she half expected, one that showed he was well aware of the effect he had on her. No, he smiled at her as if seeing her made him happy, as if she brought the kind of joy into his life he used to bring into hers.
She might have stood there forever if Marcel hadn’t reappeared with a bow and led them to a secluded table in the dining room that overlooked the rippling waters of the bay.
She endured the stares and mutters of the people they passed, used to living with the scandal her father had created. Thankfully Jake didn't act as if he noticed any of it.
“Do you get out to sail often?” she asked, for lack of anything else to say once the server had taken their drink orders.
A potent mixture of grief and anger crossed his face. “I don't sail anymore at all.”
She’d forgotten. His father had died sailing alone on the bay.
“I’m sorry.”
“I won’t say it gets easier, but you do learn to live with the loss.”
“I'll take your word for it.”
She could imagine learning to live with her father’s death. It was what he’d done while he was alive that she found so hard to forget – or forgive. Probably because she was still living with the consequences, including this awkward dinner.
Jake reached across the table to take the hand she’d unconsciously extended toward him, as if to comfort him. His face took on the same look of intense interest as before, as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. She wished.
He lifted her hand to his lips with the quirk of a smile.
“But let’s not dwell on the past. Any of it.”
She jerked free of the 110-volt charge that shot through her system, expecting to see scorch marks on her hand.
To hide the heat that colored her face, she picked up her purse from the floor by her side.
“Maybe we can discuss my plan for Dartmoor over drinks.”
His lips tightened before he smiled again. “I'd rather spend some time getting to know each other again first. How’s your mother doing?”
He kept up a steady flow of small talk masquerading as real conversation through their drinks, salad, and entrée. Every time she tried to shift the topic back to Dartmoor, he came up with some new question she couldn’t find a way to dodge.
After a while she stopped trying. Clearly the whole evening was a sham. He had no interest in her plan. He’d brought her here for revenge, pure and simple.
Which replaced nervousness about showing him her plan with a deeper anxiety about what he intended to do, and when.
The few bites of salad Niçoise she’d managed to eat were followed by even fewer bites of steamed mussels and garlic-mashed potatoes. The tension that left less and less room in her stomach for food also pushed all the air out of her lungs, so the polite chitchat became almost impossible.
“Dessert?”
She shook her head.
“Here, have some more wine.”
This was the third time he’d asked and she’d said no. Or was it the fourth? She put a hand over her glass. “I'm driving.”
His polite smile widened and something she didn’t trust twinkled in his eyes.
“I could give you a ride home.”
Anger restored the backbone that had been melting away all evening. She lifted her head to meet his vaguely mocking gaze.
“I'm not a member here anymore. If I leave my car in the lot overnight, they’ll have it towed in a nanosecond.”
He hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn’t quite decided whether to try to seduce her or not, then he set the wine bottle down and took the last bite of his steak.
She let out the breath she’d been holding, not a hundred percent certain she could resist a seduction, if he tried. Her defenses, never strong when it came to Jake, were way down after an evening spent watching his face, his sensual enjoyment of the food, the way his hands moved. An evening of remembering and storing up new memories for a future without him. Her whole body ached and burned with a desire that could only destroy her.
Maybe that was his revenge.
“So,” he asked casually as he finished his wine, “what poor fool did the Dartmoor Board convince to take over as their CEO?”
She swallowed a cry of pain as the blood drained from her face.
He couldn’t know, but this would be his true revenge. Not only had he refused to listen to her plan to save Dartmoor, now she’d have to reveal the one fact guaranteed to keep him from ever loaning them the money they needed. No reason to put off the inevitable.
“Me.”
He gave his head a little shake. “I beg your pardon?”
“They convinced me to take over as acting CEO.”
Jake understood the words one by one, but together they made no sense. He could imagine Madi as a management trainee, but CEO, even acting CEO of a multi-million-dollar corporation? No way. He decided to play along.
“You always said you wanted to be head of Dartmoor someday.”
She gave him a grim smile. “The operative word being someday. I fought them pretty hard, actually.”
Damn, it was true. A probably irrational anger burned through him.
“Why didn't you just go for it? I mean, you got your MBA a whole four months ago. What else would you need to run an operation the size of Dartmoor?”
Her posture stiffened as she lifted her head to match his gaze full on.
“I don’t run Dartmoor. I replaced my father, who hardly ever went into the office except to do the deed with his mistress. After he created the position of Chief Operating Officer, my father reduced the CEO’s role to vision, strategic planning, and hanging out at the club with the other old boys.”
He couldn’t suppress a grin at the image of her fulfilling that last role.
“So, your plan to fix Dartmoor is the official one?”
“It’s in the developmental stage. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.” Her posture went more rigid. “Which is a good thing, since I can’t get the one person I was sure we could count on for a loan to even look at the plan.”
She’d counted on him? Jake didn’t know how to feel about that. More anger was safest.
“You gave up any right to guilt-trip me when you left me at the altar, Madi.”
Her body seemed to melt in front