Ten minutes later, they were in front of her apartment building and he’d rounded the car to open her door. When he offered his hand, she hesitated only briefly before taking it.
Bad decision, she told herself. Bad, bad, bad.
After he helped her exit she just stood there, her fingers still engulfed in his. He commanded her attention, unwillingly, effortlessly.
If the May night air held a chill, Holly couldn’t feel it. Instead, the heat of him sucked all the breath from her lungs, leaving her heart jumping merrily along in anticipation. He was staring down at her with those piercing, almost analytical eyes, their bodies too close for her comfort. For one insane second, the romantic in her imagined him leaning in for a goodbye kiss on the cheek but she quickly dismissed the fanciful thought with a blink. Didn’t stop you wanting it, though, did it?
She eased her hand from his warm grip and just like that, the moment shattered. As he stepped back, the night air whooshed into the void, sending a shiver over her skin.
“What’s your phone number?” he asked.
“Why?”
Amusement tweaked his lips into a shadowy smile. “In case I need to call you.”
She felt the hot flush of embarrassment across her cheeks as she reeled off her mobile number and he punched it into his phone.
“Steve will pick you up at seven tomorrow. We’ll be flying to an appointment in Lighting Ridge,” Jake said, pocketing his phone. At her look of confusion, he added, “To check on a new complex I’m building.”
“You don’t delegate?”
“Some things I choose not to.” He leaned against the car, a nonchalant gesture that oddly suited him. “Have a good night, Holly.”
Jake watched as she walked up the pathway to her apartment, her back ramrod straight, her hips swaying in that deliciously tantalizing way. When she unlocked the door, turned to him with a nod and disappeared inside, his smile fled.
It was time to find out just who Holly McLeod was.
Three
“The crisis center was your mother’s idea,” Holly casually stated as they boarded the Cessna on their way back to Sydney the next afternoon.
“Yes,” he said, nodding to the flight attendant and handing him his coat.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Vance.”
He’d heard those simple words a thousand times in the past few weeks, yet instinctively he knew Holly meant them.
“My mother was committed to causes,” he acknowledged as he eased into the black leather seat.
“So I heard. You must have been very proud of her.” He gave a non-committal answer then said, “Better strap yourself in.” She nodded and went to her seat further down the aisle.
Pride wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of April Vance Kellerman these days. He’d buried her last month, what now seemed a lifetime ago. Unbidden, the past crowded his head with the suppressed memories his mother’s shocking confession had stirred to the surface. An urgent, whispered confession that he’d put down to the painkillers. The confession of a dying woman who’d been living a lie. One that had suddenly taken on malevolent form.
The only reason she’d confessed was fear—fear of being discovered. If Howard’s investigator hadn’t been so dogged in his pursuit, crossing state lines on the strength of speculation and hearsay to finally end up in Jake’s hometown, he had no doubt he’d still be in the dark about his true parentage.
He balled a fist and thumped it gently on the cold glass window. Like water from a cracked cup, the resentment seeped out, leaving a deep, dark emptiness in its wake.
Everything he knew, everything he’d based his life on was a lie. Yet so many things, so many oddities he’d never questioned clicked into place: Why they’d lived like nomads, shifting across state lines. Why family was never mentioned. And the nightmares that had finally stopped when he was ten years old.
Jake sighed and allowed himself that moment of grief and guilt. The two powerful emotions mingled to form a hard black lump in his gut. If he took any more time, he’d be forced to look long and hard at every choice, every decision April had made that had shaped his life.
Reluctantly he acknowledged a simple fact: April’s death had hit way too close to home. He’d already begun to reassess his life after her funeral, to silently question just who he was and what he was doing. The inevitable shadows of death had touched him deeply, the painful, scary vulnerability it wreaked forcing him to re-evaluate his ten-year plan.
That plan was close to completion: he had everything money could buy and then some. Everything the Blackstones had been born into, everything April had lacked. After this Blackstones fiasco was behind him, he could fully commit to the last on his list—get himself a wife and start a family.
He glanced back to Holly. She was staring out the window with a pair of headphones on, studiously concentrating on the tarmac as they taxied down the runway. And just like that, his whole body tightened, forcing a surprised breath from his throat.
With mounting irritation he silently admitted his plan to intimidate her—and by default, the Blackstones—with an overt display of wealth had backfired. He’d wanted Blackstone’s to be clear on exactly who they were dealing with, and what he could do if crossed. But it surprised him how calmly she took everything in her stride, from the early flight in his top-of-theline ten-seater Cessna to his subtle commands that had them winging their way back to Sydney a few hours later. She hadn’t missed a beat, answering his blunt questions with accuracy, waiting patiently while he signed off on the multiplex center.
This girl from the bush fit right into his million-dollar world as if born to it. And she was tempting, his little Blackstone’s assistant, with her snug business skirts and touch-me shirts. His groin ached in sudden painful remembrance of last night. She’d invaded his dreams and got under his skin in a way other women hadn’t. It was part desire, part knowledge of the unknown. Was she a spy? Did she have an agenda? Perversely, not knowing excited him even more.
He scowled, looking but not seeing the runway flash by as they picked up speed and launched into the air with a flourish. If he wasn’t careful, his fascination would become a weakness. He’d been stupid enough to allow one woman to break his heart then let another destroy his trust. It wasn’t going to happen again.
But damn, he wanted her. Probably, he admitted ruefully, because he shouldn’t have her.
His phone rang then, dragging him from those dangerous thoughts.
“How did it go with the Blackstones?” said Quinn by way of greeting.
“How do you think?” Jake muttered, resting the phone on his shoulder while shuffling through the floor plans of the center he’d just inspected. “The DNA sealed it. And now I have a walking, talking Blackstone’s billboard to keep tabs on me while giving the hard sell.” He eased back in his seat and the leather squeaked in protest.
“Is she cute?”
“Does it matter?” Jake scowled.
“Which means she is.”
“So?”
“A guy just needs to know these things.”
The tension in Jake’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “Right. You’re getting soft in your old age, mate,” he drawled, his attention fixed out the window, at the huge expanse of drought-stricken land rolling below.
“There’s more to life than making money.”
“Ahh, another piece of Quinn-wisdom. Next you’ll be telling me ‘all you need is love.’”
“Maybe all you need