Breathless on the Beach. Wendy Etherington
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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