Falling For The Enemy. Shawna Delacorte
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Paige had gotten up this morning from a good night’s sleep, she’d had no idea that she would be on her way to London in a private jet before the day was through with the very man who had been the focus of all her energy for the past six months—the man she had sworn would pay for what he had done to her father.
She sipped her wine while she watched Bryce locate the silverware and napkins and some place mats for the table. He seemed to be pure nonstop energy. Paige couldn’t imagine how many things must be going around inside his mind at one time. She considered that maybe she could just ask him about what happened between him and her father, but immediately dismissed it as being a totally unacceptable idea. There was no way that she trusted him to be honest with her in spite of his little speech about handling all things in an ethical manner. Maybe that speech fooled some people, but not her.
She knew if she even alluded to who she was, it would put him on his guard, then she would never be able to dig out the truth. He might even end up destroying some of the evidence she needed. She had maneuvered herself into an excellent position to find out what had really happened. It was better to simply continue with the plan that was already in place.
The image of her father slumped over his desk with the gun still in his hand had been burned into her memory. He had left a hand-written note that said:
I’m sorry, Paige. There was no other way. Please forgive my weakness.
She had found a partially destroyed file folder smoldering in the fireplace. What remained of the file made no more sense to her than her father’s suicide note, but she had saved it anyway. She was shocked to find that her father’s company was in such deep financial trouble. That he had long ago cashed in his life insurance. That even his house was mortgaged to the hilt. She sold the house and what little money that remained was barely enough to pay for his funeral.
Everything would have been all right if Bryce Lexington hadn’t suddenly cut off negotiations with her father for the purchase of Franklin Industries. The worst part, and the thing that had aroused her suspicions, was that he managed to gain control of her father’s company anyway and at a fraction of the original price—literally pennies on the dollar. What would happen to the people who depended on Franklin Industries to support their families? Would he throw them out like yesterday’s newspaper? The fate of her father’s employees was a situation that bothered her a great deal. So far the company was still in operation, but for how long? Somehow she had to find a way to ensure that their jobs were protected, but she didn’t have a clue how…yet.
Since then Paige had made finding out everything about Bryce Lexington her number-one priority. He was thirty-eight years old and stood six-one. He possessed a genius IQ, graduating from high school at the age of fifteen. By the time he turned twenty-one he had earned a bachelor’s degree in history, a second bachelor’s degree in fine art and a master’s degree in business administration. Certainly an unusual combination of educational interests and pursuits. He spoke fluent French, German, Italian and Spanish. What she had not found was any record of him ever being married, something she thought very odd.
Bryce seemed to have fooled everyone into believing he was quite a remarkable man, but she knew better. One way or another she intended to get the proof she needed and prove his responsibility in her father’s suicide.
Paige slowly shook her head from side to side. In spite of all the information she had gathered about him, he was not what she had expected. She caught herself just in time. For a moment she had been about to admit that she was impressed, that there was a little bit of admiration on her part, but that would never do. She needed to keep herself focused on her true purpose. She had to find proof that his unethical business practices were responsible for ruining her father and do what she could to protect the jobs of his employees. She took another sip of wine as her gaze wandered back to Bryce.
The intensity of his eyes and the concentrated energy of his stare startled her. Her swallow of wine went down the wrong way, causing a choking cough.
He took the wineglass from her hand and set it on the table, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes…” She pulled in a deep breath, then another. “I’m…I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…thank you. I guess the wine just went down the wrong way.” Why had he been staring at her like that? Had she done something wrong? Had her thoughts somehow managed to slip out as spoken words? Was he suspicious of her? If he was on to her real intentions, she would never be able to find the answers she needed.
The timer on the microwave signaled that the meals were ready. He took out the trays and placed them on the table. “Dinner is served.”
“It smells good.” Paige picked up her fork and took a bite of the baked chicken.
Bryce explained the details of his business to his new assistant while they ate, making a concentrated effort to keep his tone and manner impersonal and not stray to other topics. It took more diligence than he had originally anticipated. Paige had managed to capture his senses and captivate his desire quicker than any woman he had ever met. He desperately wanted to reach out and stroke her hair, touch her flawless skin…and taste her lips. It was an urge he fought off. It would never do, putting himself at risk that way when there was so much at stake.
Her comments about ethics and money continued to nag at his consciousness. It had been an odd exchange of words, almost as if she had been challenging him based on some hidden information. Could that have been part of her agenda, what she had been searching for? But for what purpose? He forced his mind back to the business at hand, choosing to save his speculation for later.
“We have four projects that require my personal attention in London. First we have a buyout of a small London publishing company. Next is the merger of my leather-goods factory with a string of small exclusive boutiques in London and Paris where my company will retain an overall fifty-one percent ownership. Then there’s a contract for my public relations firm in New York to represent a British import-export company in the United States. The last project is a proposal to provide original works of art from new and promising artists in the States to one of the most prestigious art galleries in London.”
As soon as they finished eating, Bryce handed her four file folders. Their hands touched for the briefest of moments, sending a seductive warmth through his body. He abruptly jumped to his feet, clipping his words as he spoke. “I have several things to dictate into my recorder, so while I’m doing that I want you to familiarize yourself with the contents of these files. They’ll give you details about the four projects I mentioned.”
With that, he turned and hurried to the back of the plane and disappeared into the back cabin. He had to get away from Paige, from the sensual reaction he had to her proximity. He leaned against the closed door and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He was accustomed to being in charge of everything that went on around him. He did not like this lack of control that jittered around inside him—a feeling he knew was directly attributable to the sudden presence of Paige Bradford in his life. He took another deep breath, but it didn’t help. It did nothing to calm his inner turmoil.
He picked up the small recorder and turned his thoughts to the speech he would be making at an upcoming charity event.
Paige stared at the closed cabin door where Bryce had disappeared from sight. He had certainly managed to skillfully sidestep her questions about ethical behavior. She felt a tightening in her throat and an unsettled stirring in the pit of her stomach. She did not know if it was a result of her irritation over his abrupt departure and rude manner or something far more personal.
All of his actions were abrupt. He was obviously a very busy man who simply did not have time for long-drawn-out explanations and conversations, but that did not excuse his curt manner. She allowed herself a huff of indignation. A little common courtesy was not asking too much, even of a busy man.
Her jaw involuntarily clenched for a moment as she tried to banish the strange feelings that had been churning inside her for the past hour. She seemed to be caught between what she knew about the Bryce