The conference had finished and the deals Jackson had wanted were all signed. Today, Meghan was due to leave. They’d made love most of the night, and he’d gotten up while she was still dozing. Now he was in his study, staring at his computer. He had e-mails to send and documents to review, but instead he just sat there, staring at his screen without reading anything.

He’d had a good time over the last few days, and it hadn’t just been because of the spectacular sex. Going to usually dull social events with Meghan had made them fun as well as productive. Sure, he’d gotten his business concluded, but he’d also danced and laughed and enjoyed having her by his side.

He was going to miss her when she was gone, and the thought bothered him. There was no question that she should leave. But how bad would it be if he asked her to stay one more night?

“Hey.” Meghan’s voice came from the door. “Can I come in?”

Sensitive information was scrawled all over his whiteboard, and his desk was covered with confidential documents. But what did it matter? All it proved was that Derrick was paranoid and overworked, because he’d been a hundred percent wrong about Meghan being a security risk.

“Sure.” He leaned back in his chair and watched her cross to his desk and lean her hip against it. She’d tied her dreadlocks back from her face and wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, but he could still see the woman who’d shone on stage last night.

Her talent was such a part of who she was, it was impossible not to see it. She was larger than life and totally unique. He could live a thousand years and never meet another woman even remotely like her.

“What’s all this?” She gestured to the whiteboard.

“Top secret information.” He said it lightly, but it was no exaggeration. For years, he’d had separate teams working on each part of his new technology. Not just fine-tuning the holographic lenses that projected the 3-D image, but creating the revolutionary scanner technology that captured the subject, the artificial intelligence that processed the information, and the compression algorithm that would allow such a high volume of data to be transmitted in real time. His teams were highly vetted, and each only worked with one part of the system. This was the only place where all the information was fitted together. The data on this whiteboard would make him millions. Possibly billions.

“This is the stuff Derrick was so worried about me seeing?” She scanned his diagrams and complex equations. “I could sell it and make millions?”

Her question sent an uneasy feeling to the pit of his stomach. He’d always been meticulous about protecting this information, which was why he kept it at home where he could control who saw it. But there was a difference between being careful and being paranoid, and Meghan was obviously joking. She had no idea what a touchy subject it was.

“Thousands,” he corrected, his words deliberate. “Probably hundreds of thousands. But I don’t think Lex would pay millions for it.”

“What are the drawings of?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh wait, I know. These are plans to pimp the Aston Martin, right? You’re going to put a martini cabinet in the glove box and a fold-down double bed in the back.”

He nodded gravely. “And now you’ve seen my plans, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, how do you know my bra doesn’t fire bullets?” She thrust her chest out, hands on her hips.

“There’s one way to find out.” He rose to his feet so he could run both hands over the weapons in question. “Hmm. Bullets are locked and loaded.”

There was a discreet knock at the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Brent?”

“Yes, Freya.” He let go of Meghan’s breasts and turned.

“You asked me to bring you two thousand dollars.” His assistant put the money on his desk and left with what he swore was a small smile twitching her always-serious lips.

“Is that for me?” asked Meghan. Her expression was unreadable as she studied the small pile of hundred dollar notes. “We agreed on a thousand dollars.”

“You earned two thousand.” He picked it up and handed it to her. “Payment for a job well done.”

“Thank you.” She stuffed the money in her pocket, and the motion triggered a memory that made him recoil. He turned his head away a moment too late. She’d already seen his expression.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He went back to his chair and sat down. His face was composed now, the memory pushed away. “Of course. It was nothing.”

But she was still frowning. “What was nothing?”

“I was thinking of my brother.” He waved his hand. “Forget it.”

“Or you could tell me.” She moved some of his top-secret papers aside so she could half sit on the edge of his desk. He hesitated, but she folded her arms and pushed out her chin. “I know Peter, remember? And if something about me reminds you of him, I want to hear what it is.”

He let out his breath. “I just thought about what happened between me and Peter a few years ago.” He paused, but she didn’t move or say anything, so he went on. “After Peter hurt his knee and his football career ended, he needed something else to do. So he came to me with a business idea.”

“A good one?”

Jackson shook his head. “The opposite. I knew his idea wouldn’t fly, so instead I asked him to take charge of a charity fund I was setting up. It meant Peter would earn a significant income, and he’d get to make sure the funds were spent on worthy projects.” He shrugged. “Who wouldn’t enjoy giving away money? That was what I thought.”

“Of all the people I’d pick to be generous, Peter would be at the bottom of the list. So tell me, how did he mess it up?”

He gave a rueful smile. The story left a bad taste in his mouth, but at least he was telling it to the one person who knew his brother well enough to understand. “Peter was resentful I’d turned down his business idea. He and my father decided that if I was going to give money away, it should go to them and nobody else. After a few months, I discovered they were siphoning funds. My brother was stealing the money he was supposed to be managing.”

Even now, after so much time had passed, the memory made him sick to his stomach. It was his own fault for hoping that things could still change between him and the brother he’d always dreamed of being close to. The brother he’d been taught to idolize.

“What did you do?” asked Meghan.

“I fired him. But it wasn’t over. He and my father engaged lawyer after lawyer trying to argue that they were entitled to a share of my money. They couldn’t stand to see a single dollar going to anyone else who might need it.”

“That’s pretty low, even for your family.”

“I didn’t want to keep fighting them, so eventually we came to an arrangement. They both get a generous income. On paper, they’re employed by my company. In reality, I pay them to leave me alone.”

She folded her arms, head cocked. “So how did paying me trigger that particular memory?”

Her tone was prickly. But she deserved to know the truth.

“It hasn’t just been Peter and my father who’ve stolen, fought, hired lawyers, begged, or tried to scam me out of money. It’s an occupational hazard I’ve come to expect.”

“You think I’m trying to scam you? Or beg for money?” She tugged the money back out of her pocket and thrust it toward him. “Take it back. I don’t want it.”

She looked so horrified at the suggestion, something inside his chest loosened. “No, of course not. And I want it to stay that way.” He stood and went to her. “These days, all my relationships have a monetary value. Mostly that’s a good thing. It keeps things clear, so I know exactly where I stand. But I don’t want it to taint my relationship with you.” Putting his hand over hers, he curled her fingers over the money before pushing her hand toward her pocket. “You earned it fair and square. This is my baggage, not yours.”

“According to you, we don’t have any kind of relationship.” She stuffed the money back into her pocket, her expression defiant. But her voice cracked a little, and he could see her flash of anger for what it was – a thin veneer to cover the fact he’d hurt her.

“I don’t know what this is,” he said honestly.

“You’ve just paid me to leave. Does that mean you want me out of your life now? I should walk out that door and never see you again?”

He took a breath. If only he could trust what they had. If he asked her to stay, he’d be exposing himself to the kind of pain his brother and father had put him through. It had taken a lot to see past the hurt they’d inflicted when he was young and to try to build bridges with them in the first place. The fact they’d turned on him again had only cemented his reluctance to trust anyone.

“Stay another night,” he said. “Let’s take it day by day. That’s all I can offer.”

She hesitated. “I have my own stuff to deal with, like I told you.”

“Working out your own tune.”

“That’s right. I have a plan to get started on. But I also think we owe it to ourselves to see what this might be.” She uncrossed her arms to indicate the space between them.

“Then let’s do that.” He nodded, making his mind up. “Now the conference is over, I could take the day off and we can spend it together. No financial agreement in place, but no promises either. Just you and me, seeing how it works out.”

“What would we do?”

His first thought was to take her back to bed. Of course it was, she was so damn sexy it drove him crazy. But spending a day in the sack wouldn’t settle anything. She had yet to see what having as much money as he did was really like. Maybe it was about time he showed her, and if it didn’t change things between them, perhaps he could think about trusting her.

“Let’s go away overnight. You’ll need to pack a bag.” She raised her eyebrows, but he shook his head. “Wait and see.”

A couple of years ago, he’d bought a small island near the tropical Whitsunday Island group, just a couple of hours away. He employed a live-in housekeeper, so his island home was kept ready for whenever he needed a day or two to unwind. The sand was perfectly white, and the water as blue as Meghan’s eyes. He kept wind-surfers, jet skis, and other pleasure craft there, and usually had his chef travel with him. As hard as he worked, he needed one place to indulge himself, otherwise what was the point?

They could take his jet to Hamilton Island, then transfer to his motor yacht and sail to the Great Barrier Reef to snorkel and have lunch. To top it off, he’d have Freya arrange some live music for a candlelit dinner on his private beach. Enough big-name musicians owed him a favor that they’d have no trouble finding someone impressive enough to blow Meghan’s mind.

He couldn’t wait to see Meghan’s face when she realized what he had in store for her. And there was no need to feel guilty about testing her. It would be a reality check to help her understand who he really was and what she’d be letting herself in for.