CHAPTER FOUR – BECKETT
I remember a board meeting from when I was just starting out. I was terrified. We were on the edge of bankruptcy and I had to tell the board, risking that some of them would pull out, bankrupting us and ground the venture forever. The memory came back to me now because when she faced me I felt a shiver of that same fear I felt then. Fear of rejection on a grand scale.
I couldn’t quite believe I felt that way. After all, this was a deception—it wasn’t really marriage, for goodness sakes! But somehow the thought of those caramel eyes frosting over and her walking out forever wounded me.
“Mr. Sand,” she said quietly. “That is…an interesting suggestion. But I couldn’t do that. No.”
“It’s not for actual…you know…sexy stuff,” I said with an attempt at a laugh. “It’s for tax purposes, really. For PR and for the company. Nothing more.”
Her mouth formed that little “o” that, earlier, would have set my loins on fire. Right now, I was too nervous for that.
“What?” she said, sounding shocked. “Why?”
I sighed. I had a story ready to explain it, but I had hoped I wouldn’t need it. The justification was a bit lame, really, and she would probably not believe me. I cleared my throat and took the plunge, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Well, it’s like this. Marriage encourages investor confidence. It makes you look stable and successful. I was married, as you might know. Then I divorced.” It was hard to say it. My throat still hurt a bit, like coughing glass. “So, you know, my career took a bit of a knock back then and, with all these ventures, especially in some of the countries we’re reaching out to, I thought I’d better marry again. It just looks better”
She was frowning and I held my breath. It sounded really silly.
“Well, you might actually meet someone you wanted to marry,” she pointed out fairly.
I nodded. “I might,” he agreed. “But not soon enough. This is a critical time in my company’s future and I need someone to travel with.”
“Oh? Traveling where?”
I tried to stifle a smile. The little “o” was there, only this time, she looked interested, not affronted. She was clearly adventurous, at least. Like me.
If I’d thought about it, I would have taken offense: the possibility of holidaying in Barbados was clearly more attractive than, well, me. But at that moment I was just pleased she didn’t hate me and would listen.
“Traveling east, mostly. I have a meeting in Singapore,” I explained, “and then later in Thailand, and…”
“Sounds amazing,” she breathed. “I’ve always liked the sound of Singapore. So high-tech and sophisticated. At least, people say that,” she added, with a little shrug of a pretty shoulder.
“It is,” I nodded, before I could think about it. “Super clean and efficient.”
“Cool.”
I blinked and shook myself a little. I had only just met her, and I was talking as if we’d known each other for ages. It had been ages since I’d have an honest conversation with anyone. The only person I still talked to like that, besides Cameron, my longtime buddy, was my dear daughter, Estella. And even she had been a bit distant recently.
“It is,” I agreed, trying desperately to pull back a bit, get a handle on this craziness before it swept all my sound rationality aside. “So. What do you say to this opportunity?”
“Well,” Ms. Morris asked, still watching me, “do I get a date? I mean, a start date,” she said. She had blushed bright red, the color slowly rising along her throat. Her discomfort at the word “date” was cute and I couldn’t help smiling.
“You do. Do you have a notice period for your job?” I asked.
“I do,” she said. “Today.”
“Oh.” I was surprised. “That’s…unusual.”
“Well, I’m freelancing, so I just need to finish the contracts I have now. Which is two or three, but I guess I can wrap them up while I’m starting here? If that’s okay,” she added, straightening up a little.
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding stiffly. My eyes had fallen, watching her blush, on the topmost button of her shirt, which was gaping a little, showing a hint of her fabulous decolletage. I coughed and made my eyes look up at the wall.
“Okay,” she agreed, pushing back her chair and standing up. “Well, then. Shall I report tomorrow?”
She had just assumed control of the situation without even trying. She had also done it in a way that made her very much on the subservient side. “Report” made it sound like some kind of military exercise and implied she was here to take orders.
The thought was arousing, and I swallowed hard, trying to get the naughty images out of my mind. This was ridiculous. It was a crazy interview for a mad job, and here I was letting my imagination take flight? Come on, Beckett. R. Sand. Get yourself focused.
I coughed, clearing the lump that had suddenly arranged itself over my larynx. “Do that,” I said.
She looked a bit surprised. The sudden change of tone had felt as foreign to her as it had to me.
“Now that I’ve told you,” I said, remembering something, “I must ask you to sign this.”
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“I need to know you won’t say anything of this to anyone. It’s a confidentiality agreement.”
“Oh.”
I passed her the paper I’d brought out with me. She read it, holding it up to her eyes. While she was distracted I studied her figure more closely. She had fabulous curves, I had to admit. After a moment she finished reading and looked up at me, a frown on her brow.
“This means I’m agreeing not to disclose to anyone what you just told me. Right?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Either don’t tell, or face immediate legal action.”
She frowned, considering this. “I don’t think anyone would believe me, anyway. It’s not like there’s proof of this.”
“Nice point,” I observed. “Well, I’d rather you signed it. Just in case.”
“Okay.”
Her immediate agreement was a surprise. And a bit of a disappointing, I had to admit. I had been looking forward to a verbal battle with her. Though I might come off worse.
“Thanks,” I said. I put the form down and she looked for a pen. I handed her mine. Her fingers were smooth and tapered, the nails pared back severely, one nail a little ragged, as if she bit them still. They touched mine. I felt a surprising jolt of electricity go through me. Beckett Sand, be serious.
“There,” she said, pushing the pen and paper away. “All done.”
“Okay,” I blinked. “That was fast. Now. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Will we say here, tomorrow, at nine?”
“Make it ten,” I said quickly. “I have a meeting from nine to ten.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “And…thanks.”
I frowned. “Not at all. Welcome to Sand Corporation, Miss. Morris.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I look forward to it.”
She had such a naughty smile, her lip slightly moist from where she had bitten it during the signing process. Her eyes shone with a sort of teasing merriment that sparked off arousal. I felt the blood flow to places it really shouldn’t have been at this time. I needed all my blood in my brain. Let’s say that wasn’t where it was now.
“Good day, Miss. Morris.”
“Good day, Mr. Sand.”
I sighed. “Beckett,” I corrected.
She frowned. “Beckett?”
“Well, it’s my name. If we’re going to do this you might as well get used to it. Yes?”
“Yes, sir!” she smiled, then flushed again. “Though I haven’t actually agreed yet.”
I frowned. “You haven’t?”
“No,” she responded wryly. I may have imagined it, but was there a teasing note there? “I have not.”
I sighed. “You have until tomorrow at ten in the morning to make up your mind. And sharply, please. In all things, I require punctuality first and foremost.”
“See you tomorrow at precisely ten, then.”
I might have been hearing things, but I’m sure that when she said that, she was laughing.