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CHAPTER THREE

SALLY’S stomach was in knots. Her mother would tear her to shreds when she got home. But it wasn’t their home anymore. It belonged to Jack Maguire. Everything did. And if she could save something from this total annihilation of all she’d known, why not give it a chance?

So what if he was intent on dishing out some humiliation! He’d taken it for years, being treated as an outcast from the family. She could take it, too. At least, she would find out what was on his mind, satisfy some of the interest he’d evoked in her.

“Would you like me to be present for this discussion?” the solicitor asked, jolting Sally into wheeling around to face Jack, her gaze whizzing to him for an answer.

“No, thank you, Victor. If I need to formalise an arrangement with Sally, I’ll come back to you,” he said smoothly, his handsome face showing nothing of his private thoughts. He smiled at her, charmingly persuasive, causing the knots in her stomach to develop flutters. “I thought we could ride up to the Skyroom Restaurant at the top of this building and chat informally over lunch. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes,” she said. It seemed a very civilised arrangement to her. She didn’t want this man to be an enemy, and hopefully, by spinning out lunch as long as possible, she could surely get a lot of information about him. Maybe even change his mind about the eviction order, or get it extended. Certainly being antagonistic was not going to win anything back from him. Perhaps nothing would, but at least this was a chance to try.

“Good!” A satisfied nod before addressing the solicitor again. “Thank you for your services this morning, Victor. Masterly, as always.”

The solicitor harrumphed and waved them to the opened door where he still stood after seeing her mother and Jane out of the meeting room. Sally thanked him, too, as she passed him by, aware that his courtesy and diplomacy had not received any appreciation from her family. Shock didn’t really excuse people behaving badly, she thought, wishing her mother had maintained some dignity instead of flying off the handle so aggressively. It didn’t help the situation. It only reinforced Jack Maguire’s inclination to be merciless.

He fell into step beside her in the corridor leading to the elevators, instantly making his presence felt. He didn’t touch her, but the power of the man swept every other thought out of her mind, filling it with a whirl of speculation about what he might want with her. He couldn’t really care about the horses. Nor could he really care about her. Yet … her whole body literally tingled with nervous anticipation.

They stepped into the elevator together. He pressed the button for the restaurant, then slanted a teasing little smile at her as the doors closed. “You don’t always obey your mother’s commands?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she said, her chin instinctively lifting in a tilt of self-determination.

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, a devilish appreciation of the fact twinkling from his vivid blue eyes.

Sally’s breath caught in her throat. Was this luncheon invitation more about them—an exploration of an attraction that had nothing to do with the horses? He’d called her beautiful yesterday. But he couldn’t have really meant it.

Her mother’s warning rang in her ears … You can’t trust a word he says!

Nevertheless, Sally’s eyes were telling her he looked absolutely fabulous in his navy pinstripe suit, and every female hormone she had was buzzing with excitement at the possibility of a sexual connection with this man. However mad and bad of her it was to be even considering such a thing with Jack Maguire, she couldn’t help what he made her feel, though a strong streak of self-respect demanded some caution about showing the impact he had on her.

“You said you lunched regularly with my father,” she recalled, wondering if they’d dined in the Skyroom Restaurant together. “Did the two of you become close over the years?”

“Not in any father-and-son sense,” came the dry reply, accompanied by a flash of irony. “He came to view me as a competitor in the business world and liked to keep tabs on what I was doing.”

“You must have kept tabs on what he was doing, as well,” Sally remarked, pointedly adding, “for you to step in and offer a rescue package.”

“Yes.” It was a matter-of-fact reply, no elaboration offered.

“He must have been grateful to you,” Sally prodded.

His laugh was derisive. So were his eyes. “He hated it. Quite simply, the alternative to not taking my offer was worse.”

“Why did you do it?” It was the most pertinent question, going directly to the heart of the man.

“Oh, there was a certain piquancy about getting by force what was denied me in any natural way,” he drawled, watching her reaction with glittering interest.

To Sally, it was sad that he had never been able to achieve the natural relationship he had sought with his father. Lost years when he was in America, years of trying after he’d returned to Australia, the continual sense of rejection …. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted, Jack,” she said softly.

His face tightened. His eyes narrowed to sizzling slits. He didn’t like her sympathy, didn’t want it. Sally tensed, expecting some kind of hit back at her, but the moment of venom passed and mockery took its place.

“But I did, Sally. With the bonus of taking from your mother the hallowed home which I was never allowed to darken.”

The little hope in her heart died. There would be no softening over the eviction.

“Would you have darkened it if the welcome mat had been put out for you?” she asked, remembering the day he had been turned away.

He shrugged. “If I had ever been welcomed in my father’s home, many things might have been different. As it is … people reap what they sow.” His lips twitched in sardonic amusement. “And I make a very good Grim Reaper.”

Dark and diabolical.

A little shiver ran down Sally’s spine.

Was her mother right? Should she leave now, not listen to any deal he might put to her? Was she playing into his hands—hands that couldn’t be trusted—by staying with him?

The elevator came to a halt.

The doors slid open.

He gestured for her to precede him out of the compartment.

Her gaze flicked up to his, fearful, uncertain. The biting blue eyes glittered with challenge, calling her a coward if she failed to respond. Her feet moved forward even while her heart hammered at the thought she was walking straight into a lion’s den. But they would be surrounded by other people while they had lunch. It wasn’t as though they’d be really alone, she told herself, so what harm could come to her?

She let him escort her into the restaurant and pretended to be captivated by its spectacular view over Sydney as they were led to a table for two and seated comfortably in plush armchairs upholstered in blue. It truly was a sky room. Even the blue and white décor was designed to make the occupants feel they were floating on clouds, looking down on the world. A waiter handed them luncheon menus and took an order of two glasses of champagne from Jack before leaving them to decide on what they wanted to eat.

She looked at him then—the man who now owned everything her father had built—her eyes deriding his choice of drink. “Do you expect me to toast your victory, Jack?”

He laughed, amused by her defiance. It lightened his face, making him look wickedly attractive, causing Sally’s pulse to skitter into a wild beat. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and he seemed amused by that, too, enjoying the power he was exerting over her.

“I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he drawled.

“The king is dead. Long live the king?” she shot back at him, bridling against any levity over her father’s death.

He shook his head, his expression sobering. “Did you love him, Sally?”

She hesitated, realising she had not really been grieving over her father’s death, the initial shock of it gradually giving way to apprehension about what it would mean to her own and Jane’s lives. Sir Leonard Maguire had been more like a dominating presence, someone who demanded his due for what he gave, rather than a father who naturally inspired a caring closeness. His coldness towards Jane had not endeared him to Sally.

“He was not an easy man to love,” she said truthfully. “But there were some good times with him.”

“Did he love you?”

Again she was thrown into examining her relationship with the man who had denied Jack any love, which made her acutely aware of the wound she might give if she answered yes. Though she didn’t think that was the truth anyway.

“He was not the kind of man to show open affection,” she answered slowly. “But I know he liked me and was proud of my achievements in showjumping.”

“You performed for him,” Jack commented sardonically.

Pride made her say, “I performed more for myself.”

He nodded. “Earning his approval.”

She couldn’t deny it. The best times with her father had been when she’d won. If she made mistakes, rode badly, disappointed him … he turned away from her as though she didn’t belong to him. Which always hurt no matter how much she mentally armoured herself against it, silently vowing she’d do better next time.

“What about Jane?”

Too many hurts there. Despite all her younger sister’s efforts to please their father, Sally had always felt Jane, at best, was only ever tolerated by him, but she wasn’t about to say so, to lay out Jane’s problems to a man who had every reason not to care about them, might even find some satisfaction in the misery of one of the adopted daughters.

“We’re not here to talk about my sister,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Just curious. My mother said he had no love in him. Which was certainly my experience. I wondered if it was true for you and Jane.”

It gave her pause for thought. Was he simply trying to make sense of what had happened between him and their father? It was difficult to make comparisons. Sir Leonard had expected them to perform for him, all in their separate ways. He had provided them with everything and they had shown their appreciation by keeping his home life as pleasant as they could. It was what their mother had trained them to do. He had been the lynch pin around which their lives had revolved. Now that he was gone, they were adrift.

She hadn’t ever loved her father. What had always been instilled in her was a respect for who he was—the rich powerful man who had given her the chance to do what she wanted and applauded her for it. She didn’t love her mother, either, having picked up from early childhood that “dutiful daughter” was the role she was required to fulfil, never a needy one wanting too much time and attention. She and Jane had been well and truly taught their place in the Maguire household.

But what was their place now?

The sense of loss crashed down on her again.

Would Jack Maguire offer some kind of life raft for her to cling to?

“Is there any love in you?” she asked, searching his face for a soft answer.

There was none. “I loved my mother. She died when I was twenty,” he stated grimly.

Before he returned to Australia and ran straight into the stonewall rejection of both his father and stepmother. A life emptied of any family, she thought, his natural place taken by her and Jane. Did he hate them for it?

“Do you love Lady Ellen, Sally?”

She sighed, a heavy weight dragging on her heart. “What was done to you was wrong—shutting you out of our lives—but you wouldn’t have fitted into my mother’s regime, Jack.”

“She was the queen and you had to pay homage to her?”

She winced at the description but was unable to deny how apt it was. “There were rules made. Rules that had to be kept for the sake of harmony in the home.”

“And now? When there is no home?” he pushed, leaning forward, keenly interested in her reply.

She managed an ironic smile. “The whole basis for those rules no longer exists. We face chaos.”

He returned the ironic smile as he relaxed back in his chair. “Not necessarily. Not you, Sally.”

His eyes simmered with the promise of other possibilities. The singling out of herself made her feel uneasy. “What do you mean … not me?”

The waiter interrupted, serving them with glasses of champagne, asking for their luncheon choices. Sally glanced distractedly at the menu and picked out the fish dish, thinking it would be the easiest to eat. Jack casually ordered the same, plus a platter of hors d’oeuvres for starters. The waiter departed and Sally stared at Jack, waiting to be enlightened. He picked up his glass of champagne in a teasing toast.

“Let’s drink to a harmonious settlement between us.”

“Like what?” she demanded, tentatively reaching for her glass, hoping he would offer something acceptable.

His eyes weighed up her eagerness. “What do you want me to offer you, Sally?” he asked.

“You said we’d talk about the horses,” she swiftly reminded him.

“You love your horses.”

“Yes, I do.”

He cocked a challenging eyebrow. “More than you love Lady Ellen?”

She frowned, not wanting to make any comparison.

“You’ve already taken one step away from her in your desire to keep what you’ve had,” he pointed out. “I’m wondering how many steps you’re prepared to take.” His mouth formed a very sensual moue. “Will you throw in your lot with me or will you run home to Mummy?”

Sally bridled at the thought of running home to Mummy. Her parting remark “I wash my hands of you” typified her mother’s tyrannical attitude: Do what I say or suffer the consequences. Becoming her whipping boy for the loss of what she had believed would be her inheritance did not appeal, and Sally had no doubt that would be her role. And Jane’s. If they remained dependent on her mother for anything.

“I have my own life to live,” she said, determined on finding a way to do it. “That’s a third choice, Jack, which doesn’t involve either you or my mother.”

“A brave choice … starting from nothing,” he remarked, his eyes sceptical of her ability to make good on her own.

“How did you start?” she threw back at him, wanting to know how he’d come to be so wealthy.

He ignored the question, boring in on her. “You’re twenty-four years old, Sally, with no training for anything apart from a sport which requires a great deal of financial backing. What do you see yourself doing with your life?”

“Did you have financial backing?” she persisted, having had too little time to think about her own situation to make a list of employment possibilities.

“A stable hand?” he mocked, still boring in on her. “Looking after other people’s horses?”

“I could be hired to ride them. That’s done in showjumping competition,” she said belligerently.

“Second-string horses? At the whim of another owner? Whom you might disappoint?” He shook his head. “Not what you’re used to, Sally.”

She flushed at the reminder of how easy it had been for her, while he. “How did you start?” she repeated insistently.

He shrugged. “I found I had a talent for poker. I won millions of dollars at poker tournaments around the world. When I’d built up a big enough stake, I diversified, finding investments that turned a quick profit. It’s all about playing the percentages.”

His eyes targeted hers with riveting intensity. “Throwing your lot in with me is a much higher percentage play for you than trying to find work at the bottom of the pile.”

It felt as though a jackhammer was attacking her heart. Jack Maguire was intent on making her choose to do what he wanted. She suddenly knew that with absolute certainty. Whether it would be another triumph for him to draw her away from her family and plant her at his side, or whether he was simply acting on an attraction he wanted to satisfy, she didn’t know. Maybe both.

“You haven’t told me what throwing my lot in with you entails,” she said, trying her utmost to look as though she was objectively weighing up the situation and not helplessly affected by a hormonal rush of excitement.

His mouth curved into a quirky little smile. “Sir Leonard’s secretary told me that when my father flew home each evening, Lady Ellen always met him at the property’s helipad, beautifully dressed for dinner and with a martini in hand ready to pass it to him. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“She devotedly serviced all his needs.”

The sexual glitter in his eyes played havoc with her nerves.

“I don’t know what went on in their bedroom,” she blurted out.

“Oh, I have no doubt Sir Leonard got whatever he wanted. That was Lady Ellen’s power. Why would a man give up being king of his castle for a son who couldn’t give him what his wife did? My father played the percentages, too.”

Love didn’t come into it, she thought. Love wouldn’t come into any proposition Jack Maguire laid out, either. The butterflies in her stomach folded their wings, leaving it feeling strangely hollow. Yet the sense that her future was bound up with this man did not go away.

The waiter returned, set a platter of hors d’oeuvres on the table between them, checked that their glasses of champagne didn’t need refilling, and left them alone again.

“The situation is this, Sally,” Jack said, leaning forward to pick up a smoked salmon roll and move it to the side of the plate. “That represents your horses.” Egg and caviar on a little circle of toast was similarly shifted.

“The facilities you use—stables, horse truck, training field.” A quiche tartlet followed. “Financial support, vet fees, showjumping competition fees, all operational costs.” Sun-dried tomato on mozzarella. “Sole mistress of the house you have always called home, overseeing its running and the running of the property, with the same staff if they want to stay, hiring others if they want to leave. A generous salary for you to maintain the status quo …”

He went on and on, moving the hors d’ouevres to one side in a slow, mesmerising fashion, listing the privileges she had enjoyed and adding the responsibilities which had previously been her mother’s. When there was only one small delicacy left untouched, he lifted his gaze to hers, intent on pushing the decision he wanted.

“You can have the loaded side of the plate—” He pointed to the lone, untouched crab tartlet “—or you can go with Lady Ellen. One or the other, Sally.”

No bending on that point. She could feel his ruthless drive to cut her mother out, to cut her to the quick by replacing her with one of the daughters she’d adopted to replace him in his father’s life.

Sally stared down at the almost empty side of the plate, knowing if she took his deal, she would probably never see her mother again, forever branded as an ungrateful traitor. She was probably that already by agreeing to this lunch with him.

Her gaze shifted to the life he was offering … so tempting. But could he be trusted to deliver on his word if she took his deal? What if he only meant to create as much disharmony in her family as he could and she was being suckered into playing a role in his vengeful game?

She gestured to the loaded side, her eyes searching his for some indication of his motivation. “What do you get out of this, Jack?”

He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a whimsical look that seemed to be mocking himself for whatever was driving him. The expression in his eyes slowly changed, gathering a hypnotic intensity. She felt the force of the man being channelled straight into her, reaching for her heart, her mind, her soul, determined on bending her to his will. Then he spoke the words she had secretly wanted to hear.

“I get you, Sally.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JACK felt the charge of adrenaline that invariably accompanied risking his hand in a high-stakes poker game. Would she go all in or would she fold?

A tide of heat washed up her lovely long neck. Her cheeks bloomed with colour, making the green of her eyes more pronounced—eyes that had unmistakably telegraphed interest in him. Jack knew he was an attractive package to women, especially with wealth heightening his sex appeal. She shouldn’t baulk at having him added to the deal, not with so much else being offered, but at only twenty-four, she might still be young enough to be nursing romantic ideals.

Love and marriage were not on the table.

He had no intention of holding them out to her.

She took a deep breath. Her eyes didn’t waver from his. There was no pretending she didn’t know what he meant in them. She was taking it in, sifting through what it would mean to her. He found himself surprisingly tense as he waited for her reply, willing her to give in to him. In the end she didn’t answer him, choosing to do a bit of probing herself.

“Why me?”

Not “no.” Not “yes,” either. It was an astute question, delving into his motivation. He’d never paid for sex in his life, not in such an upfront fashion as this. Occasionally gifts afterwards, in appreciation of pleasure given. So why was he prepared to lay out so much for Sally Maguire?

Because she wouldn’t come to the man who’d stripped her of everything.

He had to give back in order to make it possible, and what it cost didn’t matter to him.

But she could take the view he was setting her up as his whore. Her pride might get in the way if he left the deal too cut-and-dried. Better to colour it with feelings she could empathise with. Women related to emotion and Sally had shown considerable sensitivity to the injustice to him in their family situation.

“I believe you would have welcomed me home,” he said softly. “I think you’ve been very conscious of the fact that I was not allowed any place at the Yarramalong property and didn’t think it was right. Is that so, Sally?”

She nodded.

“You alone,” he emphasised.

“I don’t think Jane would have minded,” she said quickly.

Jane—she cared very much about her sister—a victim in the Maguire household. Jack was certain of it now, given the pained look on Sally’s face when he’d asked if Jane had been loved. She would want to save her more fragile sister from any further abuse from Lady Ellen. Oddly enough, he did, too. No one should remain a victim of that woman. If he gave Sally more than enough money to cover both sisters’ needs, it should achieve two purposes—Jane’s freedom and Sally’s compliance with his plan.

“Jane would not be here with me, as you are,” he pointed out.

She knew it as well as he did. The younger adopted daughter had scuttled after her mother like a frightened mouse. Before Sally could say any more in defence of her sister, he went on describing what he hoped was a seductive vision.

“It’s you I feel a connection with, Sally. I remember watching you jumping your horse all those years ago. Poetry in motion. I like the idea of your being there, keeping everything up as it was. Only, this time it would be there for me, too. Not that I intend to live at the property with you, but I’d like to visit from time to time, feel the sense of homecoming that my father always enjoyed.” He constructed a whimsical little smile. “Being welcomed with a smile and a martini. Going riding with you. Enjoying your company. That sounds very good to me.”

“You ride?”

It wasn’t so much probing for more information this time but a spark of pleasure in the idea that they could share something other than a bedroom. Which they could. He would enjoy riding with her.

“Much of my youth was spent on a horse. I worked on my stepfather’s ranch before and after school. I could certainly help you exercise your horses,” he offered with a smile.

She smiled back.

It was an instinctive response, almost immediately quashed.

She wasn’t won yet, but Jack knew he was making ground with her. Besides, if the idea of being available for occasional sex with him had been totally unpalatable, she would have slapped him down with a definite no by now. The weird part was he found the vision he’d laid out for her very seductive himself. Having places to live—even palatial penthouse apartments—had always been nothing more than conveniences for him. Could Sally Maguire give him a sense of coming home? It would be interesting to find out.

The waiter reappeared, gesturing to the uneaten hors d’oeuvres. “Is there something wrong, sir?”

Jack wickedly waved to the loaded side of the plate. “Would you like to sample one, Sally?”

She shook her head.

Not ready to commit herself yet, Jack thought. He was tempted to eat the one representing her monster mother, but decided that might be too in-her-face offensive. “Take it away,” he instructed the waiter. “We’ll enjoy the main course when it comes.”

The waiter removed the plate and himself.

Silence from Sally, her beautiful eyes downcast, hands in her lap, sitting very straight, closed in upon herself … thinking what?

Jack tossed up whether he should push or be patient. He needed to know how her mind was working so he could counter any negatives and drive forward on the positives. Silence gave him nothing.

“Do we have a deal, Sally?” he asked quietly, forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

The veiling lashes slowly lifted. Bright green eyes looked directly at him, sharply intelligent eyes that demanded no evasion. “Do you see me as family—a sister you’d like to have—or are you intent on having me as your kept woman on the side, for as long as I give you satisfaction?”

Heat raced into her cheeks again as she bluntly voiced the second option. Her chin tilted defiantly. She was determined on getting the unvarnished truth from him, regardless of how much heartburn it gave her.

She was gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

And she was skewering him with those eyes.

The sense of walking a tightrope to get to the end he wanted was very strong. “Hardly a kept woman when you will be earning your keep,” he answered. “And I have no doubt you will run the property to my satisfaction. Would a manager’s salary of a hundred thousand dollars a year be acceptable?”

He didn’t care if it took him the whole year to get Sally Maguire, have her he would.

“A hundred thousand?” she repeated incredulously.

It had to be more than enough to set Jane up independently, as well as looking after Sally’s personal needs. He’d already promised to take care of all other expenses. Right now it probably sounded suspiciously too much, but give her enough time to think about what she could do with that money …

“It’s a very valuable property,” he reminded her. “Worth millions. I want it to hold its value. I’m sure you’ll do your best to maintain it as it should be maintained. I trust you to do that. And to ensure you can trust me to deliver on my word, we can go back to Victor Newell after lunch and have him draw up a legal contract between us.”

“For a year,” she murmured, weighing it up in her mind.

“To begin with.” He might want her longer than that. Already the excitement of the chase was firing up his blood. He suspected if he spun out the time with her, she could keep him very enticingly engaged. More so than any other woman he’d known.

Her eyes refocused on his. The distraction of the tempting contract was clearly set aside. ‘You didn’t answer my first question, Jack.’

Straight back to the sexual angle!

The devil in him prompted a provocative question. “Would you like me to treat you as my sister, Sally?”

“I’m not,” she replied so quickly, so emphatically, he almost laughed with a heady sense of triumph. The woman in her was definitely responding to the man in him.

He brought the burst of exhilaration under control and gave her some rope to hang on to. “That’s not my view of you, either. However, let me assure you I’ve never bought sex from a woman. As I said, I would like to be welcomed by you whenever I visit the property, but …” He shrugged. “Is that too much to ask of you?”

She frowned. “No. As my employer, you’d be entitled to a ready welcome.”

So sleeping with the boss was okay?

It was what her mother had done.

Was Sally Maguire of the same ilk?

Time would tell.

All he needed from her at this point was a yes to the contract, which would give him the open door to pursuing her at his leisure. He leaned forward, bringing all the force of his personality into play.

“Seize the day, Sally!”

Seize the day ….

Sally wanted to. It was a plum job. A hundred thousand dollars a year, with all expenses paid, being able to carry on what she loved doing. And with that amount of money at her disposal, she could support Jane through her last two semesters at university, pay her part of the rent on the apartment she shared with other students, give her an allowance, set it up so she was completely independent of their mother and her demands. It would give her sister the chance of making a life of her own, free of the rants and raves over the knock of fortune that would inevitably make their mother mean.

Sally had no illusions on that score. However, she did feel confused about what Jack wanted from her. Was it the home he’d never had? He wouldn’t pay so much for sex with her, would he? He was so attractive, he could have plenty of women for nothing—truly beautiful women, like those she’d seen photographed with him at high-society events.

Were those devilish blue eyes really twinkling with sexy excitement at the prospect of her getting into bed with him, or did he give any passably attractive woman that look as a matter of course? Passably attractive was all she could be to him.

Carrots they’d called her at school because of her wretchedly unruly red curls sticking out everywhere.And she hated having the pasty white skin that always needed multi applications of blockout cream to prevent burning or, horror of horrors to her mother, freckling. She was more an oddity than a beauty. Yesterday she’d been sure he’d only called her beautiful at the funeral to spite her mother, and that was definitely the more likely truth.