Shanahan's Revenge Page 4

  She studied Sam Shanahan now. There was no hint of the mood of their previous meeting in his personable smile, and his eyes, so hard and bleak at the airstrip, looked almost friendly. He wore a well-cut dark suit, which enhanced rather than hid the power and vitality of his body, and his hair had a tamed look. Henry clapped him on the shoulder again.

  ‘Why don’t you two have a cup of coffee together, have a chat before the meeting starts? We’re all one big happy family here, aren’t we, Kate m’ love?’

  Kate managed a weak smile, then patted Henry on the arm, reminding herself that he’d known her since babyhood and was her godfather. He meant well and she knew he always had her best interests at heart. And given the circumstances, he was busily overcompensating because Kate was family, in the broad sense of the word.

  Not a stranger, like Sam Shanahan.

  Kate took a deep breath. She wasn’t afraid of Sam Shanahan—wouldn’t let herself be afraid. She tilted her head slightly so her eyes met his in undisguised challenge.

  ‘We’re rivals for the same job, Sam, but I intend it to be a fair fight and there’s no reason for this process to be anything other than perfectly civilised—’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to be anything other than perfectly civilised, Kate.’ She saw the hint of laughter in his eyes and resisted the impulse to kick him.

  ‘Henry, shall I pour a cup for you too?’ Kate glanced from her godfather to the sideboard, which held coffee and an assortment of savouries and buttered muffins.

  ‘Be with you in a minute, sweetheart. I’ve got a quick call to make.’ Henry winked as he fished his phone from his pocket, and Kate guessed it was time for his morning call to the TAB. She led Sam to the sideboard, annoyed to see that all the other board members had somehow gravitated to the other end of the room. She would be alone with him. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out to pour coffee.

  ‘I’m pleased to see you in happier circumstances, Kate.’ He took the cup from her and reached for a small sausage roll, which he demolished in one mouthful.

  ‘Happier circumstances?’ She spoke barely above a whisper. ‘I killed your horse, for God’s sake. And you must have known who I was, and that we’d likely meet sooner or later. Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘I was angry, Kate. I handled it all wrong—’

  ‘Wrong? Wrong?’ She stared at him then spoke quickly and quietly. ‘So did I. The other day, when you rang, I slammed the phone down on you. I thought … well, you don’t really want to know what I thought.’ I thought you were a low-life blackmailer. It would be merciful if the pure wool boardroom carpet, tastefully woven with McPherson’s logo, would simply open up and swallow her, Kate thought.

  ‘I got some things wrong that day at the airstrip, Kate, and in the heat of the moment …’

  Kate’s mouth was suddenly dry. She ran the tip of her tongue around her lips, and instantly regretted the action. He stood close to her and she remembered the heat clearly, too clearly. His eyes darkened to an inky blue and she knew he remembered too. She was painfully aware of the contrast between the steady rise and fall of his chest and the increasing beat of her own heart.

  ‘I said some harsh things, and for them I apologise. I think we should start again.’ He leaned forward, watching her intently.

  Kate swallowed hard. Her throat felt lumpy. She dared not move, and for a second he stood so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her bare neck and smell the clean fresh scent of his skin.

  ‘We need to talk.’ His voice was conciliatory, but urgent, close to her ear. ‘There’s something I must explain. Are you free for lunch today?’

  She remembered her dream, and the sensual slide of his body against hers.

  ‘No! No thank you.’ She improvised swiftly. ‘I’m busy. Girls’ lunch out.’ Desperately, she wanted to run, lock herself in her office, plead sick—anything, as long as it meant never having to see him again. But she was Kate McPherson, heir apparent to the family firm. She mustn’t allow her control—or her dignity—to slip. She put her untouched cup of coffee on the sideboard and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.

  ‘Forget what happened at the airstrip.’ He put his cup down beside hers. ‘All of it. It’s finished with.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. You’ve applied for the job. You have animals on my grandparents’ farm. There must be a connection but I’m not seeing it. What’s going on?’

  He glanced across at the gaggle of directors bearing down on them, then back to her.

  ‘Not now, Kate. I’ll explain later.’ He said her name softly, as if he was familiar with her, as if he had a right to speak her name in that caressing voice. You’ve kissed him like a lover, therefore he probably does feel familiar with you, intoned a smart little voice in her head.

  A shiver ran through her as she remembered the kiss: her response and his, and for the hundredth time she wished she’d let him simply kiss her cheek, and then, at that point, she could easily have broken the contact. She looked at his eyes, intent on hers, and at his mouth, and she wanted to scream. Instead she looked away and stepped back as Henry arrived with some directors for more introductions.

  Presently, the chairman called the meeting to order and Kate took her place at the boardroom table. She busied herself pouring water into a glass from the crystal jug in front of her, all the while stealing glances at the tall man at the opposite end of the table. Relaxed and smiling, he waited until all the directors were seated before sitting down himself. Once the formal introductions were over, he stood again to talk about his previous work and answer questions.

  Kate’s heart sank: Sam Shanahan was good, very good. He spoke with grace and far more ease than she would have expected from someone putting their head on the block, so to speak, for such an important job. He knew his stuff, and all around the table she saw heads nodding in approval. She could see her job as chief of the company, the role she wanted so much, slipping away with each smooth word he uttered. They’re hanging on his every syllable, she thought.

  She knew exactly what they saw: a man in his prime, a man ripe for leadership. And where did that leave her? She felt a coldness around her heart. The youngest board member was fifty-five, and many were well past sixty. She was a mere girl in many of their eyes—a girl liked, trusted and respected—but a girl when all was said and done. Whereas he was a man’s man.

  He’d shaved the stubbly sheen of whiskers he’d sported the day Trojan had died, but even clean-shaven he had a faint shadow of black, which emphasised the strength of his jaw. He was good-looking—not in a pretty-boy movie star way, Kate thought, but in the hard way of a man who’s seen plenty of life. A little shiver ran up her spine.

  But he’s soft too, I’ve seen that. Here in the boardroom, his blue eyes, like chips of granite, spoke volumes of uncompromising intelligence and strength, but she remembered the tears clinging to his lashes after he’d shot Trojan. She watched him use his hands to describe something, and she saw them again, large and tender, caressing the dying horse, and for some stupid reason she began to wonder how they’d feel on her bare skin.

  ‘Kate? Kate?’ The voice was Henry’s.

  ‘Sorry.’ She cleared her throat and took a sip of water. ‘Can you say that again please?’

  ‘Sam here’s been invited to Rotorua tomorrow afternoon for the Forest Institute’s demo of the Swedish logging machine they’ve been trialling for New Zealand conditions. I was just saying that you and I are also travelling down for the demonstration. I thought perhaps we could travel together tomorrow morning. You, me and Sam.’

  Bloody hell! Had Henry flipped his lid? Kate thought quickly, her heart beating a ridiculous staccato. Two contenders for the same job travelling in a car together? On the other hand, they’d all decided—at her instigation—that this whole process could be civilised and fair. But with Sam Shanahan? Not fifty and running to fat, but lean, lithe and undeniably sexy. Christina was right!

  ‘I’m a
fraid I can’t make it at the time you’re leaving, Henry.’ She spoke too quickly and too loudly. ‘Something unexpected has cropped up for tomorrow morning. You and Sam go on ahead, I’ll come on down independently.’

  Too late, Kate saw the flash of triumph in Sam’s eyes.

  ‘As it happens,’ he said, ‘I can’t leave till later either, probably about midday. You can drive down with me, Kate.’

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ chimed in Henry. ‘Suits me to go on down early because Sandy—’ he turned towards Sam, ‘—that’s my good lady wife; Sandy’s already down there at our lake house, and if you’re travelling independently, I can stay on a few days with her. You two can follow when you’re ready, and while you’re driving down, I’m sure you can exchange notes on forestry practice here and overseas. Put the pair of you together and who knows what may happen?’

  Laughter erupted around the table. But Kate wasn’t laughing. She listened in horror to their chortling. How could they send her into the company of this snake in the grass whose smooth veneer of boardroom charm hid a wild, impulsive, dangerous character who wanted the job that should by rights be hers, and God knows what else …

  Kate McPherson was trapped. A refusal in front of the board would look petty and childish. She couldn’t possibly refuse. But the alternative, spending a number of hours in close contact with Sam Shanahan, was terrifying.

  ‘Sure.’ She hoped her shrug was sufficiently nonchalant, and added a yawn for good measure.

  ***

  She pretended not to see the hand he offered to help her up into the cab of the big Range Rover Sport four-wheel drive in the car park outside McPherson House next day. Instead, she nimbly pulled herself up into the seat and put on her seatbelt while he stowed her overnight bag in the back.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and Kate couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking towards him in involuntary appraisal.

  Black trousers, white short-sleeved polo shirt and black leather boots. Tanned arms, lived-in hands belonging obviously to an outdoor person rather than a pen pusher. Plain gold watch. Nothing fancy. No wedding ring. Quickly, she looked away; what did it matter whether he was wearing a wedding ring or not?

  ‘All comfy?’ He finished fastening his seat belt and turned towards her, smiling. His eyes sought hers, and she was close enough to see tiny flecks of gold in the sapphire irises. Her tension mounted.

  Overnight she’d convinced herself she would cope. But now that he was here beside her—smelling faintly but deliciously of something citrusy and fresh, smiling that smile with the mouth which had kissed her so devastatingly, and looking at her with eyes which conveyed the message that he really did care whether or not she was comfy—she felt the impending-earthquake feeling in her stomach again.

  Hey, Kate, wake up! The guy’s after the job that should be yours, after control of your family’s company. She breathed in as deeply as she dared, dragged her eyes from his, pulled on her sunnies and murmured, ‘Fine thanks.’

  ***

  To her surprise, she found herself relaxing a little as he drew her into comfortable, inconsequential conversation as they drove down the motorway then continued south through lush farmlands studded with sleek cattle and fat brood mares. Near Te Kauwhata, Sam pulled off the expressway and drove up to a roadside fruit shop, which had a sign out advertising coffee and food.

  ‘I missed lunch, I’m starving,’ he said. ‘Do you want something too?’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Kate shook her head. Driving to Rotorua with Sam Shanahan was one thing; shopping for lunch together was something else entirely. But she couldn’t help turning to watch him walk into the shop, long-legged and graceful. She looked away and when she looked back again, he was out of sight, inside the shop.

  Outside were display stands bursting with delicious-looking summer fruit. Kate couldn’t resist; she grabbed her handbag and jumped down from the Range Rover, and while he chose lunch from the food bar, she filled bags with peaches, nectarines and avocados, as a gift for Sandy, who’d asked her to stay tonight at the Cadogan’s lake house.

  The sun was warm on her arms as she walked back to the Range Rover, the scent of fruit fresh in her nostrils, and for a moment she forgot the turmoil of the last few days. She smiled to herself as she climbed back into Sam’s vehicle.

  While he tucked into his stuffed panini, she took a nectarine from the bag and bit into it. She closed her eyes, savouring the sweet, succulent flesh.

  ‘Yum,’ she sighed, swallowing the last mouthful and fishing a tissue from her bag.

  Sam dispatched the last of his panini, then turned to her and laughed.

  ‘You look like a big kid who’s spent the afternoon gorging in an orchard.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she groaned, laughing too, and flipped down the visor with its vanity mirror. But before she could dab at her mouth with the tissue, he reached towards her and wiped juice from the corner of her mouth with the serviette that came with the panini.

  She slapped his hand away and scrubbed at her mouth with the tissue, the laughter in the Range Rover dead and buried. She was angry, at him, but mostly at her own reaction—or overreaction, she told herself, though she was thankful, too, for the timely reminder. She mustn’t relax her guard.

  Saying nothing, she turned her body away from him, reapplied her lipstick, then, outwardly calm, straightened in the seat and fastened her seatbelt. ‘Let’s get going.’

  ‘No.’ He was grim. ‘There’s something I want to get clear before we go any further.’

  Kate tensed. ‘All right, let’s both get something clear. I—’

  ‘You either flinch like a scared rabbit whenever I come near you, or lash out. There’s no need. I’m thirty-four years old, for God’s sake, not an out-of-control teenager.’

  She turned back towards him, holding his gaze with hers. There was something she had to say, and now was as good a time as any. ‘I did something stupid. And for that I’m sorry. If we’re talking out-of-control teenagers, I have to put my hand up. Remember? The other day after—’

  ‘After I’d shot Trojan. I remember. Of course I remember. It wasn’t exactly a one-sided teenage moment, but if it makes you feel better, I’m willing to take full responsibility.’ He ran his hand through his hair in an impatient gesture. ‘I did something I’d never done before—at least not with a woman I’ve only known for fifteen minutes and especially not one I’m about to have business dealings with. Can’t explain it. No excuses. Guess you could say it was a reaction to a highly charged moment. And you looked so …’

  His hands made a little helpless gesture of contrition. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry. I can understand why you’re hostile.’

  ‘Hostile?’ Kate felt the heat of anger rising on her cheeks. ‘I’ve been very unhostile, in my opinion, considering.’

  ‘Considering?’

  ‘Yes, considering … you … you let me kiss you, you kissed me back, knowing who I was, knowing that I didn’t know you from a bar of soap, knowing that you and I were competing for the same job, knowing we’d be meeting again, then you have the gall to stand in front of my board of directors like some bloody knight in shining armour when all the time—’

  ‘When all the time what?’ His own anger seemed to drain the air from the cab of the vehicle. ‘You’re a woman. You kissed me, and it wasn’t some prissy little chaste kiss either. You kissed me with your mouth, with your tongue, for heaven’s sake! I’m a man, not a machine. What the hell did you expect me to do? Turn the other cheek? And correct me if I’m wrong, but you enjoyed it at the time.’

  ‘No I didn’t!’

  He let out a long, impatient sigh and she sensed some of his anger dissipating with it. He leaned towards her, his dark lashes lowered, his eyes on her mouth. ‘You seem to have a memory problem. Shall I kiss you again and see how much you didn’t like kissing me?’

  His mouth got within touching distance of hers, so close she could feel his breath feathering against the sensitised skin of her lips. At that m
oment, more than anything in the world, she wanted his mouth on hers. But if her body was telling her one thing, her head was shouting another, and her hand shot out, landing in the middle of his chest.

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry.’ He held his two hands in the air in surrender. He looked away, dragged in some air, then turned back to her.

  ‘Kate. We have to spend the next few hours together and I’d rather be friends, or at least civilised acquaintances, than have you feeling you need to whack me every time I come near you. I regret what I did, and I can promise it won’t happen again. We’re both grown-ups. Can we call a truce?’

  Kate stared at him, her breathing quickened with anger, humiliation and plain old-fashioned lust. Under her hand she felt the warmth of his flesh. His mouth was inches from hers and she was torn between two options: she could jump out and call a taxi, or she could simply close the gap between them and let the sweetness of his mouth pick up where it left off the other day, and ease her torment. Briefly, her hand curled around the fabric of his shirt, and then she dropped her hand and straightened in her seat. There was another choice; self-control was something she was good at.

  ‘Kate?’ He was calmer now, too, conciliatory. ‘We’ve been getting along fine in the last hour. Can we go back to that and forget what happened? I’ve told you, you needn’t be afraid of me. I won’t touch you again. Forget about the kiss, okay? It meant nothing to me.’

  Kate felt winded, as though someone had thumped her hard in the diaphragm, but she pasted a tight little smile on her mouth.

  ‘It meant nothing to me either.’ Her eyes skimmed his lips and she felt again the heat of his tongue against hers. He wanted to forget. ‘Consider the incident closed.’

  ‘Truce?’

  ‘Truce.’

  ‘Right then, that’s settled,’ he said firmly, starting the Range Rover and nudging out into the busy highway.

  ***

  But the mood had changed, and instead of exchanging light, safe conversation, they sat in silence. Sam pushed a CD into the stereo and turned the music up loud enough to fill the void between them.