Oddly, the evenings had consisted only of dinner.
No sex, even though both had shown interest.
Kate buzzed in on his desk intercom. “Mr. Maxwell Andrade is on line one. Should I put him through?”
“I’ll do it.”
Work, the perfect cure to all ailments. Dax hit a button on his telephone and said, “Max, I was just looking over your offer.”
“Good,” Max said in the crisp tone that was his norm. “But that’s not why I called.”
“Really?” Dax leaned back in his chair. Their conversations to that point had revolved solely around the island property. “How can I help you?”
“I met with Trent Davis, and he mentioned speaking to you regarding Poly-Shyn.”
“He did.”
“Circumstances have changed since he spoke with you.”
“They certainly have. The company isn’t worth nearly what they were asking.”
“Poly-Shyn is no longer going to be sold. The youngest son wants it.”
“Dean Henderson? He’ll lose it in a card game if he gets it. The family should consider anything I give them a gift if that’s their plan for it. What’s your interest in this?”
“My family protects its own. The Hendersons are friends of the family.”
Dax drummed his fingers on the table.
Max continued, “It would mean a lot to my family if you turn your attention elsewhere.”
Dax could have told him that his interest in the company was at the preliminary stage, but he didn’t like Max’s tone. “I’m afraid that’s not how I do business.”
“Let me make this clearer. If you do anything that adversely affects the Hendersons, you’ll quickly regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise, and consider my bid for your resort retracted.”
“Do what you need to do. Shame about the Bahamas. It had Andrade written all over it.”
“I don’t think you understand how ugly this could get.”
Dax dismissed the final threat. “Ring me if you change your mind.” With that, he hung up.
The loss of a buyer for the property hadn’t fazed him. What Max Andrade had not yet learned was that no matter how good a person or an opportunity appeared, they were always replaceable. Always.
The conversation, however, had sealed the fate for Poly-Shyn.
He could profit from taking over countless other teetering companies—each with less chance of being a professional landmine—but Dax’s course was set. If Max hadn’t laced his request with a threat, who knows, maybe Dax could have been swayed. Instead, Max had hit him on his Achilles heel.
No one told him what to do.
He had worked too hard to put himself in a position where no one could.
A shadow of a memory from his childhood surged within him, and he slammed a fist on his desk. His father had lived large, partied hard, and died before his time while flying his fourth wife to Europe for cosmetic surgery, leaving a young and angry Dax in the custody of an uncle who thought discipline was best delivered with a fist. He’d had no respect for how Dax’s father had lived and had said it was his duty to make a man out of Dax.
Dax had never known his mother, and his uncle said she didn’t matter. People who left didn’t matter. Having been part of stepfamilies that had come together during his father’s brief marriages only to dissolve after divorces, Dax didn’t need much convincing that his uncle was right. Even though his uncle’s love had been brutal, Dax told himself it had been necessary. If Dax had never felt powerless, he would have remained as weak as his father. Instead, he’d learned to channel his anger and protect himself.
When his uncle had died suddenly from a heart attack while Dax was away in college, that event, too, had shaped the man Dax had become. The inheritance he’d received from both his uncle and his father had bankrolled his first company takeover and set him free.
No one controlled Dax now.
No one ever would again.
Dax turned in his chair and stood. He’d anticipated the Barringtons coming to the defense of the Hendersons, but the Andrades were a surprise. He hadn’t realized the families were that close.
Normally, he knew better than to let business become personal, but that’s what this deal had become. Dax ran a hand through his hair before returning to his desk. He was frustrated. Angry. Is this about what Max said or the fact that I haven’t heard from a woman I’d be better off forgetting? I need to get her out of my head. He stretched and turned his attention to his email.
The next day was more of the same until Kate walked into his office and announced, “Mr. Marshall, there is a package here for you.”
“Put it aside; I’ll look at it before I leave.”
“You may want to see it now. It was sent over from the Boston office. It says it’s from Miss Barrington.”
Dax surged to his feet. “Bring it in.”
Kate placed it on his desk with a smile. She looked as if she expected him to open it in front of her. Dax cleared his throat, and she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.
She smiled wider. “In case you need her phone number or to send her something else.” Looking far too pleased with herself, she closed the door behind her.
Once alone, Dax picked up the small box and bounced it in his hand. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d sent Kenzi the iPod. What would she have sent him?
He read the note attached to it: Thank you for your kind gift. Kenzi Barrington.
Polite. Impersonal. Disappointing.
Impatient, he tore the wrapping off the gift and frowned at the contents. She’d sent him a bottle of his favorite cologne.
It was an oddly intimate and exciting gift. It instantly brought back a memory of how delectable she’d smelled and how he’d tried to deny his attraction to her when he’d carried her in the elevator. She’d buried her face in his collar, and he’d chastised his cock for confusing her nuzzling with foreplay. Apparently not even a little vomit and a few crazy outbursts could kill the boner he’d gotten from being near her. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of.
Nor was he happy with the fact that his co
ck was twitching with excitement at the idea that she might be remembering how it felt to be in his arms. Remembering his touch, his scent. Wishing, as he did, that the evening had ended differently.
He kept the bottle of cologne in his hand and paced his office. He could call her, but a check of his watch confirmed it was still early enough in London that Kenzi would probably still be sleeping.
In bed. He remembered how beautiful she’d looked in her panties and bra when she’d stood and stripped her dress off on the beach. He imagined how those perfect breasts of hers would look loose beneath a silk nightgown or bared to him as she arched them toward his mouth.
The front of his pants tightened again. He returned to desk, put the bottle in one of his drawers, and tried to return his focus to his email. He somewhat succeeded, and the next few hours quickly passed.
The door of his office flew open and Clay barged in with a flustered, apologetic Kate at his heels. “I tried to get him to wait.”
Dax stood and waved her away. “I know. Close the door behind you.” He motioned for Clay to take a seat and sat across from him. It was easy enough to see that his friend wasn’t happy. “What are you doing on this side of the pond?”
“I had business in New York. Lucky for you I did. I met with Max Andrade. What the hell, Dax? He was just about to sign. Now Hurd pulled back his offer. Didn’t even lower it. Just pulled out. What happened?”
Dax folded his arms across his chest. “Max wanted me to back off of the Poly-Shyn deal.”
“I didn’t realize the Andrades even knew the Hendersons.”
“I didn’t either.”
“So, he called in a personal favor. For the kind of money you were about to score on the island it might have been worth it.”
“He warned me off it.”
“Oh, boy. I know that tone.” Clay stood, walked over to the bar in the corner of the office, and poured himself a shot of whiskey along with one for Dax. After downing his and returning to his seat, he said, “So, let me get this straight: you’re going to take on three of the most powerful families on the East Coast—why? May I remind you now about your philosophy of always following the profit and not getting emotionally involved?”
