Can't Buy Me Love (5 page)

“Exceptionally so,” Cole said. “Most men don’t transition well. We like to put things in boxes, compartmentalize, and once we’ve established where things belong, well, we don’t want to mix it up. Much like you and your lists.”

Meg stopped.

“My lists?”

“You compartmentalize and marginalize with your lists. It’s a very similar system. You give certain things priority while ignoring things you don’t believe are important.”

“Marginalize? I don’t marginalize? I don’t ignore—”

“You certainly do,” Cole interrupted. “If it’s not on your list, then according to you, it’s not important.”

“My lists”—Meg’s brows furrowed, creating a little crease between her eyes—“are a way to stay on task. To try and keep you on task. Too fend off unnecessary…distractions.”

“Really?”

Meg still believed her lists were a way to keep control of life? Because the one thing of which Cole was absolutely certain was that keeping control of life was nearly impossible. Life had a way of sneaking up and destroying the things closest to you. He’d discovered the best way to protect against loss was to keep that which was dear to a limited number or, if possible, nonexistent.

“Yes, really,” Meg said. “And my lists worked exceptionally well for three years.”

“They did?”

“You have complaints that I don’t know about?” Meg asked. “Criticisms you’d like to share?”

“No complaints,” Cole said. “Concerns, perhaps.”

“Concerns?” Meg’s voice faltered. “About?”

“What happens to your lists once you have a whole division to run? How do you oversee a hundred people with a list? How do you control the uncontrollable? How do you, Meggy, grow content with chaos?”

She crossed her arms and stared toward the horizon. She bit her bottom lip as she assessed his questions. Finally, she turned her cool blue eyes back to him, her lips upturned in the tiniest of smiles.

“I’m not sure,” Meg said, and lifted her eyebrow with the hint of a challenge. “You’re the boss, how would you?”

*

Right back at you, mister.

“Excellent answer, Meggy,” Cole said.

He absolutely seemed impressed, content with her question, and yet responded to her only in silence. Cole turned away and continued walking down the beach. His silence irritated her. With most people she’d just ignore their wordless reply—perhaps even believe that she’d bested them, caused them to be silent with her intellect or conversational prowess—but with Cole, for three years, she’d never felt as though his silences were due to her superior abilities. No, every silence of Cole’s merely raised questions of self-confidence in Meg.

 They’d nearly walked to Stan’s beach house when Meg first spied a couple just beyond the house. A man and a woman held hands and walked toward her and Cole. That was what life was supposed to be about, wasn’t it? Love. A lifelong love with a compatible companion. A man you trusted. A man you knew. A man you could feel certain would come home to you and only you. Life wasn’t meant to be about endless meetings and action lists. Life was meant to be about love, but compatibility was key. She slid her eyes to the right and surreptitiously looked at Cole.

Cole would never be that man.

Action list or chaos, Cole enjoyed the pursuit of anything new way too much to ever settle down with one woman. The traits that made him stand out as a CEO were not the traits necessary for personal compatibility. His single focus was to be the biggest, baddest media mogul in the world. Not to find a permanent love. Not to waste time on a family.

The couple in the distance drew closer. The man walked near the water and wore a white shirt over a pair of long stone-colored shorts. The woman wore a white flowing coverup that billowed easily in the ocean breeze. They turned to each other and kissed. When they turned back Meg recognized the shock of unruly white hair on the man.

“There’s Stan,” Meg said.

The couple kissed again, and Cole stared at Stan and his wife with the same steely gaze he looked at anything.

“That marriage is a testament to true love,” Cole finally said.

The air rushed from Meg’s lungs.

“Excuse me?” Meg did her best to pull closed her mouth instead of staring at Cole with total surprise.

Did Cole Jackson just say the words
true love
and
marriage
? Shock. Absolute shock. Had the earth upended?

Cole’s right eyebrow lifted skyward. “What? You think I don’t believe in true love?”

Meg struggled to form words. Something akin to a gurgle escaped her mouth. “Urghh…I…well, I guess I never considered what you thought about true love,” she finally answered stiffly, attempting to maintain her composure.

“But you’d guess I didn’t believe in it? If you had…considered it?”

Meg couldn’t meet Cole’s eyes, and instead stared at Stan and his wife walking toward them. Her expression would be a dead giveaway. Of course a man of Cole’s ilk didn’t believe in true love. Or there’d been no evidence of his belief in love nor marriage in the three years she worked for him. Especially if you considered his relationship patterns: Find hot model, date hot model, discard hot model, have Meg send flowers to hot model after relationship ends so as not to be deemed a complete cad.

“Well, I do,” Cole said softly. “I believe in both—true love and marriage.”

 “Well, good then.” Meg’s heart beat fast as if she’d been running down the beach, not just walking beside her boss. “For you and…whomever it is you’re dating right now.”

“Actually”—Cole turned to her and she could feel his eyes on her—“I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”

Meg’s breath caught in her chest. She forced the salty air into her lungs. This was merely a conversation. Between two people. Not innuendo or veiled information or a segway into something other than a business relationship. So why did Cole’s gaze feel so heavy upon her and for god’s sake why couldn’t she force her heart to stop beating two hundred times per minute. Control. She needed absolute and total control of her emotions. Cole equaled business.

Meg looked away from Cole and his endless muscles and sun-kissed skin and tousled black hair and sparkly eyes. She buried her unwanted desire for her boss and stared down the beach toward Stan, who now had his hand over his eyes and his head cocked to the side. He squinted as if trying to confirm that the person he thought he saw approximately twenty yards in front of him was actually—

“Meg Parson!” Stan yelled. He moved quickly for a man who was nearly a septuagenarian. He held his wife’s hand as they walked toward Meg and Cole. “Oh my goodness! It is you! And on my beach!”

The last time she saw Stan he’d smiled that same smile. He had seemed pleased by the deal he and Meg struck for Cole to buy TBC. And he seemed just as pleased to see her now. Business was business, true, but business was lovelier when you could do it with someone you enjoyed. And Stan, with his gentlemanly hugs and grandfatherly advice, was a person Meg enjoyed doing business with.

“Did you hunt me down because I didn’t call you back?” Stan said, smiling, and threw his arms around Meg, giving her a hug.

“Maybe,” Meg said, and wiggled her eyebrows. She wouldn’t attempt to fool Stan. It was no use. He’d been a businessman for over forty years and he’d seen every kind of maneuver. In her negotiations with him, Meg had quickly sorted out that the best way to approach Stan was straightforward and with honesty.

“Meg, this is my wife, Allison.” Stan gazed at the woman with blondish hair and a round figure. The evidence of his love for Allison left track marks all over his face: love-lit eyes, broad smile, even a protective tilt to his chin. “She’s the reason I haven’t returned your call.”

“I rarely get him to myself,” Allison said. “So when I do, I get greedy.” She grasped Meg’s hand with both of hers, as if by greeting Meg she were greeting an old family friend. Allison then turned and looked at Cole. “Who is this handsome man you brought to Costa Rica?” And just like every woman in the world, Allison seemed immensely impressed with what she saw.

“Oh, uhm…” Meg stammered, on uncomfortable territory. It seemed as if Allison Morton might believe that she and Cole were a…couple?

“That guy?” Stan smiled, and pointed at Cole. “I know that guy. That’s Cole Jackson.” Stan reached out his hand and shook Cole’s.

“The man who wants to buy our company?” Allison asked.

“Exactly,” Stan said. “Good to see you again, Cole.”

“Likewise. And Mrs. Morton,” Cole tilted his head and shook her hand. His most charming and impish smile played across his face. “I’m shocked a woman as beautiful as you can stand to be around Stan Morton.”

Cole ribbed at Stan as if they were old high school football buddies, and he pulled it off effortlessly. Both Stan and Allison giggled at Cole, charmed by his flirtation. Such charisma. Such ease. Meg resisted the urge to roll her eyes toward the sky. Yes, Cole Jackson could woo anyone—even Stan Morton and his wife.

“So,” Stan said, and looked from Cole to Meg, “how long are you two in Costa Rica for?”

Anxiousness welled up in Meg.
Two? As in duo?
They weren’t a couple. How could Stan believe she and Cole were a couple?

“For as long as it takes,” Cole said. His voice was light but his eyes serious.

Stan exchanged a look with Allison and then smiled at Meg. “We’ve got plans for the day,” Stan said, and slipped his hand through his wife’s, “but why don’t you and Meg come by for dinner. Tonight? We’ll discuss everything we haven’t had a chance to talk about face to face.”

“Perfect,” Cole said.

“Don’t work too hard,” Allison said, as she mounted the steps to the beach house. “I know how you corporate types can be. Go out and try to enjoy the day.”

Enjoy the day? Meg bit her bottom lip. The only enjoyment Meg would find was when Stan Morton shook Cole Jackson’s hand and said the magic words
We’ve got a deal
.

Chapter Six

“What do you mean the caterer walked off the job?”

Meg scrambled from one corner of the beach house’s study to the other. Party coordinator number 1 was on the line while party coordinator number 2 was on hold. Meg had horrible reception and for some unfathomable reason the landline was down.

“He and Beatrix didn’t get along—”

“Get along? What’s to get along? He cooks, she plans.” Meg rubbed her free hand over her eyes. She inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh in hopes of dispelling the pressure gripping her forehead.

How to fix this? Three thousand miles away with limited Internet, limited reception, and limited time. She took a deep breath. “Do you have a recommendation for a replacement?” Meg asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” coordinator number 1 said, and then she was gone.
Gone.
Meg looked at her phone. No bars. None. The satellite or magic pixie dust or whatever ran cell phones had run out. Please let the TBC deal close tonight. She’d organize the Comnet Charity Ball, and then start her new job as executive vice president and have her own assistant to worry about Internet connections and satellites.

“Miss Parson?” Manuel called through the closed door.

Meg opened the study door. Manuel stood in the hall and held her coke-stained suit and white blouse. She needed her white blouse cleaned by tonight so she could wear it to dinner.

“We are unable to remove the stain,” Manuel said. “We can send it out, but unfortunately the blouse would not be returned before the day after next.”

Three days!
The Four Seasons took less than twelve hours.

“That’s okay,” Meg said, and sighed. “Would you mind putting it in my room?”

What now? Her jump bag was missing her floral linen dress that was a staple for business destinations that included beaches. Was Cole right? Was she off her game? Never before had she inadvertently failed to pack her jump bag correctly.

 “So, are there shops? In town? Anything near here?”

Manuel turned back toward her. “Not far. Brilliant shops. Beautiful clothes. Shall I call for the car?”

Meg glanced at her watch. It was only noon in Los Angeles and they still had mountains of work to finish. She’d have to tell Cole if she went into town.

“Is Mr. Jackson—”

“Right here.”

A shiver rushed down Meg’s spine with the soft suede sound of Cole’s voice. He walked in from the deck that ran along the back of the study.

“What’s this?” Cole looked at the soda-stained clothes in Manuel’s hands. Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes in anticipation of a smile. “Ah, yes, your little accident on the plane.” The devilish grin followed Cole as he entertained a memory. A memory that Meg wished she could scrub from his mind.

*

“I need to go to town.”

“For?” Cole asked.

Like he needed to know details about her wardrobe problems.

“I need to pick something up.” Meg tossed her curls over her shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance.

“I’ll come with you,” Cole said.

“What? Come with me? It’s only noon in Los Angeles, there’s a mountain of work you—”

“I am coming with you,” Cole said, resolute. “Manuel, call for the car.”

Great. When she desperately wanted him to continue his workaholic ways he decided to become a truant.

“You have an itinerary, commitments, I have—”

Cole cocked an eyebrow. “A list?”

“Yes, a list and I don’t need a keeper,” Meg said. “Besides, you have three business analysts reports to read. They’re expecting your response before end of day—”

“Consider this excursion research,” Cole said, and brushed past her through the office door.

“Research?” Meg followed Cole through the house. She’d nearly forgotten in six months’ time how much frustration Cole could stir up within her.

“You heard Allison Morton this morning. She told us to seize the day.” Cole stepped out the front door of Casa del Mar and slipped his sunglasses onto his face. “She’ll ask me tonight at dinner what I did.”

He had a point. Cole always had a point. Plus he looked sexy as hell in sunglasses and a white linen suit.

“And I definitely don’t want to disappoint Allison,” Cole said. The town car stopped in front of them. Cole opened the door for Meg.