Stripped Down (21 page)

The truth, finally faced, delivered his ego a particularly brutal blow. He lost his shirt for money four nights a week, and now here he stood, fighting to keep it at all costs.

Tipping his head back, he laughed at the same time someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” he called, grinning as he set the dregs of his coffee on his desk.

His assistant stepped inside with her steno pad and the ever-present pen stuck behind her ear. “You wanted to be informed when the board arrived. Mr. Declan just got off the elevator. He’s in the restroom.” She adjusted her glasses. “The boardroom is set up and ready to go, and the engineers should be here soon. Do you still want the board assembled before the engineers are shown in?”

This was the first gamble of the day. Bringing the engineers into the room with the board present and seated meant the presenters would have to be on their game the second they hit the doorway. Letting the engineers get settled and then bringing the board in put his team at a bit of a disadvantage on the power grid, and there was no mistaking the fact this would be a meeting where power and influence shaped the outcome.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth, heel to toe. “Yeah, let’s put our people in first. I’ll go now, pick up Declan on the way. Leave the engineers in the reception area even if you have to call the board members in one at a time. I don’t want the people from Preservations to enter the room until our team is fully assembled.” He adjusted his tie before retrieving his chair and pulling his suit jacket off the back and shrugging into it. “Let them stew a little. Before you escort them into the boardroom, I want you to come in and quietly tell me they’ve arrived. It’s all set up, but it’s about making sure we’re ready. You okay with that?”

She smiled and nodded. “It’s not my first strategic hoedown.”

“I didn’t realize hoedowns could be strategic,” he teased, starting for the door.

She shrugged. “Depends on who’s leading the band, I suppose.”

He chuckled and strode out of his office to find Mr. Declan waiting for him. Extending a hand, Eric began what would hopefully be the first of many stressful days as Chok Resort came into being under the guidance and development of his team and these people’s money.

* * *

R
EVELATIONS ABOUT FALLING
in love weren’t enough to intercept Cass’s temper as the morning wore on. She was pissed. The CEO was proving himself to be just as much of an asshole as she’d heard he was, leaving her and Gwen sitting in the reception area for the past twenty minutes as, one by one, a pretty, middle-aged woman took an all-male cast of fifty-five-plus men back to the boardroom. The guy was probably trying to psyche her out, giving her a glimpse of the moneyed players without letting her in on their game plan. If the jackass had ever sat through one of her family’s dinner parties, he’d realize how futile his efforts were. No one intimidated like her father, no one shamed as well as her mother, and no one rained disdain as efficiently as her brother. She’d had way too much experience in this particular arena to let the guy get to her. And the anxious bride at her side? Cass wasn’t about to bet on anyone but Gwen when they entered the apparently to-be-revered environment of the holy boardroom. Her best friend would be a professional terror.

Gwen leaned over and nudged Cass, tilting her head toward the door to the inner sanctum of the offices. “Think he has a small penis?”

“Huh?”

“The CEO. He’s sure putting on a show, leaving us out here to sweat it out.”

She laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Wiping damp palms on her skirt, it irritated her that he was getting under her skin a little. “We’re ready, though.”

They fist-bumped at the same time the now familiar woman returned for them.

“If you’ll come with me, I’ll deliver you to the board of directors for your presentation.”

As a unit, Cass and Gwen stood, briefcases in hand and spines straight.

“Thank you,” Cass said, tipping her head in acknowledgment.

They followed the assistant down a short hallway, stopping in front of a heavy door.

“One moment, please,” the woman said, slipping into the room.

Gwen sniffed the air and turned to Cass. “Smell that?”

Cass’s brow wrinkled and she sniffed. “What?”

“The testosterone. It’s choking me to death. I must be more susceptible because I’m shorter and that crap is so heavy it hovers low to the ground.”

Laughter choked Cass, forcing her to press her lips together and fight to keep her composure when their tour guide came out again.

“They’re ready for you.”

Cass took a steadying breath and stepped inside, Gwen right on her heels.

The room was generic in appearance—pale gray walls, dark gray carpet, heavy wooden table with high-backed leather chairs filled with predictably benign faces. All but one. The chair at the head of the table was facing the other way, toward the plans mounted on the wall. The CEO, Eric Reeves.

Papers shuffled.

Someone cleared his throat.

The CEO spun his chair at the same time Cass started to say, “Gentlemen,” but she managed only, “Gentleme—” before coming to a faltering stop.

Blood pounded in her ears like a tribal drumbeat. Black dots danced across her vision and she blinked rapidly. A cold bead of sweat raced down the hollow of her spine even as her mouth went drier than the Sahara at the height of summer. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t happening to her.

Betrayed.

She’d taken the freaking leap of faith only an hour ago. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to let her land flat on her face. Oh, but it felt as if everything in her body was breaking.

Because sitting in the chair at the head of the table was the very man she’d left in bed only three hours before.
Dalton Chase.

* * *

E
VERY VOLUNTARY AND
involuntary system in his body shut down at the sight of the two women standing at the opposite end of the table. One surprised him. The other delivered a heart-stopping shock. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t find his voice.

Cass Wheeler.

Time spun out, an intangible thing that became inconsequential as they simply stared at each other. Eric knew the others were watching the byplay, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was what was happening between him and Cass right now. Everything they’d built was crumbling. He could see it in Cass’s face. Salvaging it seemed both supremely important and simply impossible. So he sat there, mute with shock, and watched her slowly reanimate.

“G-Gentlemen,” she stuttered. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment.” Turning unsteadily in her heels, she slipped out of the conference room door before anyone said anything.

Gwen shot him a go-to-hell glare before nodding to the room in general and following Cass.

Eric didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Not yet. He wanted to go to her, to explain he’d used a stage name, that he hadn’t intentionally misled her, that he’d had no idea she was going to show up here today. Anything to stop her from bleeding out right in front of him.

Yet if he got out of his chair and went to Cass, he’d owe the board an explanation. That meant revealing his stripping venture. He couldn’t risk alienating the conservatives in the group because he needed their financial backing to make this deal happen, even more so now with what Cass was about to present. Without their money, he was dead in the water.

The choice boiled down to Cass or his company, their future or the future of more than just two people. There was no right answer in this situation, and he knew it. People were going to be hurt. The question was, how many?

Eric wanted to throw something. Clenching his fists, he shifted his attention to the conversation when one of the board members addressed him directly.

“May I assume you have some relationship with this woman, Mr. Reeves?”

“I...” He stalled. What did he say?
“She’s my girlfriend, but she didn’t know I was the head of this company until just now.”
No. Just, no. He was willing to give these men his blood, sweat and tears. But they had no right to his dreams, and Cass was part of his dream for the future.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “I am. However, I didn’t know she was the head of Preservations until just now. We weren’t expecting to see each other in this venue.”

“Clearly,” one of the men said acerbically. “I’m going to have issues with funding this project if your personal life is going to interfere with our ability to move forward.”

Eric bristled. Resting his forearms on the table, he glanced at every face. “I promise you nothing will affect our ability to get this project done with professionalism and visionary competence.” The hard confidence in his voice left no room for doubt.

“You’re certain?”

“I stayed in this room, didn’t I?”

“Then someone please invite the women back in. I’d like to discuss this venture without further interference.”

Eric pushed himself to stand at the same time the door opened.

Cass and Gwen entered the room, their movements smooth and graceful. Neither looked at him.

He couldn’t stop staring. Cass was so beautiful, so incredibly composed, so—

Whurly placed his hands on the table, palms down and looked Cass over. “What does your father think of you working with his largest competitor, Ms. Jameson?”

—so very much David Jameson’s daughter.

* * *

B
ARRAGED BY BATTLING EMOTIONS,
Cass had no idea what to feel. She could only lift one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “My father has no more place in my professional business than I do in his, sir. Preservations operates on an ethical platform that doesn’t allow me to discuss projects with anyone outside of the project’s team.”

“Young people don’t understand ethics,” the man countered.

“Then consider me an old soul. Preservations has never once been accused of improper behavior or compromised ethics, and it never will,
sir.
”

The words sounded hollow even to her ears, but apparently it pleased the codger considering her over the rim of his glasses.

“Then let’s get on with this. Whatever it is between you and Mr. Reeves will be sorted out, I assume?”

“Allow me to be direct. There’s nothing to sort out.” She couldn’t look at Dalton—
Eric
—no matter how much she wanted to. The urge to tear him down right where he sat was almost more than she could stand. It was the soul-wrenching devastation of betrayal that kept her silent.

He hadn’t reacted to the announcement she was a Jameson, so he must have known. Had that been his plan? To keep her close, maybe seduce her, to ensure the plans,
his
plans, went through? Marcus’s words came back to her, filling her head with the sounds of his mocking laughter. “Just remember that I warned you when this all blows up in your, face,” he’d said. Well, it had blown up spectacularly.

She’d been played, a pawn in another man’s game. But she was no one’s throw-away piece.

17

E
RIC NEARLY CAME OUT OF
his chair when Cass said there was nothing to sort out. Like hell. She was Jameson’s daughter. She’d been in his bed, in his life. Had she chosen him, singled him out, to get information on the project? Or had her desire for him been sincere? Confusion and fury wrestled in his mind, bouncing off the inside of his skull like sumo wrestlers.

He made it through the presentation without losing it, but it was a near thing several times. Cass and Gwen had done an admittedly stellar job outlining the EPA’s requirements, Preservations’ proposed solutions and the EPA’s acceptance of the same. The problem? Their solutions exceeded his budget by more than $1.5 million dollars.
Million. Dollars.
There was no objecting to their plan. The EPA had approved it. Any alternative solutions would have to be redesigned, which cost money. They’d have to be resubmitted, which cost him time. And time was money. Everything translated to money. And now he had to convince the board to give it to him.

Leaning forward, he dropped his forearms to his knees and focused on Whurly, pointedly avoiding looking at Cass. “Gentlemen, as you can see, Preservations’ proposed solutions exceed the budget we gave them—”

“You’ll find our solutions are the most cost-effective method of managing the runoff for the entire resort compound,
Mr. Reeves.
”

The way she said his name killed him. He’d longed to hear her say it since he met her, and the moment was ruined by the fury in her voice.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “Chok’s project managers agree this is the most feasible means of diverting runoff and preserving the nesting area of the trumpeter swans that borders the resort on the south and west sides. You and the board are well aware the swans are of particular concern because of their status on the Audubon Washington Vulnerable Birds List.”

His head snapped up and their eyes locked. A heated battle was waged in seconds without a word being exchanged. There was anger. God save him, there was so much anger. What hurt worse was the open betrayal that sliced both ways. Didn’t she see that he was trying to save the project and by default her plan?

“We’re not as concerned with the swans as we are with the implications of your proposal on the budget,” Bradington, one of the most conservative board members, said quietly. “If this is the best you can do, we may have to explore other options.”

Cass leaned forward and planted her hands on the table. “I’d encourage you to do just that, but allow me to be very clear here. If you determine Preservations isn’t the best fit for this job and you go to another firm, we’ll gladly step aside. When we do, though, our plans go with us and we won’t be available for another consult.”

“Threatening this board isn’t the best way to impress us, young lady.”

Eric watched the byplay, noting how Gwen’s eyes first widened at Cass’s declaration and then narrowed at Bradington’s demeaning response. He needed to salvage the moment, but which moment? He could focus on the board and secure the money or reassure Cass that he was on her side and salvage their relationship...a relationship that might have been founded in subterfuge. Had she really lied to him?