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.
She was the one wanting him, not the other way around. It was embarrassing to think now of how she had questioned him so directly on being his kept woman. Having what his father had known—the home he’d denied Jack—had to be driving his offer. It couldn’t be wanting a whole year of sex with her. That made no sense. Besides, he’d just assured her that sex was not a given in the deal, hadn’t he?
A year would give her time to look around for other opportunities she might take up in the future, should this deal with Jack Maguire turn sour. Right now she simply didn’t know the heart of the man. Only time would tell her if the connection she felt between them could develop into the kind of relationship she’d love to have with him. A year would be long enough to find out.
“Okay. I’ll take that contract,” she said decisively, her eyes challenging his integrity on every word of it.
He grinned, his delight in her acceptance making her heart dance in a wild hip-hop. “I’ll set it up right now,” he said, whipping a small silver cell phone from his suit pocket.
He spoke to Victor Newell’s secretary, dictating the terms he had outlined to Sally and asking for the contract to be drawn up and ready for their signatures by the time they’d finished lunch. He cocked a challenging eyebrow at her as he put the ’ phone away. “Satisfied?”