Breathless on the Beach. Wendy Etherington

You’re the one who moved closer. You step back.”

      “I will not.”

      “So what do you suggest we do, since we’re already this close?”

      “We’re not going to do anything.”

      “No ideas? Fine.” He slid the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “I have a few.”

      “Everybody getting settled in?”

      At the sound of Richard Rutherford’s voice, Victoria leaped away from Jared.

      Her heart pounded against her chest. What was she doing? How could she have forgotten even for a minute her reason for coming to the house party?

      She approached Richard as he stood by the kitchen counter. Her professional smile was now in place and all distracting thoughts about Jared McKenna set aside. “Richard, it’s so good to see you. What a lovely spot for a weekend party.”

      “Thank you, Victoria.” Wearing a browny-beige-and-yellow argyle sweater and khaki pants, he looked like the picture of Casual Rich Man on Weekend Golf Outing. “We’re pleased to have you as our guest.”

      His formal speech struck her oddly. It was classic Richard, but it was wrong. That damn Jared. His easy, casual manner had spoiled normalcy.

      “I know we’re all going to have a great time,” she said, “but I was hoping we could find a few minutes to talk about the new campaign.”

      Richard smiled. “I’m sure we will. Business is pleasure, after all.”

      “Exactly.” That was normal. How could she have gotten distracted by some barefoot cowboy wannabe? Correction, adventure tour guide. What kind of job was that, anyway?

      For romantic liaisons, she had more sophisticated men in mind. For professional pursuits, she had a plan, and she was making it work.

      It had to work.

      The intercom buzzed again. “That’s probably our other guests, Mrs. Keegan,” Richard announced, as the housekeeper bustled back into the kitchen. “When they get to the house, bring them into the front parlor. We’ll have tea there and let everyone get acquainted.”

      Jared started toward the back door. “I’ll make sure all the equipment is ready to go.”

      “No, no.” Richard waved his hand. “Join us for tea. It’ll be easier to introduce everyone at the same time.”

      Jared looked as if he’d rather handle a live rattlesnake.

      Victoria had to agree with his foreboding. She couldn’t imagine that big body perched on one of Rose’s antique settees or holding a dainty china cup.

      But the rough-and-tumble Mr. McKenna, thankfully, wasn’t Victoria’s problem. “Who else is coming?” she asked Richard. “Anybody I know?”

      Maybe he’d invited some executives from his company. Wouldn’t it be convenient if she got to meet the vice president of operations? Or even marketing? She could impress all the decision makers in one fell swoop and have the contract ready by the time she got back to the office on Tuesday, the day Coleman Sr. announced his retirement. She could almost hear the champagne cork pop.

      She was so caught up in her fantasy, she almost didn’t catch the name Richard said.

      And when she did, she was sure she was hallucinating.

      “Did you just say Peter Standish?” she managed to query around the lump in her throat.

      He nodded. “And his wife, Emily. Charming couple. They really—”

      “I’m sorry.” Victoria could hardly believe she was interrupting him, but it was vital she dispel her delusion before anyone noticed she was on the verge of panicking. “Not the same Peter Standish who works at Coleman?”

      Richard smiled as if he’d given her a particularly clever gift. “The very same. All one, big, happy family.”

      Victoria’s mouth went dry. “But …”

      Calla darted to her side and slid her arm around her waist, obviously noticing that Victoria needed the support. “Richard, would you mind if I took some pictures of the property while I’m here this weekend? I’m hoping to do an article for Atlantic Magazine.”

      “Snap away. In fact, after tea I’ll show you where Beach-side Homes shot their summer spread.”

      “Oh, would you?” Beaming at him, Calla stepped forward and linked her arm with Richard’s. “I want all the details.”

      Victoria stared, frozen, as they headed out of the room. She could hear Shelby and Mrs. Keegan preparing tea and trays of cookies, but their voices seemed to float to her from a long way off.

      “Who’s Peter Standish?” Jared asked from close behind her. “One of the lovers you kicked out without so much as a one-for-the-road drink?”

      She didn’t have the strength for a comeback, or even to move away. In fact, she considered turning around and laying her head against his wide, muscular chest—if only for a second. “My office rival,” she said woodenly.

      “What do you do?”

      She swiveled and wished she hadn’t, since their faces—specifically their lips—wound up mere inches apart. “My mother didn’t tell you?”

      Confusion swam in his eyes. “Not that I remember.”

      Why would she? She’s The Legend; I’m the trainee. “I’m a vice president at Coleman Public Relations.”

      He straightened, and she was almost sorry for the loss of closeness. “Ah … the new safe.”

      Victoria scowled. “What do you know about it? It’s supposed to be top secret.”

      “Rose told me.”

      Victoria found that an odd way for a temporary employee to refer to the venerable Rose Rutherford. But then her hostess had a fair amount of charm, which she was rumored to dispense heavily on cute, young guys.

      “You really think you can convince people to spend several grand on a big metal box?” he asked.

      My mother could. Dispelling all doubt, Victoria lifted her chin. “Given the right motivation, I can convince people to spend several grand on anything.”

      “And what’s the right motivation this time?”

      “The Rutherford Securities contract and a senior vice presidency.”

      “One the unwelcome Mr. Standish is also up for?”

      “Not if my boss has any sense.”

      “Does he?”

      “Most of the time.” She fisted her hand at her side. “What is he doing here? Why is he ruining my plans? Why in the world did Richard invite him?”

      “Your boss?”

      Victoria sighed. Jared had already proved he wasn’t dense. Being difficult, however, seemed to come just as naturally. “My rival.”

      “Want my opinion?”

      “You ride horses and consult on corporate politics?”

      His eyes darkened for an instant, and she knew the insult had hit home. She was unprepared when his reaction made her feel guilty, though.

      When had she gotten so mean?

      Victoria had never been particularly gentle, but her obsession with ambition had changed her. Tact was rare outside of landing a deal. Vulnerability was reserved for only a few. Was her desire to live up to her mother’s legacy so important? Was it really impossible to be successful and yet different from her?

      “I watch people,” he said, his anger restrained, yet apparent. “Mostly people like