What The Millionaire Wants...: What the Millionaire Wants... / Spencer's Forbidden Passion. Brenda Jackson

put down his briefcase and withdrew the management contract he had prepared for Laura, along with the purchase agreement for her stock. He also pulled out the letter of resignation he’d had drawn up in the event it was needed. While the transition would be simpler for him if she stayed on at the hotel, he was prepared for her to quit and to buy out her stock. “Then you know that my purchase of your mother’s note is legal.”

      “Legal, maybe. But certainly not ethical.”

      Refusing to debate her, he continued, “Then you also know that by defaulting on the loan, she forfeited the stock that she pledged as collateral on the loan. Which means Hawke Industries now owns the controlling interest in the Contessa.”

      He paused, waited for her to respond. But Laura remained silent. Her demeanor remained unchanged.

      Keeping his voice level, he said, “My plan is to turn the Contessa into a five-star property again and recapture the market share it’s lost. As I’ve already told you, I would prefer that you stay on at the hotel as the general manager. But if you choose not to stay, then I’m prepared to accept your resignation and purchase your stock.” He slid both agreements and the resignation letter across the desk so that they rested in front of her. “It’s your call, Ms. Spencer. Are you going to stay? Or are you leaving?”

      Laura didn’t even look at the documents he had placed before her. Instead, she met his gaze. There was something hard and determined in her eyes as she said, “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Hawke.”

      The news surprised him. After their previous conversations, he had been sure she would turn him down flat. The fact that she hadn’t both pleased and concerned him. He was pleased because it would be good for business to have her stay on. It concerned him because he had the hots for her, he admitted. And she was more than likely sleeping with his stepbrother, he reminded himself. The thought of Laura with the golden boy his mother had chosen as her son over him chafed at Jack, made him feel raw. He couldn’t help wondering how Peterson would feel to come out on the losing end for once. Irritated with himself for allowing his thoughts to stray from the business at hand, he tapped the documents on the desk. “In that case, I’ll need you to sign a new management contract with Hawke Industries. It’s pretty straightforward, with all the standard clauses and the increase in salary I mentioned earlier.”

      “I’m sure the contract is fine.”

      He nodded. “Still, you may want to have your attorney look it over anyway.”

      “That won’t be necessary.”

      “It’s your call,” he told her.

      “Yes, it is.”

      Jack wasn’t sure why, but her agreeable demeanor seemed off. “There’s also a purchase agreement for your stock, if you should change your mind about selling it. My previous offer of—”

      “I won’t change my mind.”

      Something was off, Jack told himself again. Instinct, some unexplained ability that told him if a venture would be a hit or a flop, kicked in now. The woman was up to something. He felt it in his gut, felt it in his bones. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re just itching to throw those contracts in my face?”

      She picked up the contracts, fingered them. Looking directly at him, she smiled and said, “Because I am.”

      There was a confidence in her smile, a spark in her green eyes that he found intriguing. Intriguing and sexy as hell. “I admire your honesty. But you might want to think twice before you do that.”

      “Why? Because it would be an unwise career move on my part?” she asked.

      “Something like that.”

      “You’d probably be right—if you were my boss and had the authority to fire me,” she began. Obviously too edgy to sit, she stood and paced behind her desk. She paused, turned and looked at him. “But you don’t.”

      “The last time I checked, owning eighty percent of the stock in a company constitutes the controlling interest, which does make me your boss and gives me the authority to pretty much do whatever I damn well please.”

      “That would be true—if you owned the stock. But you don’t own it. At least not yet,” she informed him triumphantly.

      “Is that so?”

      “Yes, that’s so. You see, that note that you so cleverly got the bank to sell you gives me thirty days to cure the default on my mother’s loan. Once I do that, my mother keeps her stock in the Contessa and your deal, Mr. Hawke, is null and void.”

      So that was her plan. Jack would have laughed were it not for the fact that this stunt of hers would cost him both time and money with delays. He didn’t intend to allow her to cost him either—not without a price. “You think you can go out and find fifteen million dollars like that?” he asked with a snap of his fingers.

      “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

      “Try next to impossible.”

      “Nothing’s impossible,” she fired back at him.

      “Trying to block my purchase of this hotel is,” he assured her. Standing, he walked around to her side of the desk, a deliberate move on his part to intimidate her. Instead he found himself far too aware of her, of the way the office light caught the copper in her hair, the way her black silk blouse curved over her breasts, the way the scent she wore reminded him of exotic islands and sex. Desire hit him like a one-two punch. He wanted her. Maybe part of him wanted her because she belonged to his stepbrother. But another part of him wanted her because he sensed a fire in her and he wanted to be the one to ignite it.

      “Why? Because you’re so rich and powerful?”

      “Yes.” Leaning closer, he lowered his voice and said, “And because I never lose.”

      “There’s a first time for everything.”

      Jack didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “And you think that you’ll be the one to beat me?”

      “I don’t think I can beat you, Hawke. I know I can.”

      “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

      “I am,” she insisted.

      Before he could quell the impulse, he countered, “Sure enough to wager on the outcome?”

      “You mean a bet?”

      “That’s right. You say you can stop me from taking over the hotel. I say you can’t. Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

      “I am, if you are,” she told him.

      “Oh, I am. I most definitely am.”

      She was insane to have dared the man the way she had, Laura admitted. But blast him, he had been so smug, so sure of himself. The fact that he had been standing so close to her hadn’t helped, either. She had hoped those moments of heightened awareness between them in her office a few nights ago had been a fluke, that stress and thoughts of spending the Thanksgiving holiday without any of her family had caused her sexual chemistry radar to go askew. But if it had, then her radar still wasn’t working because she’d felt those same ripples of awareness when he’d entered the room, that same quickening of her pulse each time he drew closer.

      “So what are the stakes?”

      “The stakes?” she repeated, doing her best to shake off his effect on her nervous system.

      “Yes. You know, the prize that you’re going to fork over to me when you lose our bet and I foreclose on the Contessa.”

      Laura sobered at his cocky remark. Taking a step back, she said, “You mean the prize that you’re going to fork over to me when I beat you at your own game.”

      His lips twitched. “So what are the stakes?”

      “Dinner,” she suggested.