Heidi Betts – The Kincaids: New Money: Behind Boardroom Doors (страница 2)
“He had plenty of time to tell me. I’m thirty-six years old, for Chrissakes. Was he waiting until I hit fifty?” RJ rose to his feet and crossed the room, whiskey splashing in the glass. “That’s what hurts the most. That he didn’t confide in me. All the time we spent together, all those long hours fishing or hunting, walking through the woods with guns. We talked about everything under the sun—except that he was living a lie.”
RJ tugged at his tie with a finger and loosened his collar. Recent events had given him an air of gravitas that he’d never had before. The strain hardened his noble features and gave his broad shoulders the appearance of carrying the weight of the world.
Brooke longed to take him in her arms and give him a reassuring hug. But that would
“Afloat!” RJ let out a harsh laugh. “It would be a real problem for a shipping company if it couldn’t stay afloat.” His eyes twinkled with humor for a split second. “But at the rate we’re losing clients we’ll be belly up in the bay before the year is out if I don’t turn things around. For every new client Matthew brings in, we’re losing two old ones. And I don’t even have a free hand to guide the company. My father—in his infinite wisdom—saw fit to give his illegitimate son forty-five percent of the company and only leave me a measly nine percent.”
Brooke grimaced. That did seem the cruelest act of all. RJ had devoted his entire working life to The Kincaid Group. He’d been executive vice president almost since he left college, and everyone—including him—assumed he’d one day be president and CEO. Until his father had all but left the company to a son no one knew about. “I suppose he did that because he felt guilty about keeping Jack secret all these years.”
“As well he might.” RJ marched back across the room and took another swig of whiskey. “Except he didn’t seem to think about how much it would hurt the rest of us. Even all five of us Kincaids together don’t have a majority vote. Ten percent of the stock is owned by some mystery person we can’t seem to find. If Jack Sinclair gains control over the missing ten percent he’ll get to decide how to run The Kincaid Group and the rest of us have to go along with it or ship out. I’m seriously considering doing the latter.”
“Leaving the company?” She couldn’t believe it. Selfish thoughts about her own job disappearing almost toppled her concern for RJ.
“Why not? It’s not mine to run. I’m just another cog in the machine. That’s not what my dad groomed me for or what I want for myself.” He slammed the empty glass down on a table. “Maybe I’ll leave Charleston for good.”
“Calm down, RJ.” Brooke poured another three fingers of pungent whiskey into the glass. Right now it seemed a good idea to get him too drunk to go anywhere at all. “It’s early days yet. Nothing will be decided about the company until the shareholders’ meeting and, until then, everyone’s counting on you to steer the ship through these rough waters.”
“I love all your nautical lingo.” He flashed a wry grin as he took the glass. “I knew there was a good reason I hired you.”
“That and my excellent typing skills.”
“Typing—pah. You could run this company if you put your mind to it. You’re not just organized and efficient, you’re good with people. You’ve managed to talk me back off the ledge today, and I thank you for it.” He took another sip. The whiskey was certainly doing its job. Already the hard edge of despair and anger had softened.
Now was not the time to mention that she had applied for a management job, and been turned down. She didn’t know if RJ was behind that, or if he even knew.
“I didn’t want you to upset people any more than they already are.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “Everyone’s temper is running high and we need to work together. The last thing you want is for key employees to quit and make things worse in the run-up to the shareholders’ meeting.”
“You’re right, as usual, my lovely Brooke.”
Her eyes widened. Obviously the whiskey was going straight to his head. Still, she couldn’t help the funny warm feeling his words generated inside her, almost like a shot of whiskey to her core.
“The most important thing right now is to find your dad’s murderer.” She tried to distract herself from RJ’s melting gaze. “Then your mom won’t be under suspicion.”
“I’ve hired a private investigator.” RJ peered into his glass. “I told him I’ll pay for twenty-four hours in the day and he shouldn’t stop until he finds the truth.” He looked up at her. “Of course I told him to start with the Sinclair brothers.”
Brooke nodded. Jack Sinclair sounded like a man with an ax to grind, though her vision could be skewed by the fact that he’d inherited her boss’s birthright. She hadn’t met Jack or his half brother Alan. “They must be angry your dad kept them secret all these years.”
“Yup. Resentment.” RJ sat down on the sofa again. “I’m beginning to know what that feels like.”
“Very understandable.” Her chest ached with emotion. She wished she could bear some of the burden for him. “This whole situation came out of nowhere for you.”
“Not to mention my mom.” He shook his head. “Though sometimes I wonder if she knew. She didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of us.”
Brooke swallowed. Elizabeth Kincaid would have had at least some motivation for the murder if she’d known about her husband’s adultery. And she had seen her in the office on the night of the murder. She shook the thought from her brain. There was no way such a quiet and gentle person could fire a bullet at another human, even her cheating husband. “Let me pour you some more.”
She brought the bottle over to the sofa and leaned down to fill RJ’s glass. The whiskey sloshed in the bottle as he stuck out a strong arm and pulled her roughly onto the sofa with him. She let out a tiny shriek as her hips settled into the soft leather next to his.
“I appreciate the company, Brooke. I guess I needed someone to talk to.” His arm had now settled across her shoulders, his big hand wrapped around her upper arm. She could hardly breathe. And when she did his warm, masculine scent assaulted her senses and raised her blood pressure.
RJ settled into the sofa a little, caressing her shoulder with his hand. Heat bloomed under his fingers, through her thin blouse. She still held the whiskey bottle and wondered if she should pour from it, or if he’d had enough. He answered the question by taking it from her with his free hand, and putting it on the floor along with his glass. His hand then settled on her thigh, where she could feel the warmth of his palm through her smart gray skirt. Her heart quickened when he turned to look at her.
RJ’s expression was one of intense concentration. He seemed to be examining her face like she was a table of container ship sailings. “I never noticed how green your eyes are.”
Brooke had a sudden urge to roll those eyes. How many women had he used that line on? RJ was famous throughout the Southeast as a Most Eligible Bachelor and had enjoyed his single status as long as she’d known him. “Some people would call them gray.” Was she really sitting almost in RJ’s lap talking about her eyes, or was this some kind of manic dream?
“They’d be wrong.” Again his expression was deadly serious. “But lately I’m learning that people are wrong a lot of the time.” His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and she pressed them back together. “I’m having to question a lot of my assumptions about the world.”
“Sometimes that’s good.” She spoke softly, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. Sitting this close to RJ was dangerous. Arousal already crept through her limbs and strange parts of her were starting to tingle.
“I suppose so.” RJ frowned. “Though it doesn’t make life any easier.”
Poor RJ. He was used to being the golden child, his entire life mapped out at birth and his every need taken care of before he could even voice it.
“Sometimes challenges can make us stronger.” It was hard to form sensible thoughts with his arm around her shoulder and his other hand on her knee. She could feel the power of his sturdy body right through her clothes. Part of her wanted to stand up and go organize the papers on his desk. The other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and …
RJ’s lips crushed over hers in a hot, whiskey-scented kiss that banished all thought. Her body melted against his and she felt her fingers do what they’d wanted all along—roam into his stiff white shirt and the hard, hot muscle beneath.
His hands caressed her, making her skin hum with arousal. Her nipples thickened and a powerful wave of heat rose in her belly. RJ’s raw hunger for affection—for help—gave urgency to his touch. She could feel how badly he needed her, right now, here in his arms.
She kissed him back with equal force, affection for him overpowering any more sensible urges. She wanted to heal his hurt, to make him feel better, and right now she almost felt that was within her power. Emotions surged within her. She’d adored RJ almost since the day she met him and his strength under adversity only made her admire him more. She’d never dared imagine for a single second that he’d return her feelings.