Lori Borrill – Underneath It All (страница 3)
“This is serious. We should be more hands-on about this.”
There being the statement that reminded Devon on more than one occasion that Bryce should be the one inheriting the job as CEO of Bradshaw Investments. If their father had made the choice based on who was best suited, it would have been Bryce all along. The man had the eye for numbers and the wit for business that made him the natural choice. It was only birth order that put him in the position as head of finance instead.
According to their father, William Devon Bradshaw III, who inherited the family business from his father, William Devon Bradshaw Jr., tradition had it that the next logical CEO would be the next William Devon Bradshaw. That had been the assumption from the day Devon was born, and every step he’d taken in life had been leading toward that end. He had a masters in economics and business management, had been working with the firm since his apprenticeship back as a teen.
It was all laid out for him, just as it had been laid out for all the Bradshaws before him. The only problem with the whole scenario was that he was bored to death with the job, and he’d only now come to the realization that life wouldn’t get more interesting the farther up the ladder he went.
Though technically still in charge, their father had been slowly stepping back, letting Devon handle the operation, and now that he’d finally had a glimpse of the life he was to inherit, he didn’t like what he saw. This business of investments and numbers was comatose at best, and increasingly, he doubted he could last another year, much less the rest of his life.
The only question now was what to do about it. Given their annual audit had uncovered suspicious discrepancies in the books, now was not the time to start the certain shake-up that would occur when Devon announced he’d like to make a break from tradition. When it came to investing, people were nervous and image meant everything. If there was anything shady going on within the company, they’d need to resolve that first and let the dust settle before dropping any more bombs.
And the announcement that a first-born Bradshaw had his own ideas about his future was certain to create some fall-out.
“I mean it,” Bryce added under his breath. “We have to face the real prospect that someone’s stealing from the company.”
Devon slugged back the last of his drink, deciding the only prospect he cared to deal with tonight was the blonde across the room.
Slinging an arm around Bryce’s shoulder, he led the man the few steps toward the bar. “Let me give you some brotherly advice. For the next few hours, forget about the audit. You’re better off here exuding calm confidence than hovering over the accountants distracting them from their job. They’ve got your cell phone number and if something comes up, they’ll call.”
He ordered a drink and slid a twenty across the sleek marble bar.
“I see,” Bryce said. “And while I’m forgetting about the audit, you’ll be busy working the blonde over there.”
He winked and smiled. “I like the way you think, bro.”
Bryce frowned but didn’t press. More than anyone, he knew Devon’s heart wasn’t in the family business. He only doubted Devon had the guts to admit it to their father. And who knows, maybe he didn’t.
All he knew was that tonight he didn’t want to think about futures or audits or career aspirations. There was an intriguing woman with sharp-witted blue eyes calling for his attention, and there was nothing in the auction’s rule book that said he couldn’t try to influence the buyers in any way.
He gestured to Bryce. “Who’s that she’s talking to? Don’t we know her?”
Bryce eyed the shorter brunette from across the large room.
“You know who that is?” Bryce said. “I think that’s the woman with that talk show.
“Oh, yeah. I know the one you’re talking about.” He picked up his drink and took a sip. “I wonder if the blonde works for the show.”
“If she does she’s a millionaire. You heard about that, didn’t you?” When Devon shook his head, Bryce explained, “A bunch of them won Lot ‘O’Bucks. They’re all millionaires—the brunette for sure.” He added with a shrug, “Maybe they’re here to spend their fortune.”
“Deep pockets would certainly work in my favor.” Setting his drink on the bar, he added, “I think I’ll go introduce myself.”
Bryce opened his mouth, no doubt to object, but before he could speak a low voice behind them interrupted.
“Why, if it isn’t my favorite investment broker. How much am I going to have to pay for you tonight?”
The cold chill told Devon it was Abigail Westlaw, a local real estate agent with whom he, in a temporary loss of sanity, had made the mistake of sleeping with. Once. Granted, it wasn’t that he didn’t find Abbey attractive enough to go back for seconds. A fair share of heat had simmered between them. The problem was that no sooner had they finished their morning coffee than Abbey was all over town spreading every detail of the tryst to anyone who would listen.
And thanks to that, out of the woodwork came a dozen other men who’d shared heat with Abbey, all interested in comparing notes.
Call him old fashioned, but Devon had never been interested in communal sex. He preferred being the one-and-only, and if he’d taken his time and gotten to know the woman better, he would have discovered before making the mistake that Abbey Westlaw liked her men frequent and interchangeable.
He forced a smile and replied, “Why bid on used goods? Surely, you’d be more interested in someone new and shiny.”
She threw her head back in an overexaggerated laugh and slung a bony arm over his shoulder. “Devon, you were always the funny one.”
Wincing, he tried to remain calm, remembering there were worse things than spending a romantic evening with Abbey. Though off the top of his head, he couldn’t come up with any.
Abbey kissed him on the cheek and gave his arm a squeeze.
“If the price is right, I might go home with several prizes tonight,” she said, her expression stating she had no clue as to how bad that sounded. “I just wanted you to know you’re my first choice.”
And with that, she walked off, leaving him standing at the bar with one sinking pit in his stomach.
2
“I HOPE YOU’VE COME prepared to lose,” said Devon’s brother, Todd. “I’ve got several women in this room ready to fork out big dollars for a slice of the best looking Bradshaw.”
“I’m glad you’ve come with confidence,” Devon replied half-heartedly. He wasn’t terribly interested in engaging in another battle of egos with the baby of the family. Abbey’s parting words were still hanging in his ears, leaving him thoroughly annoyed with his brother for talking him into this mess.
“It’s not confidence, it’s strategy,” Todd said, pointing a finger to his forehead. “A good gambler knows the way to win is to tilt the odds in his favor. So while you were standing here holding hands with Bryce, I’ve been securing bidders.” He scanned the room and smiled. “And I’ve got my odds set on a sexy redhead named Tammy.”
Devon had to admit, before spotting the blonde he hadn’t considered working the room, even though most of the men here tonight had been casually mingling through the crowd. He was still a little put off by the idea of auctioning himself off like a steer marked for stud. Playing along by actively promoting himself tipped the weird meter a bit too far.
But for Todd, this kind of thing was right up his alley. The born salesman of the three Bradshaw boys, Todd could talk a vagrant out of his last dollar and leave him sorry he couldn’t give more. Add the heat of competition and the spark of a friendly wager and this night was Todd’s all around, the kind of thing he was made for.
Their father hadn’t been stupid to put Todd in charge of investor acquisitions at the firm. He loved talking people out of their money and though Devon often found his younger brother’s ego tiresome, he had to admit Todd was good at his job.
Which was why Devon showed up tonight already accepting surrender. From the moment Todd could walk and talk the family learned not to go up against him when it came to competition. Even as kids at their old church fundraisers, if someone raised twenty dollars, Todd would work double-time to raise twenty-one. The little snot would do anything to win, and it was decades ago that Devon, Bryce and Gracie all learned it was easier to not compete than suffer through the lengths he’d go to come out on top.
But though Devon had no interest in trying to beat Todd tonight, he most certainly wanted to end up on a date with the only woman in the room who perked his interest—among other things.
Still talking among her friends, she’d turned around, giving him a glorious view of one heart-shaped behind, and he clenched his hands into fists as if to ward off the desire to walk over and caress them over her ass. Just that one heated glance they’d shared had left him feeling as though he had the right, as if he’d claimed her through the crowd, and he had to forcefully pull his civility back in check.