more than intellectual foreplay, they’d sparked new angles and creative solutions. They’d complemented each other in the office, as well as the bedroom, and that’s what he wanted again. That heat, that spark, that connection.
That’s what he wanted and that’s what he would have, but that didn’t stop him wanting to prolong their current harmony.
He didn’t want to wipe that glint of humour from her expressive eyes. But he did, as soon as he settled opposite her on the second of the suede sofas. The smile faded from her face even before he spoke. “Let me at least get my proposal on the table before you arm yourself,” he suggested.
“Would that proposal be the board position or the dream job you dangled in front of me earlier?”
“Let’s start with the directorship.”
She nodded briefly. “I have given that some thought.”
“And?”
“Matt suggests it would be a conflict of interest with my present position at House of Hammond.”
No surprise that she’d discussed his preliminary approach with her boss. Ric had expected as much, but that didn’t stop his jaw tightening in annoyance. “Your boss is right,” he said shortly. “You couldn’t continue to work for him if you took on this directorship.”
“Why would I choose a board position over the job I have—a good job that I love?”
“Because that’s all Hammond will ever offer you. A job. Second in charge,” he stressed, when he saw an objection fire green sparks in her eyes. “But where is the future beyond that? Matt Hammond will never cede power to anyone but another Hammond.”
“Not everyone craves power, Perrini.”
He met the condemnation in her eyes head-on. “You used to. You came back from Europe, your head crammed with ideas and your heart fired with passion. You couldn’t wait to make changes, to put it all into practice, and you couldn’t do that from the sidelines. I recall you saying as much the day you stormed out of your father’s office.”
“I left Blackstone’s for many reasons,” she said tightly. “That was only one of them.”
“You made those reasons crystal clear when you left, but things have changed. You have a personal stake in the company now.”
Her forehead creased with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“When your father’s will is read, you’ll become one of three major stakeholders in Blackstone Diamonds.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “Howard wrote me out of his will. He said—”
“Whatever your father intended when you had that row, a new will was never filed. I checked with Garth, who is executor of his estate. You will inherit a third share of Howard’s stake in the company, and that is significant equity. With it comes the power to implement change. From the forty-third floor you can see dreams through to reality. You can heal rifts. You can right wrongs.”
Ric watched the storm of possibilities flare in her eyes for several long, weighty seconds.
“That’s powerful rhetoric,” she said.
“It’s not just rhetoric,” he responded without hesitation. “This next few months will be a tough time for the company. The share price is already taking a beating on the back of this week’s negative publicity. We can’t sit tight and ride this out. We need to play the game smarter. We want you working with us to generate positive press, Kim. We want you back at Blackstone’s.”
“We?”
“Senior management. Ryan, Garth, myself.”
“‘Generating positive publicity’ sounds more like a PR specialist’s dream job than mine,” she countered after a moment’s consideration. “Why don’t you hire a consultant?”
“We don’t want a slick consultant. We want you and your sharp brain and your industry knowledge and credentials.” He leaned forward, hands linked loosely between his knees, but there was nothing casual about the insistent strength of his gaze. “We want to present a united front, Kim, to show we’re not dwelling on the past but moving forward with the next generation. And we want your name quoted in the papers, your face in front of the cameras.”
Her brows arched with a hint of derision. “I thought you were using Marise’s supermodel sister as the ‘Face of Blackstone’s’.”
“Briana Davenport is the ‘face.’ We’re proposing you as the ‘mouth’, a role for which you’re eminently qualified.”
Unexpected amusement sparkled at the back of her eyes. “Aren’t you concerned that my mouth will create more trouble?”
“Only for me,” he acknowledged dryly, “and I’m big enough to take it.”
It was an innocent remark, designed to show he appreciated that her mouthiest moments had always been reserved for him. But when she didn’t fire back an instant retort, and when the glow in her eyes warmed with a different fire, the harmless jest grew teeth that gnawed through the thickened silence. There were all manner of things he ached to tell her about her mouth, how he’d missed the bite in these exchanges, how he lived for the moment it opened beneath his, how he dreamed of its sweet-spice taste.
This wasn’t the moment. The only task that mattered right now was luring her back to Blackstone’s, and he couldn’t risk ruining his chances.
He shoved to his feet and strolled toward the open doors to breathe the familiar, salty air, to clear the buzz of another seduction from his brain.
“If I took this position—” her gaze, direct and unwavering, met Ric’s as he swung around “—who would I be working under?”
“That would depend on the project,” he replied carefully, ignoring his libido’s grunt of response to her wording.
“The projects being …?”
“The big one is the launch of the latest jewellery collections. I’m guessing Danielle would have told you about the gala show?”
“A little.” She tried for cool, but failed to hide the sparkle of interest that lit her expression. “It’s next month, right?”
“February twenty-ninth. Even without recent events, this year’s show has special significance.”
“The ten-year anniversary of Blackstone Jewellery,” she guessed without hesitation. “So, the usual birthday celebrations, continuing promotions, ad campaigns?”
“All that.”
“I’m guessing this would be well covered by the marketing department. What, exactly, would I be doing?”
Looking into her eyes, Ric felt an adrenaline punch of response. This is what he’d missed—her quick pickups, her sharp comebacks, the verbal duels that were never predictable but always stirred something vital inside him. “If I knew, then I wouldn’t need you.”
“I?”
