Tycoon's Terms of Engagement. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
unknown possibilities…
Except the one time she’d tried she’d almost destroyed what little was left of her family.
Dan.
Cold memories slammed into her. Her mistakes burned, and regret tasted as acid and as fresh as the day disaster had struck.
She felt responsible for her brother’s disabilities. Every single one of the golden possibilities he’d had had been destroyed. Dan had gone from sporting superstar to wheelchair-bound and broken. His future had once been assured. Now it was up to her to assure him a different future.
He was the reason she was here now.
So she shouldn’t be ogling Jack’s powerful-looking hands or feeling tantalised by his smile. She wasn’t here to flirt. She needed to focus. And she needed to check on her brother ASAP.
Her fingers tightened on her mobile phone. She’d send a quick, quiet text to Dan and another to Tara to double-check her brother was okay.
Jack wasn’t finding out about her brother. She wasn’t telling him he was the reason why she couldn’t be out for hours and hours. She was not playing the pity card. She’d keep up her ‘take it or leave it’ aura—the projection that she had no worries, no need of his offer, was key. She didn’t want him thinking she had to sell her site. She couldn’t appear desperate.
But in truth she’d do whatever it took to secure Dan’s future.
As she texted, Jack’s phone rang again. He didn’t bother to pull over and answer it this time. If anything, it felt as if he hit the accelerator more heavily.
‘Tell me more about your blog. You write all kinds of lists, right?’ he said, talking loudly over the top of his incessant ringtone.
‘That’s how it started, yes,’ she answered, still looking down at her own phone.
Her blog was still titled ‘The List’. She’d begun with all kinds of crazy lists, but the lists had really been a cover for random comments on everyday absurdities to entertain her friends. It had evolved from there, although now they were more straight lists than any kind of astute commentaries, but she tried to keep them as fun and entertaining as always.
‘Because lists are catchy?’ he asked. ‘“Ten Ways with a Tank Top” or something?’
‘Or something…’ she murmured. ‘Lists are easy and quick to read, and people like them. They’re popular. It’s that simple.’
‘Do you write lists for everything?’
The tips of her ears burned as she thought she caught an intimate nuance in his voice. Was he thinking personal lists?
She sent him a sharp look and registered his amusement.
She turned back to glare at the bitumen ahead. She wasn’t biting. But, sure, she could list a number of things she’d like to do with him—none of them polite. Not all of them strictly businesslike and professional either.
‘Yes!’ She made herself reply in ultra-perky Steffi Leigh style. ‘They help me stay organised.’
‘So, do you have a list of everything you’re going to achieve in life?’
‘Like many of your travellers will have a list of all the must-do, must-see places—of course.’
‘I’m curious about what’s on it.’
‘Oh, you know—the usual stuff anyone has.’
‘I can’t believe that. I get the impression you’re not like just “anyone”.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ She laughed. Pure Steffi Leigh.
‘Tell me about the haters. How do you handle them?’
‘I don’t,’ she said, her amusement fading. ‘I ignore them.’
‘It’s that easy?’
It was never that easy. ‘To be honest, I let a lot of my hard-core fans respond to them. I used to moderate the comments, but it took up too much time.’
‘But you still read them all?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it doesn’t get to you?’
‘Why would I let it?’ She maintained her smile with determination. ‘There are far more positive comments than negative. They’re the ones I think about when I’m working on a segment.’
At first the blog had been for her own fun. Then it had grown legs of its own—until she’d been sprinting to try to keep up with its demands. Since Dan’s illness it had got harder to maintain the schedule, and yet she had all the more reason to make it bigger and better. Leveraging her ‘platform’ was the only way she could think of to earn the money she needed to get her brother motivated and into some kind of study.
She waited, but Jack still ignored the strident ringing of his phone.
‘So your lists cover everything—no topic is off-limits? How do you decide the content? By strategy or whim?’ He glanced at her. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I’m not criticising. I’m trying to understand your success.’
Because it was so hard for him to believe little ol’ her could have made something so massive?
How could she be so attracted to someone so irritating? She had not got out enough in the last eighteen months.
‘Well…’ She smiled another Steffi Leigh smile through gritted teeth, determined to stay positive and upbeat. ‘There’s a lot of hair and make-up stuff going on. And fashion choices—what to wear, how to wear it. And, yes, there’s some whimsy—designing doilies from paper towels or sewing slippers from comic book covers… whatever takes my mind. But I do plan and keep a list of topics—’
‘Of course you do.’
‘Right.’ She conceded another laugh. ‘And of course there’s restaurant recommendations,’ she concluded. ‘And good places to go.’
‘You make it sound easy, when we both know it isn’t,’ he commented.
And, stupidly, that was enough to make her feel all warm about him again.
‘What’s the best trip you’ve been on?’ he asked.
She hesitated, thinking of that fateful holiday to the Northern Territory. For once Dan hadn’t had a sporting camp or competition and they’d been able to go. It had been perfect—until his fever and headache had suddenly come on. She’d loved the vast, isolated beauty. But she couldn’t bear the reminder of it now.
‘I love the big city thrill of Sydney.’ She reverted to an answer he’d expect from Steffi Leigh.
‘And the shopping?’
‘Why, yes…’ she all but cooed. ‘And all those restaurants. The scene is a lot of fun.’
‘And beyond Australia?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve not been many places outside of Australia.’
She’d not been anywhere outside Australia, despite her mum now living in France with husband number three. Because, unlike her mum, she wouldn’t walk out on her whole world for a man. Unlike her mum she wouldn’t walk out on her responsibilities. And Dan needed someone. By default it had to be her.
That fateful trip Outback had been the first Stephanie had planned—her choice, her organisation—and she’d been so excited because, yes, she’d longed to travel. But Dan had been recovering from the flu just before they’d left and his immunity had been weak. And when they’d been miles from anywhere he’d suddenly got really, really sick.
Headache. Fever. Rash.