Best Laid Plans

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#uef6a6479-cd26-5b66-a5e9-57e28cbe0cb6)

“LESS LIKE A fraternity and more like a real company? What the hell does that mean?”

Cameron Blackmore leaned back in the plush lounge chair and massaged his temples. He didn’t like this any more than the others, but as CEO of Blackmore Inc. in Australia, he had to be the voice of reason. Or at least survival. He crossed his arms and looked each of the other three members of his team in the eye.

“You all know exactly what this means,” he said. “After the recent news coverage we’ve gotten, we need to lie low for a while. We’re in high-profile security, for fuck’s sake. No public appearances, no partying and no walking out of a pub with clients.”

Derek and Simon nodded. Max’s scowl grew.

“Can your father and his board tell us where we can go and who we can bring home with us?” Max grumbled. “All the way from New York?”

Cameron surveyed the dark room and caught a couple glances in their direction from other patrons. Damn. They were attracting attention. He had moved their impromptu meeting to the hotel lounge to be discreet, but discreet wasn’t Max’s strong suit.

Cameron lowered his voice and leaned in. “It’s not like any of us were planning on finding the love of our lives in the next two weeks.” He turned to Max. “And to answer your question, yes. When you land on the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald, yes.”

Derek and Simon looked at Max.

Max threw his hands up. “Hey, I was fact-finding with her.”

Derek smirked. “Is that what you call it, mate?”

“We don’t need to get into this again,” said Cameron. “You did what you needed to do. The client understood that, even if the board doesn’t. They’re owned by my father, so what do you expect?”

His smile disappeared. Harlan Blackmore still managed to wield some control over his life, even a continent away. Cameron’s dislike of his father was no secret. When he joined the family business, Cameron had expected his grandfather to hold on for a few more years. Enough time to take the ruins of the business his father had left in Australia and turn it into the kind of company his grandfather had built. Cameron had fond, if hazy, memories of Sydney from the two years he’d spent here as a child—back when his parents were together. So, he’d jumped on the opportunity to return a couple years ago. But his grandfather’s heart attack wasn’t in Cameron’s plans, nor was his father’s scramble for control over Blackmore Inc.

And Harlan Blackmore had no fucking idea how to run an international security company. He just looked the part and acted the part, all while running Blackmore Inc. Australia into the ground with his US strategies. And the board rewarded him for this grand performance by making him president.

But maybe, just maybe, this whole recent turn of events could be Cameron’s chance to run the business his way. His grandfather’s way. A chance to show the board that focusing on a strong, loyal team and the demands of the current market had a better business payoff than making strategic golf partners or any of the other shit the board wanted him to do. His father could play golf or do whatever the hell he pleased, as long as he left the business strategy to Cameron.

Low grumbles came from around the table.

“No women? Sounds like a waste of two weeks,” said Max.

Derek took a swipe at Max’s head, but Max ducked. “You’re whining more than you did back on the footy field.”

“Piss off,” said Max lazily. “Not all of us have a hot woman at home to—”

“Watch what you say about my wife,” growled Derek, all two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle ready to tackle his former teammate.

“Enough,” said Cameron.

The discussion was over. He trusted this group of men with his life. If he asked them to keep a low profile, they’d all do it. And so would he. Starting tomorrow.

Cameron took a gulp of his beer and scanned the lounge to see if anyone was still watching them. He stopped on a woman sitting at the end of the bar, her eyes on him. Red lips and long brown hair in waves down her back. A silky shirt, see-through, thanks to the angle of the lights, and a black skirt riding up her thighs. She was looking, not listening, and there was something dreamy, unfocused, in her gaze. As if she were thinking through the course of her night, too.

The woman pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down into her drink. Damn. How soon could he get this meeting over with?

Simon leaned in and grabbed the paper off the table in front of him, scanning it again. “So they’re sending this asshole—” he pointed at the name in the middle of the page “—Jackson McAllister all the way from New York just to follow us around for two weeks?”

“What kind of wanky name is Jackson McAllister?” Max waved his hand around, almost knocking over his beer.

“The kind that will be firing all of our asses if we’re not careful,” said Derek.

Cameron sighed. “Look, he’ll be around the office a bit, but it’s really me he’s supposed to follow. To see if a little public relations training can ‘fix’ our image. Fix my image, actually. It’s my job that’s on the line. The board was pretty specific on that.”

Max blew out his breath. “Sorry, mate.”

Cameron swallowed the bile creeping up his throat and shrugged. “So the plan is to give this dickhead a grand welcome to Sydney, show him that this is all a big misunderstanding, that we’re not all drunken brawlers who like to pick up women every night, and then send him on his way back to New York.”

Derek snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“It’s fine,” said Cameron. “I can play nice for a few days. And so can you all.”

Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow at Max.

“Piss off, Derek,” said Max and punched him in the arm. “You were partying just as much as the rest of us before you met Laurie.”

“Here’s the thing,” said Cameron, cutting off the exchange. “I called you here because I wanted you to know ahead of time. I’m meeting with the guy tomorrow morning, and we’ll all go to dinner at Circular Quay, all nice and civil-like. But until then, you don’t know anything. So you all have one last night before the ax comes down.”

He looked around the table. The expressions on all three faces of his team grew into grins, as if they were each imagining what they were going to do with this night. Cameron didn’t need to use his imagination. The woman was sitting right in his line of sight. Her wine was almost gone, so it was time to wrap up this meeting.

Cameron cleared his throat.

“Oh, well, thanks for the heads-up,” said Max, all traces of his frown gone. He stood up and set his beer on the table. “So what are we waiting for? Who’s in for the pub?”

Derek smiled. “Laurie’s out until ten, so I’m up for a couple drinks. But I want to make it home by then.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Me and lover boy. What about you, Simon?”

“Of course.”

“And you, boss?”

Cameron eyed the bar. The woman was looking in his direction again. This time, she waited an extra beat before she lowered her long dark lashes. A good sign.

“I’m sticking around here for a while,” he said. “But I’ll call you if I change my mind.”

“Whatever, mate.” Max shook his head. “You gonna check into a room here and rent some porn for your last night of freedom?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said, chuckling.

Cameron watched his team head out of the hotel. He took the last drink from his beer and set it down. He turned for one more look at the luscious woman at the bar. If he ended up alone tonight, he’d have plenty of material to get off on. Her skirt rode high enough to get a good look at her shapely bare legs. Was she the type who liked to ride or be ridden? Or both?