A Touch of Confidence

  Dedication

  Jayne and Lorelei…anytime you wanna try another number, call me.

  With special thanks to Dawn, Fedora and Kelly (yes, again).

  Chapter One

  Claire Jones pressed her face close to the shop window and peered inside. Someone had washed the glass, and with the Sydney sunshine streaming in behind her she could easily make out the large, empty expanse.

  Perfect.

  Location, size, shape… Everything they needed.

  This place suited her and her two sisters to a T. Li’L Books and Bits would do brilliantly here. With a children’s shoe store next door, an art and craft shop down the road and a baby store around the corner, a specialist shop selling children’s clothes, books and toys was just what the neighborhood needed.

  Claire flexed her fingers, stretching them to make sure they were in adequate working order to sign the lease. If her watch was right, Jack Wilson—the property manager—was due here in the next two minutes. Three days ago, they’d agreed to meet at the store to fill in the papers.

  Soon the shop would belong to them. Well, for the next three years anyway. They could move in and start fixing the place up, add the necessary shelving and clothes racks, put in wooden floors, paint murals on the walls and get the place to look like a child’s—and mother’s—paradise.

  Movement inside the shop startled her. Someone was there. A man. Although “man” would be an understatement. Giant was more like it.

  He must surely tower above Claire, which at her five foot nine was no mean feat. His shoulders were massive, almost hiding the door from which he’d just stepped through, the one leading to the back rooms of the store.

  What on earth was he doing there?

  Just when Claire thought she couldn’t be more surprised, a second man followed him out. The giant turned to face him, the two men shook hands, and the smaller one took his leave, opening the front door and walking through it.

  “Nice doing business with you, Jack,” he said. “Wilson Property Management has impressed me once again.”

  The giant saluted, touching his finger to his forehead, and the smaller man walked away.

  Claire’s heart lurched. Jack? Wilson Property Management? What on earth was going on?

  She glanced around, looking up and down the road behind her, but there was no sign of Jack Wilson. The only Jack anywhere in sight was the man who stood inside the shop, slipping a file into his briefcase.

  Claire took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  He looked up. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for Jack Wilson. I have an appointment with him.”

  “I’m Jack.” He stepped closer, a question in his eyes.

  Claire had to blink, startled by the stunning green shade of those eyes. This man might have the same name, but he was not the Jack Wilson she’d expected.

  Her Mr. Wilson was not a day under eighty, had a stern but likeable way about him and a savvy business sense that made Claire trust him instinctively.

  This Mr. Wilson could not be a day over thirty-five. His long, muscular legs seemed to go on forever, and his face… Mm, mm, mm. What a face. Chiseled chin, high cheek bones, a strong nose and those striking green eyes were all framed by thick and wavy light brown hair.

  If she’d been forced to describe him, she’d have to invent a hot Avenger concoction. Like a mixture of Captain America, Thor, Bruce Banner and Tony Stark all rolled into one heart-stopping, sexy guy.

  He was gorgeous. A giant who looked like he’d be more comfortable on an Aussie Rules football field, tossing a footy to other giants, than managing various property rentals.

  She shook her head. “I’m looking for an older man.” Much older, much less potent. The eighty-year-old had never made Claire’s heart skip a beat, or made her think of long, hot nights and tangled sheets. “Grey hair, neat beard and moustache, glasses.”

  “Right, yeah. That would be my grandfather. I’m sorry. He’s not here.”

  Okay. That explained the names and the age difference. “I had a meeting with him scheduled for now.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Miss…?”

  Much as she wanted to look into his exquisite eyes, her gaze seemed pinned to his mouth. To a pair of delicious-looking lips that just begged to be kissed. By her. “Jones. Claire Jones.” She stuck out her hand.

  He shook it.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Jones. My grandfather couldn’t make his appointments today. I’m taking his place. But…” He shrugged apologetically. “I have no record of any meeting with you.”

  It took a good few seconds for Claire’s brain to process his words. It had kind of gotten stuck on his hand shake. On his warm skin that seemed to burn straight through hers.

  “We made the appointment a few days ago,” she supplied. “Agreed to meet here at eleven. I guess if he can’t make it, I should be speaking to you?”

  The G.G.—gorgeous giant—nodded with a smile. A very nice smile at that, sexy, with a dimple creasing his right cheek. The kind of dimple she’d like to spend time exploring…with her tongue. “I guess so. How can I help you?”

  “I’ve come to sign the lease for the shop.” She gestured at the room around them. Her palm tingled now that he’d released it, and she feared she might be tempted to grab his hand again. “Your grandfather said he’d have the papers all ready to—” She broke off mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?”

  He stared at her, slack jawed, not looking so okay.

  Maybe he’d need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?

  “You’ve come to sign the lease for the shop?” He pointed to the floor. “This shop?”

  She nodded, distracted by the idea of mouth-to-mouth with Jack Wilson Jr.

  “And you set up the appointment when?”

  “Three days ago. My sister and I viewed it last week, made an offer, and your grandfather accepted. Signing is the last step in the process, and the shop is ours for the next three years.” She grinned, getting excited and nervous all over again. Expanding their business was a big step. An expensive step, but a necessary one, if they hoped to make money from Li’l Books and Bits.

  “Oh, um…” The G.G.’s face paled just a bit. “You’ve discussed the contract with my grandfather?”

  “In depth. A three-year agreement, paying eight fifty a week for the first year, with an annual increase of ten percent thereafter.”

  Jack Wilson squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, placed his briefcase on the floor and grimaced. “Perhaps you’d better come inside,” he invited. “We need to talk.”

  Claire’s stomach twisted as he stepped aside to let her in. His discomfort gave her a bad feeling.

  “There seems to have been a misunderstanding, Miss Jones. I had no idea you’d made an appointment with my grandfather, no idea you’d agreed to take the shop.” He crossed the floor to stand before her. “I’ve just rented it out. The lease was signed not five minutes ago.”

  “Pardon me?” She did not just hear what she thought she heard.

  “I’ve just leased the shop. The new tenant walked out of here a moment before you knocked.”

  It was her turn to blanch. The blood drained from her cheeks. “Wait a minute. He signed the lease? You have his signature on the papers?”

  Mr. Wilson Jr. leaned down and removed a file from his briefcase. He held it up. “Signed and sealed, I’m afraid.” His expression was troubled, as though he regretted causing her pain. But he didn’t offer to run after the other man and break the contract.

  “That’s nice.” She pasted a saccharine-sweet smile on her face, trying to contain her emotions. Just beneath the surface, anger and disappointment boiled in equal measure. She, Maddie and Julia h
ad searched for months before they’d found this shop. They’d researched their client database, carried out extensive market research and quite conclusively found that Rose Bay would be one of the best areas to open their new store. Finding an unoccupied shop in this market had proven almost impossible, until Maddie had stumbled across Wilson’s advert.

  They’d offered to rent the property the same day.

  Claire had no idea what she’d do if they lost it now. Cry? Rant and rave? Hit someone? Or give up on their dream of expansion because the idea of finding another shop was too overwhelming and too time consuming to contemplate?

  Uh-uh. No way. She wasn’t going to lose this store. Not when the Jones sisters’ plans were nearing fruition. Didn’t matter how gorgeous this giant may be, how damn sexy and distracting—or how regretful he looked, he wasn’t going to rob her of the property. “Nice for him, I mean.” She pursed her lips. “Unfortunately for you, it means Wilson Property is in breach of contract.”

  He froze, with the folder held in mid-air. “Breach of contract?”

  “Your grandfather and I had an oral agreement. We settled on the terms and he promised the shop to me. That’s a legally binding contract. The question now is, how should we proceed?”

  He didn’t answer, just looked from her to the contract and back again.

  “You have to understand, Mr. Wilson, I’m not willing to give up on this shop. It took us too long to find, and we have neither the time nor the resources to find something else. This property was a done deal for us.”

  “I understand that. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. I had no idea my grandfather had promised you the property. I proceeded as I saw fit, renting the shop to a different tenant. I’m sorry to disappoint you. Truly, I am, but there’s nothing I can do to change it at this point.”

  “Nothing you can do?” Oh, no. She wasn’t giving up. Claire was too stubborn for that—too stubborn for her own good, as her sisters pointed out all too often. But damned if she wasn’t going to dig her heels in right now.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “I see the matter differently. I’m thinking this can go one of two alternative ways.”

  Interest flared in his eyes. “And those two ways are?”

  “You could let the new tenant know what’s happened and convince him to break the lease.”

  He frowned. “Or?”

  She hesitated with the second option. If she brought up this alternative, things could turn sour fast. Much as she wanted the property, she didn’t believe he’d rented it out to someone else with malicious intent. He simply hadn’t known about her and her sisters. Still, the shop was now in someone else’s hands, which left the Jones women nowhere. “Or we could let our lawyers handle it from here.”

  Jack stared at the Amazonian warrior standing before him. With her hazel eyes flashing, her mouth set in a serious expression and her honey-blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, he thought he’d never seen a more fascinating woman.

  Not an appropriate factor to fixate on while she threatened legal action, but there you had it.

  She was…enchanting, with a voluptuousness Mother Earth herself would envy. Her tall frame lent her the height that put her closer to eye level with him than he was used to with women.

  “You don’t have anything to say in response?” she prompted.

  Her voice hummed through his stomach. Low and a little raspy, it made her sound like she’d just woken up. Or just had great sex. It rumbled through his stomach and tugged on his balls, sending a jolt of awareness racing through his blood.

  Concentrate.

  He shook his head, clearing it of the sexual fog that threatened to swamp him. Wilson Property Management was apparently in breach of contract, and Miss Jones had just mentioned taking legal action.

  Shit. Three hours on the job, and already he’d made a monumental fuck up. His background had not prepared him for running this business, but he’d refused to let his pop down. Especially after last night. His grandfather, Big Jack, simply hadn’t needed any extra stress.

  Still, he’d never met the woman, and he couldn’t be sure she had in fact been in contact with Big Jack. He’d found no evidence of it anywhere in his pop’s office—and Jack had searched the office.

  “Look, before I respond, I’m going to need to verify the validity of your contract.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Pardon me?”

  “I’d like you to see this from my perspective. I don’t know you, and I have no record of any of your dealings with my grandfather. It would be foolish to chase after a client with a signed lease and demand he break it based on your say-so. I need proof before I can proceed with this.”

  “I’m standing here, ready to sign the lease. What more proof do you need?”

  “Evidence of the contract perhaps?”

  She glared at him as if he were mad. “It was an oral contract. There is no ‘evidence’.”

  “Then there is very little reason for me chase up the current tenant.”

  “There is every reason.” Her cheeks turned scarlet. “Our agreement included the three elements that make a contract legally binding.” She stepped forward and pointed a finger at his chest. “One, our contract included an offer. I offered to pay to rent this property.”

  He took an instinctive step backwards. Not because he found her threatening. On the contrary, when she stood this close, her scent wafted around his nose, tantalizing him with its alluring fragrance. She smelled like…a spring breeze, fresh and perfumed with a hint of flowers. Roses maybe?

  No, the reason he stepped back was that her nail was long, and if she prodded his chest, it would dig into his skin.

  Now if she dug her nails into his back as she clutched him while he drove into her naked, alluring body, he’d have no problem with the scratches she’d leave behind. Truth be told, he’d relish them, drive into her a little harder, a little faster, encouraging her to scratch deeper. A little pain always made pleasure that much better. But fully clothed like this, he doubted he’d appreciate the sting without the complementary pleasure.

  She took another step forward and whipped out a second finger.

  “Two, your grandfather accepted my offer. We shook hands on it, as a witness—my sister—can attest to. And three…” A third finger appeared, this one grazing his chest as she moved her hand.

  Lust exploded behind his ribs, a sudden, unexpected desire to haul the woman closer and kiss the living shit out of her.

  “…The consideration. Your grandfather told me a figure, eight hundred and fifty dollars, and I agreed to the value he’d put on the property.” She waved all three fingers at him. “And that, Mr. Wilson, is your proof. That is what makes the contract binding. In the eyes of the law, it is a legal agreement, one that cannot be broken.”

  Her voice was stern, her shoulders stiff and her eyes so focused on his he couldn’t look away. The only thing out of whack with the professional yet irate picture she painted was her uneven breath. She inhaled as though she couldn’t fill her lungs. Quick, shallow pants that ensured every time she exhaled, her breath puffed over his neck in short, warm bursts.

  And damned if it didn’t make him crazy. His body, already alerted to her magnetism, tightened with a base physical attraction. What was it about the woman that inspired this reaction in him?

  Damn it, desire had no place here. He needed to use his head and sort out the problem he’d inadvertently caused. Jack had no doubt that Miss Jones told the truth, that he owed her an apology and that he needed to fix up his mess. He did not need to imagine stripping her naked and exposing her voluptuous breasts to his hungry gaze or mouth.

  Think, Jack.

  What would Big Jack do? How would he sort everything out, leaving Miss Jones satisfied?

  Offer her another property, of course. A better one, but at a discounted price. That would neutralize her anger, give the Jones sisters another option and provide a solution to all of their problems.

&
nbsp; The question was: Did his pop have another property on his books?

  Christ, he hated not having the foggiest idea how he was supposed to run this business. But he’d received an urgent phone call last night, and he could hardly refuse to help Big Jack out in a crisis.

  Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d made the wrong decision all those years ago. If he’d studied something other than teaching—a business degree maybe, or economics—he’d have no problem now looking after Wilson Property Management for a few days. He’d also have no problem fulfilling a dream he’d had for a few years now—buying a property for himself. A house he could live in comfortably.

  On his current salary, that was a dream he could never hope to realize.

  “Look, Miss Jones, I apologize. I had no idea about the oral contract between you and my grandfather. He said nothing about it and left no notes about your meeting. The fact remains that this shop is now leased, the contract signed and I doubt I can break it.”

  Her face darkened with ire.

  “But I would be more than happy to check the files back at the office and see what else we have available.” More than happy—so long as he worked out how to use the damn software. “I’m sure if we take a minute to calm down and look at our options, we’ll find something that would suit your needs just as well, if not better, than this shop.”

  She shook her head with a disbelieving smile. “Do you think it’s that simple? You’ll check your books, come up with something else, and we’ll all be happy?”

  “I don’t see why it can’t be.”

  “Because there aren’t a whole lot of properties in this area.” The smile vanished. “When one becomes available, it’s snapped up like that.” She clicked her fingers. “I would expect you to know this.”

  He should know it. But other than being all too aware of the rising price of residential housing in Sydney, Jack knew nothing about the property market—especially not the commercial market. He wasn’t a property manager. While he knew the ins and outs of the high school English and History syllabi, shop rentals remained a mystery to him. The only reason he had time now to help Big Jack was because school was closed for the spring holiday.