A Business Affair

By Melinda Rucker Haynes

Financier Alyn Templeman has two choices. She must bail out her stepbrother's business or shut it down for good. She's used to dealing with high-class clients, but the sexy and former Navy fighter pilot Matt Barrett, is a class of his own. He thinks she's there to give him a loan, but his sweet-talking has her mind on other matters. Accidents at his company evolve into attempted murder and treachery.

Matt, who is falling fast for Alyn, needs to keep her safe. Yet, neither one knows who to trust. When it comes down to business or love will they get a chance to make it work, or will betrayal bankrupt their relationship?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Apr 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509231096

Melinda Rucker Haynes

An award-wining author of eight novels, Melinda Rucker Haynes, M.Ed., left Las Vegas where she performed as university adult education research project director and as a moonlighting corporate trainer to stimulating people working at an area in the Nevada desert that doesn’t exist. After gypsying around the world and living in four foreign countries, most recently Washington DC, with her husband, son and a naughty Airedale Terrier, the northwestern Arizona native settled in Tucson. Melinda continues to search out magical stories in the ghost towns, vast night skies and mysterious ancient sites of the West. Her young adult paranormal novel, Ghostly Acts, is a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart winner. Her second young adult paranormal novel, The Haunting of Josh Weston, is a twice-nominated RWA Golden Heart Finalist and, most recently, Arizona State Library’s OneBookAZ literary contest winner.

Book preview

Inc.

She crouched under the fastback roof, pulling the skirt down over the exposed thighs of her beautiful legs.

It was a crime to hide them under that long skirt.

She swept a loose piece of dark hair behind her ear. Her smoky brown-eyed gaze met his and she winked so quick maybe he imagined it.

When they pulled into the airport, Salty complained, I thought we’d take her home together. He got out and leaned to give a hand to the beauty in the back.

Matt almost groaned as two gorgeous legs extended from the back deck as Salty helped her out of the roadster. The best legs ever stepped into the passenger seat, followed by the rest of all-business Alyn Templeman. Even so, a devout leg-man like him could be in danger of losing necessary objectivity regarding this woman.

Never happen! The infamous Crisco Kid whispered the blatant lie between Matt’s ears. He’d best remember the woman was there on business. Matt reluctantly dragged his gaze back to the dark road ahead.

Praise for Melinda Rucker Haynes

Award-winning and best-selling author Melinda Rucker Haynes’ novels have won over twenty awards and praise from critics and fans alike.

Visit her website: www.melindaruckerhaynes.com

~

A BUSINESS AFFAIR is the first book of her romantic suspense The Mysterious Affairs series for The Wild Rose Press.

Other Titles by Melinda Rucker Haynes

GHOSTLY ACTS

THE HAUNTING OF JOSH WESTON

THE ETERNAL TRUST

BREACH OF TRUST

BITTEN: Confessions of a Menopausal Vampire

A Business Affair

by

Melinda Rucker Haynes

Mysterious Affairs, Book 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

A Business Affair

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Melinda Rucker Haynes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2020

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-3108-9

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3109-6

Mysterious Affairs, Book 1

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

As someone has surely said—

mixing business with pleasure is not only possible,

it’s inspired!

Chapter One

What are you wearing? the French-accented voice murmured in her earbuds.

Straining to hear over the airport terminal’s clamor, Alyn Templeman raised her voice, Is that you, Vivi?

"Of course, mon cher. Bonjour from Paris, answered Vivienne Chenault. So, what are you wearing in fabulous Las Vegas?"

Alyn cringed at her best friend’s question and glanced around the executive terminal. I’m not actually in Vegas but in a grisly suburb waiting for my flight to Bullhead City, Arizona. Though I understand it’s near some Nevada casinos where there may be Vegas fabulousness to be had.

The creative director of House of Chenault pressed her question. And you are wearing?

Grandmother’s vintage Chenault navy suit with the brass buttons. She shrugged against the jacket’s lining sticking to her steamy skin.

Vivi gave a tinkling laugh. Oh, Aly, leave our grandmothers’ old suits in the baggage. I’m sending very sexy resort wear the new stepbrother can’t resist.

Don’t bother. I’m dressed for a business affair, not the Riviera. Unfortunately, she teased back.

"Too sad, cher Aly. We’re all partying in Nice for the next few days and will miss you.

Her father’s picture popped up on her buzzing watch’s screen. Gotta go, Vivi. It’s Dad.

You are too much a daddy’s girl. Send him to voice mail. My brother Adrien asks you to call. There’s something wrong—

Alyn dropped her friend’s call and took a deep breath. Hi, Dad. I’m here. In body, though not in spirit. The toasty cab ride from the Las Vegas airport was the best part of this trip so far.

Rough flight, even in first class, huh?

Her father and business partner, Bradley Templeman, sounded less than sympathetic. Alyn’s rebellious stomach heaved. She swallowed hard. Well, it was a higher level of hell, but the minuscule windows and too many people using up the air—

Now, Aly, you know this claustrophobia or panic thing of yours is a control issue. However, I’m confident that you’ll keep fighting it and win—or die trying. Ha-ha-ha.

Oh, very funny. It wasn’t, but little from her all-business father ever was humorous. Though lately, he seemed to be in an oddly lighthearted mood. Probably due to the new wife, which was his usual mood elevator, however brief. Listen, Brad, high-performance sports cars satisfy my need for speed and control. I hate the waste of my precious time imprisoned in ancient aviation tech with locked doors when instant teleportation is a viable option…in some universe. She looked around the crowded waiting area, searching for the closest exit—the automatic double glass doors to the business jets parked outside. Perfect.

Alyn grabbed the tow handle on her stacked luggage and stopped mid-step.

A tall man dressed in khaki cargo shorts, a brown polo shirt with Desert Air Tours in gold over the right breast, and flip-flops, strolled in the double doors. He pushed aviator sunglasses up on his dark-blond head, revealing an easygoing expression that lit with a crooked smile when he saw her.

She couldn’t help but respond with a tight-lipped grin. Enter the new stepbrother the latest Mrs. Templeman has given us. Aw, Dad, not another pretty-boy player. You dragged me out of Paris for this? What am I supposed to do with him?

Her father chuckled. Matt is personable and bright enough, but that ex-Tail Hooker is my nearly perfect wife’s only possible shortcoming. Unfortunately, he has no head for business and seems to have screwed up her helicopter tour operation. But his mother doesn’t believe Matt is the problem, of course. Corryn wants you to determine the real cause of their financial problems—our financial problems, I should say, since we hold forty-nine percent of Desert Air Tours—

What the hell? She ground her teeth and forced a conversational tone. Isn’t a small air tour business in nowhere, Arizona more than a little off our global investment strategy? And why buy in, if her son has bankrupted the company?

You don’t know that. None of us know what’s going on there. That’s why the Board wants you to have a look at the operation.

I thought you said Corryn wanted me to go in. Now you’re saying the Board wants me to investigate, which I guess it does if Templeman has bought in—

We’ll discuss this later. Her father used the demanding tone he reserved for employees, staff, and truculent wives.

The point is, ‘discuss later’ is code for you don’t want to get into this with me and are intentionally sending me into a mess once again. Which was probably the case. Oh great, here he comes. Goodbye, Brad. Alyn hit the end-call button on her watch and pulled out her earbud.

The handsome man with twinkling green eyes and copper-streaked dark-blond hair stopped in front of her. His tanned, rugged face wore a sunny expression that promised good humor and a take-it-as-it-comes approach to life.

Tell me you’re Aly Templeman, or I’m going to be one disappointed man. At her nod, he added, I’m Matt Barrett, pretty-good pilot, and stepbrother-trainee at your service. He extended his hand. Mom tried to describe you to me, but finally gave up and told me to look for an Emily Blunt twin.

He delivered the transparent compliment with such good-natured innocence that she almost believed it. Your mother showed me your social media pages. She hadn’t paid attention to Corryn’s photos of her son until those astonishing pictures popped up.

Mothers will get you every time. Matt Barrett shook his head with mock disgust. Did she happen to explain the selfies?

She stifled a snort. Oh, she didn’t need to. The photos explained everything and then some—you as a devoted whatever in a space knight costume posing with big plushy and otherworldly creatures. She was unable to resist poking him with that barb of disdain. His blush made it more than worth it.

I can’t believe she showed you those pictures. But all that was long ago and in a galaxy far, far away—like last month at the Phoenix CactusCon. His eyebrows gave a quick bounce over his laughing eyes. Anyway, for all of Mom’s gut-spilling, she never told me what time your flight arrived, or I’d have met you at McCarran. Sorry you had to get yourself out here to Henderson.

Not a problem, Alyn lied and released his strong hand she’d been hanging on to like a—well, certainly not like a stepsister.

He gave her grandmother’s vintage designer suitcase a practice heft, then looked her up and down. What do you weigh? About 130?

What? No! She pulled her short jacket down and smoothed a hand over her pencil skirt. Was it a bit tight? Why would you ask that?

I have to re-figure the weight and balance on the airplane. I’ll make sure we’re not too heavy, then stow your bags in the luggage compartment and we’ll be off.

Matt’s easy, self-assured pilot’s drawl failed to inspire any confidence in her survival. Luggage compartment? That sounded smaller than the glove box in her little convertible. Perspiration began to gather in all the embarrassing spots. Her grandmother’s classic sports roadster was tiny inside by current standards, especially with the top up, but Alyn never felt confined when she was at the wheel. She dabbed fingertips on her moist upper lip to stop its betraying quiver.

Matt pushed a button on the gold pilot’s watch on his tanned wrist, and a small beep sounded. His smile melted as he squinted at her. Hey, we’ve got room for you and all your baggage, if that’s what you’re worried about? He frowned.

No way was she about to reveal a weakness to this ex-fighter pilot. He was so macho he would never understand her fear of closed-in places. And like her former stepbrothers, this one would make fun of her, and possibly worse.

Aly, I’m kidding. Are you okay?

Matt slid a hand under her elbow, his sincere manner encouraging her to lean on him. She shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t get close or get to know the man personally. This was business. Alyn Genêt Templeman must maintain the negotiator’s emotionless detachment her father took such pride in.

Wait! What the hell was Matt doing calling her Aly? He hadn’t earned the right and wasn’t really family, just another stepbrother. Her new stepmother must have told him about the first Mrs. Bradley Templeman, Danielle Alyn Genêt, whose aristocratic ancestor had served as the French ambassador to the United States during the American Revolution.

After her beautiful, playful mother died, Alyn never allowed anyone but Grandmother Genêt and her father to call her Aly. Bradley had promised to never tell any of her stepmothers and their rotten stepsons her nickname. But when Corryn Barrett married into the Templeman kingdom, Brad introduced her to the new stepmother as my daughter Aly. Despite her mostly miserable experience with stepmothers and their grotesque offspring, there was something different about Corryn and her son Matt Barrett…and that was unsettling.

Please, call me Alyn. She cleared her scratchy throat. I’m okay. Just tired. Had a long flight from Paris. I haven’t had a chance to change clothes. She nervously pulled at the jacket bottom, rolling her shoulders.

Matt gave her a measuring look. Okay, if you’re up to it, I suggest we get going. I could have given you a smooth flight, but it’s getting so late the building temperature will make for unstable air and a rough ride in the Tiburon.

Unstable? Rough? Her field of vision shimmered as the blood drained out of her head. Self-preservation declared it was time for truth—or a better lie. I have to admit I’m not feeling all that well. I think I may have caught a virus…or maybe a bad oyster on the flight.

Mom told me you’ve got a problem with closed-in places.

Compassion, instead of the expected sneer, weighted his tone. His mother knew this about her, too! What hadn’t her father betrayed? Alyn started to deny it, but her fight evaporated. Matt knew the truth anyway. And he was making it so easy for her to admit her wretched weakness. Maybe he wouldn’t judge her. Hopefully. She sighed and glanced away.

Tell you what. I’ll rent a car and drive us to Bullhead City. We might be a little late for the general staff meeting, but I think you’ll be happier and in better shape.

Meeting? I didn’t know a meeting was planned for this evening. Yet something else she hadn’t been told. Picturing her schedule and daily tasks, she moved panicked suffocation to the bottom of her to-do list for the moment. How long will it take to fly? Surely not more than an hour? I can probably handle another hour.

Matt grinned and released her elbow. "It will be about forty-five minutes flight time in the Tiburon. That’s the Spanish name for shark. You’ll see why.

Was that some sort of little plane? They would be crammed together, thousands of feet in the air while she freaked, sick all over herself and him before she blessedly passed out or died from lack of air. Nausea replaced the tingling in the pit of her stomach.

Nevertheless, she had never missed a business meeting in her life and wasn’t about to start now. She’d just focus on business when the flight got rough. That always worked to distract her from her fears.

One hour, two. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go. I’ll be fine. Alyn conjured a weak smile. She had to get her mind on something else. Was there enough time to get sufficiently sloshed before she had to climb into a coffin with wings?

Matt’s analytical gaze bored through her and he winked. Sexy and unexpected.

All right, that’s the spirit. I admire a woman who doesn’t worry about puking on her stilettos.

Not stilettos, she corrected, her throat tightening. Italian pumps.

Italian, of course, thanks for correcting my footwear faux pas. He laughed and slung her briefcase off the carry-on and handed it to her. Jerking up her other bags, he charged through the automatic doors to the airplane parking area outside.

Alyn hurried behind Matt. The 108-degree July heat in the blinding afternoon sun made it hard to breathe. She dug through her briefcase for sunglasses and slipped them on.

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

A toy-looking airplane squatted on the shimmering tarmac, straining at its tethers. Its pearl-white paint gleamed in the sun, and a red-lipped shark’s mouth menaced the black propeller. The same red shot down the side in a lightning bolt and a smaller one zipped up the tail. Blue-and-silver painted eagle’s feathers spread across the sleek, tapered wings. Under the left side window, written in gold script, were the words Matt Crisco Kid Barrett. He was putting her luggage inside, and no doubt expected her to get in with it.

You’ve got to be kidding me! blasted out of her mouth. I’m going to freaking die!

Matt stopped loading. Everyone loves the Shark’s paint scheme. He moved to the nose and patted the fish’s toothy smile. Beautiful, isn’t she?

Somehow oblivious to the sheer terror radiating from her like solar flares, Matt Barrett walked around the plane, poked here and there, looked inside the engine place, and moved panels up and down on the tail and wings.

My dad bought her as a homebuilt kit. The paint has evolved through the years. I came up with this scheme that really says Barrett Tiburon.

It says something, that’s for sure. Dread shook her body and voice.

Bet you didn’t expect to get to ride in something like this. He proudly walked around, totally absorbed with putting his hands all over the plane. Yup, the thrill of a lifetime to ride in this hot lady.

Alyn couldn’t move a step closer to the tiny airplane. Somehow it swallowed her luggage, and now he was going to tell her to sacrifice herself and climb in.

Okay. All set. Hop in, he called from the right side of the airplane. The door was open, and he motioned to her.

Wait. Lungs stopping. Can’t breathe. Can’t do it. Can’t go.

He came around the airplane and stopped a foot from her. Wait for what?

Well, I— Won’t do it. Won’t go.

You’re not okay again? He moved closer, peering into her face.

She wanted desperately to step back but managed to hold her ground. Do we have to go in that? She pointed a trembling finger at the airplane the size of a large minivan or a great white shark.

I promise, if you trust me, I will not only get you to Bullhead safely, you’ll actually have a good time. No, make that a great time. The best time flying you’ve ever had. He gave a wry chuckle. Come on, you’ll be fine. He cupped her elbow.

She let him ease her toward the airplane.

He stopped at the right wing. Step up right here and get in.

The man left her there, walked around to the other side, and climbed into the pilot’s seat. The engine whined then growled as the big propeller on the nose spun to invisibility.

She couldn’t breathe. Fear blanked her mind as the memory took over. Her new stepbrother, a sneaky terror of twelve years to her eight, had lured her into the garage and up a ladder into the attic, promising he’d built a secret fort there for them to play in. She climbed up and into the darkness. The monster pulled the ladder away and escaped, trapping her in the tiny, black space. After she’d screamed herself breathless, the chauffeur finally drove into the garage and freed her. Her father’s retaliation was swift. The stepson and soon-to-be ex-stepmother were sent packing.

Grabbing as much breath as her lungs could take, she hiked up the linen skirt. The windows have to open and there damn well better be a huge personal oxygen tank with my name on it. She stepped up onto the wing, carefully avoiding the No Step sign.

Like it or not, she was going to a place she didn’t want to go, with a brother who wasn’t hers, in a plane that would probably never get them there. She tossed her briefcase on the backseat and buckled herself in. She snatched the headset he handed her and glared at the idiot pilot.

Trust me.

Matt’s sexy voice coaxed through her earphones.

Just a couple things you need to know—don’t touch the yoke or the pedals. I promise you’re gonna love it.

The tiny plane leaped forward, taxied to the runway, and hurtled into the sky.

The aircraft tipped on its side, and she stared down the wing at thousands of houses below dotted with blue spots of swimming pools. She clamped her eyes closed. Once she wasn’t plastered against the door, she risked a squinty look ahead.

The plane zigzagged through blue breaks in the great thunderheads piled up in every direction. Even high above the desert, it was stiflingly hot in the cockpit. And very, very bumpy.

Alyn did not love it. In fact, she hated the airplane. Despised the pilot. But mostly loathed herself and her panicked lungs.

Monsoon season, Matt explained through the headset. We should have left earlier.

Monsoons in Arizona? Ha! Where did he think they were, Burma? He was supposed to be a hotshot pilot, but the plane was being tossed all over the sky. Why was that, if he was so good? Obviously, they were going to die! Forced to grasp for any lifeline, she tried to clear her mind, focusing on her secret meadow, a calm and safe retreat she’d created in her imagination long ago. Clamping her eyes closed, she focused inward. It was very rough there as well, with no cool, reviving oxygen. Alyn Templeman was about to terminally freak.

****

Matt gritted his teeth as he battled the turbulence. Why hadn’t he rented a car? He should have known the weather would be too unstable. But no, he had to prove to the new stepsister that he was a great pilot. As if that would convince her he was also a great businessman. Well, he was certainly on his way to screwing that up, too. He’d be amazed if she trusted him with the time of day after this ride. He glanced at his passenger.

Uh-oh. Slender, white-knuckled hands had a death grip on each other in her lap. The designer sunglasses had inched down to the tip of her straight nose. Her fluttering eyelids were clenched. Glowing beads of perspiration stood out on her pale forehead. Wisps of sable-brown hair stuck to her satin-looking skin. His stepsister’s soft, full lips trembled. Praying?

Negative. He kicked the rudder and banked to the right.

Asking for divine intervention was definitely not Alyn Templeman’s style. Now she clutched a handkerchief to her mouth.

Maybe he ought to do the praying. Tell you what, you just sit back and relax. Think about something else. Leave this to me. I can handle it. He turned back to the sky