I wet my lips and accept the card. “How many days will we be gone?”
“Three. I figure we can hit two of the Florida properties in a day and end in the Hamptons.”
“Yes. Okay. I’ll be ready at five.”
“Good,” he says simply, offering nothing more, but there is something in his eyes that burns through me. Desperate to hide my reaction to this man, I give him my back, and I am once again intensely aware of him tracking my every movement. Lord help me, I’m going on the road with a man who I almost slept with, who also holds my job and many others in his hands. Worse, despite knowing these things, and even despite my suspicions of him and his earlier accusations of me whoring around to climb the corporate ladder, I’m pretty sure he could melt me with a touch of his hand. My normal calm and controlled life is swimming in a shot glass of tequila.
* * * *
I fully intend to be at the car Jensen ordered by four o’clock, but on my way downstairs, I’m stopped by an angry employee, followed by an angry customer in the lobby, both of which puts me in the car at 4:30. I’m leaving without a phone, unless Jensen really has mine and returns it. By the time I get home and start to pack, I realize I really don’t know what I want to take, which makes me want to take everything. Unwilling to embarrass myself with more than one medium bag, though, I do my best to plan.
Glancing at my watch and realizing it’s almost five already, I feel the urgency to return to the hotel and decide to lug my bag downstairs on my own rather than go get help from the driver. A daunting task as I stare at the seven floors of narrow steps from my apartment door. The building might not have an elevator, but in the five years since my grandmother passed and left it to me, I’ve often happily grinned and beared the sometimes rough climb to my door.
I manage three floors before I’m not only panting from the effort to keep from tumbling the rest of the way, but have also scraped my leg from knee to ankle. Leaning on the suitcase, I try to catch my breath. The sound of hurried footsteps has me cringing, wondering how I’m going to let someone by when my suitcase takes up the entire narrow path, when Jensen appears at the bottom of my present level.
“Woman,” he reprimands, loosening his tie on the word. “Why didn’t you call the driver?”
“I don’t have my phone and I didn’t want to keep you waiting. How did you even get in here? The door requires a code.”
“Your neighbor liked me more than you seem to.”
“You must have been nicer to whoever he or she was than you were to me this morning.”
“Nice is overrated,” he comments, quickly taking two steps at a time, closing the distance between us with such effortless grace that I am breathless all over again when he stops in front of me. “Nice is for pussies.”
I gape. “That was—”
“True,” he supplies, his eyes dancing with amusement, the hard shell he’d worn all day softening unexpectedly as he adds, “And as you can see, I wasn’t about to wait on you to show up. I thought you might have changed your mind about the trip.”
“Regardless of your earlier accusations, I’m good for my word. I said I’d go and I’m going.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. It is, but for the record, I don’t remember being given a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, but you’ve made yours and I’ve made mine. You’re coming with me.” He reaches for my bag and our hands collide, electricity darting up my arm.
I jerk my hand back as if burned. His lips quirk in that sexy way I’d noticed at the bar, as if he knows how he affects me and likes it. “I’ll take the bag.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “That’s nice of you.”
He arches a brow. “You calling me a pussy?”
“You can fire me. I won’t call you anything.”
“You don’t work for me. I’m just a consultant.”
“Who could demand I be fired.”
“The last thing on my mind where you’re concerned, Ms. Woods, is terminating your job.” And with that coded, softly spoken comment delivered, he gives me his back and starts down the stairs, leaving me reeling and staring after him.
He stops at the next level, casting me a look over his shoulder. “You walking, or do I need to carry you, too?”
I blanch. Carry me? Is he teasing me, and if so, what is happening? Where is the man who treated me like the enemy just hours before? “I don’t need to be carried,” I declare indignantly, marching toward him. He moves along as well, and judging from the low rumble of sexy laughter he leaves in his wake, my reaction pleases him. I don’t understand this man. I really don’t.
We reach the exit and Jensen buzzes in the driver, who comes in so he can grab my bag. Jensen holds the door and motions me forward. I move past him, so close I can feel his body heat and smell his wonderful, masculine cologne.
Stepping outside, I’m surprised to find the town car replaced by a limo but don’t ask questions. More space is welcome with Jensen around, and when he holds the door open for me, I happily take advantage of it, sliding all the way to the other side of the car. I’ve just settled into place and dumped my purse and briefcase beside me when Jensen erases the distance between us and claims the seat directly across from me, his back to the window separating us from the driver.
“I believe you wanted this,” he says, reaching into his briefcase and offering me my cell phone.
“Yes,” I say, taking it, my pulse leaping at the possibility of what I might find in my text messages. “Thank you.”
He knocks on the window behind us and the car starts moving. “I took the liberty of keying in my number. Hope you don’t mind.”
Yes, I mind. What has he seen on my phone? “I needed your number,” I reply noncommittally.
“Nice dodge there, Ms. Woods. And nice to know you have the skills to navigate a conversation diplomatically.”
“I thought nice was for pussies,” I say, the automatic retort overcoming my dislike for the word choice.
“So it is,” he chuckles, a dark strand of hair touching his brow.
I don’t reply, too distracted by my phone, and unable to resist anymore, I glance down at my screen, punching a button to get to the text messages, reading the one from Katie that arrived last night. I’m calling in sick and going to Texas with David. I need to know if he and I are real. I’ll call you when I get to Houston.
I glance up at him. “You saw my message from Katie, didn’t you?”
“Not intentionally. The phone was on the floor and I reached down to get it as it came through. I take it Katie is an employee of the hotel?”
I cringe inwardly at my stupidity for bringing this up. Katie could have been anyone to him. “She’s a good employee.”
“Relax. I have much bigger things to worry about than one employee who’s made a bad decision.”
“But if layoffs happen, you’ll choose her.”
“Whoever takes over the properties in Meredith’s place will make that decision.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, all signs of humor fading away. “But you do need to go on this trip remembering that you aren’t responsible for anyone’s choices but your own. Not Meredith’s. Not this Katie person. Not any other employee who doesn’t have their head on straight.”
I stare into those green eyes of his and it takes me a moment to think clearly, and ask, “You think Meredith doesn’t have her head on straight?”
He straightens, and his withdrawal speaks as easily as do his words. “She’s failing to turn a profit.”
“Then why not just sell out and get out?”
“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, at least not yet, I can’t sell my stock to anyone but the board members, who will destroy the company.”
“And that matters to you, why?”
“Because Meredith was the only one of my father’s siblings by his side when he died,” he surprises me by sharing. “She mattered to him and therefore she matters to me. The question for me has to be if I can turn around the company if I stay in this mess.”
I’m shocked that he is talking so openly to me, and relieved that he feels real again, not cold and callous. “And so far? What do you think?”
“‘We’ll see,’ is all I can say at this point.”
“Meredith told me a lot of people will get laid off if you don’t help her hold off the board.”
“She’s right, but I have thousands of my own employees to think about as well. Hurting my financial position, which is what the board will do if they destroy the company rather than save this operation, hurts the security of my employees. I either have to turn this around or get out.”
His cell phone rings and he digs it out of his briefcase, grimacing as he punches the “answer” button. “Tell me you got me the numbers,” he says to whoever he’s talking to, and rather than listening in, I grab my iPad from my briefcase.
I power up and log in to my company e-mail, finding my inbox filled with questions about Jensen. Seems everyone is trying to figure out exactly why he’s here and what to think of him. I know I am. And despite my good intentions not to be nosy, I find myself listening in to his conversation about some business decision with his own company, and his knowledge and control over the situation is both sexy and confidence building. He’s sharper than Meredith, hungrier, too. Meredith doesn’t evoke respect but rather demands results, but as I continue to listen to Jensen’s conversation, I am ready to admit he evokes more than passion in me. I respect his skill, but I still fear he’s more the
Wolf of Wall Street
than Prince Charming.
I glance up at him, and his gaze meets mine, and I swear there’s a hungry look in his eyes that is one part man and one part beast. The effect has me tingling all over and fighting a flashback from last night, remembering his hands, those skilled, wonderful hands, all over my body. I decide right then that a fairy tale prince is boring. At least once in her life, every girl needs a really sexy, deliciously male wolf.
My hope that I could sneak into a bathroom in the airport and call Katie is smashed when the limo pulls up to a private hangar where a jet waits for our exclusive use. I peer out of the window and then glance at Jensen. “That’s expensive.”
“My company is profitable, something this one hasn’t achieved.”
“But your company wasn’t successful when you took it over?” I ask, remembering what Meredith had said in our earlier meeting.
“It was crumbling worse than this one.”
“That’s impressive. I hope the board lets you work your magic again.”
A look of surprise flickers in his gaze and there is a subtle shift in the air. He gives me a nod. “Thank you, Ms.Woods,” he says, acknowledging the compliment, but his dismissal of my comment about the board is unsettling, leaving me certain he’s far from decided to save Meredith or the hotels.
The driver opens the limo door and I reach for my briefcase, but Jensen grabs it first. “I’ve got it.” But he doesn’t exit the car and neither do I. Somehow, we are staring at each other, and that bond we’d had last night charges the air and tingles through me. Unbidden, my nipples tighten and my thighs ache, and I can feel my cheeks flushing. This man affects me too easily, and it’s scary enough to set me in motion, scooting out of the vehicle. I don’t want to be a fool. He is savvy and successful. He could use me and discard me far too quickly, and while my head sees all the problems with that, my body doesn’t seem to care. Once I’m outside, the hot New York air does nothing to soothe my skin and body; it merely makes me sticky, my black silk blouse clinging to me when I am already wet for all the wrong reasons. And this time I don’t have tequila to blame.
Jensen joins me. I’m far from composed, so I quickly distance myself from him, darting several steps forward to stare at the fancy jet. Jensen follows, stepping to my side and sliding my briefcase over my shoulder. “Have you ever flown in a private plane?”
“No,” I say and because I need to fill the space between us with something other than all the heat he stirs in me, I overshare, saying the only thing that comes to mind. “The closest thing I’ve ever come to this was first class with stepfather number three. Unfortunately, he was also very into women who weren’t my mother.”
He steps closer, angling so that I have to face him. “How many stepfathers have you had?”
“I’m on number four.”
“Where’s your father?”
“He died of cancer when I was thirteen.”
“Were you close to him?”
“Yes. He was...everything to me and to my mother.” I shake my head, irritated that I let him rattle me enough to get me talking about things better left unsaid. “Don’t we need to go?”
He doesn’t move, his expression unreadable, and nervous energy has me ready to crawl out of my skin. “Please stop staring at me. I shouldn’t have told you that. I don’t know why I did.”
“I’m glad you did,” is all he says, giving me no idea what he was thinking or why he’d been staring at me. “Let’s board,” he adds, his hand coming down on my back, a gentle touch that could be casual. It doesn’t feel casual. It feels intimate, seductive, right in as many ways as it is wrong, and I don’t move away or object. I let him touch me, and I revel in every moment until his hand falls away and I am holding the handrail and taking the steps.
Entering the plane, I find two seating areas to my left and right, each with a seat facing each other, and farther down the row is a restaurant style booth and a mini bar. I turn to face Jensen and gasp as I find myself toe-to-toe with him, my hand flattening on his chest just as it had last night.
I suck in air and snatch it away, not daring to make eye contact. “Where’s the bathroom? Front or back of the plane?”
“Back of the plane,” he tells me, and there is a hint of amusement to his voice that tells me my reaction to our touch is far more transparent than I want it to be with a man who’s made me off limits.
“Thanks,” I murmur, rotating to drop my briefcase on the seat to my right. Rushing down the slim aisle, I dig out my cell phone from my purse as I walk and the instant I’m inside the tiny bathroom stall, I dial Katie. Frustratingly, the call goes direct to voice mail and I quickly send her a detailed text. I stare at the screen and will her to reply, giving up after a full minute of nothingness.