by Ravenna Tate
“Okay. I believe you.”
“Are you sure?” They stared into each other’s eyes for long moments. Julianne’s pulse raced, and her pussy grew wet. “I might have it well hidden.”
She saw him swallow. “You’re not going to get me to divulge classified information by seducing me again, Julianne.” His voice belied the words. He sounded hungry and desperate, and her heart soared.
She refastened her buttons but said nothing. Once she’d taken her seat again, he pushed a button on the control panel built into his desk. “Agnes, bring me an iced tea please.” He raised his brows and glanced toward Julianne. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll have the same. No sugar.”
“Make it two, Agnes.”
“Right away, Mr. Bannerman.”
Tiny droplets of sweat dotted his hairline, and his face was flushed. “Um … I really do need to discuss this with the other Weathermen first.”
“Which means there is something to discuss.”
“Julianne, try to understand my position here. You lived above ground for how long?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“I was thirty-four when I came underground. We both remember what it was like before. I know we both want the same thing. To take back our planet.”
“Everyone wants that, Kane. That’s why they need to know there’s hope.”
He shook his head. “They don’t need to know it in such intimate detail. It will harm our efforts, not help them.”
“Then find a way to let me tell the story that won’t harm your efforts.”
“Why should I?”
“We’ve been through that already. I’m not the same person. What I did to you was wrong. I apologized to you publicly, I got them to print the retraction, and now I’m apologizing in person. How long will you hold the same grudge?”
He was about to speak again, but there was a soft knock on his door. Julianne remembered Agnes from five years ago, and apparently Agnes remembered her, too, because she gave her a stern look. “Forgive me, Mr. Bannerman. I was away from my desk when Miss Wallis was brought up from reception or I wouldn’t have let her into your office.”
She plunked down the tray with a pitcher and two glasses on top of Kane’s desk, and he tried to suppress a smile. “It’s all right. Julianne and I are discussing our shared past. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once she left the room and closed the doors, harder than she needed to, he grinned. “How did you get past her to make the appointment? She never would have let you do it.”
Julianne shrugged. “I told you I made the appointment under my name and credentials. I don’t know why she didn’t see it.”
He poured two glasses of iced tea. “I thought you had friends who work here? Did they bypass her, perhaps?”
“I do have friends here, but I’m not aware of them bypassing Agnes to get me in the door.”
He handed her the glass, but it was obvious from the look on his face he wasn’t sure whether to believe her. “Friends, or sources?”
“Nice try.”
He chuckled, and then he drained his glass of tea. Was the reason he suddenly seemed parched due to her mini striptease? She’d love to believe it. He poured a second glass. “I’ll send an email and ask the others to commit to a meeting so we can discuss it as a group.”
She took a sip of tea. “When?”
“When will I send it?”
“No. When will you schedule the meeting?”
Kane sighed out loud, but his obvious annoyance didn’t faze her. He clicked on his keyboard, and then pushed the monitor around so she could see the team calendar. “They’re very busy. The first free spot we all have is Friday morning.”
“Send the email now.”
He gave her a look of incredulity. “When did you become my boss?”
“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me? You promise me an email and a meeting to get me out of your office. Two weeks later you’ll tell me you all haven’t had a chance to talk about it, but you’re going to schedule that meeting just as soon as possible.”
“You’re not a very trusting person.”
“I prefer to think of it as tenacious.”
“I have far less reason to trust you than the other way around.”
She smiled sweetly. “And here all this time I thought we could bury the hatchet?”
He gave her a look that suggested he might want to bury a real hatchet, right between her eyes. While she watched him send the email invite for the meeting, she studied his profile. His features were a bit more angular than they’d been five years ago, and his hair had just a touch of gray now. It made him even sexier and gave him an air of maturity that she found irresistible. Too bad he was such a pill.
“Done. Anything else?”
She pointed toward her phone, which was scattered among the objects still on his desk that she’d dumped out of her bag. “Text me when they all agree to it so I know it will take place. Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in it for you.”
He averted his gaze. “Um, is your number still the same?”
“Yes.”
“Then I still have it.”
“You’re kidding.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“Don’t read anything into it.”
“Of course not.” Bullshit. “Just assure me you will let me know when they all confirm.”
She listened to five separate pings, and he frowned. “Halfway there. If you wait long enough I might not have to text you.”
Julianne smiled and sipped her iced tea. “I can do that.”
Two more pings sounded. “I wasn’t serious.”
“Were those more confirmations?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can wait for the final four.”
“You’re assuming a lot.”
She grinned. “What am I assuming? That your friends want to discuss this? That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Two more pings sounded. “Nine confirmations in what … less than one minute?”
“You’re assuming they’ll agree to let me tell you anything.”
“You’re a persuasive man. Convince them to allow it.”
Kane laughed, and she tried to tamp down her anger. “Julianne, I swear I don’t know what to make of you. You waltz in here, five years after seducing me during a fake job interview, you print a story about me that was more fairytale than truth, and now I’m supposed to simply hand you a piece on an alleged covert team that would, if it got out, force the hackers into hiding more than they’re now doing? Why in the name of all that’s holy would I do that?”
“Because you’ve got a reputation to maintain. UTU has done nothing but thought-provoking, well-written articles on you. You’re a legend over there. Think what this would do for your company.”
“I am thinking of it.” The last two pings came in. “That’s exactly why this is a bad idea. Can’t you do a story on something else? We’re working on getting more above ground shelters built for the Storm Troopers. That’s news people want to hear, and the shelters are state of the art. No one has anything like them.”
“There was a story about them last month when Damien Rivera bought the design of the original ones from Brent Easton, Ace Easton’s father. Damien’s company is building the new ones.”
“Yes, it is, but I’m the one who got him the funding. The story that ran was on the construction itself, not the money behind it. Do a story on that. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“It’s not as interesting as the covert teams.”
“I’ll pretend that wasn’t an insult.”
Shit. “It wasn’t. Honestly. I’m sorry, Kane. What I meant is that readers would much rather read something that gives them real hope. Not the inside scoop on how the newest, largest, most durable storm shelters were financed. How many people do you know who actually go up to the surface? A handful at best, right? That kind of a
story doesn’t impact readers’ day-to-day lives.”
His grin should have angered her, but all it did was make her want to jump over the desk and push him to the floor so she could kiss him and then fuck him. She was in deep trouble here, and she’d best figure out how to tamp down her hormones.
“Firstly, I know several dozen people personally who go up to the surface routinely. Not only do a few of the Weathermen do it for sport, but we each back teams of Storm Troopers. The shelters currently in existence aren’t adequate for their needs, and there aren’t enough of them.”
He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Let me finish. Those shelters are important to readers’ everyday lives for two reasons. One, the Storm Troopers risk life and limb to gather valuable data that will help us take back The Madeline Project, or kill it stone cold dead so the storms will stop one day. Two, every time someone braves a trip to the surface to retrieve a piece of our collective history, we’ve saved something that would have eventually been destroyed by wind or flood waters.”
“Points well taken, but I don’t think I can sell yet another article on creative financing to my editor.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
“Because she’s as hungry for this story as I am.”
“So that means she knows your source, too.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned forward as the last two pings sounded. “Julianne, it’s very simple. I’m not letting you ruin any covert operations we might have going simply for the sake of getting a story. I’ve offered you a legitimate replacement piece, and one which the readers of UTU would be interested in. My friends have all confirmed now, and I will hold the meeting, but I would be very surprised if they agreed to allow you to write this story.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Give me your source. They’ll want it.”
“I can’t do that.”
He sat back and shook his head. “Then be prepared for me to tell you the story won’t go to print.”
“Let them make that decision.”
“They won’t override my wishes.”
She studied his face as she finished her glass of tea. He hadn’t thrown her out so that was on her side, but clearly he was hiding something or he wouldn’t care if she wrote this story. The fact that he was trying so hard to get her to change her mind was confirmation of the existence of the teams. That and the quick meeting confirmations told her each of the Weathermen had one.
But UTU wasn’t The Whole Truth. If she wrote a half-assed story full of speculation she’d find herself out of a job. She’d been lucky to land this one, and Julianne knew she wouldn’t likely be given a third chance at another reputable magazine or news site. She should take the offer of the backup story and keep digging on her own. It was the prudent thing to do in this instance.
“All right. How about this? You let me know what they all say on Friday, and if they won’t allow the story I want to write, I’ll do the one you suggested instead.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That was too easy.”
She shrugged. “Not for me it wasn’t.” She gathered up the contents of her bag. “Do we have a deal?”
He studied her face carefully for a few seconds, but Julianne knew how to maintain a neutral expression. She was backed into a corner right now, and she knew it. She also felt guilty about badgering him into setting up the meeting, but it was the only chance she’d have of getting this story, and she realized that now.
Finally, he stood. Her gaze shot straight to his crotch and she recovered quickly, but not before she noticed the bulge. Was that because of her?
Of course he noticed her looking, but she stuck out her hand and ignored the knowing gleam in his eyes. He was entitled to be a bit arrogant. He had the upper hand right now, and he knew it. “Thank you, Kane. I look forward to hearing from you after the meeting Friday morning.”
He shook her hand, and she wished she didn’t feel a spark of electricity, but she did. It was impossible to ignore, as was the fact he held onto her hand far too long. “I’ll let you know. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” When he finally loosened his grip, she cast one last quick glance at his desk to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, and then she strode toward the doors with her shoulders squared and her head held high. She wanted to get the hell out of here before she made an ass of herself, but didn’t want it to appear that’s what she was trying to do.
He made his way toward the doors at the same time, bent down to scoop up the pad of paper he’d thrown at her earlier, and then opened the doors for her. “Until Friday.”
She nodded. “Friday it is.”
Julianne waited until she was out of the building before texting Isabelle Sharpe, an acquaintance who worked in the pool of general administrative assistants at Bannerman Investments.
Did not get the story but he has a meeting with the other Weathermen Friday morning. Do you have any pull with them? I need help to land this.
A little assistance from an inside source never hurt anyone. If push came to shove, at least she’d have a backup story, even if it wasn’t the one she wanted.
Now if only she could keep herself from fantasizing for the remainder of the week about fucking Kane silly again.
Chapter Three
Kane alternated between fuming over Julianne’s unexpected appearance in his office, and daydreaming about what she looked like completely naked. He’d only seen her ass five years ago as he’d bent her over the desk and simply taken her. It had been exquisite, and if the very real possibility of them being interrupted hadn’t loomed over their heads, he’d have spent the entire afternoon in this office with her until they’d christened every piece of furniture in it, plus the floor and walls.
He fiddled with pens, swiveled in his chair, and stood in front of the windows glancing out over the fake outdoors of NorthEast. Each of the underground cities had been constructed to resemble the multitude of former US states under which it had been built. Since this one spanned the area underneath most of New England and the Mid-Atlantic states, there were plenty of fir trees and flowering bushes. But they couldn’t fake the sound of real birds, or the feel of a summer breeze on your face as you walked along the beach.
Kane knew in his heart he could never allow Julianne, or any reporter, to blow the cover off the covert teams each of the Weathermen were starting to put together. In addition to the teams each of them now had cross checking names on forums and message boards across departments, they were hiring teams to track down machine IDs and IP addresses for all the names of suspected hackers.
Each of the twelve men had hacker teams that had been working behind the scenes, but this was the first time in six years that they’d pooled their resources, and widened their search across company departments, instead of merely concentrating on message boards and forums where weather control geeks and known hackers hung out. If Julianne exposed all that, they might as well reinvent the Internet and start all over.
He understood her hunger for a story. It was the same desire he felt every time a new investment opportunity cropped up. The way he had taken his great-great-great-great-grandfather’s company and turned into one of the most successful of its kind in history wasn’t by jumping on every new thing without taking the time to research and forecast first. Julianne had heard a rumor, or he had a leak in this building, or one of the other Weathermen did, and she’d run with it. That wasn’t smart, and it wasn’t likely to land her an exclusive story.
He also understood her demanding nature. She was tenacious. He’d seen that in her five years ago, and although she may have stopped making up shit about people, she was still willing to be pushy to get a story. UTU must admire those qualities in her or they wouldn’t have hired her.
He wasn’t sure he wanted her to do any story, but then realized he wasn’t being fair. She had apologized for that stunt five years ago, and she’d apologized to him in person today. While she still was eager, her in
sistence that she was a different person now than she’d been then remained to be seen. UTU wouldn’t have kept her on for four years if she hadn’t proved to them she’d changed, so he was willing to give her a chance as well. Only on the condition, however, that she not blow their entire covert operation.
Who are you kidding? You want to fuck her again, not help her career along.
He forced himself to sit down and bring up a project that needed his attention while he tried to push away images of all that copper-colored hair and those blue eyes. When she’d started to take off her top he’d nearly lost it. The urge to lock the doors and tell Agnes not to disturb them had been strong. Too strong. Julianne had that effect on him, which partly explained why she’d been able to get any information on him in the first place.
Are you going to let her make a fool of you a second time?
No. He wouldn’t let that happen, but he also wasn’t going to pass up another chance for a legit article in UTU. That was good business, period.
And it gives you a chance to have Julianne in your office again.
“Fuck…” Kane shook his head to clear his thoughts He had work to do.
****
Julianne sat across from Isabelle in Boston Internet Café, sipping a latte and munching on a sandwich. Isabelle had agreed to meet her for lunch, as long as it was across town so no one she worked with might see her and Julianne together.
“Did he try to force you to name me?”
“Of course he did, but you know I won’t do that.”
“God, he’s so damn smug. He throws this huge party every year around the holidays, and last year he gave everyone in the AA pool a very expensive pair of earrings or cufflinks. I swear the cufflinks were solid gold, and the earrings were, too. The diamonds in them were real. I just know they were.”
“That’s very generous of him.”
“Generous? He was showing off his wealth. He’s all about the money, Julianne. Don’t be fooled by those sexy eyes or his charm. If he can make a profit, he’s all over it. I’m sure the gifts were all tax deductible.”
Julianne said nothing. She’d known Isabelle for years but wouldn’t consider her a confidante. They’d known each other in high school and had then reconnected when everyone moved underground, but they were only casual acquaintances at best. Isabelle was more interested in hanging out with Julianne because Julianne was a good listener, and Isabelle liked to bitch about things.