Dios Mio, what a babe. Even as worn out as he was from their night of labor, he still came off as arrogant and self-possessed as ever.
As he answered the caller, she saw a shift in his expression. A firmness. A darkening of his brown eyes to black.
Was it her imagination, or did his irises actually change color when he was agitated or angry?
Ooo, that was intriguing.
“Chantelle, we talked about this,” he said.
Christina whipped her attention back to the computer.
Chantelle. Wasn’t that some kind of $100-an-ounce perfume that smelled like seventy-year-old socialites lunching in the Foo-Foo Room?
Rockwell got out of his seat and made his way toward the personal suite attached to his office.
“I know you do. But I’m working in San Antonio now.” Pause. “I don’t know when I’m coming back.”
Ah-ha. Okay. If Christina hadn’t caught onto it before, she had now. Chantelle was a girlfriend from New York. Or maybe not a girlfriend anymore.
At any rate, she felt strongly enough about Rockwell to be calling him in the middle of the night.
As he shut the door, she heard him say, “No, I’m not with anybody right now.”
Her heart sank. She was that “nobody” he was with.
Hadn’t he seen her offer him a tiny piece of her heart earlier?
Figures. That’s where touching men’s collars got you. Ignore-o-ville.
She couldn’t hear the rest of Chantelle’s long-distance booty call because the suite was well insulated from the outer office. So Christina settled into a more comfortable position on the couch, lying on her side.
Might as well get some work done while Rockwell was messing around with personal issues.
But the screen only blurred in front of her eyes, even as she tried valiantly to keep them open.
Before she could stop the inevitable, she drifted off to a well-earned sleep, dreaming of stolen touches, passionate kisses, hungry moans of faraway pleasure.
Dreaming of Derek.
The attached suite included a changing room filled with Derek’s extra business wardrobe and gym gear, a shower with all the required supplies and a restroom.
This was where Derek was at the moment, propped against the marble sink counter, one arm crossed over his chest as if to ward off Chantelle from across the miles.
“I miss you so much,” she said in a husky, one-pack-a-day voice.
He’d gone out with her once before being transferred from New York. Actually, his relocation had offered a good excuse to say a graceful goodbye to this particular Lite, because even after just one encounter, she’d grown way too possessive. Still, she’d been calling him off and on for a month now, and as lonely as he’d been for female company, he’d flirted with her over the airwaves.
But now, he knew it was time to end it.
“I won’t be back for a while,” he said, trying to let her down gently.
He didn’t want to say what was really on his mind: I’m just not interested. At all.
“Maybe,” she said teasingly, “we can pass the time by, you know, getting close right now.”
Phone sex? Christina was in the next room. Chantelle’s idea was definitely out of the question.
“In all honesty, Chantelle, I’m working. There’s a presentation I’ve got to get done by Monday.”
“What are you wearing?” she asked, undaunted.
He could almost see the redhead lounging on her bed, a half glass full of champagne losing its bubbles on the nightstand next to her, her curvy body covered by nothing more than a pink teddy.
From her reputation, he hadn’t expected her to become clingy, but that was the danger of acting like a playboy, he guessed. Sometimes the women changed their minds about the rules after they’d accepted them.
“Thanks, Chantelle,” he said. “But…”
For his own peace of mind, he had to put an end to all these midnight calls. “…I’m seeing someone.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
Derek began to pace. “We talked about our night together being just that—one night.”
“Who is she?”
Here it went. “You don’t know her. She’s a business associate and…”
“Go on.”
Derek smiled, thinking of the woman sitting on his couch. “I’m crazy about her.”
“For the time being, right?”
Chantelle was challenging him, probably wondering why he all of a sudden had decided to change his MO and stick with one woman.
“Right,” he said, reminding himself that he never took relationships seriously. “For the time being.”
“It doesn’t sound like a big deal. I could fly out there and—”
“Chantelle.” He sighed. “There’s nothing between us. You’re a beautiful woman who’s got a lot to give a man who can settle down. But you know I’m not that guy.”
“I was just hoping…”
“I’m sorry.”
With a sound of fury, she hung up on him.
As he made his way back to the office, Derek shut off his own phone, drained. Disgusted with himself for the first time since he’d started dating.
What had happened to the fun? The old times, when he could be with a woman and they’d romance the night away, only to leave in the morning with a sweet goodbye and a clear understanding that it was over before it’d begun?
He stepped into the office proper, ready to bury himself in work again.
But that’s when he saw her.
Christina, cuddled on his couch, hands tucked under her head as she slept. One of her legs was curled over the other, causing her cute rump to stick out.
In that instant, Derek’s heart cracked.
Quietly, he bent near her, getting his fill of her serenity. There was no urgency to her right now, no sense of prim expectancy.
No, at the moment her lips were pursed in soft slumber, her dark lashes winging against rosy cheeks.
Unable to stop himself, Derek ran a forefinger over the hollow of her cheekbone, a foreign tingle running up his arm and to his chest.
He wanted to stay here all night, just watching her, just feeling this contented buzz. But what would he do if she woke up to find him hovering?
The consequences wouldn’t be helpful to their working relationship, that was for sure.
Smacked back to reality, he stood, then went to the wardrobe closet to get the pillow and blanket that he used when he pulled office overnighters.
With the utmost care, he slipped the down cushion under her head, freezing when she moaned and stirred. As she shifted position, her mouth came to rest against his bared arm, and the contact sent a jolt through him.
Pulse hammering, he concentrated on covering her with the blanket, one-handed. Then, not quite wanting to move yet, he sat there, feeling her breath caress his skin.
Minutes passed—enough time for the inevitable guilt to rattle him. To convince him to remove his arm, inch by agonizing inch, from beneath her head.
Then, telling himself to act like a real boss, he retreated to his chair and closed his eyes.
Fully guarded once again.
Chapter Five
Christina was awakened by the aroma of fresh coffee and the sting of sunlight pouring through office windows.
Office windows?
Disoriented, she caught her breath and sat up to survey her surroundings.
A few potted plants. World-beat instruments. Massive desk. Big, empty boss chair.
With Sierra sitting in it.
What? Christina closed her eyes, then opened them again.
“Buenos dias,” her youngest sister said, dressed in a white, flower-sprigged sundress, her curly hair pulled back.
Bright and fresh.
“The last time I looked,” Christina said, “you were a social worker, not a corporate shark named Rockwell. Where is he?”
“Gone when I got here. I didn’t want to wake you up,
so I waited, but not for long.” Sierra got out of her seat and put down the college catalog she’d been using to pass the time. “Sis, you never returned my calls last night.”
“I wanted to, but I crashed.” A little more awake now, Christina could actually formulate some questions. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but why are you in this office?”
“Gloria said you were alone with Derek, and no one answered at your condo, so I thought I’d just check on you here. And…ta-da!”
She motioned toward a table by the doorway. It held a bag, a carton with cups and a grease-stained box.
Christina’s mouth started to water, and she realized that her stomach was hollow. Her food cravings almost overcame her misgivings about Sierra coming to check up on her.
It was just like her hermanita to concern herself with everyone else’s problems. Having Sierra show up at the crack of dawn wasn’t all that much of a surprise.
Years ago, when Christina and Gloria had been fighting, Sierra had performed this same nurturing wake-up routine with each of them. Not only had their little sister been worried about both of them, but she suffered from insomnia.
Poor, fretful Sierra.
As Christina headed toward the food, just to inspect what was there, of course, she said, “How did you manage to get past security downstairs?”
“Patrick arranged clearance.”
“Helpful, that Patrick.” She lifted the plastic lid off one of the cups, and the rich steam of gourmet coffee floated out. But Christina didn’t drink the stuff. Not in public at least. It was terrible for the body.
“There’s green tea for you,” Sierra said. “But I thought Derek might like some fresh brew.”
Her sister came to the table and started to unload the treats: frosted doughnuts, éclairs, breakfast burritos.
If Christina wasn’t careful, she’d drool all over her shirt. But she could avoid temptation. All kinds, if necessary.
Finding a bran muffin, she peeled away the paper lining. Mmm, so nutritious.
She could always eat a doughnut later, alone, when no one else was around. Junk food tasted much better in secret, anyway.
Christina cleared her materials from the couch and set them on the floor, making room for Sierra. Her sister had a plate full of baked goods.
“There’s a lot left for Derek,” she said, and from the way she was pursing her lips, Christina knew that she had a load of questions waiting to be asked.
“I accidentally fell asleep, Sierra,” she said, steeping the tea bag in her hot water. “Nothing happened. You know how I feel about office shenanigans.”
Or how she used to feel, at least.
“Even after the way he whisked you away from us yesterday?”
“Granted, his method of getting me here was extreme, but it was all business.”
Most of it, anyway. Except for that moment when she’d been the one to overstep the lines she’d drawn.
But there was still room to go back. He hadn’t responded to her collar groping, so maybe it wasn’t even something she should be worrying about.
“It’s just…” Sierra hesitated. “I was surprised you stayed the night here. Especially after what happened with your sexual harassment charges against William Dugan.”
“This isn’t one of my shiniest moments, I’ll tell you that. Neither of us was paying attention to the time, and I was going to leave. Really I was.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re wary, and you have every right to be.”
Christina knew that, but she didn’t want to be neurotic about her office relationships. And she didn’t want to go overboard, documenting every interaction or being so closed-off that she was impossible to work with. Ultimately, she reasoned, treating every man as if he were a potential harasser only made the true cases weaker.
But she still had to consider her business reputation.
“I made a bad call last night,” she said. “It definitely won’t happen again.”
She ate some of the muffin, putting an end to a conversation she’d rather forget.
“I believe you.” Sierra took a sip of coffee, made a face, then added sweetener. “Unlike Gloria, I just don’t want you to become the next victim of our bet.”
Chewing, Christina merely sent a quizzical glance to her sister.
Sierra nodded. “Uh-huh. She thinks there’s something going on between you and the boss, and she’s already planning your punishment for losing.”
“Knowing Gloria, it’ll be devious.”
“It’ll be something public. Something dirty, since she’s still sore about having to clean our houses.”
Gloria had always encouraged Christina to shed her shyness, and there was no doubt her scheme would include this angle, too.
“Then I’ll have to make sure I don’t fall to man temptation,” Christina said, drinking some tea.
Though she sounded casual, she was really thinking that, for something that should’ve been so easy to do, winning the bet sounded awfully tough.
A whole year of not dating men.
Before now, it’d never been a big deal.
“Then, there it is.” Sierra stuck out her hand. “The two of us won’t give in, even if Gloria couldn’t help herself. Shake on it.”
Christina did, and the two sisters laughed, knowing how ridiculous everyone no doubt thought it was to be betting on this type of thing.
But, to them, it was all-important. Giving up men would enhance their lives.
They ate and moved on, chatting about the barbecue, about the happiness of becoming aunts to Gloria’s child, about Sierra’s circle of friends and her frustrations with one of them in particular—Alex Calloway, who always seemed to give her grief.
Christina got the feeling there was more to Sierra’s talk than she would admit to, but she let it go for the time being.
However, she’d keep an eye on her sister, just as well as Sierra was monitoring her.
While they were enjoying each other’s company, a few drop-in employees wandered into the office, equipped with that sense every nine-to-fiver cultivated for finding treats, no matter where they were hidden.
It was nice to see that she and Rockwell might not be entirely alone, since there were other weekend warriors here, as well.
But just as she was getting more comfortable, Rockwell himself stepped through the doorway—a Rockwell who was a whole lot different from the one she was used to seeing.
He wore athletic shoes; loose, gray sweatpants and a blue tank top that sweat had molded to his muscular chest. Perspiration coated his tanned, strong arms, his face, his hair.
Christina’s determination to avoid man temptation screeched to a burning halt.
“Morning,” he said, flashing that sidelong grin at them. “I was hoping to sneak past Christina while she was still sleeping.”
Then he turned “The Grin” on her, subjecting her to the full force of his charm. She gulped down the last of the bran muffin she’d been demolishing.
Caramba.
Wow, wow, wow.
What was it about him that made Christina want to drop her defenses and paste herself all over his bod?
Hold off, girl, just hold off of him.
While Sierra greeted Rockwell, Christina realized that one side of her hair bun had dipped down and what little makeup she used was probably off her face by now. She tried to fade into the couch cushions, just to see if she could get away with him not picking up on those humbling details.
Sierra was talking. “We’ve got a bunch of food for you. I’m sure you’re hungry after working out. Were you jogging? Christina loves to jog, too.”
“Nah, we’ve got a rowing machine in our company gym, if you could call it that. Christina, we might want to think of expanding it for employee morale and healthier workers. What do you think?”
She managed to move her head up and down, still trying to hide.
“Rowing?” Sierra sat up in her seat. “If you like putting paddles in t
he water, San Antonio’s the place for you. Did you know we’ve got the Texas Water Safari every May? You can enter the canoeing competition.”
“I already have.” Rockwell started walking toward his personal suite. “First thing I did when Patrick asked me to move here. I used to be on the heavyweight crew team back at Columbia, and I row every morning, even if it’s on a machine. I’m addicted.”
“Just like Christina.” Sierra swatted her sister on the leg. “Another exercise hound.”
Averting her face, she got up from the couch. No lipstick, no eye makeup. Not good.
“Speaking of which,” Christina said, walking toward the other side of the room where she’d put her belongings, “I’m due for a workout back home.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Rockwell. “I’m taking a shower, digging into Sierra’s banquet, then getting to the project again. You coming back here today?”
Actually, she was still on the whole “I’m taking a shower” part.
Rockwell. No clothes. Water beading on his skin, sluicing over muscles, making him even more slick and dangerous.
Her conscience batted at her. Should she work in this semideserted office with him again? Especially with these horn-dog thoughts running through her head?
“We’re just about done,” he added.
“Maybe we could have a change of scenery,” she said, slipping into her sandals and thinking about the other employees whose presence could keep her libido on the straight and narrow. “Maybe we could work in my office this afternoon.”
Unlike his buried alcove, her place was in the midst of the floor plan, the windows giving her a view of a lobby with other private offices surrounding it.
“Sure,” he said, sounding happy to accommodate her.
Suddenly, she felt like a fool for being so cautious. “Then expect me at about eleven.”
That’d leave her enough time for some jogging, yoga, a shower, then Mass.
“I’d like to get home as early as possible,” she added, “to gear up for tomorrow’s big day.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Without glancing at him—Lord help her—Christina jetted out of the office, Sierra trailing behind her after bidding Rockwell goodbye.
“What’s your rush?” her sister asked as they settled into the elevator.
Fortune's Heirs: Reunion Page 23