With some surprise, Brianna reflected that Evan and she had never talked about employees without a reason to do so. The need to discuss the clerical staff simply hadn't come up.
"I think I mentioned to Mr. Rowland that you speak Italian," she explained as they exited the elevator.
"He speaks it very well." She frowned in puzzlement. "That was the first time he's said anything more to me than absolutely necessary. He's much friendlier than I thought."
They lapsed into silence as they reached the meeting room. Embarrassed for being late, Brianna's first impulse was to sit in a seat at the back. But apprehension about mistakes Jake might make forced her to a seat near the front, where he would see her if he needed help.
A tingling awareness rushed through her as she heard the deep, familiar baritone of the man at the front of the room—dramatically handsome with his athletic physique, burnished hair, deep tan and vivid blue eyes that hadn't acknowledged her entrance with even the briefest of glances. His expensive suit jacket had been tossed across the unused podium and his crisp white shirtsleeves were rolled up over muscled forearms. He spoke with an easy nonchalance—vastly different from Evan's formal style. Yet no one would mistake him for anything less than the man in charge. Like his grandfather, he radiated power and control.
He was talking now about sales made in personal and commercial lines. "Our sales force deserves a lot of credit. They've been extremely productive this year." He named the top sales managers and reps. Brianna was surprised he knew the statistics. The sales leaders stood and accepted the obligatory round of applause. Brianna could almost hear the teeth gritting from much of the audience. The sales department had been putting a lot of pressure lately on underwriting, actuarial and claims, to help get and keep large accounts. Tempers had been flaring all across the board.
"Our other leaders deserve recognition, too," Jake said, again surprising her as he called names of key employees in every department. Brianna realized he'd gleaned those names from her, when he'd asked whom she considered the unsung heroes. She remembered being surprised by the question as they'd browsed through photos.
"These are the folks who keep us stable," declared Jake. Applause, cheers and whistles for these hardworking employees shook the room. "I'll be calling each of you individually to my office today," Jake told them. "I'd say it's time to open our lines of communication, wouldn't you?"
Wild applause answered his question.
He went on to announce an "idea drive." Anyone with suggestions, complaints or comments should put them in a box that would be installed in the break room. He promised to read each one. Employees whose ideas resulted in a change would be rewarded with their choice of money or time off. "If you prefer to remain anonymous, that's fine, too."
More applause thundered. If Brianna hadn't known of the impersonation, she would have been as hopeful as everyone else that a change in policy might be underfoot, giving more support and recognition to the "nay-sayers," the ones who dared turn down new business for the sake of stability. She did know better, though. Evan had felt a need to grow, and she trusted his judgment implicitly—although the engineers and underwriters who argued against the larger accounts had made a good case, too.
Jake was obviously just grandstanding. Concern curled through Brianna. She hated to see the employees' hopes raised, then left unfulfilled. Funny, though, how Jake had zeroed in on the problem that had been dividing the workforce.
He chatted and joked for a few minutes more. By the time the meeting adjourned, the mood was jovial and upbeat.
"See what I mean?" whispered Theresa. "What'd he do, take a 'friendly' pill or something?"
Brianna saw exactly what she meant. It was the same as it had been in high school—Jake winning scores of friends with easy camaraderie, Evan earning respect with hard work. She'd have to keep Jake out of the limelight before too many people noticed the difference.
As managers and executives approached him with questions, Brianna took Theresa to her new office and went over paperwork and reports. As they finished their discussion, her intercom buzzed. "Ms. Devon?"
It was Jake. Still feeling inexplicably intimidated at the prospect of talking to him after last night's intimacy, she pressed her intercom button and replied with a curt, "Yes?"
"Will you step in here for a moment, please?"
"Certainly." With a few parting instructions for Theresa, she headed to Jake's office. Ideas flitted through her mind on how she'd approach him, what she'd say and do. None seemed right.
She stepped through their adjoining doorway to find him seated at his desk and Maude beside him with a notepad, busily writing. Brianna realized then that she'd never be able to look at him the way she once had. He was no longer a dangerously attractive adversary. She'd known his body, his passion, his way of turning a woman inside out. He'd been deep inside her, spilled his seed into her. She knew him in the biblical sense, and she was stunned at how deep a bond she suddenly felt with him.
It could come to no good. It frightened her.
He noticed her in the doorway. "You were late."
"I overslept."
He tilted his head, meeting her gaze with the impersonal detachment of a boss in casual conversation with a subordinate. "Up too late last night, Ms. Devon?"
As if he didn't know damned good and well. "Very."
"No problems, I hope." The slight softening of his voice would be taken by anyone listening as courteous concern.
"No." She averted her eyes as warmth crept into her face. Why did you leave without saying goodbye? "No problems."
"Good." Silence went on a moment too long, and she glanced back up at him. His gaze embraced her with the intimacy of a secret kiss. "Glad to hear it."
Her body responded with a hot surge. She couldn't let herself be drawn into a sensual haze by a mere look from him, or by references to their night together. Lifting her chin, she reclaimed her poise and saw with relief that Maude had been occupied with her note taking. "I must say, Mr. Rowland, that the meeting you held was quite a surprise. You certainly know how to put on a good show."
"That's how you saw it … a good show?"
"What more could it possibly be?" When he didn't reply, she added, "I hope others didn't take it as anything more."
"I hope they took it for what it was—a talk from their CEO." Though his tone had remained pleasant, he had effectively reminded her that he did, in fact, hold that position. "Now, Ms. Devon, I'd like you to pull the personnel files of the people I'll be meeting with today. Maude will give you the list when she's transcribed it."
Smarting from his subtle reprimand and surprised by his request, Brianna briefly nodded.
He went on. "I'll also need you here to fill me in on anything I should know about each supervisor and his department."
"I have a few prior commitments, but I suppose I can postpone most of them."
"Please do." He glanced at his watch, picked up the phone and dismissed Brianna with a nod. Maude handed her a list of employees whose files were to be pulled. Bewildered by Jake's plans, Brianna set out to comply with them.
Her bewilderment grew as the day progressed. He worked with intensity and purpose. He asked her searching questions about the inner workings of every department, then engaged key personnel in deep private discussions.
One thing she now knew for certain—Jake Rowland was no stranger to corporate dealings. And he seemed to be intent on accomplishing something more than just an impersonation of Evan. What? Was he simply trying to set things right after the embezzlement? Cy had said it would take time and analysis to know how the manipulations had affected the company. But why would Jake launch an "idea drive" and motivate employees with public recognition?
He worked through lunch, conducting his conferences late into the afternoon. Brianna spent every minute she could catching up on her own work. Around four, he called her into his office again.
"Have a seat." He gestured to the chair beside his desk. "As a key
employee, I'm sure you have opinions about what's good and bad with the company. Let's hear 'em."
She regarded him in astonishment. "You really want to know what I think?"
"Yes, Ms. Devon, I do."
Not one to let an opportunity slide, she obliged him. She told him about the tension between departments, which she believed came from pressure to sell insurance policies that the underwriters and engineers considered too risky. Other departments also felt under the gun to compromise their work, in an effort to make the product more competitive for sales. Jake listened and questioned her with the same purposeful intensity she'd noticed before.
Maude interrupted, handed Jake the idea box from the break room and informed him it was quitting time. He encouraged her to go home, then remained at his desk, riffling through the suggestions.
One caught Brianna's eye. It sported a lipstick red outline of lips puckered for a kiss. Arching a brow, she picked up the slip and studied it. "You're sure to find this one interesting."
He looked up from the entries he was scanning.
She read aloud the suggestion written beside the scarlet lip print. "CEO should work the night shift with me some time soon."
He set the slips he'd been reading aside. "Who wrote it?"
"Sorry. It's not signed."
Leveling her a heavy-lidded stare, he queried, "Do you think I care whether or not it's signed? Do you think I have any interest in following up on that offer?"
She wasn't sure how to answer him. A few flip remarks came to mind, but she sensed a seriousness behind his lightly posed question.
He leaned forward on his desk, studying her face at closer range. "Do you think I'm flattered by the attention, Brianna, or aroused by the implied invitation?"
She resorted to honesty and held up her hands in a shrug. "I don't know. I could understand why you might be."
A sardonic smile twisted his mouth. "My grandfather gets offers like these from women younger than you. My great-aunt was in her seventies and bedridden, yet she had studs writing her love letters. Every member of the illustrious Rowland family has been plied with offers of all kinds for as long as I can remember." With his elbow on the desk, he leaned his chin on his fist. "What do you think they're after, all these admirers languishing after my attention?"
Taken aback by the cynicism she'd never before seen in him, she asked in surprise, "You think they're after your money?" She hadn't thought of that aspect of the invitation at all—or the idea that it might bother him.
He sat back and shrugged, his cynicism giving way to indifference. "Money, power, notoriety or just an old-fashioned good time. I'm sure not opposed to that." To her relief, the hint of a renegade twinkle returned to his eyes. "Then, of course, there are the ones who are really overcome by my personal appeal."
"I'm glad," she whispered, meaning it.
He stared at her, his expression gradually turning intense. "The only one I want is you, Brianna. Tonight."
She drew back from him, too overcome by the personal appeal he'd just described. This was the man she'd run from, all those years, whose wicked gaze had always set her pulse thrumming. "I … I have work to do tonight. A lot of it."
"So do I. I have to meet with the computer crew. Might take me a while. I'll come by whenever I get away."
"I'll be too tired. It's been a long day."
"We'll take a hot shower. I'll give you a massage."
It sounded like sheer heaven. She shook her head in mild panic and stood up. Another night would only make her feel closer to him. That would never do. "I'd probably fall asleep before you got there."
"Then, I'll just sleep with you."
Emotions collided within her. She wanted very much to do all those things he'd mentioned. "Not tonight." She turned away. "I'd better gather my work to take home." Hastily she retreated to her own office.
As she shoved paperwork into her briefcase, she realized he stood in the doorway, watching her. "Does this have anything to do with those inhibitions I'm supposed to be helping you lose?"
"No! Not at all."
He sauntered closer. "I didn't notice any inhibitions last night."
Her face warmed, and she admitted, "Neither did I."
She forced a wretched smile. "You must have helped me, Jake, just as you promised. I'm over them. Thank you!" Closing her briefcase, she locked it and grabbed her coat from the coat tree.
He caught her arm, turned her to face him. "As proud as that makes me feel," he drawled, "I don't believe a damn word of it." His hands traveled to her shoulders, warming her, holding her. "You're running scared and I want to know why."
"I'm not scared. I'm just—"
"Tired," he finished. Sweeping his hands in a slow path down her back, he pressed her against his hard, muscular body, reminding her of last night's loving. "Let Dr.
Jake remedy that," he whispered. And he brushed a kiss across the corner of her mouth.
Sensations tingled from that featherlight kiss, taking her by surprise. He took advantage of her parted lips, this time swiping his tongue across her bottom lip.
A trembling started in her knees. He caught her against him in a harder embrace and slanted his mouth, delving with a force that thrilled her. Her arms came up around him and she countered every move of his tongue, eliciting a moan from deep within him.
The kiss grew rough, a little desperate, ending when he braced his thumbs alongside her mouth and forced himself away, his gaze hot, his whisper gruff. "I'll be at your house by nine."
* * *
8
« ^ »
His work with the computer crew kept Jake later than he'd expected, and he drove to Brianna's house wondering if she'd let him in. Their kiss at the office had left him with a compelling hunger for her, but he knew she hadn't fully approved of his visit from the start. The delay might have given her time to change her mind.
Open your door to me, Brianna. He knocked and waited on her front porch, his insides tightly coiled. Open to me.
Warmth, light and some succulent aroma engulfed him as the door opened. She wore jeans and a soft peach-colored sweatshirt, her hair loose about her shoulders, her eyes cautious and uncertain. Nonetheless, she let him in and took him to her kitchen, where she had a homemade supper of chicken and rice waiting. He'd almost forgotten the pleasure of a home-cooked meal—something he rarely had nowadays.
It touched him, that she'd thought he might be hungry. He was. He hadn't wanted to waste time stopping somewhere, when he knew he could be with her.
They barely said a word while he ate. She sat at the table with him, nursing a glass of wine and trying to avoid his stare. She looked soft and vulnerable and so damned beautiful he had a hard time swallowing. He wondered if she needed wine to relax. He drank deeply from the glass she'd poured him, hoping it might take the edge off his own need.
He wanted to go slowly with her tonight.
He started them with a shower. She was hesitant and shy at first, entering the bathroom in a fluffy white robe sashed at her narrow waist. He undressed himself with deliberate languor, watching her watch him. He stripped off his shirt, his jeans, his underwear. His desire for her stood in plain bold view. She looked away, her color high.
"Take off your robe," he instructed in a tight whisper.
Steam from the running shower misted, dreamlike, around her. Brianna bent her head to untie her sash, her hair falling over her eyes, her fingers trembling as she worked at the knot. He looked so dark, huge and savage in his nakedness, his body tightly muscled and primed for her. She knew the strength of that body. She knew its power.
Wicked sensuality curled through her, overcoming her shyness. She let the robe drop to the floor.
Muscles moved in his arms, chest and jaw. His gaze darkened, moving over her with probing heat. "Come here."
She stepped closer. He drew her into the pulsating heat of the shower, where he lathered soap over every curve and cleft of her body, his slow, hard hands setting fires in her b
lood. She took pleasure in soaping him—his sinewy arms and chest, his lean hips and abdomen, and lower.
Their mouths merged in steamy kisses. Passion grew intense. With strong, urgent hands he lifted her, and they made love right there, against the shower wall, as hot water beat against his back and sluiced down their bodies.
They came together in a blinding release, and realization flashed through her. She'd make love this way to no other man. No one else could work her into such sweet desperation. Only Jake.
No truth had ever scared her more.
But there it was, and here he was, holding her tightly against his thundering heart. Why, why should Jake be the one to ignite her passion? He played at life and love with reckless abandon, as if they were mere games. She could never expect more from him than this wild pleasure ride.
Yet she wanted this pleasure ride. She saw no sense in running from him or from her desire. She'd tried since the day they had met. But he'd played havoc with her subconscious, interfering with relationships that would have been so much better for her peace of mind.
She'd have to be stronger now than ever. Strong enough to face the fire and let their passion burn as hot and fierce as it could.
Until it had all burned out.
The day had started better than any in his life. Jake had opened his eyes to find Brianna curved against him. He'd woken her with long leisurely kisses.
The lovemaking just kept getting better.
That alone mystified him, along with the emotion that grabbed him whenever he thought about her. She was no longer the woman he hadn't had, the one who'd gotten away, the grass that looked so much greener on the other side of the hill.
He'd played on that grassy hillside. It really was the greenest, the deepest, the most lush and fragrant he'd ever known. But he couldn't dwell on that discovery … not if he wanted to keep it light.
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