Brooke nodded. Jack Sinclair sounded like a man with an ax to grind, though her vision could be skewed by the fact that he’d inherited her boss’s birthright. She hadn’t met Jack or his half brother Alan. “They must be angry your dad kept them secret all these years.”
“Yup. Resentment.” RJ sat down on the sofa again. “I’m beginning to know what that feels like.”
“Very understandable.” Her chest ached with emotion. She wished she could bear some of the burden for him. “This whole situation came out of nowhere for you.”
“Not to mention my mom.” He shook his head. “Though sometimes I wonder if she knew. She didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of us.”
Brooke swallowed. Elizabeth Kincaid would have had at least some motivation for the murder if she’d known about her husband’s adultery. And she had seen her in the office on the night of the murder. She shook the thought from her brain. There was no way such a quiet and gentle person could fire a bullet at another human, even her cheating husband. “Let me pour you some more.”
She brought the bottle over to the sofa and leaned down to fill RJ’s glass. The whiskey sloshed in the bottle as he stuck out a strong arm and pulled her roughly onto the sofa with him. She let out a tiny shriek as her hips settled into the soft leather next to his.
“I appreciate the company, Brooke. I guess I needed someone to talk to.” His arm had now settled across her shoulders, his big hand wrapped around her upper arm. She could hardly breathe. And when she did his warm, masculine scent assaulted her senses and raised her blood pressure.
RJ settled into the sofa a little, caressing her shoulder with his hand. Heat bloomed under his fingers, through her thin blouse. She still held the whiskey bottle and wondered if she should pour from it, or if he’d had enough. He answered the question by taking it from her with his free hand, and putting it on the floor along with his glass. His hand then settled on her thigh, where she could feel the warmth of his palm through her smart gray skirt. Her heart quickened when he turned to look at her.
RJ’s expression was one of intense concentration. He seemed to be examining her face like she was a table of container ship sailings. “I never noticed how green your eyes are.”
Brooke had a sudden urge to roll those eyes. How many women had he used that line on? RJ was famous throughout the Southeast as a Most Eligible Bachelor and had enjoyed his single status as long as she’d known him. “Some people would call them gray.” Was she really sitting almost in RJ’s lap talking about her eyes, or was this some kind of manic dream?
“They’d be wrong.” Again his expression was deadly serious. “But lately I’m learning that people are wrong a lot of the time.” His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and she pressed them back together. “I’m having to question a lot of my assumptions about the world.”
“Sometimes that’s good.” She spoke softly, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. Sitting this close to RJ was dangerous. Arousal already crept through her limbs and strange parts of her were starting to tingle.
“I suppose so.” RJ frowned. “Though it doesn’t make life any easier.”
Poor RJ. He was used to being the golden child, his entire life mapped out at birth and his every need taken care of before he could even voice it.
“Sometimes challenges can make us stronger.” It was hard to form sensible thoughts with his arm around her shoulder and his other hand on her knee. She could feel the power of his sturdy body right through her clothes. Part of her wanted to stand up and go organize the papers on his desk. The other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and…
RJ’s lips crushed over hers in a hot, whiskey-scented kiss that banished all thought. Her body melted against his and she felt her fingers do what they’d wanted all along—roam into his stiff white shirt and the hard, hot muscle beneath.
His hands caressed her, making her skin hum with arousal. Her nipples thickened and a powerful wave of heat rose in her belly. RJ’s raw hunger for affection—for help—gave urgency to his touch. She could feel how badly he needed her, right now, here in his arms.
She kissed him back with equal force, affection for him overpowering any more sensible urges. She wanted to heal his hurt, to make him feel better, and right now she almost felt that was within her power. Emotions surged within her. She’d adored RJ almost since the day she met him and his strength under adversity only made her admire him more. She’d never dared imagine for a single second that he’d return her feelings.
Their kiss deepened and heated and for a moment she thought they’d fuse and become one, then RJ pulled back gently. “Brooke, you’re an amazing woman.”
His soft sigh contained a thick aroma of all those fingers of whiskey she’d poured him. Would he regret this in the morning? Still, hearing him call her an amazing woman stirred something powerful inside her. Was this the beginning of a totally new phase in their relationship? Maybe they’d start dating and she’d be able to help him negotiate the minefield of his life and come happily out the other side with him—arm in arm. His arms felt fabulous around her right now.
Or would she remember this as the moment she destroyed her hard-earned career at The Kincaid Group and permanently alienated her boss by getting him drunk and compromising their professional relationship? A ball of fear burst open like a mold spore inside her.
What was she doing? She’d gotten him drunk, then let him kiss her. It was all her fault, even she could see that.
RJ stroked her cheek and she fought a sudden urge to nuzzle against him like a cat. Was it so wrong to give him the affection and comfort he craved? Again, violins and visions of a rose-scented courtship hummed in her mind. She was strong enough to help him through this. Her own background had made her a resilient person.
RJ caressed her, taking in the curve of her breast with his fingers then trailing over her thigh. The musky scent of him filled her senses for a second as his lips met hers again and kissed her softly.
Cigar smoke clung to his suit from the long business lunch he’d hosted at a local restaurant, and mingled rather intoxicatingly with the whiskey. Everything about RJ seemed delicious to her right now. She wanted to wrap herself up in him and stay there forever.
But he withdrew again, leaving her lips stinging. Then he frowned and pushed a hand through his hair as if wondering what he was doing.
An icy finger of doubt slid down Brooke’s back. Perhaps that smoky smell came from the smoldering ruin of her career and reputation. Instinct pushed her to her feet, which wasn’t easy with her knees reduced to wobbly jelly. “Maybe it’s time to get out of here. It’s after seven.”
RJ leaned his head back against the sofa, eyes closed. “I’m beat. I don’t think I can take another step today.”
“I’ll call you a cab.” She certainly didn’t want him driving with all that whiskey in him. He didn’t live far away, but driving or walking him home didn’t seem like such a great idea, either. If he invited her in, she wasn’t sure she could say no, and she knew she’d regret being that easy.
“Don’t worry about me, Brooke. I’ll sleep here on the sofa. I’ve done it many times before. If I wake up in the middle of the night I’ll go through some of the paperwork I need to read.”
“You’ll wake up sore.”
“I’ll be fine.” Already he was sinking into the sofa, eyes sleepy. “Go home and rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brooke bit her lip. Somehow it hurt to be dismissed like this after their steamy kisses. What did she expect? That he’d want her by his side every moment from now on? Maybe after so much whiskey he’d already forgotten he even kissed her.
“What about dinner?”
“Not hungry,” he murmured.
“There’s half a plate of sandwiches in the fridge left over from a luncheon
meeting today. I could get them for you.”
“Stop trying to mother me, and go home.” His tone was almost curt. Brooke swallowed and turned for the door. Then she noticed RJ had sat up again, head in his hands. “I can’t believe my mom is in jail. It’s just so wrong. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life.”
Brooke walked back toward him. “She’s a strong woman and she’ll survive. You’ve done all you can for now and it won’t help her if you worry yourself sick over it. Get some sleep so you’ll be ready to make the most of tomorrow. You’ve got a company to save.”
He blew out a hard breath. “You’re right, Brooke, as usual. Thanks for everything.”
Already he’d lain down, eyes closed. A fierce pang of tenderness for him ached in her chest. So tall and strong and proud and so anxious to go immediately into battle to save his mom. RJ was the kind of man any woman would adore. And she was only one among the many who did.
She slipped out of his office and closed the door, then picked up her jacket and bag from her own desk outside it. Thanks for everything. Was that his way of wrapping up the evening’s events—memos typed, letters filed, kisses received. All in a day’s work.
“Bye, Brooke.”
She startled at the sound of her name. She’d totally forgotten there might still be other employees on the floor. Usually everyone was long gone by now, but PR assistant Lucinda was donning her jacket two cubicles away. Brooke wondered if her cheeks were flushed or her lips red. Surely there must be some telltale signs that she’d locked lips with her boss.
“Bye, Luce.” She hurried for the elevator, hoping no one else would see her.
When the doors opened Joe from Marketing was inside. “What a day,” he exhaled, as she stepped in. “This place is coming apart at the seams.”
“No, it isn’t.” She bristled with indignation. “We’re going through tough times but a year from now this will all be forgotten and the company will be back on top again.”
Joe raised a sandy brow. “Really? If old Mrs. Kincaid did it I don’t think the family reputation will recover. And it’s sure looking like she did. I bet she’s enjoying life as the merry widow now.”
“She didn’t do it.” Still, a sliver of doubt wedged itself into her mind. Anyone could be pushed past their breaking point, and Elizabeth Kincaid had been pushed pretty far from the sound of it. “And don’t go spreading rumors that she did. You’ll make things worse.”
“Are you going to report me to your boss?” He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.
“No. He’s got enough problems right now. He needs all of our support.”
“You’re like a wife to him, so supportive and attentive to his needs.” His grin was less than reassuring. “If only we could all be as lucky as RJ.”
She froze. Could he know something had happened between her and RJ? The doors opened and she stepped out with relief. “I’m not his wife.”
Though maybe one day I could be. Fantasies already played at the edge of her mind. Dangerous fantasies. Dreams that could explode in her face and destroy her career and reputation.
Still it was hard not to let her imagination wander just a little....
Two
Brooke had a sleepless night. In the morning her hair was a mess and she had to whip out the curling iron to bring some life back to the limp brown locks brushing her shoulders. She applied her makeup carefully, wanting to look as beautiful as RJ had made her feel last night. Did she look different now that she’d kissed him?
Not really. At least her eyes weren’t red from crying—yet. RJ would be able to blame his sudden enchantment with her on the whiskey she gave him. She, on the other hand, could blame only her years-long fascination with him. She’d fallen into his arms without a protest, and kissed him with passion that came from the heart.
She wore her smartest black suit. She’d bought it on sale at a fancy boutique, and with its well-cut designer lines it was something a rich girl would wear. She stood back and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. Did she look like a potential girlfriend of RJ Kincaid?
She knew what her mom would say. You have a nice figure, you should show it off more. But that wasn’t her style. Besides, the last thing she wanted was a man who only cared about her breasts and not her brain.
She donned her Burberry raincoat, a cherished consignment store find. She preferred a demure, somewhat conservative style that said, I mean business. She wanted people to take her seriously. She’d never flirted with RJ for a single instant, as her job meant far more to her than the prospect of a quick kiss and cuddle.
Fear licked around the edges of her brain. Would RJ be embarrassed by last night’s indiscretions and find a way to shunt her aside? Her heart pounded as she walked into the Kincaid building.
Her throat dried as she stepped out of the elevator on their floor. How would she greet him? Would he be furious she’d made him drunk and landed them in a compromising position?
Maybe he wouldn’t remember that he’d kissed her at all.
His office door was closed. Was RJ still in there sleeping on the sofa? She hung her coat with shaking hands and wiped sweaty palms on her skirt before approaching. She lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated.
Maybe she should wait for him to come out. He might have a major hangover he needed to sleep off. She turned and went to sit at her desk. She was always the first person in each morning. She liked to get her in-box dealt with before the phones started ringing.
Brooke checked her email, then pulled the mail from her tray and started to sort through it. But her eyes kept straying to the closed door. Was he still upset about his mom being jailed? Who wouldn’t be? He could probably use a coffee and some breakfast.
She rose from her chair and approached the door again. She inhaled deeply and raised her hand—and the door opened.
The polite greeting she’d rehearsed fled her lips at the sight of RJ. She’d expected him to look rumpled and tired, but he didn’t. Well groomed and wearing a perfectly pressed suit, he looked every inch the business titan his rivals feared.
“Morning, Brooke.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Morning.” The word burst out fast and loud. Somehow he seemed even more gorgeous than usual. Maybe because she knew just how his mouth tasted in a kiss. She struggled to drag her mind back to practical matters. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept very well under the circumstances.” He leaned against the door frame, eyes resting on her face. “It wasn’t easy sleeping alone after that kiss.” His deep blue eyes smoldered and his hushed tones carried more than a hint of suggestion.
Brooke bit her lip to stop a huge smile creeping across it. “For me either.” Her admission was a relief. He wasn’t trying to forget the kiss ever happened. “I’m glad you’re feeling better this morning.”
“I took your advice to heart. No sense weakening under pressure when I need all my energy to fight. Onwards and upwards, Brooke.”
“That’s the spirit.” She let the big goofy smile widen her mouth. This was the RJ she’d grown to know and love. “What’s first on the agenda this morning?”
He tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice. “The first thing on my agenda is to secure a date for tonight.”
Brooke’s heart almost stopped. Did he mean with her, or did he intend for her to call some strange woman and…
“Are you free after work this evening?”
“Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, I am.” How cool. Oh well, not like she had an image as a seductress to uphold.
“I’ll make reservations and will pick you up at your place at seven-thirty.”
“Great.” Already her mind spun with worries about what to wear. Her cherished collection of business suits would be too stuffy for dinner and she didn’t ha
ve that many—
“I’m off to a meeting and I’ve left a pile of items in your inbox.”
“Great.” Apparently that was the only word left in her vocabulary. “See you later,” she called, as he swept into the elevator.
A date with RJ. Tonight. And she didn’t even have to make the reservation! But she did still have to go through his correspondence and coordinate his schedule, just like any other day.
She felt as if she was stepping onto a board of chutes and ladders. Three steps forward and dinner with RJ leads up the tall ladder! What next? Would she roll a five and plunge to estrangement and unemployment at the bottom of a chute?
With no idea what kind of restaurant RJ would choose, Brooke decided to go smart-casual. She donned a floral patterned dress she’d never worn to work and a cute cashmere shrug she’d found in a boutique walking home from work one day. Her hair was shiny, her complexion clear for once and except for the heightened redness in her cheeks she looked pretty darn good!
Still, she jumped when the doorbell rang. She’d never given RJ her address, but no doubt he could just look in her personnel file. She drew in a breath as she walked across the living room to open the door.
“Hi.” She felt yet another huge goofy grin spread across her face at the sight of RJ, several inches larger than life, as always, standing right there on her doorstep. “Won’t you come in?” She’d spent at least an hour cleaning the place to within an inch of its life.
“Sure.” He smiled, and stepped inside.
“Would you like a martini?” She knew he loved them.
“Why not?” RJ managed to look both classic and hip in a jacket that hung elegantly from his broad shoulders, and loose khakis. He often had the air of an old-time matinee idol, which perfectly matched his bold, aristocratic features and easy confidence. Right now she felt like his leading lady, since her dress had a vintage flair to it.
Behind Boardroom Doors Page 2