Sitting with her coffee and bagel at one of the four overstuffed chairs set around an oval table, April stared at him, bagel suspended halfway to her mouth, cream cheese stuck on her lip.
He resisted the urge to look down to check his zipper. Is my dick hanging out or something? By the stirring beneath his silky boxers, he immediately realized that thinking of April and his cock in any context was inherently dangerous.
"April, there's Wi-Fi throughout the building. You can use your laptop at that table."
At precisely 1:00 p.m., Glennon's intercom beeped.
A scant few minutes later, the front desk security officer on duty opened the office door. A tall, blonde woman impatiently pushed aside Jack, the young man who'd replaced the incompetent guard Glennon had fired, cased the joint as if she planned to insult her host by making a low-ball bid for the building.
Jack shook his head, shrugged. At Glennon's nod, he quietly pulled the door closed behind him.
The woman who'd burst into the room appeared totally chic, totally confident, totally tailored in a gold Chanel suit, and perfectly accessorized. She oozed success—
and sex. Her bird-of-prey eyes zeroed in on Glennon.
He felt the hair on the back of his neck stir. And not in a good way. There were times that he wished he didn't project the bad boy image to most women. His appointment looked like one of those times.
As Glennon rose, he glanced at April. Shocked at the change in her demeanor, he wondered how she managed to shrink into herself, how she made herself look smaller, insignificant. She fussed with her laptop, refused to make eye contact with him.
Damn, this is so not good.
* * * * *
Glennon returned to the office for his meeting and April felt her jaw drop. Literally. Well-built and handsome in T-shirt and shorts, Glennon radiated totally awesome vibes when he dressed for success.
When the blonde barged into the room, April forgot all about how good Glennon looked. She cringed. Right up until the time of the intrusion, she'd felt good about herself. A dab of make-up. A good hair day since Roberto-the-Genius revamped her black locks into a shorter pixyish cap of bronze. New, black, skinny jeans. Burnt orange metallic beads in a starburst pattern radiated from shoulder to shoulder on a deep rust sweater, which nicely accentuated April's bosom. When she'd left the apartment that morning, she actually felt attractive. Now, in the space of a heartbeat, she'd morphed back into Ella of the Cinders.
"There, check that one out." Martone forced April to look at a female power broker with whom he worked. Dressed in a killer black sheath slit nearly up to her hip and four-inch heels sparkling with black sequins, the woman strolled around the huge ballroom as if she owned it, going from small group to small group with purpose, obviously networking.
Angelo grabbed April's wrist and yanked her to her feet.
"That's how a real woman looks." He snarled at her. "How a real woman acts. Beautiful, professional, tough as nails, sexy as hell. She takes no prisoners in the board room—or in the bedroom. She knows what she wants from a man," his face became uglier, "or a woman. She takes it."
Even though Angelo had chosen the slutty-chic dress April wore, she didn't dare contradict him. "I don't know what the fuck came over me, saddling myself with you. You'll be no asset to my business." He shoved her aside, left her standing in the middle of the room, the object of curious stares, followed by contemptuous glances.
April shook herself free of the memory.
"I assumed you'd arranged a confidential meeting for us." The blonde's petulant, sensual tones were clear enough for April to identify. Before Glennon could be the gentleman and offer her a seat, the woman chose one of the two chairs facing his desk.
She positioned it to her liking, then settled deeply into the cushions. She crossed her legs provocatively, which caused the slit of her tight skirt to ride up her tanned and toned thighs."Was I mistaken? Who is she, your little office-gnome-in-training?"
Glennon continued to smile as he resumed his seat, made himself comfortable.
"Actually, Ms. Finch, I'd like to introduce one of my partners, Alice Green. She's responsible for the bulk of our specialized programs. Her security protocol process is unique. We were lucky we could convince her to sign with us."
April did a passable job of not choking over his lies, as complimentary as they were. She managed a civil nod, then turned to her laptop, tried to appear coolly disinterested and busy.
The blonde arched a carefully shaped eyebrow as she targeted April with a clear look of disdain. "Really. Well, I guess the source of brilliance isn't always obvious, is it?"
She dismissed April in the next second.
"Indeed, it isn't." He reached across the desk and handed her a prospectus. "Here are the terms we discussed, Ms. Finch."
"Mr. Garrett—Glennon—please call me Gerry. Ms. Finch sounds so formal. We'll be business partners, after all."
April snuck a glance at the pair. Glennon's gaze crawled over the blonde's body, from perfectly coiffed hair to Prada heels . Oh yeah, he's interested, all right. How could he not be? He's a man's man, after all. She rolled her eyes downward, grabbed a quick peek at herself. Next to her, I look like a pile of wet matchsticks.
As the dialogue and the banter continued, so did the blonde's obvious posturing.
April would not have been surprised if the woman had unbuttoned her jacket to display her silicone boob job, in a bold attempt to wrangle the promise of at least a dinner date from Glennon.
During her formative years, the ratio of boys to girls in April's neighborhood ran about five to one. She learned, early on, how the social dynamics worked. Being small and tomboyish, she quickly became one of the boys, became their ally. The boys felt free to talk about anything and everything—including their girlfriends—in front of April.
They even sought out her opinion. Such interactions and observations from the opposite camp made her vow silently that she would never fall into situations that would allow boys, or men, to gossip about her. The Finch type would have definitely given the boys plenty to talk about.
It took about an hour for Mr. Glennon Garrett, CEO of GMG Security and Surveillance, to wear down the pretentious Ms. Geraldine Please-call-me-Gerry Finch, harpy, who finally exited the office with a tight expression, signed contracts, and no date.
* * * * *
Glennon made a mental note to take the extra fee he'd tacked onto the Finch job, and set aside the money as a bonus for April. She deserved it, after the treatment she'd received from the Prom Queen Cougar. And damn Martone, again, for his heavy-handed treatment of his former fiancée. April's immediate reaction to the woman exec had Martone's slimy handprints all over it.
I really screwed that up. I never should have insisted that April sit through the meeting with Ms. Freddy Krueger. He was convinced that the spate of endless verbal fencing at the meeting between him and the determined Finch creature left April emotionally bruised and battered.
He escorted April to the comfortable shelter of his apartment, then swapped his professional attire for a sleeveless T-shirt and faded cut-off jeans.
"The contracts are signed, so we deserve a treat. How about pizza?"
Following Glennon's example, April exchanged her pretty sweater for a sandy camo tank top and shorts, probably in case the pizza sauce dripped. He'd noticed she was very careful about her clothes. She remained quiet during supper, a throwback to her behavior of a few short days ago. He knew she chewed on something other than her food.
"April, what is it?"
She shook her head.
"C'mon, what's going on?"
She leaned her elbows on the table. "Am I in your way?"
He sat back in his chair. "I'm not following. Are you in my way, how?"
"Your own building. A great bachelor pad. I landed on your doorstep without warning, a total stranger. If you want to date that woman, having me here, encroaching on your territory, makes it awkward, doesn't it?"
&n
bsp; He laughed. "Encroaching on my territory? Me, date the piranha? I don't think so.
I value all my limbs, just as they are. Why would you even think such a thing?"
Her cheeks reddened. "I grew up running with a pack of boys. I know the drill.
The way you two were, y'know, talking. You were attracted to her. She's so striking, so self-assured. I thought—"
"Hell's bells, no. That's just business. A date with Ms. Finch? I'd feel like a chunk of raw steak in a tiger cage, waiting for her to tear the next bloody hunk from my flesh.
Nah, not my thing. If you're worried that you're cramping my swinging bachelor lifestyle, don't. The last thing I need is the aggravation of a relationship. Women like Finch are users, climbers, cat-scratching their way to the top. Nothing more. Plus, becoming intimately involved with a client is ultimately bad for business. It's proven to be the downfall of many an otherwise savvy entrepreneur."
April slid another slice of pizza onto her plate, and did not respond.
After dinner, Glennon parked in a comfortable leather recliner with a batch of files in his lap. The television volume was barely audible as NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and his team sorted out another convoluted crime for the Navy.
Preoccupied with the files, it took him a few moments to realize April had finished puttering in the kitchen and was making laps around the apartment. Quietly, unobtrusively, but pacing, nonetheless.
"What's up?"
April jerked around. "Huh?"
"I said, what's up? You're as edgy as a grouse with a spaniel in the neighborhood."
Her cheeks colored again."Dunno." She shrugged. "I guess I'm uncomfortable not having an assignment to do. No homework, no new projects to develop. I miss working.
I have a moral imperative against freeloading."
"A moral imperative. I see." Glennon placed the folder on the chair arm, steepled his fingers. "Let's try this. I'll make you a deal. If you're so worried about what you owe, then come to work. For me. A real job, benefits and everything. I read your résumé. It's different work, but I think you can handle it. Plus, you have impressive computer skills.
Manage my office and the blasted contracts that fly through here. It takes too much time for me to stay on top of the paperwork and still do my job. I don't trust just anyone to come into our high-security fold. You were already completely vetted to work for Martone, who is totally paranoid about his employees. What do you think?"
April perked up, her eyes brighter, more animated than they'd been since she fainted in his arms at the side of the curb.
"Are you serious? A real job? Yes!"
Chapter Four
Tuesday to Friday
The balance of the workweek sailed by in a blur. Glennon gave April her head, and she tore through the place like a tornado. She was good at her job, and she knew it.
The GMG office policies were the first to be transformed. The activities also took her mind off the fact that she could be a fugitive.
"Omigod, how can you people work like this?"April wrangled Glennon's big, tough, ex-military and former LEOs into line. Feeling completely ignored, she threw a clipboard down on a desk. The clatter finally caught everyone's attention.
"New project sheets are turned in after every job, boys. No sheets, no reimbursements. No sheets, no pay. No kidding."
Her petite five-foot-nothing self flew after hugely muscled perpetrators who dared throw crinkled receipts on her desk.
Young Jack immediately labeled her "Wonder Woman." The next morning, the men presented her with a T-shirt. In full, bright, comic book color, Wonder Woman leaped across the front of the shirt, with the legend printed across the back: She Who Must Be Obeyed. At first, April just stared at the shirt, then turned it front to back several times. The guys stood silently, like a row of giant oak trees, shuffled their feet, looked at the floor.
A wide grin lit up her face. "Outstanding!"
Then she disappeared. When she returned, she proudly wore the shirt with her sparkly denim jacket and modest mid-calf skirt.
Glennon just shook his head as she went jogging by, after a six-foot, two-hundred-plus pound linebacker type. He threw his hands up in surrender. "You guys are on your own. I can't protect you."
Using his accounts, leaving no electronic or paper trail, which pointed to April, Glennon insisted that she order a wardrobe to enhance the meager stash of second-hand clothing stuffed in her duffle bag.
"When clients arrive, my Office Exec can't look like a street urchin, can she?"
April relented, then ordered.
Chapter Five
Saturday
For two people accustomed to living alone, April thought that she and Glennon actually shared the apartment comfortably. They both preferred to eat light, except for the occasional pizza. They took turns cooking. April's head injury and abrasions healed quickly, and the slash over her ribs had closed well. She'd carry a nasty reminder for the rest of her life, but the new scar tissue looked healthy. Glennon apparently had extensive experience with wounds, and said she was healing cleanly.
April missed her books, but found a fairly well stocked bookcase in the living room. She preferred to read, rarely watched TV. That left the kitchen as the only room that she and Glennon really shared. A tall, muscular man, he nevertheless moved easily around the space without making her feel trapped. When they happened to brush against each other, the feeling was nice, warm. She liked the sensation. As often as she daydreamed about what might happen if Glennon knocked on her door at night to share her bed, she also appreciated the feeling of secure privacy he gave her. So far, the man's kept his word.
Saturday shook out as a stand-down day for everyone. Assignments closed out on Friday, nothing new scheduled until the following week. A real rest day for the entire GMG crew. April showered, then pulled on a simple tank top and drawstring capris. She liked her new wash-and-wear coiffure. A dab of mousse after she toweled her hair dry, then a quick finger combing. The stylist, a true genius, had whipped up a shade of bronzed auburn close to her own, and promised her own mane would grow back in time, as healthy as it had been, pre-dye job.
Glennon flipped the French toast as she reached the kitchen. His hair also damp, he looked deliciously casual in a gold Hawaiian shirt and denim shorts.
"Wow, nice shirt. You look familiar. Don't I know you? Hmm, maybe an actor, maybe a blonde P.I. Without the mustache."
He grinned. "And without the Ferrari, sad to say. My buddies and I were in Hawaii, bought up a batch of Magnum P.I. shirts in different colors as a reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. If you'll grab the juice, breakfast is ready."
Glennon turned as April tried to slip by. Without intending to, his body pressed her against the counter. She laid her palms against his broad chest—not to push him away, but to touch him. Her pulse launched into hyper drive, and breathing came hard.
Feeling inadequate, she tried to turn away. "Sorry—"
He leaned into her and his mouth came down on hers, cutting off further words.
Warm. Gentle. Tentative. Not demanding. His tongue slowly outlined her lips, and his arms reached around and pulled her to him. Not pushy, not forceful. He kissed the tip of her nose, then each eyelid, before he returned his attention to her lips. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth, gently sucking. He enveloped her mouth with a long, passionate kiss, warm and deep.
She felt such longing, such desire, in that kiss. She'd thought his mouth looked tight, firm, even hard, but his lips felt incredibly soft and attentive.
Her knees almost buckled with the lust his actions stirred between her thighs.
April slid her hands to the back of his neck, then ran her fingers through his hair. Nice, silky. She enjoyed the feel of his big hands as they moved up her sides, then slowly slid down to her hips, to her buttocks, pulling her forward. She went willingly, unconsciously pressing her sex against his muscled thigh. His response immediate, his erection grew, barely contained in his shorts
.
She whispered to him. " Mmm, you feel so good."
A moan resonated in her throat. It had been a long time since she'd been close to a man.
As she slid her hand down his broad chest on its journey toward his cock, April's brain suddenly downshifted from overdrive. Whoa, what's happening here? What am I doing? What the hell is wrong with me? She pulled her hand back as if it was scorched, and disengaged her mouth from his. "Omigod, I'm . . . so . . . sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, what came over me."
Pulling in a deep breath, Glennon rested his chin on her hair and continued to hold her. "Don't be sorry. There's nothing wrong with your thinking. I hope at least mutual attraction overcame you."
He kissed her hair. "Perhaps more." He backed up enough to give her room to move. "Juice?"
April took a long moment to gather her wits and focus on the simple word. She trembled, but managed a nod. Coherent thought was not possible. With shaking hands, she brought the container to the table.
He took over and poured the juice. "Sit, eat, before everything gets cold."
No words were spoken during breakfast, as the pair avoided any reference to what had happened a few short moments earlier.
Fidgety, her body still jazzed, April straightened the kitchen and loaded the dishwater. Glennon searched through the sports channels he watched when time allowed.
She returned from her room with book in hand, targeted a comfortable chair with good lighting, away from the wide flat-screen TV. She tried to fold herself into the chair several times, and finally felt like a dog circling to get cozy.
Glennon patted the sofa cushion next to him. "Come here. Read by me."
Still edgy, feeling a bit apprehensive, April approached him, then sat.
"Scooch down, get comfortable." He reached across the end table and clicked on the floor lamp, turning the light toward her. He patted his thigh, then motioned for her to settle.
Hunting April Page 4