“Yes. Wear something quieter. Those are disruptive.” Each time he heard her clacking, he had to mentally restrain his imagination.
Oh, the places it could go…
“What, like Crocs?” she asked.
He gave her a bland look.
“Apologies, Eli, but I’m not changing my shoes.” She came into his office, her hips swaying with each sure step she took toward him.
“Fine. Then you’re fired.”
“Oh, no, not again.” She smiled, her lush mouth tipping at both ends. She lifted his empty coffee cup from his desk. “Refill?”
He breathed in the spicy scent of her perfume. How was it that she smelled like exotic temptation? He’d be damned if he was going to tell her to change her perfume. Then she might ask why he didn’t like it, which wasn’t the case at all.
He liked it way too much.
“No,” he said.
She started away from him.
“Wait.”
She spun on that spindle of a heel and cocked her head. “Yeeees?”
“Sit.”
“I’m not a dog, Eli.”
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and called up his patience. “Ms. Sawyer, won’t you have a seat?”
“I’d love to,” she chimed, sitting prettily after relinquishing his empty mug to one corner of his desk.
“I heard you on the phone. Personal call?”
“I don’t think that’s your business seeing as how you just fired me.”
The moment her voice dropped on the call, Eli had strained to listen to what she was murmuring about. He’d heard a name, Tracy—could be a guy or a girl—but the following comment about Nathan being married tipped him off. Nathan was definitely a guy’s name. He’d debated bringing it up, but if she was going to continue to stay here and be a thorn in his side, she needed to respect his time.
“You’re looking for a date on my time, Sable. That is my business.”
Her eyes rounded guiltily. Damn. He’d hoped he’d been wrong about that. He didn’t know much about her, but he never heard her talk of anyone else or dating anyone else. He assumed she was single.
“I…It’s not what you think.” Her eyes flitted to the side. “I’m attending a function requiring a plus-one, that’s all. You know what?” She affected a perfectly poised smile. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” He didn’t particularly enjoy serving as a dating service hub for his PA. That was just what he needed: one more happily, annoyingly in-love person in his orbit.
Isa rose from her chair and snatched his coffee mug. “If we’re done here, I’m calling it a day. You’ll be glad to know my disruptive shoes and I can see ourselves out.”
“Very funny.”
She winked, one glittering eye closing and reopening as that distracting smile remained. He had the sudden longing for Melanie and her blatant lack of sex appeal. Isabella Sawyer was a lot to deal with for a man who didn’t want to deal with anyone.
Fist wrapped tightly around his pen, he listened as her shoes swept the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on out of his warehouse.
“Stubborn,” he grumbled, unsure if he was talking about himself or her. It hadn’t taken long for her to ensconce herself into his work life.
A few minutes later, his cell phone rang.
“Zach,” Eli answered. Zachary Ferguson was a few years younger than him and a talented builder. He’d worked with Crane Hotels in the past and Eli was hoping he could help him out with a project.
“I’m outside. Can’t get in.” Zach’s Southern accent sounded foreign in this city.
Right. The gate.
Eli followed the path Isabella took, her faint spicy scent leading him like a bloodhound. “Hang on. I’ll be down in a second.”
When he reached the elevator, Zach interrupted him.
“Wait. We’re good. Some woman in a white car just…damn.”
The expletive left on an appreciative breath, and Eli could guess why. He ground his molars together and envisioned Isa flashing Zach a warm smile, her hooded, black-lashed eyes blinking as she pulled past.
“Thanks, love,” Zach called, and it wasn’t hard to figure he wasn’t addressing Eli. “Day-um.”
She’d been looking for an eligible bachelor this afternoon and had come up empty-handed. Eli didn’t want her to consider Zach, for God’s sake. Just picturing her with another guy brought out a territorial side of him he hadn’t exercised in too long.
“Come on up,” Eli said, his voice full of gravel.
He punched the END button on his phone and waited by the elevator, arms crossed. When the doors opened and Zach appeared, he looked as dazed as if Cupid had shot him in the forehead.
“Who was that?” Zach asked with a crooked smile.
“My assistant. She’s taken,” Eli tacked on, annoyed at the interest in Zach’s expression.
“Mercy. I guess.” Zach’s accent was thicker than before.
It might be shocking to learn that Isa was single if Eli didn’t know her. Few men enjoyed being handed their own balls by a woman.
Sure, keep telling yourself that as you cordon her off from available men.
“Good to see you again.” With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Zach let the topic drop. He extended a hand and Eli accepted it.
Zach and Eli had worked together on a new build during one of Eli’s stints home from the military. They knew each other. He’d worked with Crane Hotels in other facets as well, so it came as no surprise when Zach didn’t react to the sight of Eli’s bare legs poking out of from beneath a long pair of cargo shorts. No doubt Zach had heard about the injury.
Eli cleared his throat. Seeing someone for the first time since it happened was always the hardest part. They either reacted apologetically, awkward, or casual. He’d heard everything from “Thank you for your service” to “Tough break, buddy.”
He didn’t have a preference of reaction, save for he’d rather not have one at all.
“I’m sorry for…” Zach gestured.
Eli threw a hand to end the awkward pause. “Yeah, thanks. Beer?”
“Sure.”
There. They were through that.
Beer bottles uncapped, Eli handed over Zach’s. “Nickel tour?”
“Hit me,” Zach said, taking a swig.
Eli showed him around the warehouse. When he reached the front room again, he said, “Home gym equipped with rehabilitation equipment. You may have noticed I don’t have to worry about widening the doorways since I’m not in a wheelchair, but if I did, I only have a few. The bedroom”—he pointed to the end of the hallway—“office and bathrooms. Other than that, I have no problem getting around in here. Some soldiers aren’t as fortunate as I am.”
Zach’s gaze meandered down Eli’s prosthetic leg like he was wondering how any man could consider himself fortunate after losing a part of his person.
The answer was easy.
“Like the two men who died from the grenade that blew my leg off,” Eli said, his casual demeanor doing nothing to stop the flood of acid from pooling in his stomach.
Christopher. That stupid bastard. Two kids, a wife, and he was just twenty-five. Threw himself on the grenade at the same time Benji shoved Eli to the ground.
Eli swallowed down the bitter-as-vinegar memory before he continued.
“Injured men and women come home from the military to apartments and homes with narrow hallways, doorways, countertops that are too tall, and various other obstacles that make it difficult to feel like you’ll ever return to normal.”
But there wasn’t a “normal,” only the new normal. New normal was wily. Slippery. Harder to get a handle on than he ever would have dreamed. After spending time trying to relearn the basics and realign himself into his previous life, he’d accepted that there was no alignment possible. He’d simply have to wedge himself into a new life. One that was a shadow of his old one.
On good days it left him feeling bitter. On bad days…wel
l, he didn’t dwell on what the bad days did to him.
Zach’s wheels were turning. Eli could tell by the way the guy’s eyes narrowed in thought. Zach walked through the gym equipment lined along the wall and pointed to the upstairs loft.
“Don’t get a lot of use out of that area, I’m guessing?”
“No.” Eli used to have his bedroom up there, near the exit to the rooftop. He used to sit outside and take in the city. It was the perfect ending to an evening. Stars, tall buildings, and a cold beer. He hadn’t been up there since he’d returned home permanently.
Where he’d tackled every physical barrier with fervor, the metal staircase and railings were a no-go zone. They used to be his favorite part of the warehouse, but now they represented loss. No longer did he wake in the morning to take in the entire apartment spread out below or roll over with a girl in his arms and offer to get her morning coffee. No reason to go up there now.
That memory stung the way memories of Crystal always did. His relationship with her was the last one he’d had before he shipped out. She’d been upset that he was rarely home and said she was moving out. He’d been angry but mostly hurt. When he returned home injured, he’d called her to see if what they’d had was beyond repair. She’d e-mailed him back rather than called, writing that she’d heard about his injuries and while she was sorry, she hadn’t signed up for a life of complications.
Being abandoned twice by her had stung like a bitch.
“What do you need from me?” Zach, beer in hand, sat on the weight bench, his fit form suggesting he wasn’t a stranger to the equipment.
Eli rested a palm on bars he’d used to learn how to walk again, the metal a cool reminder of how far he’d come.
“I’d like to provide a service for our soldiers who come home with less than they had when they left. You’re a good contractor. You know good people. And if you give me a decent rate, we can help a lot of men and women acclimate.”
Zach nodded once.
“What’s in it for you is the free advertising,” Eli said, answering Zach’s unasked question. Eli was asking for a cut rate considerably less than what Zach usually pulled in. “I’ll mention your company on the website, on the flyers, and at every event held to raise money. Ferguson Builders will be synonymous with reliable work and a golden heart.”
“Golden heart.” Zach’s mouth hitched and he looked to the window, his messy dark blond hair, shaved face, and country-boy good looks hinting at just that. “I know a few girls who would argue that sentiment.”
“Then leave them off your references.”
Zach chuckled. “All right. I’ll work up an estimate.”
“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer immediately.”
“Nah. I do better when I go with my gut.” Zach stood. “You have more to show me, or was this all the pitch you had?”
“I have more.” Eli paced to his office, Zach following, and for the first time in a long time, felt a genuine smile of pride crest his mouth.
Finally, Eli had a purpose again.
Chapter 4
Monday morning when Isa strode into Eli’s warehouse loft, she expected three things: no greeting, the muted sound of shuffling papers or tapping of the keyboard coming from Eli’s office, and a clean dining room table for her to spread out her laptop and planner.
She closed the elevator door behind her, humming the last song she heard on the radio as she drove here, and stopped dead in her tracks. Eli wasn’t in his office. He was on his back on a mat in the workout area, arms behind his head, earbuds in, doing sit-ups.
Shirtless, slightly sweaty, totally distracting sit-ups.
He hadn’t heard her come in, as evidenced by his grunts as he pushed through another curl, eyes closed, strain in the pull of his lips.
Isa…stared.
Stared at the bumps of his abs, the flex of his biceps, the very short black running shorts climbing high over a pair of the most muscular thighs she’d ever seen.
She had opened her mouth to announce herself, honest, but Eli with his eyes closed, dark lashes shadowing his cheeks was mesmerizing. His hair had fallen in damp tendrils over his forehead, his lips peeled back, parting a full, thick beard and revealing stunningly white teeth. Had she ever seen his teeth?
It wasn’t like he made it a habit to grin at her. Him grinning wasn’t easy to imagine.
So lost in that thought, her eyes wandering the length of his body, over his bare chest and down to his legs, it took her a beat too long to realize he’d caught her gawking, her mouth agape. When her gaze reached his face, his eyes were open—deep, dark, seaworthy blue beneath two angry eyebrows.
On a final sit-up, he adjusted his leg and his prosthesis, then rested his forearms on his knees and caught his breath.
“Good morning,” she croaked, then cleared her throat as she tore her eyes away from what might be the most gorgeous male specimen she’d ever laid eyes on. “I, um, didn’t expect you to be”—mostly naked, this sexy, utterly distracting—“out here. Slow day in the office?” She capped the question with a nervous titter of a laugh, an obvious ploy to change the subject.
She hastily set up her laptop and pulled out a folder with a few forms Reese had sent over to her office. Items that needed Eli’s immediate attention. Well, maybe not immediate. She would require him to get dressed before she could remove her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him push to standing, rub his taut abs with one palm, and reach for his water bottle. His every movement was fluid, even when he put weight on his prosthesis and walked to the kitchen.
She sneaked a peek over her shoulder to admire his chiseled ass moving in those shorts.
Blinking to reset her brain, she turned back to the business of unpacking her tote, which took all of ten seconds. She logged onto her computer and sat, then stood, deciding maybe a cup of coffee would help.
Of course to get said coffee she’d have to go into the kitchen, where her grouchy, hot-as-hell employer was now guzzling the contents of a sports drink.
So she sat back down and glued her eyes to the laptop’s screen. She checked e-mail and jotted appointments into her planner for Sable Concierge while she waited for Hot Marine in Short Shorts to evacuate the premises.
A few minutes into her work, a mug of coffee appeared at her right wrist, steam curling, creamed to the perfect tan hue. Gaping, she turned to slowly look up at a shirtless Eli, who stood over her and was still frowning.
He’d brought her…coffee?
“I guess you think it’s indecent of me to expose you to my workout routine,” he grumbled. “If I were you, I’d quit.”
Granted, his delivery could use some work. Then again, she thought as he turned and walked to the bathroom, his gorgeously muscled back shifting, the delivery around here was top-notch.
“Getting a shower while you’re here. Also indecent,” he called without turning to face her. He shut the bathroom door behind him. Isa grasped her coffee mug and listened as the water started, imagining Eli stripping off those shorts and sliding under the spray completely naked.
All those long, strong limbs drenched in water and masculine hairy legs and arms and beard…
Goodness.
It was so much of a distraction that she didn’t get any work done in the twenty minutes Eli was in there. Simply sipped her coffee and let her imagination run amuck.
* * *
Isa had refused to look at him, had barely spoken to him when she’d walked in. He’d opened his eyes and met hers and hadn’t missed that her gaze was pinned to his leg, before snapping back to his face.
He made her uncomfortable if he had to guess. His thoughts went to Crystal, evidently not the only woman who didn’t want to “sign up” for what Eli had going on.
This morning had been an interesting experiment as to what reaction he’d get from the opposite sex if he decided to leap into the dating pool again.
Not good, as it turned
out.
Eli used to be the guy with the swagger—one he’d traded for a measured stride since the leg incident—and that swagger had drawn many a woman to his lap and then to his bed.
Of all the adjustments he’d made in his life, he’d saved women for last. Learning to walk, getting back into peak shape, working on building the charity was child’s play compared to the hurdle of dating.
He shook his head as he leaned the prosthesis against the wall, peeling the sock off his stump and resting it on the edge of the sink. What would she have done if she’d seen him without the leg?
Much as he wished he didn’t care, he did. The idea of her mortification at seeing him as less than one hundred percent man registered in an ugly, dark part of him.
“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, pushing off the closed toilet lid to step into the shower. He’d outfitted it with a shower chair, which is why he chose to use this one rather than the tub in the master bath attached to his bedroom. He needed to replace the damn thing with a bench so it wasn’t glaringly obvious that he had to sit down to take care of one of life’s most basic duties.
It never bothered him before, but having Isa here…
He soaped his hands and started cleaning his body, smoothing his palms over the part of his remaining leg. She knew about it, obviously, so she hadn’t been shocked to see that a part of him wasn’t there. But today, there was something about her seeing so much of it that caused typically bold Isa to blanch.
Most days, he was in his office, legs hidden beneath his desk. Maybe seeing him had driven home the idea that he was different than what she was used to.
What is she used to?
He didn’t know. On the phone last week, she’d been desperately hunting for a date. It didn’t add up. Isa didn’t seem the type to desperately do anything. She was as sure as she was ballsy. Except for today when she couldn’t look at him. To her credit, he hadn’t been the least bit warm to her since she’d started working for him. That cup of delivered coffee a few minutes ago might be the first nice thing he’d done for her. He’d even made sure to douse it with the creamer she kept in his fridge.
The Bastard Billionaire Page 5