Since she had trouble catching her breath, there was only one answer. “Both.”
“Ms. McAdam and I were talking about some unfinished business,” Forest said.
Thanks to her renewed vow to keep him off-limits, it was going to stay that way. “On that note, I think I’ll go back to my desk now.”
Running and hiding. Something about Forest had her favoring both options.
He nodded. “Good idea.”
His quick agreement had her wanting to stay, but common sense won out. She slipped around Forest, never meeting his eyes or Wen’s. It didn’t take their law degrees to know she’d play a huge role in their upcoming conversation. Since she didn’t want to hear even a peep of that, she headed for the door and kept going.
Chapter Six
Subject Request for Clark Widener: He claims he and his wife are separated and that he lives downstairs because a divorce is imminent. Anyone have any information? —Member 8
Need to Know admin staff: Living arrangements unconfirmed, but several members state he’s been making this claim for two years.
THE WOMAN KNEW how to stage an exit. Forest had to give her that. She also looked damn fine in the thin skirt and the slim pink shirt. It had taken all his willpower and Wen’s untimely entrance not to open those tiny white buttons with his teeth.
Wen made a tsk-tsking sound as he rounded his desk. “Well, you made it past noon, but—”
“Do not finish that sentence or you’re fired.”
Wen dropped into his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “A reasonable response. Not overblown at all.”
“I’d be in a better mood if you hadn’t come back to the office today.” Maybe then Forest would know what Jordan tasted like. Man, the wondering was killing him.
“I predicted this.”
“We’re not having this conversation again.” He shifted his weight. He hoped moving around, getting a little oxygen, would get the blood flowing to his head instead of his dick.
Wen leaned his head back. “Fine, but you know this thing with Jordan is a mistake, right?”
Hitting on a temp, spending even a minute of his valuable workday chasing her around a desk. None of it fit with his usual behavior, but Jordan had Forest tied up. Hell, maybe it really was the chase. If so, he needed to catch her soon.
At least he got one thing right. “The important point here is to note I did beat your noon deadline.”
“But it still looks like you’re sleeping alone.” Wen shook his head and sent out a pitying look as he made the comment.
Forest was not ready to concede. “For now.”
And he hoped to change that unfortunate situation very soon.
* * *
JORDAN MADE IT home from the metro three hours later with her feet relatively intact thanks to the comfort lining in her stacked heels. Her control wasn’t as lucky. Her thoughts raced back and forth from a common-sense-hands-off policy for Forest to a maybe-she-could-try-him-just-one-time insanity.
No doubt about it. The man turned her mind to goop.
She dumped her briefcase on the kitchen counter and reached for the wineglass already sitting there. There were some benefits to having her best friend as an assistant. In addition to the skills of Elle’s cousin in setting up a system of proxy servers and rotating IP addresses to ensure the anonymity of Need to Know, Elle enjoyed good wine and liked to share.
Jordan smiled as she walked over to join Elle in the family room. “Is it sick to say I need this?”
“I’d ask how your day with Mr. Hottie went, but I think that comment says it all.” Elle paged through a stack of reports as she lounged on the couch.
Kicking off her heels, Jordan kept going until she stood in front of the balcony door. A warm puff of air hit her in the face when she opened it.
“That’s President And CEO Hottie to you.” Jordan swirled the wine in her glass. “He’s really a controlling jackass.”
Elle dumped the papers on the table and leaned back against the cushions. “I see.”
“Yeah, don’t do that.”
Elle held up her hands. “I only said two words.”
“There was a wealth of judgment behind those four letters.” And the smirk...and the way Elle sat there all eager, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, with her legs folded under her and her attention on full alert.
“I’m still trying to figure out why you agreed to take this assignment when you know Forest makes you edgy.”
That was a damn fine question. Jordan decided to evade it. “I was threatened with—”
“No. We both know you could have said no and found another temp firm.” Elle set her glass down on the table with a clink. “Correct?”
Usually Jordan loved how insanely smart her friend was. Not so much today. “It would have been a pain and could have caused a delay in obtaining some of the site confirmations.”
This time Elle crossed her arms over her stomach. Even snorted, which somehow, coming out of her cute blondie face with the pert nose, sounded adorable. “Try again.”
Jordan gave in. After all, what good was having a best friend if you couldn’t share your potential idiocy with her. “Okay, maybe I was curious about why Forest was so eager to have me there.”
“Come to any conclusions about that?”
“I’m a challenge.” And if the electricity kept zapping between them, a soon-to-be-naked one. “I’m probably the only woman he’s met lately who didn’t fall at his feet and strip her shirt off.”
“I’m trying to picture that scenario.”
Jordan had to fight to do the opposite. “You know what I’m saying.”
“You want to.” The glass went to Elle’s mouth again. “Fall at his feet, I mean.”
“I didn’t say that.” Technically, it was more of an on-her-knees-and-then-jump-into-bed thing. Jordan doubted there would be much falling or waiting if she ever got Forest in a clothes-off position. Nope, she’d be very much awake and active.
“It’s okay, you know.” Elle’s voice had dipped to a whisper as she shifted the glass between her palms.
“What?”
“To want him. Flirting with a guy, taking it farther, makes you a sexually healthy woman, not a victim.”
“Going from one powerful man to the other is not something a smart woman should do. I had his type. I’m done with that. Maybe a nice guitar-playing playwright would work.” Jordan swallowed hard enough for the wine to scrape and burn against the sides of her throat.
“Do you know a lot of those?”
Hairless or not, Jordan couldn’t work up even an ounce of interest in that type, but she could learn. Maybe. “Any on the site?”
“In this town? No.” Elle grabbed the spreadsheet sitting on top of her stack of documents. “In terms of new reports, I have four legislative aides to congressmen, a maritime lawyer, and a guy who owns a new French restaurant on Capitol Hill.”
Nope, no uptick in heartbeat or even a blip of interest. “Is the restaurant any good?”
Elle snorted. “You’re saying you’d date for food?”
That struck a bit too close for Jordan’s comfort. “I do have an excellent role model for that sort of thing.”
“Don’t do that.” Elle leaned forward on her elbows as her eyes narrowed. “You’re not your mom.”
That was the fear. It bubbled right under the surface, but never fully left Jordan’s mind. “I know.”
“Hey, it’s me. Don’t brush this off.”
A crack in the damn that held all of this back and kept the pain over her mother’s choices from spilling out grew even wider. “My mother started her serial wealthy-man dating life somewhere, Elle. At first she probably thought she was dating to find the right one. Then she started to like flipping through them, got pregnant with me at twenty and the path was set.”
Moving from man to man, uprooting her only daughter and living as a mistress or girlfriend until the man’s money or welcome wore out, then hunting again. Her moth
er made a career out of using and being used by men. Up until recently she lived in Santa Fe as the “special friend” of some slick-talking gem salesman. That ended when she asked for money one time too many and she hit the road with a friend. Now her mom was working her way through the men of the Bahamas.
But it wouldn’t end there. There was always a new man. Always that hitch in her mother’s voice as she grew excited and described a new living arrangement, commenting on how this guy was “the one” and she knew it. Always a crash when something went wrong. And with seven marriages and eleven broken engagements, something always went wrong.
After a lifetime of watching the sick dance and more than once visiting her mother in the hospital when a benefactor’s wife found out about the sex-for-lifestyle arrangement, Jordan gave up. She’d spent years trying to get her mother into other jobs, into another world. And even longer trying not to become her mother.
“Your mom relies on men to survive. She expects to go from one to another, taking then moving on.” Elle shook her head. “She chose the life. You run from it, and that makes all the difference when it comes to men.”
“Then, why do I keep thinking about Forest.” Jordan put words to her feelings and didn’t try to downplay them at all. Not with Elle. “It’s this weird magnetic pull. I vow to stay away, but I don’t want to.”
Elle smiled over the rim of the glass. “You should see your face when you talk about him.”
“I’m guessing it’s the look of wide-eyed idiocy.”
“Not at all, but I would point out how you describe him doesn’t really match the little we’ve heard and collected on him.”
Jordan leaned her forehead against the glass, letting the coolness of the surface seep into her warm skin. The churning in her stomach that settled in whenever she thought her mother refused to cease. “Oh, he’s as hot as we were told he’d be. Trust me.”
“I mean, the whole flirting with you, getting you to his office part, doesn’t sound like an aloof guy who insists on a confidentiality agreement before he gets a woman into bed.”
There was the weirdness again. Amazing how that sort of talk made Jordan both more and less interested in seeing Forest naked. “I keep hoping you’ll admit you’re messing with me and making that agreement stuff up. I mean, he does know there’s a difference between buying a house and having sex, right?”
No way would she ever believe he confused the two. The guy struck her as way too sure of himself to be accustomed to failure in the bedroom.
Elle wiggled her eyebrows. “I guess you can ask him next time he challenges you.”
Yeah, about that. “I should leave this assignment before it explodes in my face.”
“I’m going to skip the crude joke.” Elle leaned over and refilled her glass. She held up the bottle.
Jordan shook her head. No refill necessary here. Somehow in all the Forest and mother talk she’d failed to drink even a sip. “Please do.”
“But you’re not going to leave him alone.” Elle curled up on the corner of the couch again. “You’re too intrigued. He’s a puzzle and he’s got you wanting to move the pieces around and put it together.”
Jordan hid her wince. “That doesn’t sound very sexy.”
“Exactly how many hours did it take you to get ready this morning?” Elle waved a hand up and down in the air, looking over Jordan as she went. “That outfit? Hot. I’m guessing you spent more than your usual twenty minutes throwing it together and getting out the door.”
Jordan fought off the urge to smooth down her shirt where it stuck to her from the walking part of her commute. “I thought about wearing my flannel pajamas, but it’s still eighty outside.”
Elle pointed in and around her mouth. “And is that freshly applied lipstick?”
And shaved legs...and mascara. Yeah, the whole female arsenal was on display. “You don’t know everything, you know.”
“I know you and I know interest when I see it. You have it in him. Big-time.” Elle smacked her lips together. “And, again, that’s completely normal.”
“He’s like a science experiment.” Admittedly, it wasn’t the best comparison out there, but Jordan was stuck with it as soon as it popped out. “I’m going to poke around, gather some intel on the male executive staff at Redder Investments. I can make this work for the website.”
“So, you’re refusing to let this be personal for you?”
“No touching, no kissing, no naked stuff.” Even though every one of those things tempted her to the point her muscles shook.
Elle sighed and generally threw out most of the girlfriend-you’ve-got-to-be-kidding signs. “I’ll remind you of this moment when you sleep with him and I get to say ‘I told you so.’”
Nothing in Elle’s sentence was as upsetting as it should have been. Jordan wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Chapter Seven
Subject Request for Kevin Alford: He seems more interested in his best friend Tom than me. I’m trying not to be paranoid. —Member 99
Response from Member 306: I walked in on Kevin and Tom once...you’re not paranoid.
FOREST MANAGED TO get through the entire day without seeing Jordan. He wanted to credit his strong sense of control, but truth was meetings about the southwest waterfront project kept him out of the office all day. Damn Ryan Peterson and his complete incompetence. His failures meant more work for Forest, which made Forest hate the guy even more. Who knew that was even possible?
Even through the dragging exhaustion, Forest heard the hum of vacuums from the cleaning crew down the hall. He glanced over at the chair where Jordan sat during the day. The small lamp over her desk burned, shining a light in a circle around her computer. The rest of the reception area stayed shadowed in darkness.
Not seeing her there gnawed at him. Not that she should be around at this time of night. Hell, he shouldn’t be there.
He shook his head and opened the door to his office. The soft click of heels against the hardwood floor of the lounge area kept him from slipping inside and out of sight. He looked up in time to see Jordan exit the bathroom at the end of the hall and head toward the reception area. As usual, she was staring at her cell.
Keys jangled and her humming carried over the muffled sounds of whatever cleaning was happening inside one of the conference rooms. When she glanced up, her off-key tune died on her lips. Then came the blinking.
She opened her mouth twice before any words came out. “Forest?”
He motioned to the phone in her hand. “Your mom?”
“It would appear she’s very happy with John.”
“I thought the guy’s name was Felix.”
Jordan’s shot him a smile that managed to look sad. “You’re a few days behind.”
“Well, it’s nice she’s dating.” He had no idea if that was true. He’d collected some information on her family, because that’s what a guy did when he planned to take a woman to bed, but the family history was a bit hazy. No father, raised by a single mom, and no siblings.
Jordan leaned against the wall as she slipped her cell in the waistband of her skirt. “You say that because you think she’s sitting in a chair looking all grandmotherly and knitting.”
His mother was more the charity-auction type, but the image seemed reasonable. “No?”
“She only admits to being forty, but she’s forty-five.”
He did the math in his head. “Young.”
“You know how you think of your parents and are absolutely clear they only had sex the number of times it took to create you and your brother and sister?”
“I try never to think of my parents having sex.”
This time amusement flooded Jordan’s face and met her eyes. “I don’t have the luxury of being able to do that. She tells me. She’s always told me who she’s sleeping with and how good it is.”
Forest’s brain went blank. “I’m not even sure what to say to that.”
“Now you know how I’ve felt my entire life.”
“I wanted to catch up.”
Of all the odd things she’d said to him during their short time together, that was one of the oddest. “On what?”
“Work.”
He conducted a quick visual search and didn’t see a folder or any other sign of business. She shifted her weight around and her gaze did a quick dart to her desk. The whole fidgeting thing struck Forest as out of character. If anything, the Jordan he’d seen pulsed with a coolness vibe. That simmering heat was one of the many things he found so attractive about her. But something had her bouncing around now.
“Jordan, I hand out the assignments. If Wen is piling on enough to keep you here at—” Forest checked his watch as a new wave of exhaustion from his ninth consecutive sixteen-hour workday crashed over him. “It’s almost ten.”
“By that logic, you should be home, too.”
“It’s not really the same thing. I own the place.”
She waved her hand. “Either way, I’ll let you go.”
“Or we could finish our conversation.” He had no idea why he said it. Well, some idea, but the timing was pretty screwed up.
She stopped in midturn. Didn’t look at him, but didn’t run, either. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She made the comment to her feet.
“Because?”
She faced him then. “You mentioned kissing.”
He took in her wide eyes and the way she clenched her hands together in front of her. Whatever internal battle waged in there had her cheeks a rosy pink. He decided to take that as a good sign of something. “I’d rather do it than talk about it.”
“I doubt your HR department would approve.” Yet she took a step toward him.
The urge to reach out rammed into him with the force of a house. But he’d made his move. There couldn’t be any doubt that he wanted more than dictation from her. She had to initiate here. Give him some sign. Any damn sign—hell, he’d settle for that blinking thing—and he’d pick it up from there and run with it.
Everything You Need to Know Page 6