“I got you worked up?”
“Yeah!” I left the bed and went to the dresser for a T-shirt. I pulled it on and crossed my arms over my breasts. “Are we about to argue?”
“Probably.” He left the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans.
“Mathias, you and I both knew what this could and could not be.” I turned and rummaged through my panties. If I was going to argue with a man, I needed my drawers on. I pulled on a pair quickly and walked past him to leave the bedroom. “I don’t have time for anything else.”
“What about the mama’s boy?”
“What about him?” I frowned. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Charlie. “That is none of your business.”
“No, he’s just another poor bastard in your life that gets half of you.”
I glared at him, fury rushing all over me. “You’re barely in my life. I didn’t even know you two days ago. I fucked you, Mathias.” I waved my hand around the living room and then sat down in my favorite chair. “It’s what you said you wanted. Yet now you’re treating me like I left you at the altar or something. What the hell is wrong with just having this?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed his face. “At least, I thought so on Friday.”
“And now?”
“Jane, I think I want more.”
“I don’t have it to give.” I sucked in a breath. “And even if I did, I barely know you.”
“Yeah, you’ve just spent the last twenty-four hours fucking me.”
“And you barely know me.” I glared at him when he started to respond. “How can I possibly take your interest seriously when all you do know about me is that I like to fuck?”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I know a lot more about you than you think,” he murmured carefully. “I know you have nightmares about the shooting, that you believed yourself in love with your partner when he was killed, and that the last thing you ever want to do is be a disappointment to anyone.”
I crossed my arms over my breasts and took a deep breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The thing is, Jane, you couldn’t disappoint a single person that ever spent more than five minutes with you. I’ve never known a woman like you, and it makes me furious that you hide so much of yourself away.”
“I make my own decisions.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear. The sad thing is that you don’t even bother to consider what you need in the process.”
He turned on his heel and left the living room. I didn’t follow, because I figured if I watched him gather his stuff I would start crying. It’s terribly uncool to cry over a man. It’s also fucked up to argue with someone and not get make-up sex afterward.
I sighed when he appeared with his bag. “You don’t have to go.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because, Ms. Tilwell, I’m finished fucking you.” He tossed a small key ring, with my door key on it, on the table in front of me and left.
I sat where I was even after I heard the door shut. That arrogant bastard had actually said he was finished fucking me.
5
Monday sucks. There probably hasn’t been a Monday in the existence of recorded history that didn’t suck for at least one person. I’d endured good-natured teasing from the morning shift guards as I’d entered the gallery, but after that I’d managed to scoot into my office. Once there I glared at anyone who came near or stood in my doorway. So far, it had worked.
My assistant, Casey Andrews, was at her desk. I figured she was bursting with curiosity and found her restraint a relief. There wasn’t a single cell in my body that was up to talking about a single part of this weekend, and that included Friday night. Since she was tied up in several large projects, she’d probably leave me in peace for most of the day.
I had over a hundred e-mails unanswered, a stack of phone messages, and little to no urge to address any of it. In truth, I was waiting for him to show up. I knew that he would be touring the gallery today. One security consultant had already come and gone. From my fishbowl of an office, it had been easy to keep track of my boss, Mercy, and the contractor as Mercy had outlined the gallery’s needs.
Why the hell was I waiting for him to show up? He was finished fucking me. I’ve never had a man leave me like that in my life. I decide when I’m done with a man, and his deviation from his role in our empty physical relationship had me all twisted and, okay, pissed. I never should’ve gotten sexual with him in the first place. Mathias Montgomery may be the sexiest man I’ve ever known in my life, but going to bed with him had been a huge mistake.
I sat back in my chair and swung it around so I could look out the window. If he won the contract for the security upgrade, Mathias would be spending a lot of time in my workplace. I had to formulate a battle plan or there would be no telling what would happen. For all I knew, I could fall at his feet at the sight of him and beg for more. Not gonna happen. There was no way I was that far gone. Several things crossed my mind, but the last thing I was, was a black hole of need with no dignity.
“Hey.”
I turned in my chair and smiled at Mercy. “Good morning.”
She came in and closed the door. “I think that’s the first time that you’ve ever done that.”
“Done what?” I asked softly, worried that she could read me like an open book. All I could do was hope that I was doing a good job of keeping my anger and hurt in a deep place.
“You just fake smiled at me.” She sat down in a chair in front of me and crossed her arms over her breasts. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m not buying it.”
“That’s good because I’m not selling it.” I reached out and fiddled with my computer mouse and then sighed. “I’m not a morning person, you know.”
“You also don’t fake smile at people either.” She glared at me pointedly. “Not even when that troll Milton Storey was here. So something is wrong.”
“Everyone fake smiles at people. I do it every morning when I’m leaving my apartment and the twit across the hall from me comes out in his bathrobe to greet me. Ratty, green bathrobe and fake smile actually go hand in hand.”
“You shouldn’t encourage him.”
“I breathe. That’s all the encouragement he needs.”
It was true enough. Though living beside a weird, nosy little man was actually sort of comforting. He always knew when there was a stranger in the building, and he would sign for my packages. Though I was pretty sure he kept the last thing I ordered from Victoria’s Secret.
“You’re upset about something.” She was staring at me, that hard stare she gave people when she figured they were lying to her. I’d never been the recipient of that stare, and frankly it made me very uncomfortable.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “The price of gasoline, global warming, rabid Republicans in charge of our country, and the fact that the networks have scheduled two of my favorite shows in the same time slot on Sunday nights. I’m gonna have to get one of those digital recorder things.”
“Not funny.” She tried to glare, but a little smile hovered on her lips.
“I know for a fact I’m funny and entertaining.”
God, I wished she’d drop it. I couldn’t, wouldn’t discuss what had happened with her. Certainly not right now, and maybe not ever. But lying to her had me shaking on the inside.
“You got laid.”
“Pardon me?” I sat up straight in my chair and swallowed hard. One statement and she’d reduced me to an outraged modern version of Scarlett O’Hara.
“Don’t even bother lying. Your accent sneaks into your voice when you try to lie. It’s like a built-in lie detector or something.” She stood. “Fine. Keep your little secret. I’ll find out eventually.”
That was exactly what I was afraid of. “You know I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Except that stuck-up lawyer.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I
thought you’d started pushing him off in a new direction. I mean, you haven’t brought him up in weeks.”
“Charlie is not stuck up and he’s better than those nerds you used to date. We can all thank God Shamus Montgomery came into your life when he did. There is no telling what kind of man you’d have ended up with. Maybe a dentist.” All I could do was hope she’d take the change of subject and move on. I was pretty damn close to losing it right then and there.
She laughed and shrugged. “I’m a very lucky woman.”
“Get out of my office.” I pointed toward the door. “I don’t have to sit here and bask in your domestic bliss.”
“That really doesn’t fit.” Mercy walked to the door and then pulled it open. “The last thing Shame is, is domesticated.”
Okay, so fine. Now I’m going to think about my boss’s future husband doing wild, freaky things to her. Considering they are both beautiful people, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant mental picture.
I shook it off and looked out into the bull pen just as Mathias walked past my office. He didn’t even glance my way. It shouldn’t have mattered, yet as I watched him walk away from me, it mattered a whole lot.
I wanted him to be as keen to see me as I had been him. Obviously, he had a lot more willpower, or our weekend together had meant absolutely nothing to him. Though he’d given me no indication that he was the kind of man who got past things that didn’t work out his way. In fact, I figured he was furious. Furious with me and probably with himself for letting things get out of hand the way they had. He’d said at the very beginning that he wanted to get me out of his system, and I felt pretty comfortable in the knowledge that he had not accomplished that.
I sat back in my chair and plucked my PDA from its station. Fiddling with it wasn’t a big enough distraction, so the soft swoosh of my office door opening garnered my immediate attention. I swallowed hard and tried to smile pleasantly as Mercy and Mathias entered.
“Hey, can you give Mathias the tour? I have a conference call in ten minutes.” She checked her watch and cut her eyes at me as if I might tell her no. I figured she suspected that he might be the cause of my sour mood.
Standing, I put my handheld down on the desk carefully and nodded. “Of course.”
She smiled and with a little wave left me alone with him. I knew she was matchmaking, but I figured letting her win on this front might help me avoid another conversation with her about my sex life.
Mathias closed the door gently and sighed. He looked contrite, but I honestly wasn’t sure if it was an act. “I owe you an apology.”
I swallowed and tugged at my waist-length jacket. “Actually, I’d rather not talk about past events. If you’ll follow me we can get this out of the way.”
“Past events?” His tone had a soft but lethal quality that I found insanely attractive.
“Yes, that’s what I said.” I stopped just short of being within his reach, and when he started to move, I shook my head abruptly. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
“Touch me.” I took a slight step away from him and met his gaze. “This is where I work, and everyone on the other side of that stupid glass wall can see us. I won’t give them anything to talk about. There isn’t a member of our staff who isn’t fully aware that I earned my degrees in night school while they were getting too drunk to remember their own name in pricey Ivy League schools.” I glanced out into the bull pen and then focused on him. “Please.”
“Are they insulted that you’re their boss?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark blue slacks and for all the world looked casual and at ease. I could tell he was neither.
“Probably, but that doesn’t bother me. I don’t live to make them happy. That doesn’t mean, however, I’m going to give them ammunition to use against me.” I bit down on my lip briefly.
It occurred to me that I had never once voiced those concerns, not even to Mercy. Of course, I knew Mercy would’ve torn me a new one for it, but she came from a different world than me. She could afford to not care where my education came from.
“Fine. I believe you have a tour to give me.” He opened the door and motioned me out ahead of him.
I inhaled deeply as I passed him. Aftershave, soap, and something I couldn’t identify teased at my nose and reminded me of things I needed no reminders of. “We can start with the third floor. It’s currently the home of several large exhibits, including your brother’s collection. Lisa Millhouse’s show came a few weeks after his. All of the pieces have been sold, and as you can imagine Mr. Brooks is very interested in protecting the pieces.”
“Yes, that concern did come up several times during our conversation.”
“Your demonstration was unnerving and would’ve been more so if I hadn’t been here.” I glanced back at him as I walked toward a narrow hallway that connected the administrative area to the third-floor viewing areas. “The current contents of the gallery have a collection worth $500 million.”
“Because of the Impressionist exhibit on loan from New York?”
“Yes. If it became widely known that Holman can’t provide adequate security we’d lose a great many relationships with artists and museums.” I winced when the door to the admin area closed and we were alone. “This is the staff entrance to the third-floor show area. All patrons of the gallery must use the front elevator or the main staircase.”
“This area isn’t under surveillance.” He glanced around the narrow hall. “What are these rooms for?”
I paused and glanced around the narrow hallway. “No surveillance, and two of the rooms are storage and the third is an empty office.”
“There should be cameras in here. How deep are the background checks on the staff?”
“Criminal and financial background checks are done on all employees every six months. We have a firm that performs those reviews for the gallery. Random drug tests are conducted yearly, and if we find a user on staff, they are required to undergo a treatment program. If they refuse treatment or they’ve tested positive in the past they are immediately released.”
“Fired?”
“Yes.” I nodded and wished silently that I’d taken him through the public area instead of the private one. The last thing I needed to be was alone with him.
“Their key cards are immediately nullified in the system?”
“Of course. Only senior members of staff and security have key cards. They are updated weekly.” I stopped at the door that would lead us to the show floor. “How did you get in?”
“I downloaded the program that handles the key card system for the building and then implanted a manual code to let me in.”
“That easy?” My stomach tightened with nerves. That kind of vulnerability in our security was sickening.
“Possible, but it takes some work. The average B & E guy isn’t going to make that kind of effort.”
“Okay, but the average criminal isn’t going to break into a gallery like this. We don’t keep cash on hand, and fencing artwork isn’t something a street thug will likely know how to do.” It was comfortable talking about work things, but I knew he was only biding his time.
“Right.” He nodded as he walked toward me.
I resisted the urge to back away or run. I’d done more than enough of that already. “But breaking into a place like this and vandalizing it would be a tempting target for gang initiation.”
“So, we’re looking at a variety of criminals that might find the gallery attractive for one purpose or another.” He sighed. “I was frustrated with you on Saturday.”
“I know.” I crossed my arms over my breasts and looked down at the floor between us. “Frankly, I’m a little frustrated with you right now.”
“Why is that?”
“You made a deal with me, Mathias, and then you changed the rules. It wasn’t fair.”
“That’s childish.”
“Fine. Then I’m childish and you’re an insensitive jackass.
” I snapped and then grimaced at the emotion I heard running through my words. My eyes dampened, and I closed them briefly. “I’m not prepared for this.”
“I know.”
“Then you should have the decency to back off.” I met his gaze as I said it and saw nothing that made me think he agreed with me. “You think that I don’t know what I want? Why do men always assume they know what’s best? I’ve been making my own decisions for at least 15 years, and I’ve managed to make them quite nicely without you.”
He moved so fast that by the time he’d gathered me up and covered my mouth with his, all I had time to do was respond to the kiss. I moaned against his invading tongue and wrapped my arms around his neck. It had been easy to think that I wouldn’t care if he never touched me again. Wrong but easy.
Deanna Lee Page 8