by Lea Griffith
It didn’t mean he liked hearing him talk about her like that though. Sophie may look like sex on a stick, but she was the type of woman you settled down with. Home and hearth and all the shit Ryan’d never had but wanted like people in hell wanted ice water. She drew him as no other woman ever had. She could be his downfall for sure.
And she was off limits. Too many people were gunning for him and the technology he carried around in his head. He’d never involve her in that. At least not any more than he already had. She was his employee—efficient, intelligent, driven, and sexy as hell, but his employee just the same.
“Seriously, Rye. You’re in here early every morning trying to catch a glimpse of her coming in and you’re here late watching her leave. What is it about her?”
Hayden’s voice held a note of frustrated confusion. It rang in the elevator and settled like lead in Ryan’s gut.
“She’s off-limits. You don’t talk about her, and I don’t fuck her. Got it?” Venom dripped from his words, but Hayden shrugged and shook his head.
The elevator doors opened and all four men departed, entering an office that had elegance and determination in every nook and cranny. The floors were hardwood, the walls a deep mahogany and lined with pictures of clients and success stories from their field of expertise. Windows looked out over Midtown Atlanta, the cars multicolored insects tripping along Interstate 75. It was fall, and the leaves were turning. As a city full of trees, the backdrop of variegated golds, browns, and reds was more beautiful than any tapestry. The office was a testament to the power and success of the two men who’d built this company from the ground up. He and Hayden had spared no expense in creating the atmosphere they felt best portrayed them. Normally, it calmed Ryan. Today? Not so much.
“Mr. Locke, you have a conference call in twenty minutes with Mr. Wellesley of the Defence Council,” his secretary informed him.
“I’m aware. Set up the conference room for three people and bring in water, will you?” He’d damn well need it if he had to sit in the same room with Sophie for any length of time.
“Yes, sir,” she responded and moved to do just as he’d asked.
He walked into his office, set his briefcase on the desk, and rolled his shoulders. He reached to take off his coat and then realized he’d left it with her.
Hayden had followed him to his office and sat in one of his client chairs. “You gonna be okay?”
“I said no talking about it,” Ryan bit out as he turned to stare out at the city below them.
“No, you said, ‘don’t fucking talk about her.’ And I didn’t. I asked if you’d be okay. Difference there, my man, surely you see it?”
“Splitting hairs. Damn, Hayden, I’m good. She’s off-limits and I know this. And before you ask, no, I’m not apologizing to you.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair, turned, and sat in his office chair. If he could only convince himself, he’d be great, but the feel of her skin had him rubbing his fingers together, desperate to feel that softness again. Concentrate on business. “You realize this call could set us up for life, right?”
“I realize it. My end is ready. Yours?”
Ryan didn’t answer. Hayden knew him well enough to know his shit was together. Was always together. “We may have to take a trip over to ensure proper implementation and do some training, but it should go smooth.”
Applied Technologies & Communications, ATC, had begun as a security firm. After both he and Hayden had retired from active duty in the SEALs, they’d decided to go into business together. They were good at protection but it turned out they were even better at communications. He had an engineering degree from Georgia Tech, and Hayden had a business degree from Georgia State. With his engineering savvy and Hayden’s business acumen, they’d established a security firm that netted millions but had eventually spread into communications.
This meeting with Britain’s Defence Council would allow them to sell their newest gadget, a wireless communication device that gave users unlimited range—no matter the terrain and situation—and security, thanks to the satellite orbiting above earth. ATC had bought exclusive rights to the satellite from the US government, which was also negotiating to purchase their device. He and Hayden had dubbed their gadget WetComm because of its ability to be used underwater and on land. It was an implantation device that fit neatly into the ear canal and acted as both a receiver and transmitter.
It was brilliance, but they had to sell it first and count the hatched chickens later. No doubt, though, it would allow them to sell off their protective division to two of their buddies and let him and Hayden live well for the rest of their lives.
Ryan was ready to settle down a bit. At thirty-four, he’d been through hell and back and he was ready to live instead of just survive. He was pretty sure Hayden was ready for the same.
The phone on his desk beeped before his secretary’s strident voice called out, “Mr. Locke, Ms. Hanson is ready in the conference room and your call is waiting on the line.”
“Thank you. I’m on my way.”
He looked at Hayden, who arched a brow.
“Let it go, man, let it go.” Ryan steeled himself to see Sophie again and stood.
Hayden chuckled. “Consider it gone. You know, until I have to bring it up again.”
Ryan snorted and headed toward the conference room, fully aware that his hands still itched. He prayed as he walked down the hall. He prayed she’d changed her shirt.
Chapter 2
The air was thick with tension. This meeting wasn’t going like they’d anticipated. Bottom line, Britain’s Defence Ministry wanted trademark rights to WetComm and neither Mr. Locke nor Mr. Bent was going to give in to that demand. They owned the satellite, which allowed them exclusivity to their design as said design was dependent on the satellite. That was the trick. The technology was brand-new, but it was the symbiotic relationship the device had with the satellite that made it so desirable and effective. Not only were the patents ATC’s, the design was Mr. Locke’s and, as he’d said, they’d have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.
The men had been going back and forth with a Mr. Wellesley on the other end of the phone line for almost thirty minutes when silence descended. So thick it was jarring, the quiet drew Sophie’s gaze to the head of the table. She was skewered by her boss’ intense blue stare. Caught, like a deer in headlights, it wasn’t until his lips quirked that the breath she’d been unaware she was holding released.
His gaze strayed down and she was glad she’d had the white cashmere sweater hanging on her door. She’d not had time to go out and buy another shirt, so she’d settled for washing off the silk, which had probably destroyed it, and then putting the sweater on over it. At least it matched, though it was fitted. If the way his gaze passed over her form was any indication, he didn’t mind that so much.
She set her pad and pencil on the conference table and deliberately crossed her arms, amazed at the way his eyes flared and the flesh across his cheekbones tightened. He may be off-limits, but her body certainly responded to the heated looks he kept throwing her way.
“Ms. Hanson?” That secret blow to her midsection at the sound of his voice took her breath, threw her way off.
“Yes?” She glanced up but trained her gaze over his left shoulder, afraid if she looked him in the eye, she’d be lost again. He took her concentration and reduced it to ashes.
“What do you think?” he asked, lips still curved slightly. His bottom lip was delicious. She’d love to tug on it with her teeth, suck it into her mouth and—
“If you give them patent rights, you lose control of WetComm and any potential income from future sales. It’ll go global in the blink of an eye, and both the good guys and the terrorists will have access to your product. Giving up patent rights isn’t in the best interest of ATC. I’m also concerned because patent rights conversion was never spoken of in the original deal discussions. It seems a little late to bring this to the table.”
His gaze never left her, in
tent as it roamed over her face. She’d stepped into a parallel universe where her boss was giving her come-hither looks, but Sophie was ever a professional. He’d not hired her to fantasize about his bottom lip and all the naughty things she wanted to do to it.
Ryan spoke again, and it drew her attention away from her fantasies about his mouth. “Mr. Wellesley, I say we reconvene in about ten minutes. I need some time with my staff, and you need to decide to give in gracefully.” His voice hardened imperceptibly, and his gaze went blank as he stared at the phone.
She never, ever wanted him to look at her that way. Ever.
“Ten minutes, Locke, and I won’t be giving in, gracefully or otherwise. Shall you call me back?” The clipped British accent was frosty.
“I will.” Ryan disconnected and then looked at Hayden. “How about you go get us a drink to celebrate?”
Hayden gave him a limpid look. “Deal’s not done.”
“Will be in ten minutes.” Ryan shrugged and looked at his friend pointedly.
“I can take a hint, but uh, remember what we talked about.” Hayden left the conference room, careful to close the door as he went.
Sophie watched the byplay and a sense of unreality pressed on her. Did he want Hayden to leave them alone? She squeezed her arms tighter around herself, butterflies taking flight in her chest as he walked around the conference table and stopped behind her. Her breath lodged in her throat and goose bumps broke out on her arms. Sophie swore she could feel the molecules of air he stirred as they brushed against her skin.
“Sophie.” Her name and nothing more whispered at her ear as he leaned over her, his breath stirring the hair at her nape, his chest just barely touching her back. His hands formed a barrier around her as he placed his palms on the table, caging her in. Ryan’s warmth shocked her; prickles of heat danced on her skin.
“Yes, Mr. Locke?” She responded in a whisper herself, barely able to speak around the frog that had leaped into her throat.
“What do you think about the deal?”
“I’ve already given you my take on Mr. Wellesley’s offer.” She turned her head, heart beating out of her chest, breathing becoming harder and harder, until she encountered his sky-blue orbs.
“Sophie, the deal you so eloquently wrote out last night, or should I say this morning, is brilliant work. Do you think Mr. Wellesley and the Defence Ministry of Britain are posturing so that I’ll sell for less?” His finger rose and her eyes closed as he touched her cheek.
She leaned into the touch and her eyes opened wide before she zeroed in on his lips. Cursed, cursed lips. She wanted to attack them with her own. There was a question she should be asking, or answering, but at this point her thoughts were scrambled eggs in the frying pan of her brain.
“Your hair was caught here.” His finger touched her lips and brushed across them.
What happened next was instinct, and she could no more have stopped it than she could have stopped her pounding heart. Her teeth caught his finger, and her tongue flicked out to taste. His eyes flared at the touch, and his breathing went harsh as he turned her chair and started to pull her to him.
The door to the conference room opened, Mr. Bent cleared his throat, and the spell was broken. Regret beat a swift tattoo across his face. He pulled away from her, and she sagged back into the chair. Mr. Bent threw her a knowing look that bordered on downright mean as his brows lowered in warning.
She looked away and tried to ignore him as she doodled on her pad. Hands shaking, her heart wouldn’t stop trying to beat out of her chest. Her tongue twirled in her mouth as his flavor imprinted itself on her memory. Heat, cinnamon, and something quintessentially male triggered a need to dive into the man across the room from her and just get lost. She’d lusted after him for six months, pretty much the entire time she’d worked here, and now it seemed the feeling was mutual. Yet for her it was more than lust, this insane need that blossomed when she was around him. It bordered on a stalking kind of obsession. She couldn’t let thoughts of him go even when she was at home. He haunted her.
Definitely this was an alternate reality. Good shit like this didn’t happen to Sophie Hanson. It just didn’t and she had too much baggage, too many responsibilities, to be dealing with someone as potent as Ryan Locke. There was also that little annoying fact he was her boss.
Completely off-limits. She took a deep breath, recalling that Mr. Wellesley needed to be called back.
“Shall I get Mr. Wellesley back on the phone, Mr. Locke?” she whispered.
His shoulders stiffened and he turned slowly, his gaze a slice of blue flame as it traveled over her face. As usual his expression was unreadable. He nodded, and his look turned considering.
She lowered her gaze and called Emma, his secretary, to get the Defence Council head back on the phone. And then she sat back and waited.
*
“Mr. Locke? Mr. Wellesley is on the line.” Emma’s voice was startling in the dead silent room.
“Thank you, Emma.” Ryan forced his gaze away from Sophie. “Wellesley, we are not giving up our specs, designs, or the patents. You’ve seen the results of this technology and know that the US is on standby with us for orders. I’ve offered this to you before anyone else in Europe simply because of your nephew and the fact that you’re my country’s ally. You have no bargaining tool in this deal. Take it or leave it.” His words dropped into the silence like bombs.
There was no response from Mr. Wellesley other than a deep sigh. Several minutes passed. Ryan stayed silent; Hayden did as well. Ryan contented himself with looking at Sophie, whose head was bowed as she doodled nervously on the paper in front of her. She had drafted the deal. The report he’d asked her for earlier detailing the specifics had been concise and accurate. She’d needed to be at this call for that reason alone. As its author, she knew the ins and outs better than he or Hayden did. He’d ruffled her feathers intentionally moments ago, needing to get under her skin the way she was under his.
But it had been a double-edged sword. The moment her tongue had touched his finger he’d gone brick hard, and need had screamed through his blood. He’d damn near staggered under the intensity of it, so close to kissing her he hadn’t realized Hayden had walked in until his friend cleared his throat. He’d wanted to grab him by the throat again, the frustration had been so great.
Instead, he’d walked away. Her head was bent, the glossy black strands of her hair pulled up in a neat bun. Some had come loose earlier as he’d hovered over her, and he’d jumped on the opportunity to touch her. Her skin was so fucking soft. Her smell drove him mad, too. A hint of lavender and the ocean, the combination was heady and irresistible. She was a tiny thing, barely reaching his collarbone, but stacked.
And those thoughts were a dangerous road to travail with a multimillion-dollar deal on the line. Get it together, Locke.
Wellesley cleared his throat, the sound bringing her head up, her gaze to Ryan’s. He tapped his lips and waited for the other man to fold.
“You’ve got me by the short hairs.” Wellesley sighed. “I assume you own the satellite outright? There won’t be any danger of foreclosure and the technology falling into enemy hands?”
“You wound me, Mr. Wellesley. I would have thought your nephew filled you in on just how tight our ship is run.” Hayden’s voice was a whip.
“I’m sorry, young man. Although my nephew speaks highly of you and his opinion carries weight, we are talking about multiple millions of US dollars with several more for continuous support. Forgive me my need to assure myself you are as you seem on paper and in my nephew’s eyes.”
Silence spoke for both Ryan and Hayden. Sophie’s gaze was trained on him, her curiosity a tactile caress. She’d only been with their company for six months and could have no way of knowing the full scope of how they ran their business. Not many did, even the ones who’d been with them from the beginning.
“Consider the deal complete. I will get final approval from the Council and should have the purc
hase order to you within the next week. Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure.”
“The same, Mr. Wellesley. ATC looks forward to working with you,” Ryan said in return.
Both parties disconnected and Ryan let out a relieved breath as he looked at Hayden. They shook hands before they pounded fists and smiled. Deal done. Now all he had to do was deliver the device and get back here so he could deal with another pressing issue: Sophie.
“I’ll see you at the club tonight?” Hayden asked as he made to leave the room.
“Not tonight. I have the High Museum Gala and then a meeting.” Ryan’s voice was hushed, but he knew she heard him as she stood to gather her stuff.
“Who you taking? Not Gloria; tell me not Gloria. Good God, the woman’s a viper. Easy on the eyes, but a viper.” Hayden laughed and then went silent at the look Ryan threw him.
Ryan was attentive to every move, hell, every breath Sophie took. Her spine straightened and color stained her cheeks as she shoved her pad into her briefcase and snapped it shut. She turned to leave and he watched her go, enjoying her fit of pique and hoping at the reason behind it.
Her apple-shaped bottom, tight and flexing beneath a pencil-thin skirt, taunted him as she walked out the door.
“Thank you, Sophie. Good job,” he called out to her, and she straightened even farther as she stopped for a second. She nodded and continued out the door.
“You know you’ve got it bad, right?” Hayden teased him and then threw his hands in the air, palms out as if in defense of a blow when Ryan glared at him. “I told you I’d leave it alone, but this is going to be good. She’s gonna be a tough nut to crack, and I don’t know that settling down is in your immediate future, bro.”
“Off. Limits,” Ryan bit out through gritted teeth.
He didn’t know about settling down, but he knew he wanted Sophie like hell on fire, and he was going to have her one way or the other. Danger be damned.