Captivating the CEO

by Sara Daniel

  “I…tried, sir.”

  If most of the people in the photo didn’t hate him, they at least resented him for keeping Louise away from their important events. “I expect you to leave by five tonight.”

  She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “Thank you so much.”

  He’d never noticed her smile, let alone knew she had a family until Willow mentioned her daughter. As the boss, he fostered and encouraged a professional environment that bordered on cold and dehumanizing. Off-balance, he turned away and retreated into his office.

  By the time Willow arrived, the complexities of the Downing conference call consumed him. Dipping his head in regret for his inability to spare a personal moment, he acknowledged her, then began shrugging out of his coat.

  Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she walked around his desk and prepared her hands with her scented oil, her good-natured professionalism taking over.

  After removing his tie, he released his shirt buttons with one hand, taking notes with the other. He tugged the shirttails from his waistband to give her plenty of room to maneuver, but didn’t pause to remove the garment.

  Nothing felt so right as her cool hands settling on his bare skin. While she rubbed deep between his shoulder blades, he muted the call and sighed out his pleasure. After pinpointing the source of his tension, she evaporated it, leaving him both mellow and invigorated.

  Too soon, she recapped the oil bottle and wiped her hands. Although she’d stayed on schedule, his meeting ran far overtime. Instead of wrapping up, the talks were entering a critical point where he didn’t dare give the conversation less than his full attention.

  Returning to her stance behind him, she stood in silence for a moment, then brushed her lips against the side of his neck. “Call me sometime when you don’t need a massage.”

  As she strolled out the door, he longed to run after her. But he needed to stay and plan for his future. His business held the key, not Willow. If he rearranged his priorities for her, he risked jeopardizing his retirement years. Nothing was worth that risk.

  ***

  Two steps forward, one step back. Her doctor often used the cliché after trying a new medicine or reviewing the results of a minor procedure, but Willow found it as apropos to her progress with Colin as her health. Not the massage part. His muscles accepted her ministrations rather than putting up resistance like she’d sometimes come across.

  But she’d anticipated talking with him. Not during the entire appointment—her expectations weren’t that high—but for a few minutes at the beginning and the end. Above all, she’d hoped for a climactic end, indulging in a kiss as thorough and devastating as Monday’s backroom smooch. Instead, she walked out of the executive office without a single personal sign from him.

  A maintenance man sat in the open doorway of the elevator across the hall, tools splayed around him. “Sorry. Technical difficulties. About an hour before this one’s up. You can use the bank of elevators on the other side of the building, or the stairs.” Waving a wrench, he gestured to the stairwell next to the out-of-order elevator.

  “Thanks.” Biting her lip, she considered her options. Without a company badge, she couldn’t access the set of glass doors leading to the elevators on the other side and Louise was nowhere in sight. Walking down didn’t strain her system as much as going up.

  The rationale sustained her through the first flight of stairs. Then she took a break, knowing Dr. Marshall well enough to envision his lecture if she didn’t.

  Dang executives who insisted on a top floor office. Why did they get the best view when they never glanced out the window? The guy who’d rather be fishing and the woman who dreamed of waterskiing should be the ones who consoled themselves with the stunning view of Lake Michigan, not the guy happy to be chained to his desk.

  After the next flight, she sat on the bottom step to rest, taking stock of her ominous symptoms—too many to expect good news from her appointment with Dr. Marshall in two days. Trying not to worry about what the next treatment plan might entail, she concentrated on taking deep breaths. Her parents would worry, too, when she made the call to let them know her stats were skidding downward. At least, she’d never saddle Colin with that burden.

  A trio of employees trotted up the stairs, and she slid to the side, meeting their curious glances with a weak smile.

  No doubt they all would have stopped and offered assistance to an eighty-year-old tottering woman. Instead, people saw her youth and assumed good health despite the unnatural paleness of her face and ever-present blue hue of her lips.

  Clutching the handrail, she continued her journey down. At last she reached the bottom, resting in the lobby until the security guard cast suspicious glances in her direction. She returned home and slept.

  Her phone woke her and she rolled onto her back, pressing the device to her ear. Darkness had crept through her apartment, and a glance at the clock confirmed she’d slept the entire afternoon and half the evening. “Willow here.”

  “It’s Colin. I hope calling you this late isn’t inappropriate.”

  His voice warmed her, leaving her smiling. “Here I hoped you’d fill my ear with very inappropriate musings.”

  “Okay, well, that’s promising.” A smile infiltrated his voice, too. “I missed you today.”

  “I was with you.”

  “I know.”

  “But you weren’t with me.” Not the way she’d wanted him to be.

  “I want to make up for it. Are you busy this evening?”

  She sat up so fast stars flickered in front of her eyes. In case she passed out, she clutched the sheet to anchor her from falling off the bed. “Are you asking me out?”

  “Not exactly. I have some files I need to work on here, so I can’t get away from the office.”

  Shocker. The moment of lightheadedness passed, and she released the sheet.

  “But, I can order your favorite cuisine, have a limo pick you up and bring you here.”

  “We can have a picnic in your office.” Eager to join him, she grabbed a mirror from her nightstand to survey how much taming her bedhead required.

  “I’ll have a table and chairs brought in.”

  Too conventional. And she must not have rolled in her sleep because her hair only needed a good brushing. “I’d rather have a picnic.”

  “A picnic, it is.”

  “Before I come, I have a question.” Setting down the mirror, she rubbed her chest. No lingering pain. Regardless, she didn’t need a doctor’s order to make her bring up a deal breaker. “Is your elevator fixed?”

  “Elevator?”

  “The one from the lobby up to your office. They were doing maintenance when I left this afternoon. Is it working now?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Will you check for me? I’m not much for stairwells at night.” Or during the day. But better to let him assume she worried about safety. People understood why a twenty-five-year-old woman feared assault and rape, not why a dozen flights of stairs would leave her in need of emergency pills and oxygen.

  “My stairwells had damn well better be safe. I’m standing next to the elevator now, and it works fine. I’ll still have the guard escort you from the limo straight to my office. You have nothing to fear.”

  No, nothing from outside forces. Her danger threatened her alone, and no security team could protect her.

  Chapter Three

  Colin’s employees escorted her in a long black limousine with sleek leather seats and a stocked minibar, a stark contrast from taking the crowded L train across town. A guard accompanied her from the car up the now-functioning elevator, and she almost missed the opportunity to thank him before he vanished down the hall. Carrying only a small purse with the barest essentials—pills, medical information card, phone, and wallet—she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her.

  A linen tablecloth lay spread on the floor, the place settings full of expensive china, real silverware, and cloth napkins. Except for the lac
k of furniture, his idea of a picnic and hers didn’t have anything in common.

  Poking his head from his private quarters, he held up a bottle of white wine in one hand and red in the other. “Chardonnay or Cabernet Sauvignon?”

  Either would taste delicious, although she preferred white. But she’d learned the hard way that alcohol didn’t mix with her medication. “I’m not much of a drinker. I’ll stick with water.”

  “Perrier?”

  “Love it.”

  Setting both bottles of wine aside, he poured Perrier into her glass, as well as his own, then strolled toward her, tall, impeccably handsome, and—best of all—focused on her.

  She accepted the offered glass, warmth coursing through her, and not just because of his willingness to adapt to her drink preferences. Falling for him didn’t bother her, as long as he didn’t lose his heart to her in return.

  “Daring tie.” The day’s blue accessory sported thin aquamarine stripes.

  “I’m branching out. It’s almost green.” Amusement danced in his blue eyes.

  Laughing, she brushed against him. Colin Vanderhayden, with his unending supply of tailored, unwrinkled suits and a perpetual phone on speaker, was so not her type. Yet every moment with him marked her in a profound way.

  “What should we toast to?” he asked.

  Raising her glass, she touched it to his. “To branching out and memorable dates.”

  The glasses chimed together.

  “To office picnics and someone who understands what I need before I do,” he added.

  Flattered and frightened he believed so, she bit back the need to convince him she didn’t hold a special place in his life. Better to let the comment slide than draw attention to it. “So, do you bring all your dates here?”

  “Believe it or not, you’re the first.” Wincing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t remember the last time I went on a real date. I must have brought someone to a business dinner at some point though.”

  His confession highlighted his work obsession. Setting her glass aside, she ran her fingers along his collar. “Sit down. I’ll take care of your neck.”

  “You don’t have to. I didn’t ask you here to massage me.”

  “I know. That’s why I want to.” And she wanted the excuse to touch him. After he sat on the floor, she scooted behind him. Rising to her knees, she settled her hands on his neck. “This isn’t a professional service. Relax.”

  Sighing, he leaned into her touch. “Relaxing isn’t part of my vocabulary, but keep this up and you might convince me to add it.”

  If only she could achieve that goal with a few simple neck rubs. His driven tendencies and single-minded focus were far too embedded—an integral part of his life.

  “So, work means everything to you. You admit you don’t date. You have money to live on. Under pretty much anyone’s definition, you’re successful to the point where you’ve achieved the good life. Why aren’t you taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy yourself?”

  “If you get complacent, you get steamrolled.” The shoulders she worked so hard to smooth out bunched up again. “Next thing you know, your business is decimated and you have nothing for the future.”

  Huh? If he took an afternoon off, his company would go under? “You’re the CEO. Don’t you get some golden parachute thing where you still live the good life even if everyone else in your company gets shafted?”

  Tipping his head back, he met her gaze, his short hair brushing her hand. “From your visits to me, this is your impression of my moral standards?”

  “I’m not debating your morals or anyone else’s.” Like she needed to waste precious minutes of her life judging other people. “I’m laying out my understanding of business culture based on what I’ve seen on the news. I’m trying to understand what makes you tick, so if I’m wrong, correct me. I have all night to listen.”

  “You want me to preach all night about business ethics?” His incredulous expression convinced her no date had ever made a suggestion of that nature.

  “Just until I fall asleep. I was never good about staying awake through long-winded lectures.” She laughed, hoping he would, too, and take the first step toward relaxing.

  As long as she continued touching his skin, she wouldn’t fall asleep. Her fingertips buzzed with life. Excitement sizzled toward every nerve-ending. Good God, she needed that contact to give her hope that life remained in her.

  ***

  Colin would not make a bid to become the most boring date on the planet by lecturing on business ethics philosophy. Nor did he want Willow to lump him into the CEO stereotype. With each deal representing a critical component to ensure his long-term financial security, the concept of hanging out on easy street eluded him.

  Unlike the singular respect he expected from his employees, he also wanted Willow to understand him. “My mother left me to be raised by my grandparents while she jaunted around the country as a band groupie.”

  Willow pressed her fingers along the ridge of his shoulder blade. “And you think my live-for-the-moment mentality makes me her clone?”

  At first, but already the differences between his mother and Willow were apparent. “My reasons behind the choices I make have nothing to do with her. Do you want to hear what happened to my grandparents, or do you already think you know what I’m going to say?”

  “I have no idea what you’re going to say, but working up to it has you all tensed up.” She glided her hands along the edge of his scalp and kneaded the pressure at his temples.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down, but only her touch brought him a measure of relief. “Gram and Grandpa ran a small-town hardware store. Its modest success allowed them to pay their bills, put food on the table, and dream of the things they’d do in retirement with the money they’d sell it for. Then a big-box discount store moved into town. Within months, their store went belly-up.”

  “Oh no.” She gave his head a gentle tug toward her lap and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose between her thumb and forefinger with a small rotating motion until both the strain and the memories refused to stay locked inside.

  Closing his eyes, he sighed. “To pay the bills, Gram took a job at the big-box that destroyed them, but their expenses still exceeded their income. The city took the vacant hardware store building to cover the unpaid taxes.”

  “They needed someone to give them a break,” Willow said.

  “Grandpa took stock of the situation and told me, ‘If you outlive your money, you’re better off dead than living on handouts.’ Then he went to the garage and put a bullet in his head. His life insurance, combined with the job Gram hated, allowed her to make ends meet. Maybe he thought he was giving her a break, but she only focused on getting through one day at a time and never saved for the future.”

  Willow stroked his cheek, her hazel eyes sad as she peered down at him. “Each day must have been a struggle. I bet she was overwhelmed with grief, anger, and responsibility, maybe even guilt. Maybe she didn’t want to consider the future without your grandpa by her side.”

  Nodding, he acknowledged her insight, grateful she didn’t smother him with sympathy. Not short-sighted, his grandmother simply lacked coping skills and strength, but the unhappy reality remained the same. “She had a massive stroke and died at the end of a work shift, a week after I got my college diploma, never doing one of things she and Grandpa dreamed of for their retirement. I vowed I’d live out my retirement years the way they’d dreamed for theirs. I’m working and preparing for any contingency now so my future will be secure.”

  “Don’t you worry about dying at the end of the work day like your grandmother?” Willow asked, her lips brushing his ear.

  “Of course not. I’m only thirty-five, a non-smoker, in an ideal weight range, with optimal exercise habits and a long life expectancy. My stroke risk is negligible. I have decades before I can relax, but I know the payoff will come during the golden years stolen from my grandparents.”

 
“You can cash in those facts for a heck of a good deal on life insurance, but that doesn’t give you a guarantee from God. If you’ve figured out how to get one of those, I’ll give you a lifetime of free massages to hear your secret.” She caressed his neck with strong, capable fingers.

  A lifetime of this. The idyllic future of his visions belonged to him alone. Yet, when he closed his eyes, she waltzed into the fantasy, adding her laughter, companionship, and touch, making him treasure each moment more.

  Who is this fanciful man, and what has he done with the real me? Colin didn’t make someone a permanent part of his future, especially not based on a couple weeks of massages, no matter how amazing the hands soothing him. Besides, she never gave any indication she wanted the future he’d mapped out.

  “What do you see yourself doing in the coming decades?”

  As he studied her, her smile thinned, and her eyes took on a haunted quality. “You’re going to label this as heresy, but if I dream of doing something, I don’t wait. I make it happen now. If that means someday I’ll pay the consequences by working a job I hate when I’d rather sit around eating bonbons, I’m willing to take the chance.”

  Sitting up, he shifted out of her heavenly, but foolish hands. Easy for her to say, having never watched that philosophy send the people she loved to an early grave. The importance of deferring gratification needed to be driven home. “Give me an example of something you dream of.”

  “Kissing you.”

  Her reply obliterated his plan, leaving him unable to wait another second. Reaching out, he tugged her arms until she tumbled, laughing, into his lap. Eyes locked with hers, he cradled her small, fragile body, treasuring the imprint she’d made, not just on his skin but on his life.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she raised her head to meet his lips. The taste of sunshine and herbs settled on his tongue, emptying his mind of the future he worked so hard for, of the business deal that consumed his thoughts. When he kissed her, he understood for the first time how only the here and now mattered.