Liar. It had meant something. He’d sucked her in with his charisma, his come-to-bed eyes, his pretend interest in her and her life. And she’d dropped her guard in a spectacularly embarrassing way. It had been a long time since she’d found herself attracted to a man, and that was why she’d responded so favorably to his touch, his kiss.
Her stomach flipped as she recalled the feel of his mouth on hers. Calum Brook was an outstanding kisser, probably because of all the practice. A twinge of jealousy bit at her insides—a feeling she immediately pushed away. He didn’t deserve jealousy. He deserved antipathy.
Laurella entered the departures hall, checked in her bag, and headed straight through security, still glancing over her shoulder from time to time. What would she do if he suddenly appeared? Thoughts of her knee and his balls came to mind. A night in jail would be a small price to pay to have the permanent memory of Calum writhing in agony on the floor.
Only when the plane doors closed did Laurella properly relax. At least she’d reach the office before him, which would give her time to brief Zane on the success of the conference—and her part in securing the leads. It was time she took a leaf out of Calum’s book and played dirty.
The flight to New York was uneventful, and Laurella found herself outside her building at eleven. Calum wouldn’t be arriving for at least another two hours. She left her bag in her office and strode down the hallway. She tapped on Zane’s door and peered inside. He glanced up from his computer and gestured to her.
“Morning,” she said as brightly as she could manage, despite the inner turmoil and lack of sleep.
“Hey, you’re back.” He pointed to the seat opposite his. “And you’re early.”
“Yeah,” she said, folding her skirt beneath her as she sat. “I couldn’t sleep, so I grabbed an earlier flight. I’m excited to get started on what I learned. I already have a meeting planned this afternoon with someone I met who could be a good contact. I think he’ll be able to get me an introduction into one of the leading supermarket chains on the west coast.”
“That’s great. Exactly what I was hoping to get out of the conference.” A frown drifted across Zane’s face. “Calum called this morning, though, worried about you. Said you didn’t let him know you were leaving early?”
Worried? Pah!
“I didn’t want to wake him. He looked pretty tired after dinner last night.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” He smiled. “So, tell me everything, and then I’ll let you get to work.”
As the clock ticked closer to one-thirty—the time she and Calum were originally expected to arrive back in New York—Laurella couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing, and nerves flooded her stomach. She’d never been the type to seek conflict, yet Calum was forcing her to take a crash course just so she could keep up with him—the master.
But when she left for her meeting at three, he still hadn’t turned up. She thought about asking Zane if he’d heard from him, but she didn’t want Zane wondering why she was so concerned. No doubt, Calum would appear when she least expected and cause her more misery and heartache.
By the time she got back to the office, it was seven o’clock. The floor was in darkness apart from a strip of light bleeding from underneath the door at the end of the hallway. Calum’s office. On tiptoes, she crept into her own office and quietly shut the door. She’d only returned to the building so she could grab her memory book. She had a few ideas she wanted to work on that night.
She turned her attention to her desk and frowned. The corner where she kept the book was empty. It had definitely been there when she’d left for her meeting. Perhaps the cleaning staff had knocked it to the floor. She bent down to look under her desk. Nothing.
She crossed over to her filing cabinet and opened each drawer, cringing when one squeaked. Sound traveled in silent places. She’d dreaded facing Calum earlier in the day, let alone this late in the evening when everyone else had gone home.
Her search proved fruitless. The book was nowhere to be seen. She clenched her jaw. Only one answer to the conundrum remained: Calum was playing more of his childish games. I’m going to have to face him after all. Well, that was fine by her. The night before, she’d been hurt. Right now, she was downright furious. That bastard wanted conflict and chaos? She’d damn well give it to him.
She straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and marched down the hallway to his office, her heels clipping on the tile. He’d hear her coming, for sure. A knot formed in her stomach the closer she got to the door, but she rammed it down and brought what he’d done to the forefront of her mind. It steeled her resolve. Without knocking, she launched his office door open.
“Calum, what the hell are you—”
His office was empty. The lamp on his desk had been left on. Laurella glanced around, searching for her book. It wasn’t there. She was about to start searching through his drawers and cabinets when a folded-up piece of paper propped up against the printer caught her eye. She moved closer. Her name was scrawled on it in his black, spidery writing.
She snatched up the note and opened it.
Interesting book. Want it back? Then come get it.
Underneath he’d written the name of a hotel—the Miller-Brook—and an address.
Her hands shook as rage surged through her body. Goddamn the man. He was purposely taunting her. She briefly wondered if the hotel had something to do with his family—not that she really cared. For the sake of his own safety, it was good he’d chosen a public space—because she wanted to kill him.
Maybe she should simply ignore the note and go home… then again, knowing Calum, he’d taken her book to force her into facing him, and until she did that, he wouldn’t return her prized possession.
With a resigned sigh, she left his office. She’d better get it over with, go toe-to-toe with the man who’d demeaned her, embarrassed her, kissed her… and demand that he return her book. Then she’d stop by the liquor store, buy a large bottle of gin, and blot out the disaster of the last three days.
She slipped the piece of paper into her pocket and, after fetching her purse, left the building. Subway or cab? Exhausted, she decided on the latter. Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped outside the hotel. She paid her fare and stepped onto the sidewalk. Straightening her posture, she walked as steadily as she could manage up the front steps.
The noise coming from inside drew her into a huge lounge area with comfy chairs and sofas dotted about. A large modern-looking wood-burning stove threw out welcome heat, and at the far end was a bar, busy with patrons. What game was Calum playing now?
Behind the bar, a man and a woman were serving drinks, chatting with the guests as though they were long-lost family. As Laurella drew closer, there was something familiar about the man, but she was sure she’d never seen him before. She slipped onto the only free bar stool and held up her hand. He nodded to show he’d seen her, finished serving his customer, then wandered across.
He put down a napkin along with a small bowl of peanuts. “What can I get you?” he asked with a broad, welcoming smile.
“Some help,” she said, returning his smile. “I’m looking for someone who gave me this address.”
“Well, if they’re staying here, I’ll definitely know them. We get a lot of regulars.”
Hence the familial atmosphere.
“Calum Brook.”
The man grinned. “Oh, I definitely know him.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Laurella.”
She frowned but shook his hand anyway. “Should I be worried?”
“I’m Jax. Calum is my younger brother.”
So that was why he looked so familiar. Now that she knew who he was, the similarities stood out: the same thick, dark hair, although Calum wore his longer than Jax’s, and the same emerald-green seductive eyes and angular jaw. Jax was clean-shaven, though, in contrast to the constant designer stubble Calum favored.
“Is he here?” She glanced around.
“He’s in the basement.”
She frowned in confusion, although keeping Calum in the basement was probably where he should be. Somewhere cold, dark, without food or light.
“Our living quarters,” he further explained.
“Ah,” she said. “Well, he has something of mine, so would you mind awfully telling him I’m here to collect it?”
“Yeah, he said you might drop by. That’s how I knew who you were. Well, that and the fact he mentions you a fair bit.”
Her heart stuttered, but she clamped down on the excited tingle that spread to her fingertips and brought his callous behavior to the fore. “Is that right?”
“Yeah.” He winked. “But don’t tell him I said that.” He stepped out from behind the bar. “Come on. I’ll take you down.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she said, determined to make the bastard come to her. She might need people around to stop her from punching him. “You look busy.”
Jax waved away her protestation. “It’s fine. Indie,” he called to the woman who’d been serving with him. “Five minutes, babe, okay?”
Indie nodded and smiled as she expertly poured a cocktail into a triangular glass.
“My girlfriend,” Jax said proudly by way of explanation. “Financial whiz kid by day, bartender by night.”
He walked ahead, giving her no option but to follow him. Halfway down the hall, he opened a door marked Private.
“Watch your step,” he said, flicking on a light that illuminated a twisting stairwell. At the bottom, the space opened out into a large open-plan living area. Calum lay sprawled on the couch, which was positioned in front of a large-screen TV affixed to the wall. A football game was playing, a sport Laurella had never understood.
Calum clearly hadn’t heard them. His attention was fully on the game. He suddenly sat bolt upright. “Touchdown!” he yelled, punching the air with his fist.
“Bro,” Jax called out. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Calum glanced behind him and gave her a derogatory once-over. “You took your time,” he said before turning his attention back to the TV.
“Calum!” Jax berated.
“It’s fine,” Laurella said, her tone suitably cold. “That’s polite compared to how he spoke to me last night.”
Her barb got Calum’s attention. He muted the TV, clambered off the couch, and glared pointedly at Jax. “Don’t you have thirsty guests to serve?”
Jax shook his head, muttered “Asshole,” and with a final apologetic smile in Laurella’s direction, took off upstairs.
“Seems I’m not the only one who regularly uses that nickname for you,” Laurella said.
“I prefer your version.” He strolled across to the kitchen and bent down to grab a beer from the fridge. He didn’t offer her one—not that she would have accepted it anyway.
“Where’s my book?” she said, deciding that getting straight to the point meant she wouldn’t have to spend a second longer than necessary in his personal space.
He ignored her. “Why did you leave without me this morning?”
Astounded, she glared. “Are you joking?”
“Does it sound like I’m joking?” he snapped. “When I couldn’t get an answer from your room, I started imagining all sorts of shit.”
“Oh, Calum.” She clasped a hand to her chest. “Anyone would think you cared.”
He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t want the hassle of explaining to the police why you’d slashed your wrists in the bathtub because I’d turned down a chance to share bodily fluids with you.”
Now it was Laurella’s turn to snort. “As if. You kissed me as punishment. I stupidly fell for your false charm. I should have known better. It’s hardly the end of the world.”
“Your face told me a different story. As did your body.”
He raked her with a gaze, warming her insides in a very unwelcome way. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Calling on her inner bitch, she curled her lip disparagingly and planted her hands on her hips.
“You really are a shitty excuse for a human, aren’t you? You say I’m flattering myself?” She strode across the room until she was standing right in front of him and poked a finger in his chest. “It’s you flattering yourself. You’re attractive enough on the outside, I suppose, but so are dragon fruit, yet bite into one of those pretty little things, and they’re the biggest disappointment.” She looked him up and down. “No doubt as you would have been.”
His eyes flared, and he crossed his arms. “Oh, the gloves are coming off now, huh, sweetheart?”
She let her smile build slowly, tapping her fingers against the side of her leg as she prepared for a putdown. “We’d have been a terrible fit anyway. I’m too Italian for you. Too passionate, too controlling. You want a woman beneath you, who’ll let you be in charge.” She let her gaze travel the length of his tanned throat, down over his hard chest muscles, past his impossibly flat stomach, eventually ending her cold appraisal at his groin. “Besides, it looks like I’m not the only one of us who’s attracted to the other.”
He straightened his spine, adding a few inches to his already considerable height, and loomed over her. Anxiety clawed inside her gut at his icy stare. Maybe she’d gone too far, but it was too late to back down. She widened her stance, holding her position firm.
A sneer curved his lips upward. “That’s the thing about men, Laurella. They can get a hard-on with very little stimulus. I wouldn’t want you getting the impression you’re irresistible, because, sweetheart, you ain’t—as I proved all too readily last night when I found it easy as pie to walk away from you when you were gagging for it.”
Her lungs flattened, and she found it hard to breathe. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who could hit the bull’s-eye with vicious words. She forced herself to maintain eye contact. She would not back down. “My book,” she said, sticking out her hand, palm up. “Give it to me.”
“Why did you tell Ben he couldn’t have the overstock?”
Laurella let out an impatient sigh. The bastard wanted his pound of flesh. “I didn’t tell him that. I said he couldn’t have the full amount, and I also disagree with the price you’re offering. He’s getting it far too cheaply.”
Calum glowered at her. “What the fuck do you know about it? Ben is one of our original customers. Five years ago, he took a chance on a startup company with an unproven supply chain. He’s been loyal, and he’s a good outlet to bring quick cash into the business. He pays immediately, whereas our other customers are on sixty- or ninety-day payment terms.”
Laurella crossed her arms. “Have you seen a copy of the latest accounts?”
His scowl deepened. “Do I look like the fucking chief finance officer?”
“I have,” she said, ignoring his outburst. “We’re cash rich at the moment. We don’t need to sell stock virtually at breakeven. I am developing an online presence where we’ll make considerably more than your friend Ben is paying.”
“Are you suggesting—”
She shot her hand into the air, cutting him off. “If we were cash poor, your strategy would be the right one. But you’re out of touch, Calum. You’ve taken your eye off the ball. You’re so focused on making sales you’ve forgotten the small issue of profit. When your cash flow is healthy, it’s time to make plans for growth, for investment.”
She paused for breath. The heavy atmosphere created by Calum’s fury zinging off the walls had kicked her fight-or-flight instinct into action. And right then, her body was screaming Flee! But she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She jutted out her chin and waited for him to make his next move.
After what felt like hours—but in reality was only seconds—he started to pace while chewing on his thumbnail, a frown scoring two deep lines between his eyebrows. He shot the occasional glance her way and then, without saying a word, crossed over into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and took out a bottle of vodka. After grabbing two tumblers from a cupboard, he poured a healthy amount into them, dropped in a few cubes of
ice, topped them off with tonic water, and added a slice of lime to each.
“Here.” He held a glass toward her. When she hesitated, he let out a curt laugh. “You watched me make it.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He went to sit on the couch, a glimmer of a smile curving his lips upward. “Glad to see I’m keep you on your toes, Ricci.”
Her breath caught. That was the second time he’d called her by her surname—once in Chicago and now here—and hearing it on his lips set off a fluttering in her abdomen. To quell the growing flames, she sipped her drink, but all the alcohol did was stoke them. Well, she’d certainly discovered something about herself: it was possible to desperately want to go to bed with a man who pushed all of her buttons—and not in a good way.
Calum swept a hand over his face. “You’re right. I have taken my eye off the ball.”
The astonishment must have shown on her face, because he laughed, the sound sharp and cold. Like him. “I might be an asshole, but I’m an honest one. When I’m wrong, I’ll say I’m wrong. But I’m giving you fair warning. Next time you get the urge to send a ‘Dear John’ email to one of our oldest clients, you’d better come talk to me first. Otherwise, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
He said the latter with the hint of a smirk playing around his mouth, which, after the latest sparring match, she was too exhausted to try to figure out.
“Deal. Now, give me my book.”
Calum rose from the couch and wandered over to a dresser on the far side of the room. He opened the top drawer, reached inside, and took out her book. He set it on the arm of the couch.
She picked it up and cradled it in the crook of her arm. She skated her fingers over the do-it-yourself covering she’d put on it when she was only twenty-two. It was torn slightly at the edges, but she wouldn’t replace the covering. It reminded her of the ideals and dreams of the young girl who’d created it, even though the farther she went in her career, the more cynical she became.
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “It was childish to take it, but I knew it would get you here. The way you spoke about it in Chicago told me it was important to you. Maybe don’t take up poker anytime soon.”
Against All Odds (A Brook Brothers Novel Book 2) Page 8