Beneath Her Skin

by Beth Mikell

  “Olivia knew about her.” As surprise lit the other man’s eyes, he continued on, “This isn’t a random occurrence or me, trying to fill the hole where my wife used to be. Brooke Stone is Olivia’s twin, separated by ten years. Jim Bartley confirmed it and Olivia asked me to take care of her. I must do everything to protect her.”

  If anything, Antoine looked ashen. “Well, this next bit of news isn’t going to make you happy.”

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “Eileen Patel with the Washington Times called Leanne in legal this morning to find out if the rumors of your deceased wife resurfacing are true.” He sighed. “Apparently, she received an anonymous call from someone claiming to have insider information, but they refused to give any more details until a figure could be agreed upon—they want to sell what they know.”

  Anger burned through Damon. “What?” Thoughts of Jim Bartley’s loose tongue came to mind, but he doubted he would say anything. He would have to call him. “What did Leanne tell her?”

  Antoine cocked his head. “She indirectly threatened her with an injunction, but since Eileen was only scenting for a story, no judge is going to sign off on one threat. The story will eventually leak, Damon. You have to consider telling Ms. Stone, who she is or more negative press will head S-Tec’s way.”

  He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. He could not even consider telling her yet. One major problem might occur… he could lose her. He knew he would not recover if he lost Brooke too. While part of him rejoiced at finding a connection with Olivia, he enjoyed Brooke’s presence. Plus, he didn’t know her well enough to gauge her reaction. What if she left and went so far he could never find her. Selfishly, he was willing to risk a bit of silence on the topic to ensure a little more time with her. Maybe if he gained her trust, she would eventually forgive him for not being upfront with her. There was a gamble either way: the truth, he could lose her or silence… he would lose her. And he was sinking deeper and deeper.

  Chapter 6

  Monday morning Brooke dressed in Damon’s gift—a white skirt suit with nude Louboutins. His note inside the box simply read, Enjoy your first day. She did not want to wear it, citing his excessiveness, but Jennifer had insisted. As she turned this way and that in the mirror, she had to admit, she did look stunning. A lot different from her usual jeans and pullovers. The man had excellent taste.

  Smoothing a hand over the front, the dress fit as if it was made for her and the shoes were surprisingly comfortable for four-inch heels. After a little makeup, she straightened her light brown hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. She was not gifted with girly hair skills like her best friend, so the simplicity of the style would have to do.

  Rinsing out her coffee mug, she placed it in the strainer as the doorbell rang. She found a smiling middle-aged woman dressed in a dark pantsuit. Her short, gray hair was styled to perfection and her smile was equally friendly.

  “Good morning, Ms. Stone,” she said with a British accent and clear blue eyes. “My name is Beverly Oakes, but please, call me Bev. I am your executive administrator, in charge of your appointments, scheduling, and anything else in need of attending. Mr. Sinclair thought it would be a good idea to bring you down personally and give you a tour and get you settled into your new office.”

  She felt a bit deflated that Damon had not personally arrived himself, but then chastised herself for the thought. His absence was for the best. In only a matter of days, he had her so torn up, she was hoping to see him like a girl crushing on the school quarterback. Such an image did not suit her, and she shook off the feeling. Though, she was disappointed she hadn’t seen him on Sunday. Missing him would only antagonize her emotions. She had to stamp down any sensual thoughts regarding her new employer.

  Holding out her hand to the other woman, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Bev.” Brooke took a step back, grabbing her purse and tablet. “I’m ready.” Though she said the words, she felt far from prepared.

  After a tour and a meeting with human resources, Bev took Brooke back to her office. Unlike Saturday, there were several stacks of files on her desk. And she now sported a badge with the highest level of security clearance and she had a fingerprint scan, so she could access the restricted areas. The atmosphere was very professional, yet there was an underlying unease, even Bev seemed to subscribe to the anxiousness.

  She could not place her finger on the weirdness. As people would look her way, they would gasp, and then settle their shock with smiles and handshakes. Others would look twice or openly stare with a bewildered frown. Looking down the front of her suit, she wondered if she had spilled coffee on herself, but she found nothing.

  “Is something wrong, Ms. Stone?” Bev asked.

  “No,” she hesitated, glancing at the other woman as she patiently waited. “Everyone has been kind and welcoming, but their reaction to me has been a little… strange. So many gasps and second glances that I wondered if I had something on my clothes.” She smiled, but her unease was still there.

  Before Bev could comment, the connecting door to her office opened. Damon stood on the threshold, wearing a shuddered expression, yet his green gaze seared her. Powerfully handsome in his three-piece, charcoal suit and white crisp shirt, he appeared much different from his casual jeans and leather jacket.

  Her mouth went dry and heat bloomed on her cheeks. The rapid beat of her heart banged against her ribs, making her feel dizzy—the man was super-hot. Against her will, her gaze settled on his mouth, remembering the way he had tasted and the way he had held her face as he moved against her lips.

  Her tongue slipped out, running along her bottom lip, struggling for control. How would she manage to get through a whole day with him looking like that? Her insides were close to a meltdown. She hoped he did not walk any closer. His scent would take away her last shred of sanity.

  “Good morning,” he said, turning to direct his attention to Bev. “I’d like a moment of Ms. Stone’s time.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sinclair.” She left with the soft click of the door.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked gently.

  His voice was like velvet, making Brooke’s insides mush. She had to find her voice. “G-good morning. I’m very well, thank you.” She used this opportunity to head around her desk, in case he moved closer. He had already proven he could affect her mindless. She did not plan to allow him a chance to weaken her further.

  “You’re nervous,” he said.

  Damon strode closer, stopping near her desk. Her gaze connected with his, wishing she had not. The telling signs of concern tipped his expression.

  “A little,” she admitted. “This is a big undertaking for me. Up until Friday, thoughts of pursuing a job in my field of study were merely a dream, so I hope you’ll forgive me for feeling a little… overwhelmed.”

  He smiled. “Of course. I can understand that.” He waved a hand toward the files on her desk. “Your first task will be easy, I promise,” he said, his voice reverting to all business. “This is a risk analysis on a new airline seat belt S-Tec has designed. I need you to evaluate the technical reports and verify the proposed changes with FAA standards. Once everything is in order, it will just be a matter of filing with the appropriate offices—and that is something Bev will do.”

  She flipped open a file folder, her gaze scanning over the design schematics and bar graphs with clear definitions and analysis on the proposed seat belt. She glanced up, not realizing he had placed his hands on her desk, leaning closer. He was so close, she could feel his body heat. God, he smelled good—fresh, clean, and dangerous. She needed to get away from him, fast.

  She cleared her throat, sitting in her office chair, trying not to appear obvious as she maneuvered away. Reaching up to twist a hair beside her ear, she found nothing. Her sleek style held every hair in place, while her nerves somersaulted in her belly.

  “How soon will this need to be completed?”

  “A week at the latest,” he said, movin
g around her desk. He sat on the corner, eyeing her with lazy regard. “What’s the matter?”

  She pasted on a smile. “Nothing.”

  He chuckled. “I may not have known you long, but you have a nervous tick, Ms. Stone.”

  She looked away from him, wishing he was not so close. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do,” he whispered. “You tend to twirl your hair at your ear, but today you can’t and you’re anxious. There is no need to be worried. You’ll do a wonderful job.”

  He reached for her hand, smoothing his fingers over her skin. She closed her eyes, relishing his warmth, yet she could not allow him to touch her.

  Snatching her hand back, she rose to her feet. She was now very close to him, and he looked very delicious. So hauntingly handsome, her lungs worked faster. She ached to run her fingers through his hair and tug his lips close. She could almost taste his flavor, aching for him to the point of shaking. “Human resources covered sexual harassment, and I’m sure unwanted advances fall into this category, Mr. Sinclair.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Are my advances, unwanted?” he asked silkily. “I seem to recall how you asked me to kiss you. Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

  Her insides clenched, yet she pushed down the tremble of desire. “We work together, and I think it best if we maintain a respectable distance.”

  Flashing a soft smile, he straightened, thrusting his hand in his pants pocket. “For now,” he said with a mocking tone.

  She eyed him coolly, though she was burning hot. “For as long as I work for you.”

  “Mmmm, a challenge, Ms. Stone? I accept.” He moved away, striding to his office. “We’ll see who cracks first.”

  A flustered feeling overwhelmed her. “Wait…! You can’t…?”

  He turned in the doorway, looking every bit the hottie she always thought him to be. From his sea beauty eyes to his smoldering expression, the man exuded so much sexiness.

  “Brooke, you may work for me, but make no mistake, challenge accepted.” He shut the connecting door.

  She released a pent up breath, a hard quiver storming down her spine. How would she work with him long term? There were no answers to quell the rush of female desire.

  After a quick lunch in her apartment and paying a few bills online, Brooke returned to work. She noticed the connecting door between her office and Damon’s was ajar, but she did not see him at his desk and she breathed a sigh of relief. She would not venture too far into curiosity. He was like a ‘less is more’ kind of man. She was better off steering clear of him and his sexiness, though she wanted nothing more than to see him again. Her libido concurred and a tightening hit her belly. The man knew how to wreak havoc on her choices and she had to put a stop to her desire.

  In the time she was gone, the IT department had set up her computer and passwords. She now had access to important databases and email.

  The risk analysis was well documented and she had a sinking suspicion, someone else had already gone over the reports. There were initialed signatures in the appropriate forms, and nothing out of place. This task only needed to be filed through the government agencies. Although, through her study session, she picked up quite a bit of S-Tec’s business practices via the lengthy transcripts of meetings, yet to her, this was just busy work.

  Anger filled her.

  She was determined to find out why.

  ****

  As Kirk Mitchell, head of S-Tec security, ran through Brooke’s background check, irritation fed Damon. More dead-ends. He was sure Kirk would find something on Jake Vaughn, but the guy was squeaky clean. Not even a speeding ticket. And no large deposits to indicate a payoff. No money trail, no motive. Jake seemed to be a glorified Boy Scout, which further irritated him. Damon had wanted Jake to be the culprit, considering he had shown up at the right time. He wanted to send him packing, far, far away from Brooke.

  “Sir, I recommend another direction,” Kirk said with a slight hesitation.

  Damon leaned forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m listening.”

  The other man cleared his throat. “Since everything checked out for Ms. Stone, something still feels off. I mean, why would anyone vandalize her home and business for no reason? I took the initiative and checked into Mrs. Sinclair’s family.”

  Damon stilled at the mention of Olivia. He hated to think where this would lead. “Did you find something?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary until I checked the trust fund set up for Ms. Stone.”

  His heart smacked hard against his ribs. The ten million dollars reserved for Brooke could be considered a dangling carrot, but who knew about it? Besides Kirk, as far as Damon knew, Jim Bartley was the only one.

  “And?” he asked in a cool, calm voice.

  “Mrs. Sinclair made two twenty thousand dollar withdrawals—one right before her unfortunate death.”

  “Can you trace the funds?”

  Kirk made an affirmative sound. “I’ve already started, but it will take some time. Someone clever has bounced it around, but I’ll discover where it went, promise.”

  “Stay on it. I have to find out who is behind this. Also, check records for Jim Bartley, Olivia’s attorney. He’s handling the trust fund, perhaps he required a payment for his attorney fees,” he said, shifting in his chair and drummed his hands on his desk.

  His mind worked overtime. Why would Olivia withdrawal forty thousand dollars? Was she paying someone off? Was she threatened? There was much to consider here.

  “Where are you with investigating the vandalism to the cemetery?”

  His head of security sighed. “Another dead-end, sir, but the complete overhaul of the mausoleum has finished, along with keypad security. We will know if anyone tries anything. I have even set up motion sensors and cameras, tying the feed into our CCTV. It’s secure.”

  As Damon hung up with Kirk, Antoine strode into his office. Dressed in an impeccable gray suit, his assistant drew closer.

  “Uh-oh, I know that look,” Antoine said. “What happened?”

  Damon shook his head, explaining the latest from Kirk. “A big fat impasse.” He stood, rounding the desk, smoothing his tie. “It just occurred to me that I think we should have eyes on Mr. Bartley too. Have Kirk send a team to follow him. Maybe this goes deeper than we can imagine.”

  Antoine nodded. “Will do, boss. Oh, and the crew, handling the repairs of Ms. Stone’s apartment, should be done by the end of the week. The landlord wanted me to thank you again for handling everything so promptly.”

  Damon grunted, not bothering to dream up a reply. As Antoine strode toward the door, he followed. “How does my afternoon look? I haven’t had a chance to glance at my schedule.”

  “You have a conference call with General Randall at four. Did you have a chance to speak with Ms. Stone regarding the seat belt analysis? The FAA said they will accept the final documents, so there’s no need to refile.”

  Damon shook his head. “Not yet. Bev said she went to lunch.”

  A pang of remorse hit him. He had wanted to surprise her with lunch on her first day, but she had already escaped to her apartment upstairs, and he had been in a meeting at the time.

  “Mr. Sinclair, may I have a word with you?”

  As Damon’s eyes connected with Brooke’s, he could see the stirring storm in the depths of her lavender gaze. He had never seen anyone so lovely. He was confident that he could smooth over her anger.

  Murmuring a polite goodbye to Antoine, he shut his office door, facing her. “How may I help you, Ms. Stone?” God, she looked beautiful. Her stormy eyes pinned him with accusation. Her cheeks were flushed. Apparently, he had crossed some unknown line with her, enough to have her shaking angry.

  He took two steps toward her, but she held up a hand. “Don’t.”

  His eyebrows snapped together, worried. “What have I done?”

  “I quit,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He sucked in a deep breath, feeli
ng as though he lost her. Those words would take her away from him and he was not ready to say goodbye. The feeling was similar to free falling off a cliff, yet there was no end. He plummeted without the sudden stop at the end. Thoughts of her discovering the truth before he was ready to share it swarmed his mind. He had to fix whatever happened. His heart concurred as it thundered through his chest.

  Chapter 7

  By the time Brooke had reached the end of the risk analysis, her anger had skyrocketed. She had found a note, stamped and sealed. Why was she wasting her time?

  Why was she here? Why had Damon dreamed up some job to keep her busy?

  Her time was better served back in Bel-Air and looking after Harry and her slumping business. Regardless of the money, she would rather sink than accept a handout. She did not care about anything more than getting far, far away, but first she would tell her I’m-playing-my-cards-close-to-my-chest Sinclair, she was done.

  She marched right through the connecting door and laid it on him, uncaring of his suave presence and handsomeness. He would not get the chance to smooth this over with easy words and his calm manner.

  No more kisses. No more concessions. No more lies.

  Either he would tell her the truth or she was gone. She would not allow him one more shred of her trust for a game without any rules. Deep down, she knew he was not being honest with her.

  “Brooke—”

  She snorted. “Don’t ‘Brooke’ me, Damon. I’m not in the mood to be lied to.”

  He visibly stiffened, his ice-green eyes cooling. “I’ve been honest with you.”

  Brooke crossed her arms over her chest. “So this job isn’t your attempt to keep me close and out of danger? Giving me ‘busy’ work with reports that have already been filed?” She drew a deep breath, trying to settle her anger. “I’m giving you one more chance to come clean. What is going on?”

  His lips curved into a brief smile, though his ease did not quite meet his eyes. “I never intended to give you busy work.” He kept going when her lips parted, and he held up a hand. “Please allow me to explain. Before lunch, Antoine came looking for the revised seat belt standard, but I told him I had given it to you to verify. He told me there was no need because the FAA approved it. As you see, we are disorganized and I really do need someone to double check our processes. We are very behind.” He turned slightly, waving a hand toward a stack of files on his coffee table. “This is more of the same. Reports needing verification,” he said, looking back at her. “I would never think of wasting your time, Brooke. I need you too much.”