by Michele Hauf
5
Emma spent the entire weekend cleaning and re-cleaning her apartment, but she still felt scummy. She suspected this was some sort of Lady Macbethesque response to her subterfuge at work. She had a hard time looking herself in the eye in the mirror, let alone meeting Damien’s gaze on Monday morning.
With the doors in the office locked, she was even more aware of him than usual. Was she imagining it or was his body brushing hers more often? Did he notice how his hand covered hers on the doorknob?
She found herself desperate to turn down her internal heat and maintain a business attitude toward him. Why did her mind persist in imagining him shirtless with his chest pressed against hers, his strong arms wrapped around her? Why did she find herself forcing her gaze from staring at his mouth, wondering how his lips would feel on hers?
None of this made sense. She’d been assistant to two very attractive and powerful men before. Why did Damien affect her this way? She felt as if she had suddenly gone man-crazy, except her lunacy was very specific.
Thank goodness, a distraction appeared. She grasped at it. The salon offering her a full makeover called to schedule an appointment since they’d had a cancellation for Monday. During her pedicure, Mallory called and set Emma up with a date on Tuesday night.
Emma almost didn’t care if the guy was an axe murderer. She just needed someone to get her mind off her boss. Staring into the mirror at the end of her makeover, she was stunned at the transformation. With a few sunny streaks and her hair styled in a sexy shoulder-length cut, smoky eyes and plump lips, she actually looked hot. Gulp. Although she wasn’t sure she could duplicate the job the experts had done on her, she would give it her best try since she was meeting her blind date for cocktails and dinner.
The following day, she walked into the office with an extra little bag that contained her cosmetics and change of clothes for her date. She heard Damien on the phone, but he finished before she had a chance to discern anything about his conversation.
He entered the outer office and nodded at her. “Good morning,” he said as he reached to lock the door.
“Good—” She noticed the white bandage around his left hand. “Oh, no, what happened?”
He shrugged. “A minor accident last night. It was teen night for Rebuilding Vegas. The idea was to teach practical construction skills to local kids.”
Emma grimaced. “Sounds like it was dangerous.”
“Someone dropped a saw from the second floor. I tried to catch it so no one would get hurt.”
“But you got hurt.”
“A few stitches. I’ll live.”
“Bet they offered pain medication, and you wouldn’t take it,” she ventured.
His lips twitched. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” she said. “You probably need to chew glass in order to be happy.”
He gave a low chuckle. “You’re in a snappy mood today. Any reason why?”
“Not really,” she said, thankful that she had a date tonight. A date that would hopefully take her mind off Damien. Heaven help her, the man was burning up her dreams and fantasies. She could only hope that whoever she met tonight would be able to distract her.
He narrowed his eyes. “Your hair looks different,” he said.
“Very observant,” she said. “I got it cut last night.”
“That’s not all. There’s something else.”
“The hairstylist added a few highlights,” she said, uncomfortable under his intent gaze.
“Nice,” he said. “But it looked good before. Ah, this was your makeover. I thought you weren’t going until Wednesday.”
He’d remembered, she thought, and her discomfort grew. “They had an opening.”
“They changed your hair. What else?”
She cleared her throat. “Just chose a couple new outfits for me to wear and some different makeup. The makeup is more appropriate for after work. I have some for to—” She broke off, not wanting to reveal any more. “I’m sure there are more important topics for us to discuss. Did you want me to gather any reports for you today?”
Feeling him watch her in silence, she fought the urge to fidget.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. I want to do a closer study on the San Diego resorts.”
“I’ll get them for you,” she said. “You had mentioned you hadn’t wanted to talk to any of the VPs involved with the departments you’re studying. Should I assume you prefer to take the same approach with this one?”
He shook his head. “No. As a matter of fact, I want to talk with Alex or Max, but I’ll arrange that myself.”
Frustration rippled through her. “As you wish. Is there anything else?”
“Not right now,” he said.
Without realizing it, she released that sigh she’d been holding as she turned away.
“You’re displeased,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across that way,” she said, sliding into her seat, damning herself for giving away her emotions. She really was supposed to be much better at conveying calm. She always had been before Damien had arrived.
“Any chance you can give me an honest answer to an honest question?” he asked, his bandaged hand resting on his lean hip.
“Of course I can,” she said.
“Why did you sigh just a moment ago when I told you I have nothing else for you to do right now?”
Darn it. She should have held her breath. She reluctantly met his gaze. “If I’d known you were going to give me so little work to do, then I would have taken an extra online course this semester. You don’t want me to make your coffee. You don’t want me to set up appointments. I feel guilty spending so much time twiddling my thumbs.”
His lips twitched. “A first,” he said. “You’re upset because I’m not giving you more work to do.”
“Well, would you be happy?” she asked, her courage stemming from frustration.
He paused, looking at her in silence. “You have a good point. Okay, fine. I want you to take a look at the performance, expenses, employees—everything in connection with the San Diego resorts. And I want you to make a recommendation for job cuts.”
She dropped her jaw. “Excuse me?”
“Yes. I’d like your recommendations within two days.”
“Two days?”
“Do you have a problem with that? You’ve been trained to read a profit and loss statement. Despite the fact that you’re an executive assistant, you’ve earned a degree in business. I think this assignment will help you gain some perspective.”
She worked her mouth, then closed it and cleared her throat. “No. No problem. Thank you very much.” She watched him walk into his office, the V-shape of his body distracting her. Until he closed his door.
Emma shook her head. Crap. This was what happened when she let down her guard. Damien now expected her to give him suggestions on his hatchet job. How was she supposed to do that?
Hours later, after skipping her lunch break, Emma felt as if her eyeballs were spinning. She had begun her assessment of the San Diego properties and tentatively put an X beside a few positions only to mark out her original X.
Just as she made the decision to cut a position, she began to think about the person in that position and how they would feel about having their job cut, what kind of family they supported. Several scenarios for each person came to mind, all of them making her feel like the Grinch.
Absently glancing at the clock, she was shocked by the late hour. She was supposed to meet Mallory’s setup guy in thirty minutes. She had to stop working. Even though she’d essentially made zero progress, she had to stop. Hopefully a good night of sleep would provide her with a clear mind tomorrow so she could properly perform this assignment. In the meantime, she needed to remember how to make her eyes smoky, she thought as she grabbed her cosmetic bag and headed for the restroom.
Twenty minutes of swearing and perspiration later, she’d changed into her makeover outfit of a lit
tle black dress that showed a bit of cleavage and clung to her curves and returned to her desk to turn off her computer.
Hearing a sound in the outer office, Damien glanced away from his laptop, noting the tightness in his shoulders and neck. The sensations weren’t unusual. He’d been known to go for hours completely focused on his task. He’d learned, however, that even he should take short breaks. He opened his door and glanced into the outer office, stopping short.
The sight of a woman wearing high heels and a body-skimming black dress that hugged her curves—in particular the backside currently facing him—took him off guard.
“Emma?”
She whirled around, her eyes wide and her plump lips parted in surprise. “Oops. I didn’t hear you.”
He stared at her face, taking in her sexy blue eyes and luscious mouth, pink and tempting. “Special occasion?”
She shrugged her shoulders, drawing his attention to her generous, creamy breasts. “One of Mallory’s setups,” she said with a lopsided smile. “We’ll see.”
“One,” he echoed. “There’s more than one?”
“That’s up to me,” she with a slight grimace as she grabbed her purse and a plastic bag. “She’s very determined. She says crazy things like I’m an undiscovered treasure. Nice of her,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I should go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Have a good time.”
“Hope so,” she said with a smile and walked out of the office, her hips drawing his attention. He thought about putting his hands on her hips, taking her breasts into his hands and mouth, sliding between her thighs and feeling her femininity close around him like the most intimate, wet embrace.
Feeling himself grow hard, he was surprised at the force of his reaction to her. Plus, for some reason, he felt damn annoyed that she was seeing another man tonight. He was usually as detached about his sex life as he was about his professional life. He chose his partners for their ability to please him, and he’d never had a problem providing a woman with complete sexual satisfaction.
The truth was, however, that he tended to choose a more sophisticated woman than Emma, a woman who would respond to his needs and the passion of the moment and be satisfied with a brief affair, with perhaps an expensive trinket as a souvenir.
Despite her professional demeanor, he could feel her curiosity about him growing stronger every day. She was drawn to him, he could see it in her eyes and hear it in her breath when he stepped close to her. He couldn’t help wondering how hot he could make Emma, how she would feel in his arms, in his bed.
Damien gave a mental check of his calendar and a plan quickly formed in his mind. A surge of anticipation and satisfaction slid through him. Emma Weatherfield would be in his bed by the end of next week.
After a date where she could not stop comparing her setup guy to Damien, Emma felt like banging her head against the wall. Any wall, but especially her office wall because the next morning she found to her great disappointment that the setup date had provided her with zero distraction. A baby-faced blond sales rep for a paper company, Doug Caldwell had been full of smiles and eager to please. He reminded Emma of a puppy where Damien reminded her of a mysterious predator.
In addition, today she faced the ugly task of recommending which employees should be let go from their positions. By Thursday afternoon, she felt as if she may as well be playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey with the organizational chart. She hoped against hope that Damien was too busy and would forget to ask for her recommendations.
As if on cue, he opened the door to his office and shot her a look of inquiry. “Ready to give me your list?”
Dragging herself into his office with her final draft, she instinctively held the paper behind her back. “I feel I should warn you that I don’t have your experience, so my recommendations may not be as helpful as you or I would like them to be.”
He waved his hand. “Let me see them.”
She reluctantly surrendered the paper to him and clenched her teeth as she waited for his response. He glanced at the paper, then at her. “Where are the rest of the recommended cuts?”
“Those are all,” she said and cleared her throat.
“Two?” he said in astonishment. “You recommended two cuts?”
“Yes. Two,” she said.
He rubbed his hand over his face and chuckled. “You do know that if you were ever promoted into management you would need to be able to fire an employee.”
Her stomach knotted. “Yes.”
“What was your major?”
“Business administration,” she said.
He shook his head.
“But I think my natural skills are better in the areas of organizing and reducing expenditures through practical economic measures.”
“Turn out the lights when you leave the room,” he said.
“Yes. No new hires before you begin downsizing. No pay raises for executives. With the actual properties, initiating new incentive programs and perks for repeat customers. Since most of our properties are top-of-the-line luxury resorts, finding a way to lure new guests during the off-season would give new customers a taste of what it’s like to stay at an MD resort. Once they’ve experienced it, they will want to repeat it.”
He gave a slow nod. “Have you talked about these ideas with your former bosses?”
She shook her head. “I thought it would have been considered presumptuous.”
“Do you want to advance at MD?”
“Of course I do,” she said, unable to keep a trace of indignation from her voice.
“You underestimate yourself. I suggest you put together a report with your suggestions.” He shrugged and sat down. “That’s all.”
She stared at him with an open mouth for several seconds before he raised his eyebrows at her. “Did you have a question?”
Blinking, she pulled herself together and backed away. “No.” Returning to her desk, she fought a wave of confusion. Had Damien Medici just offered career guidance? Had he paid her a compliment? She felt a rush of pleasure. He certainly hadn’t gushed, but he hadn’t criticized her ideas, either.
Sinking into her seat, she was puzzled. If he thought she underestimated herself, why didn’t he allow her to do more for him?
At the end of the day on Friday, Damien called her into his office again. “What time should I pick you up tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” she echoed, confused.
“For the charity gala,” he said.
She’d hoped he’d forgotten. “Oh, that. I’m going to volunteer, so I actually need to be there early. I can just meet—”
He shook his head. “No. It won’t be a problem. I can pick you up early. What time works best for you?”
Emma barely resisted the urge to squirm. Showing up with Damien would be like linking herself with the enemy. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he were doing this precisely to make her squirm. But what choice did she have? “Five-thirty should be fine,” she said, preparing herself for disapproving expressions from the De Luca and Megalos couples. “I promised Mallory I would assist with any last-minute problems. I understand if you want to bow out since my attention will be divided.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said, his dark eyes glinting with determination.
She swallowed a sigh. “I’ll see you then,” she said, and turned.
“One other thing,” he said, and she turned back around.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been asked to review a property in South Beach that MD wants to purchase.”
She nodded. “Yes?”
“You and I are going there next week to review the property in person,” he said, as if he was informing her that she would be joining him at a business luncheon in a diner.
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You need to call my private jet. We’ll leave on Wednesday and return on Sunday. I’ll make the hotel reservations under a different name so they won’t know they’re be
ing observed.”
She nodded, stunned by the news, but determined to keep her composure. “Okay. You’ll give me the number,” she said. “For your private jet?”
He scribbled it on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “There it is. Pack like a tourist. Swimsuits, dresses. No business attire required.” He handed her a credit card. “Buy everything you need and put it on my card.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I have dresses. I have a swimsuit,” she said, remembering she’d bought one at a discount store three years ago…or was it four?
“We’re going in disguise,” he said. “I’ll book adjoining suites, but we’ll be a couple. Use my card. I want you to dress the part. Dress like my woman would.”
6
Although she’d bought it on sale, Emma spent more than she would have preferred on a black full-length gown with a discreet halter top that plunged in the back. Stepping into kitten-heel sandals, she grabbed the small beaded clutch she’d bought at her favorite thrift store and checked the mirror once more. With smoky eyes, shiny lip gloss and her hair swinging free to her shoulders, she almost didn’t recognize herself. She looked almost glamorous.
She hoped she didn’t look as if she were trying too hard. For the fifth time, she thought about ditching the dress, scrubbing off her makeup and calling in sick. Calling in sick, however, was something she’d never done in her life, and she refused to start now.The doorbell rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked to the door and opened it. She looked at Damien, dark and dangerous in a black tux. The breath she’d just taken stuck in her throat.
He seemed taller, she thought, and the way he looked at her made her stomach dip and sway.
“You look beautiful,” he said, extending his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, reluctant to take his hand, fearing she might get burned just by the sensation of his skin on hers. Crazy, she thought, and took his hand. “You look very nice, too,” she said in a brisk tone that sounded at odds with her compliment, even to herself.