Authors: Patricia Paris
"Am I boring you?"
Was
the skin on her cheeks as soft as it looked
?
"Not at
all."
She shook her head, a dreamy smile hovering on her lips.
"I could listen to you all night. I'm learning a lot." Her eyes
drifted down then back up in slow motion.
Gage pushed forward. He avoided
looking at her in favor of the blueprints. She wasn't contributing much, and
after a while he began to feel like a talking head. "It'll work the same
way with
Riv
One. We provide the venture capital,
retain ownership, and install one of our management companies to oversee the
property."
Something wasn't right. He'd only
known her a couple of days, but he'd formed some strong impressions. She
carried herself well, presented a serene, polished exterior, but underneath the
cool, collected professional he'd gotten glimpses of an active mind bubbling
over with ideas, opinions, and enthusiasm.
After a few murmured
umm-
hmms
, Gage sensed she'd stopped listening altogether.
Curiosity got the better of him and he cautioned a glance. "It's much more
profitable for us to—"
He moved quickly, catching her just
as she started to fall sideways. She slumped against him, her head coming to
rest on his shoulder. The woman was sound asleep.
Now what the hell did he do? She
mumbled something incoherent then made a smacking noise with her mouth. He
smiled; he couldn't help himself. He should be angry, offended, anything but
amused.
She had to be exhausted. He knew
she'd never allow herself to fall asleep during a business meeting otherwise.
He rubbed his thumb back and forth along her jaw. Lord, he'd been right--soft
as silk. He gave in to the desire he'd been fighting all evening and lowered
his head to her hair, breathing her in. Her scent was exotic, musky and floral,
like his aunt's rose garden.
He eased her down onto the couch
and then went into the bathroom and got a blanket and pillow from the linen
closet. He kept them there for the occasional night he worked too late and
crashed in his office.
After making her as comfortable as
possible, he decided he might as well be productive.
Carpenter slept. Gage returned a
couple of dozen emails, dictated a memo to Grace, and reviewed a proposal to
fund a plastics plant.
Two hours later he glanced at his
watch. Getting up, he fixed himself another drink and took it to stand in front
of the windows. He stared out over the city, not really seeing it. Next week
they broke ground. He and Matt would firm up site security tomorrow. They were
at ninety percent compliment, and he'd been assured they'd be at one hundred
when they were ready to roll.
Carpenter murmured something in her
sleep, and he glanced over his shoulder. Taking a sip of his scotch, he walked
to the couch and gazed down at her. He lifted the corner of the blanket and
pulled it up over her shoulder where it had slipped off.
She looked so peaceful, so
trusting. He felt a wave of tenderness that surprised him. He imagined himself
lying with her, just holding her, both of them sleeping. Lord knew he could use
the rest. When was the last time he'd wanted to just hold a woman and fall
asleep beside her? Hell, had he ever? He needed to get away, take some time to
unwind. He was overextended, and these ridiculous musings were proof he was in
danger of losing his edge.
As deeply as she slept, Gage hated
to wake her. She wouldn't have crashed so hard if she hadn't been exhausted. He
went back to work. By eleven thirty he'd run out of steam. He turned off the
computer and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze settling on Carpenter.
He watched her from the safety of
his desk for several minutes. Sitting there in the quiet, lights dimmed, he
felt a strange intimacy, one that filled him with a longing for something more
in his life. He probably shouldn't have let her sleep this long. She probably
wouldn't be happy.
Sighing, he got up and went to the
couch. Crouching down, he leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear.
"Abby," he whispered, and realized it was the first time he'd
referred to her that way. "Abby."
She smiled in her sleep and rolled
to face him.
"Come on, sleeping beauty,
time to wake up." He leaned back as she started to stir. The eyes he
hadn't been able to forget for three days came slowly open, wobbling around as
she fought against the holds of sleep. He grinned.
In the next instant she came fully
awake. She lurched forward and would have rolled off the couch if he hadn't
reached out to steady her.
"Easy." Gage rested a
hand on her shoulder.
Looking confused, she pushed up
into a sitting position. "What happened? What am I doing on the
couch?"
"You fell asleep."
"No I didn't!" Her eyes
grew wide, and he could tell she was horrified.
Gage chuckled. "Yes, you
did." He'd guess if she could find a way to melt into the floor she'd do
it.
"I don't believe it." She
tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. "I'm so
sorry. You must think—"
Gage touched a finger to her lips.
"I think you must have been exhausted. You said you didn't get any sleep
last night. My guess is that after a sleepless night, the brandy just knocked
you out."
He stood up and reached down,
taking her hand. "And now I think it's time to get you home." He
pulled her up with very little effort. He resisted the urge to pull her even
further, into his arms. It would have been easy…and a mistake.
"I'm so embarrassed. Nothing
like this has ever happened to me before." Her hands fussed over her dress.
"If Mr. Norwell finds out, I'll be looking for a new job."
"Then it'll be our secret,
green eyes."
"I appreciate that. I owe you
one." She glanced away.
Damn, why had he called her that?
It had just slipped out. Gage put his hands in his pockets.
Shit
.
"I'm umm, I should be going
now." She spun away and took three or four jerky steps toward the door. He
started to follow just as she turned back and collided with his chest. He
caught her by the shoulders to steady her. She was so close, her soft mouth mere
inches away, and he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. She stared up at him for
several seconds and temptation snaked through him.
"Oh!" She brought her
hands between them, preventing him from making a stupid mistake. "I didn't
know you were…I forgot my briefcase." Stepping around him, she retrieved
it. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. And I'm really sorry about falling
asleep on you."
Gage sighed. "It's okay. Stop
worrying about it." He got his suit jacket off the chair. "Come on,
I'll drive you home."
"I can't let you do
that." She followed him out, brushing his offer off without a beat.
"I've already taken up enough of your evening."
"Where do you live?" He
pressed the elevator call button.
"Really, Mr.
Faraday."
She gave him a look he knew meant business. "I'm
fine going home on my own. I live in the city. I do it all the time."
"Not at," he glanced at
his watch, "eleven forty-five."
She jerked her wrist up to check
the time for herself. "Oh, no," she groaned. "How long did I
sleep?"
"About four hours." He
held the elevator door.
"You shouldn't have let me
sleep. I've ruined your night."
"No, you didn't."
She straightened with a look he now
recognized as stubborn determination. "Well that settles it. There's no
way I'll inconvenience you any further. You aren't taking me home."
"Sorry, that's not an
option." He couldn't let her leave alone, not this late, especially after
she'd had a couple of drinks. He'd never forgive himself if something happened
to her.
With an exasperated sigh she turned
to face him. "Really, I appreciate the offer. It's very kind, but I'm fine
getting home on my—"
Gage walked off the elevator,
leaving her no choice but to follow. The click of her heels on the cement
slowed then stopped behind him. He turned around.
"Where are we?"
"The parking
garage below the building.
Come on."
She didn't move. He walked back and
took her hand, pulling her along.
"Mr. Faraday, please."
She tugged free. "You're not—"
"Yes." Gage came to an
abrupt halt. He stared down at her with building frustration. "I am. It's
late. We're both tired, and I have no intention of arguing with you all night
in a damn parking lot, Miss Carpenter. Now let's go!"
Her mouth dropped open then snapped
shut again.
"Fine."
Her tone was noticeably
cooler. "I live in Society Hill.
On
Once she was seated, he went around
to the driver's side and got in. He stole a glance at her face as he backed
out. She looked poised but he knew she wasn't pleased. He hadn't needed long to
realize when Abigail Carpenter got that
isn't everything just hunky-dory
look, she'd drawn the curtains and bolted the shutters. He'd observed it in
their meeting with Billings
and Norwell, only then it had been her coworkers she'd shut out.
He was right to insist on taking
her home. He hadn't meant to come on so strong, but she would have kept arguing
and calling him Mr. Faraday, which had begun to bug the hell out of him.
"There are a few things you
should be aware of if we're going to work together." He made a left out of
the parking lot.
"It's always good to know the
ground rules." She was all business again. He shot her a quick glance and
wondered why her impersonal reserve grated. He wanted impersonal.
"We need to get a marketing
plan in place as soon as possible." He made another left. "I expect
you to make
Riv
One your top priority."
"I treat all my clients with
priority, Mr. Faraday." She'd tapped into a pool of cool, a very deep
pool.
"I'm sure you do. And although
I realize you have other clients,
Riv
One will need
to come first."
He knew he sounded unreasonable,
but it might be good if she thought he was a jerk. It might alleviate the need
to worry about this damned attraction that had sprung up between them.
"We should meet again tomorrow
evening." The sooner they got moving the better. "Friday as
well." They'd be breaking ground on
Riv
One next
week, and he'd have even less time than he did now. "There's a high
likelihood we may have to get together this weekend."
She crossed her arms, hugging them
to herself as if she didn't trust she wouldn't hit him. Oh yeah, she was on
slow burn.
"Mr. Norwell hasn't said
anything to me yet. Have you informed him you're going with our firm?"
"No. I was tied up all day in
meetings. I'll call him tomorrow."
"Should I expect to work many
weekends?"
He tried not to smile.
"Probably."
Why was he antagonizing her? He
knew as well as she did that once they got the campaign in place, there'd be no
reason for them to meet on a regular basis.
GFI's
internal marketing group could handle things ongoing.
"I see." She looked out
the window.
"There may be occasions when
I'll want you to accompany me to Chicago."
Her head swung to face him and her
mouth fell open.
What the hell was he doing? There
was no reason for her to accompany him to Chicago,
except one. The realization didn't please him. The mild attraction he'd tried
to reason away after they'd met for lunch had exploded into full blown lust as
he'd watched her sleeping on his office couch. Not, he cautioned himself,
something he should consider exploring.
"Is there anything else I
should be aware of, Mr. Faraday?"
"Actually, there is one more
thing. Since we'll be spending so much time together, I insist you call me
Gage."
~~~
Their first meeting had not
unfolded quite like Abby had imagined.
And that surprises you? Hello
?
Why would she think the perfectly
conceived drama she'd played out in her mind at least a dozen times since
yesterday would translate into anything resembling reality? Life: starring a
pragmatic Abigail Carpenter? Oh brother, talk about your textbook oxymoron.
Her vision of this evening had
included her, a polished professional, impressing Gage with her intelligence,
her poise, and maybe a touch of wit, because a sense of humor never hurt
anyone. Nowhere in the script had she inhaled two glasses of brandy, crashed on
his couch, and been tempted to enlighten him about his overbearing tendencies
toward inflexibility with a swift pop to the jaw.
She couldn't even argue River Place
One shouldn't be her number one priority when it would be the biggest thing
she'd ever managed. Besides, every client she'd ever worked with considered
their needs her top priority. So Gage was no different in that respect.
Weekends and Chicago
were a little over the top, but she suspected that was an exaggeration.
Her gaze drifted over the row of
quaint Georgian townhouses with their perky flower boxes and brightly painted
doors. Gage's insistence on bringing her home was really kind of sweet. Maybe
chivalry hadn't gone the way of mood rings and mullets.
Why hadn't she just accepted his
offer graciously instead of turning it into a battle of wills? He had only been
thinking of her safety. Abby glanced across the seat at his profile, regret
souring the back of her throat. Dick had done this to her.
"You know." She fidgeted
with her seat belt buckle. "I read somewhere lack of sleep causes memory
loss." Had she really? "People forget where they put things, or their
kids' names. They can even forget things that have been drummed into them from
birth, like good manners." She hitched her thumb toward the street.
"Right out the window."