by Jackie Braun
“Glad we agree.”
Had they agreed? She wondered as she watched him saunter back to his office.
…
Brody called himself a fool as he settled behind his desk. Worse yet, he knew he was a liar. Because no matter how many times he told himself he wouldn’t kiss Kate again, that was all he’d thought about since leaving her house the evening before.
He still couldn’t believe he’d given in to temptation. Given in? Hell, he’d embraced it even as he’d embraced the woman in question. That wasn’t like him. No, that wasn’t like him at all. When he’d started for her front door, he’d done so with the sole objective of putting some distance between the pair of them. But he hadn’t been able to resist sampling her. She’d tasted every bit as good as she looked, which was to say sweet, bold…amazing. When he’d deepened the kiss, she hadn’t shied away or turned tentative about it. No, she’d leaned closer, kept up. Hell, if it had gone on much longer, he was pretty damned sure she would have set the pace.
The thought of Kate setting the pace in the bedroom had him stifling a groan now. He glanced across the reception area. She was sitting behind her desk, the receiver of her telephone tucked between one ear and her shoulder, her eyes on the screen of the computer monitor that was angled to one side in front of her. Her desk was such that Brody could see her feet beneath it. She’d already slipped off her shoes, a pair of dangerously high heels that had done justice to her slender legs. Despite being barefoot, she was all business.
Meanwhile, he was sitting here ogling her instep.
He shifted in his chair. Chair? Hell, with its mahogany armrests and the carved inlays on the sides, it was more like a throne: oversized and ostentatious, to fit Jonathon’s ego, Brody mused darkly. None of the office furniture fit his meticulous taste. The desk was too bulky and ornate. Same for the credenza. The couch and twin chairs that made up a sitting area to the left of his desk were covered in a heavy brocade upholstery. Overall, the place had a tomb-like feel. Which was why the first thing Brody had done when he’d come in that morning had been to rip out the vertical blinds and heavy curtains that cloaked the spectacular view. What was the point of having a corner office with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows if you couldn’t see out them?
An interior decorator would be coming by at noon to oversee the redesign. Kate’s office would get a facelift as well. He saw the expense as worthwhile, even if ultimately he chopped up and sold off every last piece of Douglass Shipping and mothballed the offices in this building. Comfortable workspaces complemented productivity. Productivity would improve the bottom line, which would increase the amount of capital he had to donate for the trauma center. Besides, he’d be damned if he’d spend any length of time ensconced in Jonathon’s pretentious castoffs. He wanted every last reminder of the man purged from his immediate surroundings. His gaze cut to the office across the reception area.
Well, except for one.
…
By the time Friday rolled around, Brody felt as if a month had passed rather than a mere week. He’d gotten his first insider’s look at Douglass’s corporate culture, and he wasn’t impressed. After removing the loyal old managers he was left with younger staff that was ill prepared to make big decisions. He blamed Jonathon’s micromanaging style for that.
Already, a couple of his investors were champing at the bit to see a return on their money. He’d promised a quick turnaround. The sale of a hub in Ohio seemed the safest bet to keep them happy, especially since a buyer was already lined up and eager to sign the paperwork.
He felt a little guilty to be moving ahead without waiting to read Kate’s report.
The woman occupying his thoughts came into view. “Good morning, Brody.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder as she inserted the key into the locked door.
She had on another pencil skirt today. The cut and the color of the jacket, however, were more feminine than anything he’d seen her wear so far. At least to the office. At an arts fund-raiser the previous month, the tabloids had snapped her wearing a sundress and strappy sandals. This was nearly as flattering. The dove-gray cotton jacket hugged her waist before it flared out above her hips. Her shoes were black patent leather with closed toes and what he’d come to think of as her signature spiky heel. Those bad boys added a good four inches to her height. And the soles flashed purple when she walked.
“Morning,” he called back.
“Coffee smells good,” she commented as she shouldered her way into her office and then dropped her bag on the desk.
Not quite a full week into working together and he already had her morning routine down pat. First, she would listen to voice messages while she cleared her email. Then she would get a cup of coffee from her old office, which had officially become a break room, and settle behind her desk. By the time she had downed a second cup, she would be slipping off her shoes and playing with her ponytail, her lush bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. Meanwhile, his concentration would be shot all to hell.
Brody’s brilliant plan to keep his eye on her wasn’t working out quite the way he’d figured.
“Made the pot half an hour ago.” When she merely sent him an absent smile and continued about her business, he added, “You’re late.”
That snagged her attention. She looked up. “Late? It’s not even”—briefly, she consulted her watch—“eight o’clock. I’ve got another ten minutes till I’ll be considered tardy.”
“Yes, but you’re usually here by seven. By this time you’ve cleared your messages and are getting ready for a second cup of coffee.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware I was so…predictable.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call you predictable.”
Beyond her morning routine, Brody had yet to figure her out. The woman definitely kept him on his toes.
Kate crossed to his office and stood just beyond the threshold. He caught a flash of that aquamarine ring as she plopped her hands on her hips. A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. “What would you call me, Brody?”
The possibilities seemed endless and nothing he felt comfortable sharing. Hell, he didn’t feel comfortable thinking them. Or more accurately, he felt uncomfortable because he was thinking them.
He decided to change the subject. “That’s an interesting ring you wear. Aquamarine, right?”
“Nice dodge,” he thought he heard her murmur. But she didn’t directly call him on it. Instead, she pulled her right hand away from her hip and studied the ring under discussion. “You know your gemstones. What is it that you find so interesting about it?”
He shrugged. “Aquamarine, hmm? Does that mean you’re a Pisces?”
“You know your zodiac signs as well as your gemstones. Impressive.” She hesitated just a moment before revealing, “But I’m not a Pisces. My mother was. This was her ring.”
Jonathon Douglass’s first wife. The woman Kate apparently had too much in common with for her father’s liking. Interesting didn’t begin to cover it.
“It has sentimental value, I take it.”
“It serves as a reminder,” Kate replied slowly. Which wasn’t exactly the same thing as holding good memories. So the mystery deepened.
“A reminder of what?” He smiled and added, “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She did. That much was plain from the way she shifted her weight from one leg to the other and twisted the ring around her finger. Would she satisfy his curiosity anyway?
Not quite.
“It’s a long story.” She waved the hand that bore the ring. The stone caught the light, a fleeting flash that was gone before his eyes could fully focus on it.
He shrugged. “You don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”
“Then you’d be the first,” it sounded as if she said. The smile she’d been wearing was gone now.
He figured that would be the end of it, so it came as a surprise when noon rolled around and he glanced up to find Kate standing in his doorwa
y once again. Her purse was slung over one shoulder. Her expression was contemplative.
“I’m going out to lunch.”
“As in out-of-the-building out?” he asked.
She nodded and spun her key ring around the index finger of her right hand.
That was a first. All week she had eaten takeout at her desk, never even venturing down to the cafeteria. He knew, because he’d done the same.
Her expression turned thoughtful. “Have you ever eaten at Evan & Shirley’s?”
Brody shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. What kind of restaurant is it?”
“It’s really more of a deli than a restaurant. The decor is nothing fancy, but the food is to die for.” Her declaration was accompanied by a sound of pleasure that had his mouth starting to water for reasons that had nothing to do with a delicious meal.
He swallowed. “So where is this place?”
She named a location on the opposite side of town from the Douglass building. Walking would be out of the question. Thinking about the midday traffic, he told her, “That seems like an awfully long way to go for lunch, no matter how good the food.”
“You only say that because you’ve never had one of their Dagwoods.”
He found himself grinning. Demure Kate Douglass, a fan of overstuffed submarine sandwiches. The woman never ceased to amaze him.
“Are you offering to bring one back for me?”
She seemed to consider that, but then threw him another curveball. “No, I’m offering to let you come with me. I’ll drive. You can buy.” She winked with the eye that tended to close more slowly.
“How is that a good deal for me?” he wanted to know.
“I’ll tell the story behind my ring.”
Her reply was the last thing he’d expected her to say, and the one thing that made it impossible for him to turn down her offer, even if it meant he would have to postpone the meeting he’d scheduled with the accounting department at one o’clock. Getting back by then would be pushing it, even if they opted to get their sandwiches to go.
Once they reached the parking structure, she took a couple minutes to put down the convertible’s top.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked him.
He shook his head. A ride al fresco through city streets in a classic car with a beautiful woman—what was to mind? Every guy between the ages of eighteen and eighty that they passed was going to wish he could trade places with Brody.
Her skirt hitched to mid-thigh as she climbed behind the wheel. No tights or hose for her despite her paleness. Just firm skin that looked soft to the touch.
He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his pants, dragged his gaze away, and trained it on the pair of fuzzy white dice that hung from the rearview mirror. Dice, Dagwoods. Two more pieces of the puzzle, yet the final picture was becoming less clear by the day.
Once out of the parking structure, Brody tipped up his face. The midday sun was warm and welcoming.
“Feels good, doesn’t it,” she said.
“I’ve spent too much time indoors this summer.”
“I know what you mean.”
They passed a building and, true to Chicago’s nickname, wind slammed them from one side. It tugged at his hair, although as short as he wore it these days, it couldn’t do any real damage. He glanced at Kate. Not so much as a strand of her dark hair had escaped her tight ponytail.
“Is this why you always wear your hair pulled back?” he asked.
“Among other reasons.”
She probably planned to leave it at that, but Brody decided to press. “You think it makes you appear more professional, and because of that, people will take you more seriously.”
Her gaze never left the road, although he watched her chin jut out slightly. “That’s the hope, anyway. It doesn’t always work.”
“Are you speaking about anyone in particular?” He thought of Collin, the way the man had caressed her cheek and called her sweetheart as well as the inappropriate things Brody had overheard him implying about how Kate had landed her job.
“No. And even if I were, I would take care of it myself. I don’t need to run to the boss when the other kids in the sandbox aren’t playing nice.”
“My sandbox, my rules.”
“Brody…” She cast him a sideways glance.
“Okay, I understand. For the record, though, I meant what I told Collin about not tolerating harassment. That applies to all the employees, Kate. Even me,” he added.
“You haven’t stepped over the line.”
He was thinking about their kiss when he replied, “No?”
“Harassment is about making the other person feel uncomfortable and devalued.” She cleared her throat. “It’s…unwelcome.”
“Glad we’re clear. But getting back to my original point, the policy is in place for a reason.”
“I know.” They were stopped at a light. When he turned to face her, she added, “I appreciate your concern. Really. And if I ever feel I’m in a situation I can’t handle myself, I’ll let you know.”
“Fair enough,” he replied, wondering where this sudden urge to protect her had come from.
The shop was hopping when they arrived, every table both inside and out jammed with people, and the line for the order window was backed up nearly to the door. He glanced around. The clientele ran the gamut from suit-clad executives such as them to blue-collar workers and college-age students.
“Doesn’t look like there’s any place to sit. Maybe we should try another restaurant,” he suggested while Kate scanned the room.
“No. That won’t be necessary.” A smile stretched over her face, so wide it caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle in delight. Brody was so mesmerized by the sight that it took him a moment to realize another man had put it there. Specifically, a golden-haired guy around his age who was now weaving his way through the packed tables to where they stood.
“Kate! God, it’s good to see you!”
Brody had to work to keep the scowl off his face as the guy wrapped her in a fierce hug.
First he’d felt protective of Kate and now possessive. He called himself an idiot for entertaining either emotion.
Especially when she introduced them.
“Brody, this is Evan Brand. He and his wife, one of my best friends, own this place. Evan, this is Brody Flynn.”
“Which would make you the Flynn who now owns Douglass Shipping.”
The assessment might have been awkward had he not been smiling broadly the entire time.
“That would be me.”
“Glad to see you have the good sense to hire Kate. She’s one of the smartest people I know.”
“We’re here for lunch,” Kate interjected. “Brody’s never had one of your amazing Dagwoods. I hate to ask for special treatment, but—”
“Say no more. You know there’s always a table reserved for you.”
“Great. Thanks.” She glanced around then. “Is Shirley in the back?”
He shook his head. “Dylan stayed home from day care today.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Ear infection.” Evan sighed tiredly. “Made for a very long night, I can tell you that. Nothing wrong with that boy’s lungs.”
“Dylan’s their son,” she explained for Brody’s benefit. “He’s—what?—eight months old now?”
“Nine, Auntie Kate. Almost ten. And pulling himself up on the furniture. The house will never be the same,” Evan declared, but Brody detected a note of wonder under the weariness. Kate apparently heard it, too. Her features softened.
“Tell Shirley that I’ll call her later. We’ll catch up.”
“I will. And you know when I tell her I saw you today she’s going to hold you to that.” Evan pointed to the hall near the back of the restaurant. “Go through the kitchen. Carlos is working. Give him your orders and then head up the back stairs. If I have time, I’ll try to stop up for a chat before you leave.”
“Thanks, Evan.” Kate leane
d over and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.”
After they bade Evan good-bye, Brody followed Kate to the kitchen, where a burly man named Carlos stood barking orders to half a dozen other workers. The kitchen was crazy busy, at least two dozen tickets pinned to an old-fashioned metal carousel. But just as Evan had, the man smiled in welcome when he spotted Kate. The woman had such power over men. A smile, a kind word, and they were putty in her hands.
“Your usual, Katie?” Carlos asked.
Katie? Brody was having a hard time picturing the woman he and Seth used to label the heiress as a regular here, despite the mounting evidence to the contrary.
She nodded. “But leave off the red onions.”
He smiled, his gaze transferring briefly to Brody. “I understand.”
Kate cleared her throat. Her next words served as both an introduction and a point of clarification. “This is my boss, Brody Flynn. He’s never been here before.”
“Ah.” Carlos nodded. To Brody he said, “Do you need to see a menu?”
“That’s all right.” He tilted his head toward Kate. “I’ll have what she’s having, and the same goes for the onions.”
“Are you eating upstairs?” the man asked Kate.
“Yes.”
“I’ll have one of the girls run them to you when they’re ready. Grab whatever you want to drink from the cooler and go on up.”
They did as instructed and then Brody followed Kate up a narrow staircase just off the kitchen. One flight up, they came to a set of doors, but she bypassed them and continued on. His breath was coming out in labored puffs by the time they reached the fourth floor, the result not so much of exertion as watching the sexy swaying of her curved backside as she’d mounted the steps.
“Almost there,” she said, tossing a smile over her shoulder.
A moment later, they reached a landing. She pushed open the door that led to a private patio. The view wasn’t much, unless one considered raised train tracks to be picturesque. If not for the tall buildings beyond them, Brody thought he might be able to see the hospital where his parents had been pronounced dead. The hospital that hadn’t had the necessary equipment to save them. With the addition of the Stuart & Teresa Abbott Trauma Center, it would. Once the center was built on the adjacent land he’d acquired for the addition, maybe he could spare another family from going through what his family had.
