by Leah Vale
A noise from the doorway jerked him from his thoughts and he looked to where Sara Barnes, briefcase in hand, stood poised just inside her office as if the sight of him had stopped her in her tracks.
The sight of her stopped his breath in his lungs.
The sun shining through the big, tinted windows behind him really brought out the chestnut tones in her hair, which she’d styled in soft curls that made her far more tempting and far less "all business" than she’d seemed previously. Though her cream linen suit was unarguably professional, the nipped-in waist of the long jacket and above-the-knee length of the skirt drew attention to her curves like a red neon arrow with the words hot babe flashing over her.
But the suit had nothing on the pointy-toe cream pumps on her feet that added height to her petite frame and gave her an aura of class, power and confident sexuality. He had to work to swallow. How could he have ever mistaken her for a corporate drone? Or even a personal secretary. Sara Barnes looked every inch the high-powered boss lady.
Except for the fact that as her gaze traveled over him in return, her eyes grew huge and her jaw went slack. He hadn't consciously sat behind her desk to make a statement regarding his place in the grand scheme of her apparently limited world, but the fact that he clearly had was a bonus. Every little reminder would aid him in achieving his goal without her misguided interference.
He sat back in her chair and folded his arms over his dark blue tie. "Well, good morning, Sara."
His greeting seemed to snap her out of whatever had derailed her. But instead of frowning fiercely at him for dodging her at the house and making himself at home in her office, she smiled brightly at him. The force of her appeal hit him like a sucker punch in the gut.
"Good morning!" She came farther into the room and put her briefcase down on one of the chairs facing her desk. "I’m so glad you’re already here. Any problems finding your way?"
He opened his mouth to remind her that everyone within a twenty-mile radius knew exactly where the corporate headquarters of McCoy Enterprises was located. And the main-floor receptionist had been quite capable of directing him to this particular office, but Sara didn’t give him a chance.
"I came to The Big House this morning and waited for you, with the thought of bringing you here myself today. It being your first day at work here and all." She shrugged, her smile impossibly brighter still. "Guess I missed you."
Cooper regarded her with suspicion. She had to know he’d slipped out the back. Several of the staff, Helen included, had seen him do it. Helen, seemingly unflappable, with her only slightly graying short dark hair always curled and her white blouse and dark blue slacks pressed, had called to him that Ms. Barnes was waiting for him in the foyer, but he’d blown her off. She had to have busted him to Sara.
But Sara’s smile struck him as genuine, warming her green eyes until they matched the dairy-cow pasture behind him, which looked too perfect not to be maintained as carefully as a high-end golf course. Not that she’d appreciate the comparison.
He uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on the arms of her chair so he could tent his fingers in front of him. Until he could figure out her game, he’d reply with a noncommittal "Hmm."
This was, after all, the same woman who’d done her best to clip him from behind for threatening her beloved McCoys before Joseph had cut her off. Not exactly a car-pool-buddy candidate.
At his continued scrutiny, her smile dimmed a little and the color rose in her cheeks. Inhaling so deeply her, distracting breasts lifted beneath her smart little cream linen jacket, she gripped her hands in front of her. "Okay. I know we didn’t get off to the best start, you and I, exactly--"
"Something about me being a two-faced, lying..." He tilted his head and considered her with a challenging, one-sided grin. "What, exactly?"
Her knuckles whitened. "Snake, I believe."
His admiration for her notched upward at her close to-the-mark insult.
She rushed to add, "But that was then. I no longer feel that way."
Yeah, right, babe. No doubt she had some great property in Florida for sale. too. He rocked back in the chair. "Really. Why’s that. sweet cheeks?"
She loosened her grip on her hands, only to wring them. An action severely at odds with her appearance. And one that had him rethinking the ornery tack he’d taken with her.
"Well...after talking to Alexander--"
The mention of his newfound brother—half-brother—sent Cooper to his feet and moving around the chair to stare out the window. As much as he would like to watch her face for clues to what was really going on in that beautiful head of hers, he preferred not to let her see how much the mere mention of Alexander affected him.
To know he had a sibling of any sort, let alone one who was a real McCoy, weirded him out. He and Alex had nothing in common once they’d hopped out of the gene pool. How could Cooper ever hope to form any sort of connection with the guy'? The sort that would have been nice to have when he was younger, where the big brother yanks his little brother back by the collar and saves him from his own stupidity.
Besides, what Cooper was up to now would always be a wall between them. An ache that had become annoyingly familiar thudded in his chest.
Sara paused for a beat, then continued. "I think I have a better understanding of why you said the things you did in front of the jail."
"And the post office. Don’t forget what I said in front of the post office." Though admitting to his hatred of all things McCoy and his plan to ruin the company to her had been a serious "oops" moment, when they were alone there was no point pretending it hadn’t happened.
"Not likely."
Her tight tone made him turn enough to look at her. She’d pressed her lips together just as she had in Joseph’s office. While nothing more than a casual poker player himself, Cooper knew Sara would be fleeced in a heartbeat with such an obvious "tell" that she was fighting to maintain control. Clearly, all was not forgiven.
At his curious look, she pulled her hands apart and lowered them quickly to her sides. "But after talking to Alexander and seeing the same frustration and hurt--"
He quickly faced her. "Hold it right there, hon. Save the psychobabble for your girlfriends, all right?" He rounded the desk and moved toward her with slow intent. "You do have some, don’t you? Girlfriends, that is?"
She admirably stood her ground and raised her chin. "Probably not as many as you at any given time."
Even though she was way off the mark, at least regarding recent years. he shrugged. "You can’t blame a guy for being popular."
What he’d actually been was paranoid of following in dear old dad’s footsteps--leading some woman on until she cared for him more than he was capable of caring for her. Keeping things casual and straight-up physical on both sides was safer.
But Sara didn’t appear to care for his sort of popularity. He pointed a finger at her mouth. "You’re going to mess up your lipstick if you keep tightening your mouth like that."
"And you’re going to mess up your future here," she shot back.
Seemed she was harder to distract than he’d thought. "So do you?"
.
She blinked. "Do l what?"
"Have any friends."
Squaring her shoulders. she gave a curt nod. "Several. Enough to put together a power-yoga class that we do here in the corporate gym after work."
He tsked. "Just friends culled from the McCoy roster? Why am I not surprised'? What about a boy-friend?"
She hesitated a moment, then slowly shook her head.
Unexpected satisfaction surged through him. "No? Hmm. Don’t tell me Grandpa Joe forbids office romances. That would seriously put a kink in my plans."
She tilted her head at him much as he had at her, the hard glint back in her eyes. "And what plans would those be? The ones you denied having to Joseph?" Her tone was syrupy sweet and dangerously sticky.
Cooper chose to stay on the offensive by ignoring her splendidly biting question. H
e raised a finger in exaggerated inspiration. "But wait! I’m a McCoy, so I could institute a new policy regarding intimate relations among co-workers. Like the army’s don't ask, don't tell thing." He tapped his finger against his lips. "What do you think?"
"I--" Her voice cracked and her lashes fluttered, flooding him with a satisfaction not entirely related to his plan to keep her thinking about anything but his need for revenge.
She gave a fake-sounding cough, then tried again. "I don’t consider that the least bit funny. And it’s time we familiarize you with your new job here at McCoy Enterprises."
Wow. A deftly executed sidestep in those high, pointy shoes. Impressive. "I wasn’t trying to be funny."
"Good, because you failed miserably." She turned away from his grin, apparently seized with the urge to straighten the few already straight papers in her wooden In box. "Now, I made some phone calls this weekend and did some shuffling, so we have an office ready for you." She finally faced him again. "At least, I hope we do. Shall we go see?" She gestured toward the door.
Figuring she was about to lower the boom in the form of a six-by-six cubicle directly in front of the men’s bathroom door, he gave her a cocky grin. "Ladies first."
She led the way out of her office, her shapely legs and her shoes a magnet to his gaze. Shoes like hers should be against the law outside of Las Vegas. She’d barely taken two sensuous, swinging steps, when she stopped abruptly and turned, bringing Cooper up short to keep from knocking into her. Then there would have been no hiding what she did to him.
Peeking into the open doorway right next to her office, she said, "Oh, good." She moved aside and swept an arm out toward the doorway. "Here you are, Cooper." She had the damnedest hot way of saying his name. "Your office."
She acted as though she was presenting him with the Oval Office. "The mahogany furniture is all brand-new and you look to be fully stocked with supplies. Our people here at McCoy Enterprises are just wonderful in what they can accomplish on short notice. All because they love working for the family. Their enthusiasm and loyalty are truly humbling."
Wondering if he’d have time to go brush his teeth, after listening to her saccharine corporate dogma, Cooper stuck his head through the doorway and gave the room a once-over. The smell of lemon-scented wood polish permeated the air, a sharp contrast to the subtle, beckoning sweetness clinging to the woman next to him. Maybe the vastly different scent would help him focus.
The furniture was darker and heavier than Sara’s, and the accessories and decor had a distinct hunt-club feel. Definitely meant for a guy. A guy with McCoy blood.
He curled his lip. "Oh, yeah, because refusing to schlepp furniture and files would really be in their best interest."
When she didn’t reply, he met her gaze. He’d gotten her back up. Remorse jabbed him a good one. Purposefully upsetting women, gorgeous or otherwise,
normally wasn’t his thing.
She blinked with slow purpose and squared her shoulders. "l never ask any employee of this corporation to do something l myself am not willing to do."
Something in her eyes--defensiveness...or insecurity, maybe--had him softening his expression and tone considerably. "That’s not exactly saying much, Sara. I barely know you, but I’m already certain that despite how much you look the femme fatale today, you’d spill your own blood for all that is McCoy."
The second the words left his mouth Cooper realized how true they were and what it meant to his plan. Hurting the McCoy machine meant hurting Sara. For some reason it ranked right up there on the distaste-o-meter with kicking puppies.
So much for focus. He jerked his gaze from hers and walked into the office.
He couldn’t let collateral damage matter. He was going to do what he had to do, no matter how difficult it might be to ignore the plea for understanding in her rich green eyes.
And he was not--repeat, not--going to change his normal workout time from morning to evening on the off chance of seeing Sara in yoga pants doing a Downward Dog.
SARA TOOK ADVANTAGE of Cooper’s preoccupation with the pastoral view out the windows behind his desk to regain her composure.
How easily he saw through her!
So much for distracting him visually from his lust for revenge. And it was still there in his eyes, the bitterness, the hurt. He didn’t think he belonged here, that it was his right.
She’d realized he belonged the second she’d entered her office and found him seated at her desk. His dark gray suit jacket made his broad shoulders look impossibly broader and gave him the distinct air of having a different sort of power. One easily wielded in a boardroom. No one would ever guess the tanned skin his pure white shirt accented had been acquired anywhere other than on a golf course or sportfishing. And the high sheen on his dark blue silk tie had nothing on the hard glint in his equally dark blue eyes.
He was a Real McCoy, through and through, down to the way he unconsciously mimicked Joseph’s mannerisms. She couldn’t remember how often she’d walked into the conference room to find the eldest McCoy with his elbows propped on the arms of his chair and his fingers tented as he worked through some issue, just as Cooper had appeared to be doing.
Only, Cooper’s issue would involve harming the company, not benefiting it.
She set her jaw and entered his office, closing the door behind her. She had to win him over, now more than ever. The arrival of a van from the television program Entertainment This Evening outside the gates to The Big House this morning had sent her heart racing and made that part of her mission critical.
Joseph had trusted her to bring Cooper into the family without any more scandal than what had already been generated by the "discovery" of Marcus’s unplanned offspring. If it were to get out that he’d paid those women off . . .
Fortunately, Cooper had left before the van showed up with a reporter and cameraman wanting to be let in to interview anyone they could get and be given permission to film.
Denying them now, with Joseph’s seventy-fifth birthday party on July 3 in the works, would raise suspicions, especially given that particular show and the reporter they always sent. Joseph had helped the woman get her start in television journalism with an offhand recommendation after she’d finished her reign as Miss Central USA. Alex had even been involved with her for a while, though to what extent Sara didn’t know because she’d been finishing up college. But she didn’t doubt for a second that the woman would go after any hint of scandal. She seemed ambitious. Alexander would have his hands full handling her.
And Alexander trusted Sara to keep Cooper in line here at work. If she failed, any damage he wrought would come from her division. The division her father had run, had trained her to run. The guilt would be beyond bearing. She refused to let either Joseph or Alexander down.
If only Cooper had lived up to the family’s corporate slogan: Don’t trust it if it’s not from the real McCoy. But she couldn’t trust anything that came from this particular Real McCoy. And the certainty filled her with a very real fear. The last time she’d felt this way she’d just buried her last remaining parent, leaving her without his love but with his debts.
Cooper turned from the window and moved next to the oversize desk chair that could easily accommodate his broad shoulders and long legs. She’d ordered the chair herself, all too aware of his stature. He ran a strong hand over the supple black leather on the chair’s high back. "Who had this office before me?"
Determined to wipe away the suspicion darkening his blue eyes more than the color of his tie had, she approached him until nothing but the gleaming top of the huge desk separated them. "As I mentioned, the furnishings are all new. Our chief Financial officer, Peter Carver, had this office previously, but he moved his things one floor down."
She encompassed the room with a sweeping gesture. "Same floor plan, same view. I spoke to him on my way up this morning. He says he can’t tell the difference--"
"How convenient."
She ignored his sarcasm. "Joseph
decided that with so many Lost Millionaires being brought in--"
"Excuse me? Lost Millionaires?"
Sara’s cheeks heated at her slip. "That’s what the, er, new McCoys were called at first. Forgive me if you find it offensive."
He made a rude noise. "Beats the hell out of Marcus’s Bastards."
She couldn’t help but laugh, relieved by his dry humor. "Yes, it does. But as I was saying, Joseph decided to dedicate this floor to McCoy family members and their support staff."
His gaze turned probing. "So you have to move?"
She fought the urge to flinch. "Not that I’m aware of." At least, not yet. She pasted on a smile. "Joseph and Alexander have the corner offices on the other side of the building, and we’ve begun converting those in between."
