by Leah Vale
"What about the fourth corner?" he challenged, obviously digging for a slight. If the chip on his shoulder were any bigger, he wouldn’t be able to walk straight.
She softened her tone. "That was Marcus’s. I didn’t think you’d want it."
He pulled a face. "You guessed right."
"I’m not sure any of you will, but we’ll have to wait and see."
"So you really believe that every single one of Marcus’s surprises will agree to drop the life they’ve been leading and come work for Grandpa?"
"You did."
She waited for him to confess that he’d only done so for nefarious reasons, but all she got from him was a Cheshire-cat smile that did nothing for her nerves.
He propped an elbow on the top of his chair. "And you guys really think this sudden influx of McCoys isn’t going to rouse outside interest?" He’d said it casually, but his eyes were sharp.
Sara had asked Joseph virtually the same thing when their lawyers had told them that to maintain the family’s--and thus the corporation’s--reputation, Marcus’s last wishes had to be executed without scandal. But while Joseph agreed completely with the lawyers, he seemed to be having difficulty reconciling it with his desire to fully embrace his new grandchildren.
She couldn’t contain a beleaguered sigh. "I’m afraid that would be asking for a bit much. But there are degrees of interest."
"You mean rip-roaring scandal versus moderate titillation...as in the offspring of a pillar of society paying hush money versus the revelation of a few unplanned pregnancies."
"Yes," she agreed through tight lips.
Thinking it best to distract Cooper from this train of thought, she went to a door to her left. "Since you’ll be in charge of new-store construction, one of the most important aspects of my department, this door here opens directly into my office."
She pulled the door wide, then turned to offer him her sweetest smile, which she hoped was looking more genuine with all the practice she was getting using it. "We can keep the door open at all times, if you like." Just let him try to get away with anything then.
He lowered his chin. "Yeah, because the other two doors are so far apart." He prowled toward her, the heat in his eyes blatant as his gaze traveled over her.
She didn’t realize she’d inched backward until her shoulders connected with the doorframe.
He kept coming. "It’ll be real convenient to go back and forth. My desk--your desk. They’re both so nice and big. With the other doors closed, no one would even know."
The image that he’d undoubtedly meant to evoke popped into her brain with crystal clarity: her sprawled on one of their desks, papers and wits scattered, with him making love to her. Sweat broke out between her breasts.
Why had she thought this was a good idea? She wasn’t cut out to seduce, let alone control, a guy like him.
·
She slipped away from him and headed for the main door to his office, scrambling to gather her composure along the way. "How about we go meet your support staff and get you acquainted with the current construction projects?"
She didn’t wait to see if he followed her. Whether he was teasing or not, she couldn’t allow him to make people think something was going on between them.
The rumors that had surrounded her and Rob had been bad enough. He’d done his best to paint her as willing to do anything for advancement after she’d discovered him guilty of using her to climb the corporate ladder and broke things off with him. She refused to endure that humiliation again.
She had no choice but to do her best to keep Cooper Anders at arm’s length while she worked to convince him he had no need for revenge.
A task that would be much easier if he wasn’t temptation personified.
CHAPTER FIVE
Somehow, Armani didn’t look quite right jammed into a ratty gym bag.
Cooper smirked as he nevertheless zipped up the nylon carryall on his bed over the dark brown suit. The well-used gym bag was all he’d had handy, and he wasn’t exactly inclined to postpone his visit to one of the new McCoy stores nearing completion, which had developed some issues, until after he bought an appropriate garment carrier.
No way could he miss the chance of turning a small problem with the fixture installation--the shelves and racks that held the merchandise--into a large, costly problem.
And he’d be getting away from Sara.
He tightened the knot on his black-and-gray-diamond tie--the closest he could come to a black hat--and, with a jerk, straightened the collar of his crisp white dress shirt. As if her constant hovering over the past week, pro McCoyisms rolling from her luscious mouth, wasn’t enough to send him out of town. Nothing slipped past her notice.
In her earnest attempt to familiarize him with operations and indoctrinate him with the family lore, she also revealed just how involved she was in the day-to-day functions of her division. The woman knew her job, and from what Cooper could tell, she was damn good at it. Her admirable qualities were increasing as quickly as the national debt and left him feeling about as enthusiastic over it.
Thanks to all the meetings she’d attended, with him in tow, he’d had little chance to distract her as he’d planned. So when one of the general contractor’s project managers expressed an interest in having Cooper tour the store in St. Louis, which was closest to completion, he’d jumped at the chance. Hopefully, now that his existence and his place in the company had been discreetly made known, these opportunities would be more forthcoming.
A little time and distance from Sara would do him some good, even if it was just for a night and only two-thirds of the state away. He was beginning to think of her as a Siren tempting him from his course, luring him to disaster with her beautiful eyes for the sole purpose of protecting what she held dear.
Joseph and Alexander had been too busy with the process of bringing the other Lost Millionaires in--though they certainly hadn’t told him so--to put much emotional pressure on Cooper. He’d passed by the closed doors of Joseph’s study in the evenings enough times to glean that all was not peachy with his other half siblings. Heaven help the McCoys if he was the least of their problems.
The beep and whir of the fax machine in the sitting-room portion of his suite of rooms in The Big House caught his attention. Natalie Martin, the executive assistant he shared with Sara, had said she would send him his itinerary before he needed to leave first thing this morning. That Sara hadn’t "found the time" to hire him an assistant of his own--one he could possibly convince not to run to Sara with a report on every move he made in the company--was no big surprise.
He’d already booked his own flight before Natalie had caught wind of his intent to visit the newest St. Louis store--apparently, there was no such thing as market saturation for this retailer--and insisted on handling the rest of the details. Not worth the fight, so he’d let her.
He picked up the gym bag off the big, cherrywood four-poster, casting a glance at the dark cream bedspread he’d straightened even though once he’d left a maid would be by to do it over again. Something he’d never get used to.
The people who worked here at the McCoy estate did an amazing job of avoiding being underfoot--good thing, too, because he had the sneaking suspicion he’d made out behind the high-school scoreboard fourteen years ago with one of the gals he’d glimpsed upstairs. She’d been ahead of him in school, and simply curious about how bad a boy he really was back then. He’d been more than happy to oblige her.
While he’d done nothing more with her than kiss and grope a little, that he was now considered a McCoy and she was a housekeeper of theirs gave him the jeebs. He was not his father. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be living here long. He grabbed the black suit coat he planned to wear today off its hanger and left the bedroom.
In the sitting room, he snagged the fax from the machine occupying the corner of the antique but fully functional desk, and headed down the back staircase in the huge house.
Glancing over the itinerary a
s he went, he saw that a Town Car would pick him up in front of the house at 6:00 a.m. sharp. Better not turn out to be a limo. While he was willing to dress the part of the owner’s rep--hell, the owner-on the job site to minimize resistance if he happened to make an outrageous and hopefully costly demand, he didn’t feel like leaving his hometown in the style of some kind of celebrity. Something the McCoys definitely were, thanks to their billions.
Cooper hadn’t visited any of his old haunts since that fateful day on the jail steps, but he knew in his gut people would treat him differently. And not because he’d earned it.
The kitchen staff had grown used to seeing him dressed and ready to head out well before six. He suspected that Helen, with what he’d decided was an understanding, quiet way about her, was responsible for the coffee in a chrome travel mug and the sensible breakfast items awaiting him at the kitchen bar each morning. Today it was toast, fruit and granola.
He’d more than once wondered if she did the same for Alexander. Her son. Though he himself hadn’t seen sign of it, since he’d avoided any contact. At least she had the opportunity to nurture, if unofficially. And without Alexander’s knowledge. How twisted was that? But now Cooper understood why she’d insisted on remaining an employee here.
Cooper’s own mother had been a little too emotionally, then physically, distracted to be much of a nurturer.
Still standing, his gym bag and itinerary in one hand and his suit coat over his arm, Cooper downed several bites of the breakfast, then grabbed the travel mug and strode down the hall that led to the front of the house.
When he entered the foyer, he stopped dead at the sight of Sara Barnes, dressed in lightweight, sage-colored pants and a matching short jacket with a scooped-necked white top beneath it, standing smack-dab in front of the front door, her feet spread wide and her hands behind her back.
Though her posture said that no way was he getting out that door, the smile she flashed him was typically warm enough for him to feel somewhere deep in his chest. A place she’d routinely gotten to in the past week.
"‘Morning," she said. Not a trace of Where the hell are you off to, buddy?
"Good morning."
While he hadn’t really expected Natalie to keep quiet about his job-site jaunt, a surge of hope had him thanking his lack of significant luggage. He tightened his grip on the gym bag. He could always claim he planned to hit the gym that occupied the seventh floor at work. He was about ready to say as much, when Sara brought a dark brown leather overnight bag from where it had been sitting behind her.
She slung the long strap over her shoulder. "You ready?"
The food he’d just bolted down threatened to change course.
Though he already knew where her hammer was going to hit. he said, "Yeah, I’m ready, but what are you ready for?"
"To go with you, of course. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out to a store-construction site. This is the perfect occasion to remedy that."
Yep. She’d nailed him. Stupid thing was, a part of him was glad--the part of him warmed by her smile and tempted by her beautiful green eyes.
As subtly as he could, he glanced around to make sure no one was near as he closed the distance between them. "The perfect occasion because you don’t trust me to do anything alone?"
She tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes beguiling in the early-morning light. "‘Perfect’ because your construction expertise might help me see the project from a different perspective."
Like, maybe from her back? Count on a little praise for a man’s business expertise to make him want to show off in other areas.
The sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house reached them.
"Ah, there’s the car." She looked inordinately pleased with herself.
And incredibly kissable.
Who was distracting whom in all this?
Plus, what she thought of him beyond their physical attraction shouldn’t matter squat.
He forced himself to focus on her eyes, not her tempting mouth. "I suppose we’ll be taking the corporate jet now that you’re coming along."
"Heavens no. Unless we can’t secure other transportation, we never use the jet. Joseph prefers to donate it and our pilots’ time to flying transplant organs or soon-to-be recipients to the medical facility where the transplant will take place."
Of course. "Philanthropy-R-Us," Cooper grumbled as he reached past her for the door handle.
A soft gasp escaped her, and he became aware of how close they were, that all he’d have to do was lean forward to trap her against the door and kiss her the way she should be kissed, with full body contact.
She’d apparently had the same thought first. Maybe that wasn’t the only thought she’d had about the two of them. The realization raised his temperature a few degrees.
He failed to suppress a smile as he finished what he’d started and opened the door behind her. Looked as if her joining him on this overnight trip might not be a bad thing, after all.
DESPITE SARA’S BEST INTENTIONS, her gaze seemed glued to every stretching or flexing motion Cooper made as he lifted her carry-on into the overhead bin on the commuter plane that would take them to St. Louis. Sara’s plan had been to keep an eye on him, but this was ridiculous.
He’d commandeered her overnight bag and insisted she get settled in the window seat while he handled their things. Then he helped the older woman in the row in front of them secure her luggage, also. A courtesy a snake bent on revenge shouldn’t be capable of.
The small commercial jet was long and narrow, with only two seats on either side of the aisle and no first-class section. Two dinky seats suddenly far too cozy for her peace of mind.
He picked up his own bag, which he’d set on his seat along with the suit coat he’d yet to put on, and caught her staring. A wicked light sparked in his eyes.
She pretended the object of her fascination had been the old gym bag, not the sculpted muscles evident beneath his white dress shirt. "Interesting overnight bag."
"It’s my lucky gym bag." He snagged the nylon straps and lifted the bag and his coat off the seat, his forearm and biceps cording visibly under the fine white cotton as he stowed his bag and laid his coat on top of it. How could something so minor make her so warm?
"Oh?" Her voice sounded strangled. Because of a strong arm. Heaven help her.
"Yep." He closed the overhead bin with a snap and took his seat next to her. "It survived all the summer sport camps I was shipped off to as a teenager to keep me out of sight, out of mind. Not to mention out of trouble."
He shifted to pull his seat belt from beneath him, and when his elbow inadvertently brushed her arm, she jumped. She was ridiculously sensitized to the slightest contact with Cooper. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice, focused, instead, on adjusting the seat belt across his lap.
She jerked her eyes upward. "Did it work?"
He scoffed. "A bunch of guys away from home, all that brand-spankin’--new testosterone firing...what do you think? And every time I landed in trouble, they called my mom’s dad."
"Your grandfather."
His shrug said Whatever. "So the whole ‘out of mind’ part flopped, too." He straightened his elegant black-and-gray-diamond tie as if what had happened then didn’t matter now.
More understanding invaded her consciousness. And more empathy. "As was your intent. You needed your grandfather’s attention after your mother’s death."
He laughed at the idea and settled his black Italian-loafer-clad feet beneath the seat in front of them, but the length of his legs necessitated he angle one knee torturously against hers. "I needed to grow up. Which I did."
Quite nicely. She closed her eyes briefly to reign in her wayward thoughts and force herself to ignore the heat of his knee, radiating through his black slacks and her sage-green ones.
Even though antagonizing him wouldn’t win him over, with her attention on the startling size difference between their knees, she risked saying quiet
ly, "But isn’t seeking revenge against the McCoys the same sort of acting out?" Maybe she could get him to see reason through plain old bluntness.
When he didn’t immediately answer, she met his gaze. The intense emotions sharpening his blue eyes caused her to blink.
He lowered his chin and leaned toward her. "Not even close."
She didn’t fear him--though she probably should, given the way he rendered her incapable of coherent thought--but the sheer presence of him made her move away until her shoulder pressed into the plane’s fuselage. She held on to her argument better than she held her ground. "But haven’t you seen yet how innocent the family and those who work for them are?"
