On purpose.
A tickle of electricity ran along the trail of his finger, and she leaned back against the glass, sucking in a quiet breath. For just a second, she saw something in his eyes shift, and thought that maybe he felt it, too – that small spark.
With a shake of her head, she pulled her arm away. No – he was a rich and powerful man, as seen in the celebrity mags that were her guilty pleasure. Men like him didn’t have sexy reactions to women like her.
Grateful for something to do, she snapped open her purse and began to dig for the disinfectant wipes she always kept there. Of course, they were deep inside the last dark pocket she tried, but she finally pulled them out and ripped the little package open with shaking fingers.
Then he did something that stunned her. If she had been telling herself this story, she wouldn’t have believed a word of it, but here it was: he took the small damp square from between her fingers, unfolded it, and took her arm again.
The chill of the thing rivaled the heat that bloomed through her skin. “Oh, Lord…”
He met her eyes and gave her a searching look, and she realized that she had said that aloud, as well.
The man must think I’m a blabbering lunatic.
You are a blabbering lunatic.
Shut. Up.
She met his eyes, but only briefly, because she felt like she was going to detonate, and murmured, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and she could still feel his eyes searching her face, his hand rubbing at the offending mark on her arm. The thought flitted through her mind that this was probably the only contact he’d ever had with dirt.
He was finished, just as the elevator finally came to a halt on the main floor. The doors swept open to reveal the plush burgundy carpeting and a sparkling chandelier that hung from the textured tray ceiling f the lobby. Traffic whizzed by outside the wide glass doors, but she couldn’t hear it at all. The room was deeply silent.
Dropping her hand, he reached out to hand over the crumpled wipe and smiled at her. She smiled back.
“So…did you get the car fixed?”
She blinked, surprised that he was even asking. “No. I, uh… Well, it looks like I’ll be taking the bus for a couple of weeks until I can buy a new battery.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” His brow furrowed. “Can I offer you a lift instead? My car is pulling up right now.”
He gestured toward the doors and she followed his gaze to see a long black limo slide up to the granite steps outside. The car was as intimidating as the man.
“Oh, that’s nice. No, thank you, though. The bus is no problem, really, and I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.” What are you doing? Accept the offer, genius!
“It’s really no trouble at all. Where do you work?”
She really didn’t want to answer that question. Didn’t want to see the look of pity that she got from people whenever she answered it. She paused for so long that she heard him chuckle and then say, “What? Are you a secret agent? Lia Bond?”
Her eyes widened. “No. Of course not…” Then she realized that he was teasing her. Way to go, Lia. “I work for Bailey & Blake.”
The man winced. He. Literally. Winced. Then he said, “I’m so sorry.”
At least his eyes didn’t shoot laser beams of revulsion in her direction.
She gave him her standard explanation. “It’s a job, and I have to pay the bills.”
“I understand. I do. That was rude.”
Surprisingly, he looked embarrassed.
She wanted to say that she didn’t blame him for feeling that way. She felt that way, too, but her ridiculous shyness and unfamiliarity with the city made it hard for her to find another job that paid as well. Instead, she blinked and offered a smile.
“It’s OK. I get that all the time.”
“Do you… Do you like your job?” he asked, surprising her. No one had ever asked her that before.
Her shoulders fell and she shot him a wry grin. “Nope. But again, it pays the bills. I’ll change jobs when I get to know the city a little better.”
He didn’t answer her question except to nod. “So you’re new here. How do you like it?”
“It’s a beautiful city, but I haven’t really had time to explore.”
“Well, if you ever need a ride, my offer stands.” He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a business card, then flipped it over and wrote something on the back. “Here. My private number is on the back. Keep that to yourself, OK?”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak, but managed to take the card from his strong-looking hand without gulping. “Thank you,” she croaked. “I’ll keep it safe.”
***
Joel took one last long look at Lia, then gave her a small wave and pulled himself away. He didn’t want to; he wanted to spend the day getting to know the beautiful, skittish woman who had such an enticing personality, maybe showing her his city.
He wanted to tell her that she had beautiful eyes. That the blue just sparkled under those silky bangs, and that he’d been thinking about her since the day they had first met, here in the lobby. Way to be weird, Joel.
Sliding into the open door of the limo, he settled himself into the soft leather seat and opened his planner. Then he closed it again and just sat there in the dim light, watching the city creep past his reflection in the glass.
Even in that ugly dress, she had looked so enticing that he didn’t want to take his eyes off of her. He imagined that what was underneath was only part of her charm. Still, he couldn’t help but remember the feel of her silky skin under his fingers. She had smelled like peaches and felt like rose petals. He almost groaned at the memory, and wondered if she could be interested in him on a more personal level. A naked and loving level, even…
It was suddenly nine hundred degrees in the limo, and he shook his head to clear the images.
What was it about her – besides those eyes and that luscious body - that made him sit up and take notice? Was it the fact that she seemed so honest, so natural? Probably. The women he met were polished to perfection and completely useless when it came to real life. Their voices lowered to purrs when they discovered that he was single and they brushed against him too much for his comfort.
Lia hadn’t been that way at all. In fact, she seemed to prefer talking to herself more than to him. A smile creased his face. That little slip had embarrassed her, but he thought it was cute. A lot about the woman was cute, and she seemed oblivious to it. She was charming.
He felt a stab of disappointment that she had turned down his offer of a ride, but he understood, especially after the conversation about where she worked. He understood more than she realized about taking whatever job you could find and making do until something better came along. He understood the fear of hanging onto a paycheck, even if the time you spent earning it slowly killed you. He didn’t want that for her.
Before handing over the reins of their monstrous corporation, Joel’s father had made him work, and work hard, for his small allowance. Working in the mailroom, working with distributors – her had personally worked in every division of the company, hating every minute of it. His father had made him get an apartment, pay his own bills, the whole nine yards. He had learned a lot, though. Joel Senior had had the right idea.
At least his father hadn’t made him work for someone like B&B. Bailey & Blake were notorious for taking on the worst clients in the legal system. They were the kind of lawyers that everyone whispered about but no one dared recommend, and the rumor persisted that they were crooks.
Lia probably dealt with murderers and pedophiles and drug dealers on a daily basis. That took guts, especially when she could be doing anything else. He was impressed, but a niggling thought at the back of his mind reminded him of the old saying about being thick as thieves, and that for all he knew she was as crooked as her bosses. He doubted it, though.
His driver, Roland, surprised him by opening the back door. “We’re
here, sir,” he said with a little bow. Joel had tried over and over to get the elderly man to be less formal, but he’d finally given up. Roland was comfortable in his role, and he was an excellent employee.
“Thank you,” Roland,” Joel said, sliding from the car and pulling out the twenty he kept there. “Go have a good day. I’ll see you back here at three.”
Roland took the money, stashed it away as if it embarrassed him, and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
It had taken Joel weeks to get the man to take that money. He had resorted to hiding it in the jacket that Roland kept beside him on the seat for a while, but then Roland had figured it out and stopped leaving his jacket out in the open. Joel had then started putting it under the driver’s seat to make it look like Roland himself had dropped it. Roland wasn’t fooled though, and kept trying to return the money. Finally, Joel had had a long talk with the man and basically ordered him to take the money every day, if only to make Joel feel better.
“Roland,” he’d said. “You have to sit here in this car for ten hours at a time. I want you to at least be able to go out to lunch if you wish, or buy a good book to read.”
“Sir, you already pay me to sit here. That’s plenty. In fact, it’s a Godsend for these old bones.”
“I understand that, but I also understand that the guidelines that my board of directors set forth don’t cover all of your expenses. I can’t seem to make them change those guidelines, but they have no say in what I do with my personal money. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. I do. Thank you.”
Roland was raising two granddaughters, both of them on the verge of teen-hood. Joel didn’t have to have kids to know how expensive they were. At least the tip situation was settled, and he was sure it helped fill in the gaps for Roland.
He waved at Maggie as he walked through the lobby of Cortran Industries. He felt no sense of pride as his footsteps echoed on the granite walls – only awe. He hadn’t created this company, his grandfather and father had. He felt that it was an honor to even be given the reins and allowed to be a part of this thing that they had worked so hard to build. He was working hard to live up to their trust in him.
He had already made his mark in the company. Cortran employed twenty-six thousand people, more than ever, and had become the frontrunner in safety standards for the entire manufacturing industry. Joel worked hard to keep it that way, and managed to avoid the hostile takeovers that seemed so common in this business. He wouldn’t trust anyone with his baby.
He knew that he was a workaholic, and knew that it had cost him more than one relationship. Women needed more than money – they needed attention and they would go where they found it. His own father had told him that, and told him that it would take a special woman to put up with a man who worked these kinds of hours. Joel believed him, and along the way, he had discovered that it was easiest to keep things simple when it came to female companionship.
That was why, as intriguing and gorgeous as Lia was, he wouldn’t try to pursue her. She would only get hurt.
***
Lia made it to work almost an hour late, and she didn’t care. She practically shivered every time she thought of Joel touching her arm, and a smile curved on her lips each time she reached into her purse for something and felt the smooth gloss of his business card. Cortran Industries, CEO, it said, and she was awestruck that even his stupid business card looked expensive. Black on black with gold lettering that was sharp and perfect, just like the man himself.
Jared Blake called her into his office, which was paneled in real oak and featured an elaborate cherry desk and shelving system. It must have cost a fortune, but she had never dared ask where he got the money – their small firm certainly didn’t turn these kinds of profits. She sat on the edge of the visitor chair and looked at the hawk-like man, taking in the pale skin and deep black hair that never quite fell the way he wanted. As a result, he was constantly raking his hands through his hair and making it stand on end.
Part of her job was to make him look presentable on court days. She got the creeps every time she touched him.
“Good morning, Mr. Blake.” He had tried to get her to call him Jared but that, along with the primping, was just too weird for Lia.
“Did you finally make it to work, Lia? You know we depend on you here.”
You only depend on me because you hired Classy out there for her boobs. She can’t do anything else. The woman’s real name was Chelsea, but Lia seldom called her that. In fact, she seldom spoke to the woman at all.
Unfortunately, Lia was pretty sure that she had been hired for her boobs, too. She was nicely endowed, and they were real. She just got bonus points for being able to actually do the job. Hence, she did the work of two people – two people who constantly stared at her breasts the whole time she was trying to talk to them.
She slumped in her chair a little. “Sorry, Mr. Blake. It couldn’t be helped.” What was he going to do? Fire her? The thought of losing this income scared her, but it sort of excited her to think about a fresh start, too.
Maybe it was time to move on, after all.
He slid a sheet of paper across the surface of the desk. “I need you to dig up some case histories for me, Lia. You can find them a lot faster than I can.” He put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, closer to her chest. “I’ll need them this afternoon around five.”
She bit her lip to keep back the sarcastic remark that burned in the back of her throat. She wasn’t technically even his employee – he had hired Classy out there, who was currently doing her darndest to sneak out early for a date with the tanning bed. Lia worked for Marcus Bailey, who wasn’t much better, but still…
She hurried out of the office before she ended up in worse trouble and headed for the stairs that would take her to the storage room in the basement, her black heels clicking her progress. She loved these heels, even though the day she had shown them to her mother, the woman had tsk-ed at her.
“What?” Lia had asked.
“A woman your size shouldn’t wear such high heels, Lia. They’ll destroy your knees.”
Not the vote of confidence that every girl wanted to hear from her mother. Even now, five years later and with her mother gone, the remark still stung. Lia didn’t let that stop her from wearing the sexy shoes, though.
On her way down the second flight of stairs, she swung around a turn and ran smack into Chelsea, who was still trying to sneak out of the place. Lia groaned from the impact, and then again when she saw that the contents of the girl’s purse were strewn all over the stairs. Papers, makeup, and hair accessories scattered around their feet.
“Lia!” Chelsea whined, and for the slimmest of moments Lia wanted to slap her. “What are you doing?”
Your job. She almost said it, but didn’t. It wasn’t Chelsea’s fault that her bosses were morons, or that Lia was feelings more frustrated than usual this morning. She let it go.
“Let me help you,” she said, then bent and began to gather up the papers from Chelsea’s purse. She couldn’t help but skim over what she was holding: receipts, overdue bill notices, pay stubs, and -. Hey. She makes more money than I do. A lot more. As in, a couple of thousand dollars a month more.
Anger shot through her. She hurried to finish helping Chelsea, shoved the papers into the girl’s pale, perfectly manicured hands, and headed back up the stairs.
How dare they? How could they pay that girl so much to do nothing, while she worked her butt off for almost half the pay? It wasn’t fair, and she intended to get a few answers. Her nostrils flared and her fingernails bit into her palms as she went.
She knew she needed to calm down and keep careful track of her tongue, but she wasn’t sure that was even possible at this point. She hit the landing almost at a run, heading for Marcus Bailey’s office. It was in sight, and she hadn’t slowed down a bit, when a man stepped out the door.
“Are you Lia Davies?” he asked. That brought her to a screeching halt.
“Yes.
Why?” The guy was chubby, around her age and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and scuffed sneakers. He didn’t look very official. What did he want?
“Could I speak to you? Privately?” he asked.
She glared at her boss’s door, but nodded and followed him to a bench near the top of the stairs. He sat very close, forcing her to back up a little, and leaned in toward her.
“I have information that you were with Mr. Joel Cortran this morning. Is that right?”
She wasn’t sure what to answer, and it was surprising to hear his name in connection with her own. Was he in trouble somehow? Had she unwittingly made herself an accomplice or something?
“Who wants to know?” she asked finally, scooting back a little more.
“Oh, sorry. I work for the Post.”
“The Washington Post?” She stared.
“Yes, ma’am. Were you with him this morning?”
“Briefly. Why?”
“Well, ma’am,” he said, then his voice dipped even lower. “I believe he wrote something down for you. I believe that it was his personal number. Is that correct?”
Bailey & Blake were momentarily forgotten, and alarms were going off in her head. She remembered Joel writing down the number, now tucked safely away, and the way he looked when he asked her to keep it to herself. She had promised.
“I’m afraid that I can’t respond to that, Mr…”
“Ian. Ian Orson,” he said. “And before you say no, I’m prepared to offer you a large sum of money for the information on that card.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He shook his head, pulled out a pen, and wrote a number on the palm of his hand, making Lia feel like she was in an old spy movie. The number itself, though, made her feel more like she’d won the lottery. It was enough for her to live on for a year, at least.
She could tell Bailey & Blake to kiss her behind. She could buy a new car. She could even go on vacation. Maybe to the ocean. She hadn’t been there since Gran died and left her the apartment, nearly three years ago.
Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set Page 7
