“I don’t have time for this,” Dalton snarled. “You should be thinking about how to please our shareholders, Garrett, not scratching that constant itch of yours.”
A red slash formed on Garrett’s cheekbones. “Don’t get high and mighty with me, Dalton. You were the same way before everything happened.”
“But everything did happen, Garrett, and now we have to keep things going. Why can’t you get it in your head that you need to grow up?”
“And turn out like you? You walk around this place like a damn zombie, Dalton. You don’t sleep, you only eat because I remind you that it’s a bodily necessity, and you hardly spend any quality time with the opposite sex anymore.”
“Why does everything go back to that?”
“Because I don’t know where you’ve gone, Dalton. Ever since you took over the company, you’ve completely shut down. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
They stood there in the middle of the lobby at a stalemate, neither of them willing to give in to the other.
* * * *
“Are you ready, Miss Spencer?”
Madeline looked up from the spot where her eyes bored a hole into the floor and looked at the secretary, who now stood next to her. “Ready?”
“For your meeting,” Lori—according to her silver-plated nametag—said.
“Oh. Um, sure.” Madeline stuffed the magazine into her already overstuffed bag and hefted it over her shoulder. “I didn’t expect Mr. Howard to be ready so soon. It sounded like he was really busy.”
“Oh, he is. But you won’t be meeting with Mr. Howard,” she said over her shoulder and started walking. Lori’s heels clipped smartly over the floors, and Madeline scurried after her, trying to keep up with a woman who stood at least six inches taller than she. “You’re meeting with the Ellises.”
Her stomach dropped.
Ellis? She was meeting with the Ellis brothers?
“The Ellises? As in ‘Ellis Enterprises’ Ellis? You must be joking,” Madeline said breathlessly when they stopped in front of a row of elevators. She reminded herself that she needed to make time to get to the gym more often. Lori wore high heels and showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever.
Lori looked at her. “Don’t look so nervous. You should be thrilled. It’s not every day that just anybody gets to meet with them, especially with how hectic things have been around here lately.”
Madeline was not nervous. She was nauseated. Everything depended on this meeting. Representatives from the other corporations in Male Order had yet to respond to her, and rumor had it that they tended to follow each other’s examples when it came to business ventures or philanthropy. She heard whispers around Dallas about something having to do with five families, but she did not have a clue as to what “five families” meant.
The elevator door chimed and opened. They stepped in and turned around as the golden doors shut behind them, their surface so clean and polished that Madeline saw her reflection staring back at her, pale and wide-eyed. She looked so small and stubby next to Lori in all of her supermodel glory. The woman positively glowed, even in the dim elevator, while Madeline felt windblown, sweaty, and too conservatively dressed. Madeline snuck a peek at her impromptu tour guide again. Lori looked like she did a lot of yoga. Maybe that was a hobby Madeline should take up. She ran her fingers through her hair and patted the stray pieces back into place before the door chimed again and opened.
The Ellises? She wanted to think about this as a huge breakthrough opportunity. She had spent nearly a week working on her proposal and hoped it was good enough to garner the attention of the people who owned Ellis Enterprises. This was huge. Monumental.
Oh, God, she was going to be sick.
“Just don’t mind their manner,” Lori said out of the corner of her mouth.
“Wait. What’s that supposed to mean?” Madeline asked, confused.
Lori just smiled at her. “You’ll see.”
Madeline chased down the grand hallway after the other woman.
“Here you go.” Lori rapped on the right door three times, pushed it open, and stepped aside for Madeline to walk through. “Enjoy your meeting.” She winked.
“Thank you.” Madeline adjusted the strap of the purse she got from T.J. Maxx and set her shoulders back, then took a deep breath.
Confident walk. She was doing her confident I-will-get-this-grant-money walk when she stopped.
The sheer size of the corner office amazed her. There were more things in here than the typical office, and it almost made her wonder if its owners lived in it. To her left was an understated yet masculine sitting area with a large, U-shaped couch. The leather was a deep, rich brown with subtle red tones when the sun hit it, and tasteful art hung on the walls that complemented the color scheme of the room. Just beyond that sat a grand conference table, and a well-stocked wet bar was located along the left wall. From where she stood, she looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and could see the tree tops of the surrounding green belt, and past them, she saw the heart of downtown Male Order.
Her palms got clammy, and she started seeing spots.
Oh, God.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep, smooth male voice said from somewhere behind her.
Madeline jumped and spun around, her big bag smacking her hard in the back. There, standing in the doorway, was the very man who played erotic havoc on her dreams every night since the fountain incident—Teddy’s rescuer. What was he doing here?
“You’re the man from the arboretum,” she blurted.
He gave her a devilish little half smile. “In the flesh.”
“How did you get in here?”
The half smile turned into a grin. “I work here.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Wh–what?” How could the man running all around the arboretum in those disgusting shorts work here and wear that suit? Oh, that suit. It fit him as if it were tailored just for his lean, athletic body. And, boy, did she remember that body and the way his wet clothing clung to his huge, square shoulders, his chest, his abs, his…
Madeline snapped her gaze back up to his face and swore he looked more than a little smug.
“How’s Teddy doing?”
He walked toward her, and she took a step back. “Oh, he’s fine. Recuperating after his traumatic experience.”
“Good. I’m glad I could have been of service.”
The way he said “service” made her think of other things. Her cheeks warmed. “Oh, well, I’m sure Jasmine is, too.”
He walked—stalked, rather—into the room and approached her with such casual confidence that she nearly missed the heated, almost predatory look in his eyes. She took a step back and pulled her bag in front of her chest, clutching it like a shield.
“You didn’t tell me your name.” His voice was soothing and lyrical, and he enunciated his words surprisingly well based on what she saw of him before.
She backed up another step, but her voice sounded sure. “I was pretty occupied.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Still, I told you my name. Reciprocating is the polite thing to do.”
She stared at him blankly, not knowing how to respond.
He let out a knowing chuckle and inched closer. “You don’t remember my name.”
She felt the flush rising in her cheeks. “Garrett?”
His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
He closed the distance between them, and she had to tip her head back to look into his face when he stood this close. He smelled like expensive cologne and something earthier, spicier.
“How sure are you?”
His blue-gray eyes skimmed over her hair, her face, and then he leaned back so he could look lower, down her body. Her nipples hardened, and her hand itched to explore the way his chest and shoulders filled out his suit jacket. She could not help but notice the way the top button on his crisp shirt was undone or the way his tie was a little loose.
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“As sure as I can be.”
He leaned back into her. “Are you now?”
“Y–yes.” Madeline’s heart jumped into her throat, and heat licked down her spine, diffusing through her body. Oh, no. She felt the flush rising from her chest.
Garrett’s nostrils flared for a moment, and his eyes sharpened to a steely gray. The woman inside her recognized the look of a practiced playboy. Crap! She scrambled for something to say, something to keep him from getting closer to her. His scent already surrounded her, tempting her to stick her hands in places they did not belong.
“You don’t know my name,” she blurted with all the finesse of a nervous schoolgirl.
“Not last week, but the receptionist downstairs is extremely loose-lipped about stuff like that.”
He leaned toward her and had lifted her hands when a deep male voice cut through the spell Garrett wove around her.
“Jesus, Garrett, can’t your nonsense wait until after lunch?”
Madeline tried to peek around Garrett in an attempt to match a face to that sexy, gravel-like voice, but his shoulders blocked her view.
“Who is that?”
“Meet my charming brother, Dalton.”
“Your brother—what is going on? I’m supposed to be meeting with Mr. Howard’s boss, Mr. Ellis.”
Garrett rocked back on his heels and grinned down at her. “You’re looking at him. Well, one of them.”
“Wait. You’re Garrett Ellis? You?” There was no way in hell. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it sooner, but what kind of self-respecting corporate boss would run around in public fountains wearing those terrible madras shorts?
“Is it that hard to believe?” Dalton’s wry tone threw her off, and her mind went blank. Garrett was beautiful in his own right with his clean-cut playboy looks, but Dalton was different. Dalton was refined in a masculine manner, the energy around him tense, but coiled, as if hiding under a mask of cold aristocratic grace. The hair on her arm prickled, and her skin tingled. Something about him made her want to bolt from the room, but his hypnotically green eyes pinned her to the spot, seeing through her, seeing everything.
Garrett looked between them, a secret smile playing on his lips, and cleared his throat. “Dalton, this is Madeline Spencer. Madeline, this is my brother, Dalton.”
Dalton wore his suit with graceful disdain, as though it was a sign of authority he respected but really wished he did not have. It draped over his broad shoulders and his chest, giving him the look of a sleek panther held in check by the buttons holding his suit jacket closed. She knew it cost more than six months’ rent at her apartment. Well, if this business meeting did not go well and she got desperate, she could always ask him to donate his suit, right? If he did, she would have more than enough money to fund her non-profit for a month from the look of the cut and fabric. Oh, and the fit. Maddie chewed on the inside of her cheek and admired the way Dalton filled out his jacket, the whole room—just like his brother. Except that whereas Garrett filled the room with his excitement and restless energy, Dalton somehow made things electric. Funny, she never realized when people said he was larger than life that they meant it in the literal sense.
“Miss Spencer.” He inclined his head toward her and held out his hand. She took it and could not help but notice the way his hand completely engulfed hers or his long, well-shaped, and blunt-tipped fingers. He stood at least a foot taller than she. Maybe even more.
“Have a seat and we’ll discuss whatever it is you wanted to speak with Mr. Howard about.”
Dalton pulled out a chair for her and tucked it under her when she sat. She tried not to notice the way his pants molded so nicely to his back side when he moved away from her to return to his seat.
Despite his manners, tension radiated from him and buzzed around her. He obviously did not want her there, but for some strange reason, he agreed to this meeting without even knowing who she was or what she wanted. This did not bode well for her at all.
Madeline managed a slight smile at Dalton, but he simply regarded her with his green gaze as he lowered his big body into the desk chair behind him. He leaned back into it, giving the impression of being calm and relaxed when Madeline saw the tension in his shoulders. He rested his index finger on his temple while his thumb rested under his square, unshaven jaw. His features were startlingly impassive.
Oh my.
His dark, wavy hair curled a little at his forehead, and he looked as if he did not particularly care about the fact that he needed a haircut. There was an intensity about him, something that boiled and churned. Maybe it was the hard, jade-like glint in his eyes, or maybe it was the sharp and calculating character in them, a certain shrewdness that made something inside her tense with a hint of fear. His sharp cheekbones gave him the look of a scarcely tamed animal wearing an expensive suit, and he looked ready to pounce on something—including her—at a moment’s notice. The air around him felt full, charged, occupied, as if it belonged only to him.
And why wouldn’t the very air feel as if it were claimed by him? He was Dalton Ellis, for Christ’s sake.
Madeline concentrated on not paying attention to the floaty feeling in her head and noted Dalton sat waiting, as if expecting for her to speak. And then she realized that was exactly what was happening.
She managed her bravest, most confident smile and straightened in her seat. “I am the director of funding at the South Dallas Youth Center, which is a non-profit afterschool program for less privileged children. We concentrate on building reading and math skills and taking the children around the museums so they can actually interact with the history they’re learning at school.”
She kept smiling like a fool at him, hoping he would share her enthusiasm, but Dalton just looked at her with those intense eyes.
“How did the two of you meet?”
“I rescued Mr. Teddy for one of her kids a week ago.” Garrett’s voice came from the back of the room, and Madeline turned to see he’d closed the door and leaned a shoulder against it, one leg bent while the other supported his weight. He could have been on the cover of GQ. What would it feel like to have Garrett’s hands all over her, touching her in places she knew were wet from just looking at him? Madeline shifted in her seat and crossed her right leg over her left. Was it hot in here or was it the men in the room?
“Are you all right, Miss Spencer?”
She jerked and looked into Dalton’s hard gaze. “I’m sorry?”
He lifted a brow. “You seem flustered. Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine! Just fine.” Her voice sounded high-pitched and squeaky. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand why you would want to see me personally.”
“So you two met at the arboretum.” Dalton did not phrase his questions as such. He stated things as if they were facts. And he did not seem the best at answering other people’s questions promptly.
“Um, yes. One of my kids had her teddy bear thrown into a fountain, and Garrett fished it out for her.”
“I see. And thanks to that particular episode, the fountain is now named after us.” The wry quality in Dalton’s voice had started to grate on her nerves.
“It wasn’t the little girl’s fault, Mr. Ellis.”
Dalton held up a hand. “Dalton, please, and I understand it wasn’t. If anyone was at fault, it was my sibling here.” There was something sharper in his gaze now that made Madeline realize some mystery went on behind those eyes of his. “I just remembered that Garrett mentioned meeting someone there. What a coincidence that you showed up here today.”
“Hey! It was purely coincidental.” Garrett came up behind her and pulled out the chair next to her, thighs splayed. She wanted to hike her skirt up and hop on.
“Right.” Dalton’s shrewd gaze pinned her in place with its hypnotic intensity. He regarded her briefly, and then he turned his attention to his brother with an altogether different look in his eyes. “Coincidence.”
They had a silent conversati
on only the two of them understood, and then Garrett just shrugged and grinned. “What can I say?”
“What brings you to Ellis Enterprises?” Dalton’s voice could be deceivingly soft. Although his voice was deep and dark, he did not speak loudly. He spoke as if they were lying under the sheets together, after their bodies were spent. She found herself listening to his every word, attuning her ears to catch the soft, intimate sound of his voice that barely hid the steel intensity underneath.
“I’m here to see if Ellis Enterprises is interested in making a corporate donation to the South Dallas Youth Center.”
“What does your organization do, specifically?” Dalton asked. “How does it help young people?”
“Take Jasmine, for example.” She glanced at Garrett, hoping to see some recognition in his eyes, but he just stared at her as though he was hungry and she was a club sandwich with extra bacon. She turned away from him and choked down her nervous arousal. “According to her teachers, she’s too quiet in the classroom, but whenever I’m with her, she’s a little more talkative and less shy. It’s so amazingly rewarding to see that the South Dallas Youth Center is a place where they can stay for a little while and continue learning instead of being out on the streets. Some of them also have really bad home lives, and I love giving them a safe place to just be kids.”
“I see. And do you have your business plan with you?”
“Of course.” Madeline dug into her oversized bag, plucked it out, and leaned toward him to hand the portfolio over.
He took it from her, his gaze slipping from the documents they exchanged to where the neckline of her dress fell slightly away from her chest. If her breasts could blush, they would have gone beet red from the heat in Dalton’s eyes. She leaned back into her seat slowly, as if trying not to startle a riled beast, and shifted her legs against the pangs shooting from her painfully aroused nipples to her thrumming clit.
What would it be like for his eyes to look upon her like that when there were not any clothes rubbing against her skin? Dalton would be a slow-burning inferno in bed, his strokes precise, every movement intended to bring his partner to the most mind-blowing, white-hot, most out-of-body-experience orgasm she would ever have. Her skin tingled, and her body warmed, making her uncomfortably aware of the fact that she’d started to sweat in her dress.
Mitchell, Ava and Holiday, Sydney - A Bride for Two Tycoons [Male Order, Texas 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 4
