Wedding Vow of Revenge

by Lucy Monroe

  “Several studies have shown that employees who put in less overtime, take their vacation yearly and don’t consistently work through their lunch hours are actually more productive than their counterparts who work the longer hours and never take any time off.” She smiled. “Healthier, too. They have fewer heart attacks and are less likely to develop ulcers.”

  “You’ve definitely done your homework.”

  She blushed at the compliment and he filed the reaction away for future reference. From the way she presented herself, he had to assume her beauty was of much less significance to her than doing well at her job.

  Interesting.

  And unusual.

  “Many of your suggestions fly in the face of corporate policies the world over.”

  She leaned further forward in her chair, her oval face animated and flushed in a way he’d like to see somewhere besides the boardroom. “Those management styles are as outdated as the all-male executive staff. They don’t work in today’s dynamic workforce, particularly the organic environment found in the hi-tech industry.”

  “Why did you go for a job in hi-tech? Your résumé shows a strong liberal arts background for your business degree.”

  She looked disconcerted by his question and settled back in her chair, biting her lip uncertainly. “The job description did not include a requirement in technological education.”

  “I’m aware of that, but you did not answer my question.”

  She smiled slightly. “Sorry. You’re right.” Her smile grew and her demeanor relaxed. “I like the stimulating atmosphere. Things are always changing, not just the products, but the face of the workforce as well. The job is challenging. But most importantly, I wanted to work someplace I could make a difference.”

  “And you thought Primo Tech would be it?”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted the report that would have caught his attention even if it hadn’t been the ideal conduit for their first meeting. “I would say you are well on your way to doing so.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She beamed and he found himself smiling in return, something he rarely did.

  His phone buzzed at exactly the moment he had instructed his secretary to ring through.

  He lifted the receiver. “Gordon here.”

  “Mr. Gordon, I’m ringing as instructed.”

  “Thank you. And my other arrangements?”

  “The reservations are made. Dinner at seven-thirty in the restaurant of your hotel.”

  “Hold on just a moment.” He pressed the hold button and schooled his face into an apologetic expression, another one he used infrequently. “I’m sorry, I have to take this call.”

  Tara stood hurriedly. “Of course.”

  She was halfway to the door when he said, “Miss Peters.”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “I would like to discuss the report further. Can you meet me this evening for a business dinner at my hotel?”

  Despite the fact he had specifically referred to it as business, her eyes filled with wariness. “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?” he asked, inflecting his voice with just the right amount of superiority and disapproval to remind her who he was.

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her lips flattened in a determined line. “No. I’ll be there. What hotel and what time?”

  He told her and then watched her walk out of his office, his attention on the way her slacks outlined her heart-shaped behind. This aspect of his plan for revenge was shaping up to be more pleasure than work.

  Seducing Tara Peters would be no hardship at all.

  Tara got ready for dinner, her nerves more on edge than they had been in two long years. Why? Because the minute another magnetic, sexy tycoon came on the scene, her body had started reacting. She couldn’t believe it and was thoroughly disgusted with herself.

  Worse, she’d seen immediately the unexpected feelings of attraction were mutual. She might have very little practical experience with men, but she’d been on the receiving end often enough to identify when a man was attracted to her. She’d learned early in her modeling career to recognize and avoid it.

  Her one failure being both spectacular and devastating.

  She hadn’t spent the last two years avoiding men and entanglements just to fall for another Baron Randall. No way. She was smarter than that.

  Even brief contemplation of a relationship with a man like Angelo Gordon would be stupidity itself.

  Right. Remember that.

  Only instincts that had nothing to do with intelligence and everything to do with emotion were sending all sorts of messages to her brain. They urged her to put on a little makeup, change into a more feminine dress and brush out her long hair for goodness sake! She’d done her best to sublimate such impulses for two years.

  Her mind said now was not the time for a resurrection, but her heart and body said otherwise.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, she muttered under her breath as she put the final pin in the sleek French roll on the back of her head and surveyed her appearance. She’d changed her slacks for a black skirt and her blouse and blazer for a matching jacket meant to be worn buttoned up as a top.

  With her understated black heels and sheer stockings, she had a distinctly Jackie-O appearance without the feminine softening of lipstick and accent jewelry.

  Perfect.

  No way could her boss misinterpret her outfit as any sort of attempt to entice him on a personal level.

  She didn’t care if Angelo Gordon affected her in ways she’d thought deadened by Baron’s betrayal. Wanting him scared her far more than it enticed her and she wasn’t giving into it.

  Desire was an emotion that encouraged smart women to make dumb decisions.

  Hadn’t she seen that enough growing up with her mom bouncing from one destructive relationship to the next? Her mom had never understood why none of the men stayed. She hadn’t comprehended that the type of powerful, charismatic male she was attracted to traded on those very traits to get what he wanted—sex with a beautiful woman.

  However, they’d all been incapable of giving her mom what she needed…love.

  Tara’s mom had only broken the cycle by default when miracle of miracles, a strong, sexy man also turned out to have a heart.

  It was Darren Colby’s influence in Tara’s life that had led her to believe that kind of man wasn’t always bad news. She was no longer so naïve. Darren was an anomaly in the male species, an alpha male with a heart…but she didn’t figure anomalies like that came along more than maybe once a millennium.

  She would stay focused on her job and not the way Angelo Gordon’s dark good looks affected her libido.

  Tara walked into the posh downtown hotel, projecting an unshakable confidence that was only skin deep. Inside, she was as nervous as she’d been her first day on the job. More even, because then all she’d been fighting was a fear of the unknown. Tonight, she fought her fear of being weak.

  Angelo waited for her at a table in a small private alcove of the hotel restaurant. A historic landmark, the hotel’s rich décor of carved wood paneling leading to cavernously high ceilings was original to its nineteenth century construction. Despite the distance to the ceilings, the rich detail of the da Vinci-like scenes painted there caught her attention.

  But even the artwork’s beauty could not keep her focus when she could feel Angelo’s regard across the restaurant. He watched her with unreadable blue eyes as she made her way toward him between linen topped tables graced by well dressed diners. Even from this far away, he exerted an aura of masculine power that sent her heart tripping.

  Just like Baron.

  Only unlike Baron, she would not allow herself to be fooled into believing Angelo was more than what he appeared on the surface, a ruthless corporate shark.

  He stood when she reached the table, his height startling at close quarters. At five foot nine, she was no shrimp, but the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

&n
bsp; She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. It was a very odd feeling. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”

  He waited for the maître d’ to seat her before sitting down again. “Angelo, please. I prefer a more relaxed environment in my companies.”

  “Your approach appears to be quite effective. You’ve never lost a company yet.”

  Something swirled in his indigo gaze as he poured her a glass of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table. “Actually, I have lost one, but that was a long time ago.”

  Sensing he had no desire to discuss it further, she took a sip of the fruity wine and then asked, “Angelo is an Italian name?”

  Other than the blue eyes, which were not entirely uncommon in Italian men—with his dark hair and tanned good looks, he had a very Mediterranean appearance.

  “My mother was Sicilian.”

  That explained a lot, but remembering a fashion shoot she’d done outside of Palermo one summer, she said, “Most Sicilian men are a lot shorter than you.”

  “My father was American.”

  “And tall,” she guessed.

  He smiled, making her breath catch. This man was beautiful.

  “Yes. According to my mother, that was one of the first things she noticed about him. There was more than a foot disparity in their sizes, but I can never remember them seeming like they did not fit.”

  “I’ve heard love can be a great equalizer,” she said with a tinge of mockery she wished she didn’t feel.

  But after her childhood and one disastrous personal affair, she had little belief in the emotion so many touted as the panacea for all ills.

  “So they say.” His tone was no less cynical than her own.

  The waiter came to take their order and she made a point of selecting her own meal. This was not a date and even if it was, she didn’t go in for the old world custom of the male ordering for the female. She’d spent too many years taking care of herself.

  “You wanted to discuss my report?” she asked after the waiter left.

  “First, I think I should like to know a little more about you, Tara.”

  “I’m sure all the pertinent information is in my employee record.”

  “Perhaps I prefer to hear it firsthand.”

  “I was under the impression this was supposed to be a business dinner.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to offend her boss, but not so light he wouldn’t take the comment to heart.

  His midnight gaze caressed her with tactile force and it was all she could do not to shiver. “My closest friends started as business associates.”

  “You don’t strike me as a man with a lot of close friends.” She’d meant the words to come out worldly and sophisticated, but instead her voice was two octaves lower than normal and sounded flirtatious, darn it.

  “You’re very perceptive.” He cocked his head slightly, his expression challenging her. “That does not mean you could not become one of them.”

  “You’re very bold.”

  “I didn’t get where I am hesitating to go after what I want.”

  “If you want my business expertise, you can have it. If you’re looking for a personal relationship with an employee, I decline.” She couldn’t be more direct than that, but then this man apparently needed blunt.

  He nodded, his expression showing no offence. “I can respect that.” Then he smiled. “That does not mean I won’t try to change your mind.”

  “I would prefer if you didn’t.”

  “I would prefer you did not treat me like a pariah simply because I own the company you work for.”

  “Wanting to stick to business is hardly treating you like an outcast.”

  “And denying me the possibility of friendship?”

  “You don’t need my friendship.”

  “You are wrong.” And the intensity in his expression said he was telling her the truth, but how could that be?

  Unless his definition of friendship and hers were not quite the same thing. Maybe he was between girlfriends at the moment.

  “I have no interest in becoming a business tycoon’s pillow friend.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “DO YOU judge every man you meet by Baron Randall’s standards?”

  She should not be surprised he knew about her past. Half the modern world had read the tabloid stories. Or at least it seemed that way sometimes. It was a good thing she’d learned early on in her modeling career that someone asking an awkward or painful question did not equate to an obligation on her part to answer it.

  “That’s really none of your business, Mr. Gordon.”

  “Angelo.”

  She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Angelo. I work for you and to my knowledge a personal relationship with my employer is not a requirement on my job description.”

  His amused but piercing gaze did things to her insides she desperately wished it didn’t. “You are not only forthright, but you’re damn certain of yourself.”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t the only person who knew what he wanted and went for it. Rather she knew what she didn’t want—a repeat of her disastrous affair with a ruthless business tycoon.

  Despite the fact that Angelo made a pointed effort to restrain his conversation to her business report over dinner, Tara found herself unwillingly enthralled by the man himself. He was intense, dynamic and smart. Smarter than any person she’d ever met and yet, he didn’t dismiss her opinions if they differed from his. She appreciated that more than he could know, truly enjoying the evidence that he respected her even if she wasn’t quite in his league.

  That was something she’d always felt was in doubt in her relationship with Baron.

  She hadn’t been sure how Angelo would take her not-so-gentle refusal to get personal, but he’d responded with a professionalism and maturity she couldn’t help admiring. She’d known men a lot older than him that reverted to spoiled little boys when thwarted in their pursuit of a woman.

  For that reason, she found herself relaxing as the evening progressed, less concerned when their conversation took temporary by-ways not related wholly to human resource management.

  They’d spent an hour over dinner before she even realized it.

  The waiter asked if they wanted dessert and Angelo looked at her. “Do you have a sweet tooth? I’ve had their raspberry crème brûlée and it is some of the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”

  “Crème brûlée is my favorite,” she admitted, her mouth watering at the prospect of indulging in the treat.

  With one of his rare, but devastating smiles, he ordered one for each of them.

  The desserts arrived and she had to stifle an animal groan of anticipation when she saw the perfect caramelization of the glaze on top.

  “You look like you’ve just been offered a dish of ambrosia.”

  “Haven’t I?”

  He laughed, the sound doing things to her even more insidious than the sight of the decadent treat.

  She felt compelled to explain her over the top reaction. “I spent years eschewing refined sugar and processed food of any kind for the benefit of my figure and complexion.”

  Appreciative eyes burned over her and she felt like she was wearing a spandex mini that revealed every curve rather than the black Jackie-O suit.

  “You must still refrain quite a bit.” His voice caressed her with obvious masculine approval.

  For the first time in years, she found herself blushing about a comment made regarding her physical appearance. She’d gotten very used to seeing her body as her tool in trade, but this man made her very aware of herself as a feminine being.

  She shrugged, projecting the air of insouciance she should be feeling about his comment. “I didn’t stop modeling all that long ago.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression you came to Primo Tech straight out of college.”

  “I did, but the last couple of years I supported myself with my modeling.”

  “After your breakup with Randall.”

  Sh
e grimaced. “Yes.”

  “He paid for your schooling before that?”

  She didn’t know why, but she found herself wanting to answer his question, when normally she would have cut such personal conversation off at the knees.

  “He wanted to maximize our time together, so I agreed not to work.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t want you to give up school.”

  “Oh, he did.” But as much as she’d thought she loved the swine, she’d been unwilling to give up her independence completely, or her dreams for her future.

  “You refused.”

  “Adamantly.”

  “Did you retire from modeling because he wanted you to?”

  Again, the question didn’t offend her so much as give her an opportunity to talk about something she’d kept locked away inside for two long years. “I’d always planned on retiring young enough to go to school and move onto a second career. So, when he said he wanted to be the only man in my life, not one in a cast of thousands, I agreed and quit a few years and a few goals before I’d planned to. I was actually flattered he felt so strongly.”

  She knew her voice echoed her disgust with herself over her naiveté. Even so, her insistence on taking college courses had been a bone of contention between them until their break-up.

  “Do you regret that decision?”

  “I find regret a wasted emotion. When I had to go back to work to support myself again, it was harder to get the lucrative jobs, but I survived and I learned a lot in the process.”

  Angelo studied her, what looked like real respect warming his gaze. “Yet even after going back to work, you excelled in your studies. I have heard modeling requires a great deal of dedication.”

  No doubt he’d dated a few models in his time. Most rich men did, seeing beautiful women as adornments as surely as designers saw models as mannequins to display their wares.

  Still, she couldn’t help liking the knowledge he was impressed with her efforts at school rather than offended by them as Baron had been.

  “I don’t think I could have modeled full-time and gone to school as well, but I earned enough working through the summers to support myself during the school year.”