The Boss Man's Fortune

by Kathryn Jensen -

  "We don't believe Escalante realizes we've made the connection between him and the cartel. That's in our favor. But if he suspects a trap, it'll be pretty obvious from the conversation. He'll be careful about what he says."

  Ian gave a curt nod. "You'll be in the next office?"

  "We're all set. I don't expect they'll try anything heavy-handed here." The agent's glance slipped briefly toward Katie. He'd insisted she stay at her desk to make the meeting appear normal.

  Ian didn't like exposing her to these men again, but she'd argued that the agent was right.

  "They don't want to blow a chance to use you," the FBI man pointed out. "Colombian authorities have shut down several of their other operations. The cartel is getting desperate."

  When the agent left, it was just Ian and Katie in his office.

  "Are you all right with this?" Ian asked.

  She nodded, gave him a devil-may-care smile that he guessed was meant to cover her nervousness.

  He glanced at the file cabinet. Inside the second drawer was one of the microphones. He didn't want to say anything personal that the men in the next room might pick up, but he felt the need to reassure Katie, as well as himself.

  Ian put his arm around her and pulled her close. "I appreciate your supporting me in this, Ms. O'Brien," he said in a proper boss-to-secretary voice.

  "I'm happy to cooperate, sir," she responded, just as businesslike, playing along. He felt her body temperature rise by degrees within the curl of his arm.

  "If at any time you feel frightened, just get up and leave the room." He kissed her softly, silently on the lips, then whispered in her ear. "Must be the danger, but I'm turned-on. Don't know how I'll be able to leave you alone."

  She smiled. "I'll remember that," she said out loud. Then, for the benefit of the men listening from the next room, she repeated, "Get up and leave the room." She kissed him back and shot him a wicked grin that just about left him panting.

  "Exactly," he said, running the tip of his finger down her soft throat. Good thing they hadn't also installed cameras. "I would blame myself if an employee of my company was harmed in any way."

  "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Danforth." Katie smoothed her hand over the fine silk shirt fabric across his chest, and he drew a sharp breath at her touch. "And now, I'd better go wait in the outer office to greet our visitors. Don't you think?"

  He fixed her with an anguished expression before releasing her. "I suppose you should."

  * * *

  Not ten minutes later, the door from the main corridor opened and the two men who had tried to corner Abraham at the gala stepped through. Escalante was in the lead and immediately looked past Katie toward Ian's door. "Mr. Danforth is expecting us."

  "Yes, sir." She felt Hernandez studying her, his eyes smoky and hooded. Her flesh crawled under his cold regard. She quickly scooped up her notepad and led the way, knocking on Ian's door before opening it and stepping through.

  "Your five-o'clock appointment, sir."

  Ian stood up behind his desk at which he appeared to have been working. "Good. Come in, gentlemen."

  They all shook hands then Ian waved them toward chairs strategically placed near microphones.

  "We were delighted to hear from you, Mr. Danforth," Escalante said. "It was our understanding that your father had cut off all chances of our working together."

  "As was mentioned at the gala, Abraham Danforth has handed over the official reins of this company to me," Ian reminded them. "Although he still has some unofficial say."

  "As it should be," Hernandez remarked, his eyes still fixed on Katie. "A man must respect his father."

  Katie pulled her chair back a few inches, so that Escalante partially blocked his companion's line of sight.

  Ian continued. "I feel my father has been somewhat hasty in turning away your business, Mr. Hernandez. I'm not totally satisfied with the quality of the coffee beans our current supplier has been providing. I might consider changing sources, if what you have to offer is better."

  "Our beans are the best Colombia can provide," Hernandez assured him, his attention at last drawn away from Katie.

  "But quality of product aside, there are other advantages to dealing with my friend," Escalante added.

  "And they are?" Ian turned to the drug lord, his expression intent, controlled, although Katie noticed the dangerous darkening of Ian's eyes.

  She held her breath and pretended to take notes.

  "We understand," Escalante said, "you've had some recent trouble here at your corporate headquarters."

  The bomb, Katie thought, her heart thudding wildly. He's talking about the bomb!

  "We have." Ian frowned. "It's very upsetting."

  "Particularly with the señor planning his political campaign."

  "Yes, particularly," Ian echoed, and gave Katie a look, letting her know that he was trying to follow the agents' instructions to let the Colombians do the talking, rather than lead the conversation.

  Escalante continued, "So it would be most beneficial if there were no more, let us say … urgencies?"

  "Of course," Ian responded, an underlying grit and barely restrained fury in his tone. It was clearly costing him to hold his temper, to not throw himself across the desk at these two who were all hut bragging to him that they were behind the bomb.

  Katie held her tongue but kept her hand moving across the paper, taking down words so carefully chosen that she knew they wouldn't prove anything against the two thugs.

  "She have to be here?" Hernandez suddenly asked.

  "Ms. O'Brien is my assistant," Ian said. "She sits in on all my meetings. We need a record of our discussion."

  Escalante smiled and rested a hand on his partner's arm. "What is wrong with a secretary being here? We are discussing innocent business matters, my friend."

  "I know her!" Hernandez snapped.

  Katie's blood ran cold. She bit down on her bottom lip and looked helplessly off into the distance. He must have seen the photograph in the Chronicle. For several seconds no one spoke.

  "Where you know her from?" Escalante asked at last, his voice threatening. "She the law?"

  Katie glanced at Ian, who looked puzzled.

  "No. She was with him, at that party."

  "Of course, she was there." Ian stood up from his desk and faced the two men. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  The two Colombians exchanged knowing looks.

  "We understand, señor. A very practical arrangement." Hernandez smiled smugly at his partner. "Nothing more need be said."

  "Back to the matter at hand," Escalante said as Ian took his seat again. "We want to assure you that we take the safety of our business associates seriously. I will personally guarantee you will have no more trouble of the sort you've suffered in the past, if you purchase my associate's coffee beans."

  "How can you do that?" Ian asked.

  Unless you were the ones who planted that bomb, she finished silently for him. The two men met his demanding gaze, and understanding passed between them. They knew what he was asking, but they didn't fall for the bait.

  "We have ways of protecting our interests," Escalante pronounced with a vague wave of his hand. He stood up, and the other two men followed suit. "I believe you understand our position. You know how to reach us, señor." He nodded at his associate, and the two turned and left.

  Katie shuddered and felt a wave of relief at their departure.

  Ian stood without moving behind his desk, looking like a sturdy but storm-shaken oak. He stared at her. The corridor door closed with a clack, and still neither of them moved.

  "That was worthless," he said.

  * * *

  The FBI seconded Ian's assessment of the interview. The Colombians had said nothing that would hold up in any court of law—nothing that could possibly incriminate them for the bombing, or label them as anything but aggressive businessmen trying to land a new account.

  Yet the tension of the twenty-minute meeting
between Ian and the drug lord and his crony left Katie trembling even after the agents had packed their recording gear and gone.

  She sat at her desk, sipping coffee she'd brought up from D&D's. Decaf this time, to soothe her frayed nerves.

  "Thanks, Katie."

  She looked up to find Ian standing over her. "For what? All I did was make them suspicious because I was here."

  "No. Your presence reminded me to keep my mouth shut." He pulled her up out of her chair into his arms and held her tightly. "Dammit, I should have refused to involve you in this. I hated the way those bastards looked at you. It must have been humiliating for you."

  "I'm all right," she assured him.

  He pulled back to study her face but didn't release her. "You look terrible."

  "Flatterer."

  He laughed. "Maybe I should insult you more frequently. I could feel the muscles in your back loosen up for a moment."

  Katie closed her eyes against the flow of warmth through her body. He was massaging between her shoulder blades and down the silken crevice of her spine. It felt so good.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. "Insult me to your heart's content, as long as you keep doing that."

  His hands stopped abruptly. "Katie, there's something you have to understand."

  "Yes?" She felt languid, floating under the touch of his hands.

  "There are very good reasons why you can't work here."

  "Let's not talk about that anymore." She sighed. His hands were moving again. Marvelous. Each stroke of his strong fingers seemed to delve deep within her, easing away tension.

  "I care about you, Katie. I haven't yet figured out how to deal with that, but I know one thing. I don't want you to get hurt."

  She instinctively stiffened at his protective tone. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

  "No doubt, in most cases. But this is getting serious. Just seeing you in the same room with them made me physically ill."

  "Ian, really, I was just a little weirded out by the whole situation." She tossed him an irritated look. "I'm okay with it now."

  "But I'm not!" he ground out, pushing her none too gently away from him. His eyes were no longer a soft hazel. Blue-gray sparks ignited them. "I worry about you, Katie. What if those creeps tried to get to me through you?"

  She laughed. "I'm your assistant. Why would they target a simple employee?"

  "No," he shouted, "they realize you were my date at the gala. It's common practice for men in some countries to keep their mistresses conveniently close at hand by giving them a job." He slammed his fist down on the desk, sending a pen flying.

  His anger was working on her, driving up her temper to match his. "You're blowing this whole thing out of proportion, Ian." Her throat burned with unshed tears. "Why can't you treat me like any of the other women who work here?"

  "Because," he bellowed, "I want to be with you, dammit!"

  She stared at him, trying to grasp the meaning behind words that sounded so unromantic when screamed at her.

  What was the man really asking for? A relationship meant different things to different people.

  She took a deep breath, trying to feel her way along, and spoke quietly. "Obviously, I'm attracted to you, Ian." In truth, she ached for his touch even now, in the midst of their arguing. "But I don't want to get seriously involved with anyone right now. And that's what you're asking me for, isn't it?"

  His face flushed, as if she'd slapped him. "But you'd be open to a fling, is that it? An affair that means nothing?"

  "That's not what I said!" He was twisting her words, making them sound cheap, and she was furious with him.

  The simple fact was, getting involved with Ian Danforth, as in committing herself to a long-term relationship, could only mean trouble. He was a high-profile personality in Savannah. The press kept track of men like that, knew where they dined, and with whom.

  As far as she knew, she'd successfully avoided photographers at the gala. If a reporter found out they were a couple, her photo would suddenly pop up in a dozen society columns across the country. She still wasn't sure that Jasmine hadn't recognized her.

  "I just don't want a man thinking I'm his possession," she tried to justify herself, which was part of the truth.

  He shook his head, staring in disbelief at her. "I'm not like that, Katie." Ian reached out and took her arm, pulling her back toward him. "Give us a chance to get to know each other better."

  She shook him free and stepped away, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. She desperately wanted to tell him the truth, ached to fall into his arms and let him make all the decisions. But if she did that, her newly found freedom would be lost.

  "I've been smothered by caring people all of my life," she murmured. "I've had enough."

  She spun away from him, dashing for the door. He didn't try to stop her this time.

  The lump in her throat made it impossible for her to swallow. Salty tears, coming in great sobs, racked her body. All brave talk, she thought wildly, hopelessly. But in her heart, she didn't want to leave Ian. She needed his touch, longed for his strong arms. It was just that there were too many strings attached to being his lover.

  Katie stopped with her hand on the doorknob, overwhelmed by sadness, letting the tears fall.

  "You know," she whispered, "if any man ever just let me be myself, I might fall in love with him."

  She flung open the door and started through it, but strong hands seized her from behind and pulled her back into the office. Into his arms.

  "Dammit, Katie, you confuse the hell out of me!" Ian shook his head violently, as if words didn't suffice for emotions so strong. His lips covered hers. He held her fiercely to his chest.

  Katie clutched fistfuls of his suit jacket, tugging until it slid off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it. She pulled out his shirttail and slipped her hands up under the crisp fabric to feel the warm, crinkly mat of chest hairs and underlying muscles.

  Ian moaned between her lips and began undressing her. She felt her skirt descend over her hips and fall to her ankles. His hands smoothed over her hips, tucked beneath the sheer silk of her panties, and cupped her bottom, pressing her up and into his hardness.

  She felt herself go liquid, hot and tickly inside.

  It had been a long time since she'd slept with a man. The two lovers she'd ever had were hardly more than boys.

  Ian was no boy.

  He lifted her off her feet and easily carried her across the room. Not for a moment did he stop kissing her, and she could only guess that they were headed for the leather couch at the far end of his office. He placed her on it and immediately stretched out on top of her. The heat of his body seared through her remaining clothing, her blouse, bra and panties.

  All concerns for her independence melted away. If, moments earlier, being with Ian had seemed threatening for any reason, now she couldn't imagine not being here, like this, with him.

  Katie raked her fingers through the fine, short hairs up the back of his neck, and pressed his head closer, making his kiss harder against her mouth. She felt alive. Dizzy with feminine power and passion so thick she imagined scooping it up with a spoon and relishing it as she would a rich dessert.

  The ridge of his erection—so very hard and long—told her that he must want her very badly. She opened her mouth to ask if he had protection when the sound of a door opening and closing intruded on her rapture.

  Ian's body tightened on top of her, his breathing thin and rapid in her ear.

  "Who is it?" he called toward the outer office.

  "Ian, you in there?"

  "Who?" Katie asked hoarsely.

  "My brother, Reid!"

  He pushed up off her. In two strides he reached the door and turned the button lock in the knob. A heartbeat later, the knob jiggled.

  Katie sat up, hurriedly buttoning her blouse. She cast Ian a look of pure panic but didn't dare say anything.

  "Hold on, Reid," he called through the door. "I'll be righ
t out."

  "Yeah, sure," a puzzled voice came back, followed by a laugh. "What's with the lock? You got a hot babe in there with you, big brother?"

  "Of course." Ian winked at Katie. "Just like any other workday."

  "Stop that!" she hissed, stooping to pluck skirt and shoes from the floor.

  Ian grinned and handed her a tangled mass of panty hose. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered. "I'll get rid of him. Sit tight." He unlocked the door while Katie stood with her clothing clutched to her chest. He slipped through as narrow a crack as possible into the outer office.

  Katie gasped for breath and pulled on her skirt, trying to manage the button on the waistband with trembling fingers.

  Was the man mad?

  More to the point, had she lost her own mind? What was she doing sprawling half-naked on her boss's couch? Rebelling against her parents? Or had she simply lost the ability to behave rationally?

  Hastily she finished dressing then let herself out of his office through a side door that connected to the fifth-floor conference room. She could hear Ian and his brother on the other side of the common wall. They were laughing.

  The exact source of their humor, she could too easily guess. But wasn't that, in a way, her own fault? Hadn't she told Ian she wasn't looking for anything serious? And men just naturally interpreted a statement like that to suit their own needs.

  As he'd said … a fling … an affair.

  Her head pounded and her throat felt raw with tears she had no time to shed.

  Katie peeked through the conference-room door that led directly into the corridor. The coast was clear. She ran for the rear stairwell and shot down five flights to the street in no time at all. Not until she reached her apartment building did she stop running, and then it was to buzz a neighbor, asking to be let in. Because her purse with her keys was still sitting in her desk. And no way was she going back for it tonight.

  * * *

  Seven

  « ^ »

  Ian looked up from the investment prospectus his cousin Imogene had given him to study before they met that morning. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't on business.

  He glanced at the clock on his desk: 8:45 a.m. Katie was late. After their rushed parting the night before, he wasn't even sure she'd turn up today. He'd tried to call her last night, but she hadn't picked up her phone.