by Liz Crowe
She stood, taking it all in, until a sudden movement to her left made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. “Hey!” The voice that had haunted her made her jump, stumble and trip over a thick hose snaking across the middle of the concrete floor.
“Shit,” she tried to get her feet back under her, but her worn down heel hit a patch of water and she sensed herself falling in slow and very embarrassing motion right onto her ass. A better first impression had likely never been made, she reflected on her way down, as her purse went one way and her portfolio the other scattering resumes, clippings and brochures all across the floor. The final indignity however was biting her tongue so hard it brought tears to her eyes and flooded her mouth with coppery tasting blood.
“Shit,” the voice was at her ear now, and she swore she’d never forgive him for letting her wipe out like that. Fury made her face redden as she scrambled to her feet and jerk her way out of his reach. “Hang on there, Red,” the man had the nerve to say to her. She blew a tendril of hair out of her face, attempted to tuck it away, straighten her skirt, gather her wits and not burst into tears.
“Don’t touch me,” she ground out, taking a wobbly step away from him. Meeting his eyes was not an option she allowed herself.
“Here, let me…” he gathered up her random papers, shoved them into her folder. The mortification continued when she saw a spare tampon had rolled out of the purse and landed a few feet away. She reached for it at the same moment he did, connecting the top of her head in a very solid way with his nose.
“Ow! Mother fucker,” he muttered, using that damn voice to send tingles along her spine. She grabbed her stuff, stuck her purse on her shoulder and headed for the door. There was no way in this lifetime or any other she would stay in here another minute. “Hold on,” he said, muffled, with a towel over his nose. “Aren’t you…” he looked down a piece of paper in his hand. “Hannah? Hannah Williams?”
“Yeah,” she said, giving up on the professional up do and letting her crazy annoying hair tumble down around her shoulders. Fuck this guy and his stupid slippery floor, she needed this job. “That’s me. Hannah. Not…” she finally looked him full in the face, “Red.”
He stood, stock still, gripping the paper in one hand and towel in the other staring at her. Her early self-deceiving notions that the man attached to the voice that made her semi-orgasmic was a dumpy, bearded, fat guy with a beer in one hand evaporated, like so much smoke. She narrowed her eyes, realizing that he was blatantly checking her out without even pretending not to as he raked his eyes down her front. She flushed hot again and acknowledged that she was doing the same thing to him.
Ian Donovan was six foot something incredible of pure man, with a shock of dark blond hair and piercing green eyes. He rubbed one large hand across his stubble-covered jaw at one point during their little moment as if wishing he’d shaved that day. His broad shoulders were encased in an Ypsi Brewing Company T-shirt, which hugged the lean strength of his torso like a sexy glove. She looked lower, at the light denim jeans and rubber boots then back up, forcing herself not to stare at any one area too long. When they locked eyes again, she had to take a step back at the intensity she saw there.
He cleared his throat, and she was gratified to see that he at least had the decency to blush before quickly turning away to answer a question someone had asked, breaking the connection. She watched his body move, lithe, athletic-looking and …she ripped her eyes away, horrified at herself for even contemplating the images that had started to flash in her head. Biting her lip, she looked around, took a very careful step to the side and mentally started the whole thing over again.
Chapter Ten
“So,” Gavin leaned back and appraised her. Hannah grinned, feeling relieved in this man’s presence at least. He had a mentoring, helpful vibe about him that his brother definitely lacked. “Hannah, you certainly blew away the rest of those folks in the group interview. I’m interested in what you think you have to add to our efforts here.”
“Well, from what I can tell, you guys are on the verge of taking this to the next level.” She crossed her legs, sensing Ian’s eyes crawl all over her but keeping her focus on the other brother, while mentally shooting daggers at Ian. “I’d say hiring a marketing professional is the right thing to do. It seems as though you have a decision: Do you want to be a production facility and make your money on wholesale or to ramp up the retail efforts by expanding the pub, like we discussed in the group.” She let a beat of silence drag out and then leaned forward, never taking her eyes from Gavin’s intent blue ones. “What I propose is to come up with a comprehensive plan that would allow you to make it a fifty-fifty proposition. That is, why not make just as much on both sides of the house? I think it can be done, but it will take a bit more I.T. infrastructure and more people.”
She leaned back, clasped her hands on her lap. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from turning to glare at Ian who sat to her left and was oozing a sort of sexy aura that was making her damp in places she’d forgotten she had. Shifting slightly, she allowed herself a glance in his general direction when Gavin did the same thing, as if wanting Ian to chime in and not sit there like a lump.
“I told you,” Ian said to Gavin while he kept his hooded gaze trained on her. “More people.”
Gavin snorted, and stood. “Hannah, I would be honored if you would join us at Ypsilanti Brewing Company as our new sales and marketing director. I am prepared to offer you a starting salary of thirty-five thousand dollars a year, plus a bonus package based on meeting specific sales targets. We also have just added health insurance with prescription drug program that would be available for you to buy into should you require it. I realize that it’s not a ton of money, but….”
Ian rose to his feet, staring at his brother as if he’d just offered Hannah the head brewer’s job. “Uh, Gavin, don’t you think we should…um….”
Gavin frowned at his brother. “Ian, she’s exactly what we are looking for.”
She watched the two men glare at each other as if she weren’t even in the room anymore. A tiny tendril of uneasiness snuck in under the elation at the actual, real offer. It was small, granted and she could probably get closer to fifty with her MBA at a larger company, but…”I’ll take it.” She blurted out, causing both men to turn and stare at her. “I mean, if you are both in agreement that is.” She raised an eyebrow at Ian’s smoldering gaze. “Seems as though this Mr. Donovan has some qualms?” She let the sentence dangle, half question, half accusation. Her heart pounded so fast it hurt. Her throat was slowly closing up as Ian took a step towards her. She could smell him then—odors that would become very familiar to her—malt, astringent hops, leather and sweat blended into a slurry of richness that coated her nerve endings. She forced a smile and made herself stay put, not take a step back.
“What do you drink, Hannah. You know, when you need to unwind?”
Ian’s question threw her for a loop. She bit her lip, glanced at Gavin who was still frowning at his brother. “I don’t, actually. It’s too expensive.”
“Huh,” he said, tossing Gavin a look Hannah could not fathom.
“Great,” Gavin said, closing up a folder on his desk and grabbing his suit coat. “You won’t have to unlearn bad habits, a fresh slate. If you will excuse me, I have a meeting at the bank. You can consider this a solid offer, Hannah,” he took her hand, clenched it hard. “Just ignore him.” He jerked his chin at Ian who stood to her left. “For now.”
She watched him go, still processing what had just happened to her. Turning slowly back to face Ian she took a breath. “I’m not always that klutzy, don’t worry,” she said hoping to defuse some of the energy hurtling between them, but at the same time she wanted him to step closer, to put his hands on her face, her arms, her back, her…she shook her head. “Anyway, I assume I have some time to think about it?” She grabbed her purse, needing to be as far from Ian as she could get, like right now. This whole scene was all of a sudd
en too much for her to handle.
She picked her portfolio up off Gavin’s desk and turned on her heel, determined to ignore the man standing and staring at her as if she were something nasty on the side of the road. “Excuse me.” She had to step closer to him to get by the chairs where she’d been sitting for nearly an hour. “I’m sorry if I’m not your first choice. I need this job, and I’m willing to give it a shot, but only if you stop looking at me as if I just killed your best friend.” She stood in the doorway, a safe distance between them and shook her hair back.
Ian’s face reddened and he sat, as if boneless. “No, I’m, it’s…well,” he ran a hand down his face. “This whole hiring someone new was my idea. Gavin didn’t want to add any more employees. So I’m glad it didn’t take him weeks to choose somebody.” He looked up at the ceiling and, in that split second, Hannah realized something about the distressingly handsome man she would be working with daily. He was as uncomfortable as she was right now. “You’ll be fine. We’ll teach you the beer side. You bring a skill set we lack. So,” he stood, suddenly relaxed, his chiseled face set in calm lines, his deep green eyes sporting a sexy, mischievous twinkle. “Welcome to the team Hannah,” he held out a hand.
She stared at him, mesmerized by the message her brain was receiving but unable to comprehend. She had a job and with a man she wanted in ways she didn’t even understand. Well played, Hannah.
“Thanks,” she shook his hand, turned, and tried not to run out the door to her car.
Chapter Eleven
“Donovan!”
Ian looked up from his task and cursed when his skull connected with the solid stainless steel opening of the giant fermenter. “Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing the knot rising on his scalp. If the voice matched the face he expected, his day had digressed from crappy to complete shit. He sighed and turned, meeting the angry stare of Hannah Williams. The woman had been on board as marketing director for Ypsi Brewing Company for exactly six weeks, and Ian had gone from bizarrely obsessed with her, to hating her ever-loving guts when he was not fantasizing about fucking her brains out.
“Yeah?” He let his gaze flicker away from hers. He knew what was up, but ever since the tall redhead had taken the reigns of marketing, Ian’s life had been a living hell, for many annoying reasons, not the least of which she was the sexiest thing on two female legs he’d laid eyes on—ever.
When Hannah had been added to the mix, bringing with her a healthy dose of spread-sheeted, computerized reality, it had turned Ian into a twitching nervous wreck. His brother had insisted they needed it to “get to the next stage” and kept conveniently forgetting that it had been Ian who’d convinced him to hire a marketing director—but this particular marketing director was all sorts of infuriating. Ian figured that this “next stage” was either going to kill him or make him insane.
He had called the production shots in the brewery from the beginning. Gavin took whatever Ian and his staff of trained brewers made and sold it, not vice versa. It had worked for them. They’d grown from nothing to one of the bigger craft breweries in Michigan inside of six years doing things this way.
Ian respected the hell out of his brother, with his suave manner, his charming patter, clean cut suits and the women who flittered around him like moths to a flame, but Ian cursed the man daily for hiring this fiery redheaded temptress who seemed to think that he would be scheduling his brews around her sales. She shoved a computer tablet under his nose. “Look at this.” Her foot tapped out a familiar rhythm. The “Ian is a stubborn asshole and I’m telling Gavin” one.
He took a step back, trying to get her scent out of his nose. Luckily, she was in full-on-bitch-mode so he could be pissed, and not horny. Besides, he had his own issues, trying to get Nick to answer his calls, to reconnect. The man was an expert at avoidance so Ian was about to give up, let the one-off be just that. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and took the device. A graph flashed red, indicating that they were running low on their flagship hoppy lager.
“Yeah, Hannah, I know. I updated the damn thing this morning.” He turned away from her, addressed his next comment to the empty fermenter that had fucked up his last batch of that very beer. He had a service call in on it, but believed he’d identified the problem. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” she yanked the computer out of his hand, brushing his arm with hers in the process, making him shudder and need some distance. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. You’re deaf?”
“No, you dickhead, I’m not. But ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it this week. I made a huge sale of the Hopped Up Lager, and you know it. I put it here,” she tapped the screen, which flipped over to her shiny new sales reporting system that had become the bane of his brewing existence. “You saw it. I know you did because I see you logged into the shared file and….”
“Listen,” he turned away from the stainless steel vessel and glared at her. “I didn’t sabotage this thing on purpose. It failed, okay? Broke, blew a gasket, something that I am attempting to diagnose or would be if I weren’t occupied being reamed out by you.” She blew out a breath, started to speak, but he held up a hand. “Spare me. You’re gonna have to short the order. It happens. Jesus.”
“Unacceptable.” She spit out, tucking the computer under one bare arm. She was parading around the brewery in her sales suit, a tight black skirt, sleeveless silk blouse and the patently obnoxious way-too-high heels. Ian forced himself not to drag his eyeballs up and down her frame, as that first moment he saw her, on her ass on the brewery floor kept replaying. He would not give the bitch the satisfaction. “I need five pallets filled and ready in a week. Make it happen, brewer.” She spit out the last word, emphasizing his role as opposed to hers he guessed, and then started to turn on her stiletto heel. Fury made the edges of his vision redden.
Without realizing he was doing it, he reached out, grabbed her arm, spun her around and ground out, “It won’t happen and you know it. Stop coming down here and acting like such a bossy….” He looked down and bit back the word he wanted to use. Her skin was hot under his palm and his body was reacting to her proximity, which only made him madder. She looked at his hand, then up at him, her crazy blue green eyes snapping with something he thought he recognized. He tightened his grip, dragged her closer. “Tomorrow morning five-thirty a.m. Be here. Wear jeans, a T-shirt and your hair pulled back. I’m sick and fucking tired of trying to make you understand this process. You are gonna brew with me. To appreciate what we do, so you can get exactly how pissed off you make everybody with your ridiculous demands.”
Her eyes flickered down his chest. The distinct sensation of painful erection made him clench his jaw. “I’m busy tomorrow morning.” She whispered.
Ian moved directly into her space, and let their bodies graze each other on purpose. “Yeah, I know. With me.” He leaned over her, keeping his hand on her arm. Dear God, he was horny. He hadn’t had sex in nearly two months, refusing to remember that last time for a lot of reasons. He wanted Nick so badly at that moment, issues and all, he could practically taste the man. But, of course, he was somehow within a split second of laying a tongue-tangler on the maddening, frustrating, hot woman in front of him. Tempting as it was, he stopped, let go of her, stepped away.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Ian was highly gratified to see her breathing fast. “See you tomorrow morning,” he turned away. “Don’t be late.”
The click-clack of her heels on the concrete told him she’d left. He put his hand on either side of the fermenter’s door, let the cold steel calm him. She would be trouble. But he needed it or something like it. His phone buzzed with a text.
Gavin: I saw that.
Ian rolled his eyes and responded: You didn’t see shit. Or you’re imagining things.
Gavin: Leave her alone. I mean it.
Ian: Don’t boss me. I get enough of that from her.
Gavin: Ok, then fuck her and get it over with. Jesus. You two are worse than a Moonlighting episode. And, may I
remind you, this was your idea.
Ian: Damn, you are dating yourself, brother. And hiring ‘someone’ was my idea. NOT her.
Gavin: Yeah, well, just do it and clear the air already.
Ian: Maybe.
Gavin: Coming to dinner tonight? Alyssa’s place?
Ian winced, recalling the last time he’d been over for dinner at his brother’s girlfriend’s house.
Ian: No, thanks. I’m exhausted.
Gavin: Suit yourself. You can’t avoid him forever you know.
Ian: Will you butt the hell out of my love life, please, and thank you very much. Jesus. You just got thru telling me to fuck the red headed girl. Now you want me to do what exactly with Alyssa’s brother?
Gavin: You should come over. Alyssa and I want to talk to you guys about something.
Ian: Fine. Whatever. Are you guys getting married?
Gavin: No.
Ian waited for the rest of the text, but nothing showed up so he responded: Ok. I’ll be there. Can I drop Jamie with Tracey and the boys at your place?
Gavin: Sure. Seven. See you then. I’d offer to share a ride, but Alyssa and I are going out after.
Ian: So, this is more about a set up for me and her brother?
Gavin: No. Maybe. Anyway, see you later.
Ian tossed the phone on the lab table and tried to resume his diagnostic perusal of the fermenter, but his head was a mess. Between lusting over Hannah during the few moments of the day when he didn’t want to throttle her, their latest expansion and brew pub chaos, and his life as single father, the last thing he needed was another run-in with Nicholas Traynor.
Memories of Nick’s compelling but wounded face and his equally incredible body flashed through Ian’s brain, making him shiver. The man was hot, eager, and had been ready for action the second Ian had suggested it. Ian would have kept up the relationship if Nick had been inclined, but he’d made it clear they were not “lovers,” merely fuck buddies… and only once.
