He made a show of looking her up and down. “You can afford the whole cake, you look terrific.”
“Yeah, well . . . many more lunches of burgers, fries, and cheesecake and I won’t. I’m going to have to have a salad for dinner tonight, for sure.”
Hmmm . . . so, not a vegetarian after all. He visibly let out a breath of relief. “Speaking of dinner tonight, any chance of me providing that salad? I know this place that makes great a really great ginger salad.”
“Are you asking me out?” She smiled broadly as she challenged him.
“I am.”
“Tonight?”
“Or tomorrow night if you’re too tired once we get back.”
“I think I’d like that. Tomorrow would be nice.”
“Because of the cheesecake today?”
She smiled and nodded, a blonde tendril breaking free from the brim of her visor. She was adorable. He didn’t know how he’d wait until tomorrow.
Charlene called out that it was time to get back to the ferry. The dock was only a block away, and from where they were, you could see that the ship was filling up fast. Unless they wanted to wait for the next one, they needed to leave now.
Mountain Man came to walk her back to her bike and Garrett graciously let her go. He could afford to be magnanimous. Tomorrow he would wine and dine her. And with any luck, he might even seduce her. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about another man sniffing around her anymore.
If there was anything he was justifiably confident about, it was his skill with women. He would not leave her wanting. He knew her secrets. He knew what she desired. He’d be Casanova with a playbook. She didn’t have a chance.
Coming up the stairs to the top deck after checking his bike and using the restroom, he watched Laurel settle in beside her friends on the bow end of the ferry. Timidly she looked over at him and waved with the tips of her fingers. No, he was not going to come at her urging. And he was not going to fight for a seat next to her like a kid in junior high. As Scarlett O’Hara once said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” He had accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d met her. It was a bonus that she’d already agreed to meet him again. One step at a time, dangle the carrot and step back he reminded himself.
He winked at her, then sat back and pulled a book out of his backpack. Max Tucker’s latest. As he flipped from page to page he wondered why the young women hitting the bars didn’t read his books. It was like being inside the head of the enemy. Even with his latest machinations, he couldn’t compete with Tucker’s debauched depravity, but his antics sure made for great reading.
Twenty-five minutes later, when the ferry docked, he waited to retrieve his bike, and then he rode it over to Laurel’s CRV. Mountain man was attempting to help her lift her bike onto the rack. With one hand, Garrett reached between them, and gripping the frame under the seat, he notched it into place.
When she turned to face him, her nose grazed his chin and she jerked back. He reached out to steady her. Their eyes met and lingered as they each tried to see through the dark lenses of their sunglasses. The late afternoon sun glinted off them obscuring everything behind them. For him it didn’t matter, he was solely focused on her lips and suspected she was being equally enticed by his. Her tongue darted out to swipe at her bottom lip. He held back the groan that surfaced but gave into a low “Mmm,” as a sigh of approval.
Mountain Man hadn’t missed the exchange. And finally getting the message, he stalked off. Garrett had to force himself not to chuckle at the man’s haughty displeasure. How could he have even thought he had a chance with someone as sublime, as beautiful, as breathtaking, as Laurel?
He turned back to face Laurel. “So tomorrow then, Asian salads?” he asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose and looking over them. It was his professor look, and he knew without a doubt that it slayed female students.
“Umm yes, I’d like that very much.”
“Just tell me what time and I’ll pick you up.” He hadn’t mentioned needing her address and she noted that with an arch of her brow.
“I could meet you there,” she hedged.
“I already know where you live, remember?”
She removed her glasses, tucking them into the neckband of her top. A puzzled expression swept over her face as she tilted her head up and met his. “Ahh, so it was you taking leave of my rosemary bush.”
He reached his hand up and grazed his thumb alongside her jaw. He watched her tremble and felt as if he owned the universe. Every muscle in his body tensed. In that moment he felt as if he could swing from the trees like Tarzan. He forced himself to lower his hand and step back. “Your garden enchanted me, and now it seems so has its owner.” He forced levity in their exchange by playfully touching the tip of her nose. “Seven?”
“Sure.”
“See you then.” Before he could fall at her feet and beg her to take him home, he spun on his heel, got on his bike and rode over to his new truck. Knowing full well that she was following him with her eyes, he grabbed the cross bar of his bike and lifted it onto the rack with one hand. Let’s see Mountain Man do that.
Chapter Thirty-seven
He drove home singing an old favorite that he had on his iPod. Belting out Lay Lady Lay, he congratulated himself on the fact that he had found her. He’d systematically examined each clue, pieced the mystery together and found her—solved the most amazing puzzle of his life. And God, was she ever beautiful.
And yes, he felt like a stalker. The fact that he’d hired a private investigator, and because of it, now knew way more than he should at this point in their relationship, made him feel like a snake. But it couldn’t be helped. She’d lost something, he’d found it, and he’d made plans to do everything in his power to return it to her. By God, didn’t he deserve a little something out of this? But then it dawned on him . . . at this point he really couldn’t return it, could he? Not without showing his hand. This could turn out to be a problem down the road, but he didn’t want to think about that now.
He wanted to see where this would go. He wanted to woo the woman using the secrets he’d gleaned by reading stories based on her fantasies. He wanted to be the ultimate lover, all knowing, like Mel Gibson in What Women Want. He wanted to lead her to the pleasure troth, and to do that he had to bide his time—strategize—and wait to return her flash drive when it was advantageous for him to show his hand. He had to smile at himself. Would that day need to come? Because really, why ruin a good thing?
As soon as he got out of the shower he made a BLT on toast, filled the edges of his plate with BBQ chips and followed it with a huge glass of milk. Which naturally called for a few Oreos. By eight he was ensconced in his king-sized bed, propped against the teak headboard, his laptop in his lap. He was tired but determined that he was not going to go to sleep without his “bedtime story.” Not tonight, not after meeting the gorgeous writer of bedtime stories that literally were meant for the bed.
He opened the file he’d copied from the flash drive and scrolled through the story titles—to the one that had intrigued him earlier. But The Rake and the Young Innocent, didn’t appeal as much to him now as it had earlier. Now he was in the mood for something contemporary and not quite so long. He clicked on the document file for The Doctor and the Corporate Raider. The description of the file length at 15,800 words indicated he could easily read the whole story in one night. And now that he’d cleared his agenda for the evening . . . he was anxious to have a “date’ with his writer. The document opened and as he sipped on a robust Cabernet, he read.
THE DR. AND THE CORPORATE RAIDER
When Dr. Mallory Greene walked into examining room three, there he was sitting on the end of the examining table, his muscular legs dangling over the side, what was left of the paper skirting they’d given him, crumbled into a ball in his lap.
> She was instantly mesmerized by his extraordinary good looks and couldn’t help staring for a few seconds at his impressive body, spattered generously in places with thick, curling, dark hair. His nipples were all but completely obliterated beneath the bounty of black hairs fanning out over his chest. What was it about a man with a fan of chest hair over great pecs? She felt that telltale tingle of arousal. Damn hormones.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her eyes upward to his hard planed, yet handsome face, and was stunned to see the intense interest she found flashing out of blue eyes framed with thick lashes. A sculptured brow raised in inquiry told her that her presence surprised and intrigued him as much as his did hers.
Forcing calm where there was none, she took a deep breath and crossed the room. “I’m Dr. Mallory Greene, Mr. Ravencross, and I’ll be giving you your physical,” she said as she approached him and extended her hand. He looked at it for a moment then slowly took his out of the wad of paper and shook it. She could feel the energy in him, the spastic energy that he was so well known for. It was sparking all around him like an invisible curtain of power, and she sensed it was suppressed only if he intended it to be.
“Dr. Greene,” he said, a tad too formally.
How uncomfortable it must be for him to be at such a disadvantage, sitting semi-naked in front of her for their introduction, she thought.
“I understand we’re doing a complete physical, EEG, EKG, all the necessary blood work, a thorough check for any possible melanomas, and a colonoscopy.”
“It’s a condition of the insurance company representing the company I’m taking over. They insist that their new CEO have a thorough medical exam. I think they’re just putting the screws to me because this has been a difficult negotiation. But since this is their last demand, my attorneys insisted that it would be easier if I just complied. But I’ve never heard of someone having a routine colonoscopy at the age of thirty-eight.”
She gave a slight smile as she looked down at his chart. “No, that’s not a routine test done for insurance physicals. I guess they just want to be extra sure that their new boss is going to live a long, healthy life.”
His guffaw told her that he didn’t believe that for a single moment.
“Well, it looks like you’ve already had all your blood tests, the urine analysis and the EKG and EEG have been done, and only the cancer screening and the colonoscopy are left. I’ve been assigned to do them both.”
“Wonderful,” he sighed.
“You can request another physician if you’re uncomfortable with a woman Mr. Ravencross. Believe me, I’ll understand.”
“No. It’s all right. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Okay. First, I’ll check your face, then your back, your extremities and finally your torso. I will need you to stand for some of this.”
“Fine,” he said resignedly and started to get up.
“Not just yet,” her hand on his thigh stayed him. She felt a tingle go up her arm from the contact. She placed her clipboard on the counter by the sink while she washed her hands.
He watched her from the back, admiring the long blonde ponytail that was gathered at her nape. It fell nearly to her waist and he was tempted to reach over and run his fingers thorough the silky strands. She turned back to him, and he met her startling green eyes with his steely blues ones. She wasn’t trying to intimidate, and neither was he, but there it was, both of them simultaneously on the defense and offense as they faced the intimacies that they both knew
were coming.
She walked over to him and gently took his face in both hands. The warmth of his chiseled jaw surprised her; she had half expected to feel the chill of marble. She turned his head first one way and then another, trying to get the light to work for her as she minutely examined his face. She was aware of his scent, a combination she drew deeply into her nostrils. It was the perfect melding of spicy pine mixed with the pungent musk of sweat that screamed all male. It emanated from the strong, freshly-shaven jaw she held between her palms. Involuntarily, her thumbs stroked it as her eyes focused on his defining brows, straight nose, high cheekbones, and chiseled, squared-off chin. His lips were soft and full, and if she didn’t know any better, she could almost imagine that they were parted in welcome. There was a small scar on his right temple and her finger traced it as she asked him about it.
“Never let a woman with too many rings slap you, one’s bound to be facing the wrong way.”
“What’d she slap you for?” she asked tentatively, knowing it was none of her business.
“Breech of promise, I think she said. Sadly, I don’t even remember if she was right. It was a very long time ago.”
“Ah, the vagrancies of youth.”
“Something like that.”
Using her fingers, she pushed his thick hair back from his hairline and examined his forehead and scalp. It was very hard to see through hair as thick and lustrous as his. He wore it fairly short, so the best she could do was part it in small sections as she ran her fingers through it.
“I’ll give you all day to stop,” he murmured huskily and she chuckled.
“You have nice hair,” she commented.
“You have nice hands,” he replied.
She moved her hands down to his neck, and moving behind him, she felt the back of it. Then her hands splayed out as she ran them over the entire surface of his broad back. His skin was warm to her touch, and she could feel the small bristly hairs sprinkled over his shoulders. “A few moles, but nothing I see should be of any concern.” She went over to a drawer and took out a small metal ruler with very fine gradations. “I’m going to measure the ones I think we should monitor and note the measurements on your chart. A year from now, we’ll see if there are any changes.”
For the next few minutes, he felt her press her fingers lightly against each mole to feel if it was raised, then he felt the cold press of the small steel ruler against his skin as she measured in fractions of millimeters.
She finished his back, ending just above the separation of his buttocks. But he knew she’d be getting to them sooner or later and he grimaced at the thought.
He was actually starting to enjoy these minute inspections by this beautiful, young woman. His body was starting to respond to her light touches and he purposefully pressed down on the crumbled wad of paper still sitting in his lap.
She came back around to face him and lifted his right arm. Starting with his fingers she examined his hand, then his forearm and finally his well-defined biceps. “You work out,” she murmured.
“When I can. It helps when I’m frustrated.”
“Is that often?”
“Depends on my attorneys. Let’s just say I should have bought a gym before I started on this particular venture.”
“Tough business, huh?”
“It can be, if you let it. I try to stay immune to the emotional parts of it, but sometimes that’s just not possible.”
“What do you mean?” she asked as she lifted his arm high and gently probed his underarm.
Why the hell did that feel good, he asked himself as he tried to remember what they had been talking about. Oh, yes, the emotional involvements. “When you buy out big companies, people lose their jobs. Lots of people, sometimes.”
“And that bothers you.”
“Of course it bothers me. It bothers me greatly.”
“That’s not the impression I get from reading the newspapers.”
He sneered, “Of course not. They never get it right. All they think I do is make money every time I put my name on a company.”
“But that’s not true?”
“Sometimes. But more often than not, when I buy a company, I’ve saved it from bankruptcy and the loss of every single job there was.”
“Check my breasts?” he said with some shock.
“Sure, men get breast cancer too, you know.”
Then she was standing back, waiting for him to do as she asked. “Sit straighter and expand your chest for me.”
She put her hands on her hips as an example, and took in a deep breath. Her breasts lifted as she tried to show him what she expected of him. What she was showing him was that she had nice, full breasts.
He shook his head, but did as she asked, feeling like Mr. Clean, only with hair and without the earring. She marveled at the totally masculine pose that showed off his expansive chest. He was a god and she was impressed as she took one slightly raised, hairy muscle in her hand and began to knead it. She could hear his breathing change and then his sudden gasp as she rotated the flat areola, grazing the small nipple with her fingertips before moving to the other side of his chest to do the same there.
“Your chest is so hairy that it’s pretty hard to say definitively that there are no worrisome moles, but I don’t feel any abnormalities, nothing prominent, no raised or non symmetrical ones that I can see. But you know your own body, every once in awhile, when you’re in the shower and you can see through the hair, look for any changes in them. You don’t have that many, so you must use a good sun block.”
“I never miss the chance to have a woman slather me with lotion,” he said provocatively.
She cleared her throat, “Well, that’s good. Good. Keep it up.”
He watched as she visibly cringed at the double entendre and he quirked his lips in response.
She moved to his other arm, examining it, and probing the underarm as she had done to the first. Then she moved back in front of him, stooped, and took one of his dangling legs in her hands. She examined his foot, his shin and his thigh, asking him to spread his legs a little wider please, before doing the same to the other one.
Flash Drive Page 23
