One steaming cup remained waiting in the tray, bearing the logo of the coffee shop across the street, Death Before Decaf. An assortment of single serve creamers and sweeteners laid spread out for her. She quickly doctored her coffee, cleaned up after herself and returned to the group.
Since Jack had already claimed the one empty chair across from Rand's desk, Briar took the couch along the opposite wall. She set her coffee down on the coffee table, giving him a brief glimpse of her cleavage. She could lie and say it wasn’t on purpose, but she did like the little thrill it gave her to tease him. While she didn’t plan to pursue whatever might be happening, it didn’t mean she couldn’t at least innocently enjoy the flirtation. There was also not harm in lying to herself. She smoothed her skirt as she sat, crossing her legs to balance her notebook on her knee, her laptop open on the arm of the sofa beside her.
She waited for a break in conversation before she interjected. “I apologize for being late. Can someone bring me up to speed on what's happening?
Watching Briar perched in the corner of his sofa, beautiful long legs crossed, made Ciaran’s fingers twitch with the need to come out from behind this desk and run his hands over the black lines of her stocking covered calves. His mouth watered with the wholly inappropriate need to taste her. He licked his lips and instead lifted his coffee, taking one scalding sip. Coffee was fine but she would taste better.
This line of thought had to stop. He needed control. There couldn’t be a relationship between them—why the word even entered his mind should send a chill straight through him. He never wanted or needed one before. Even if he reconsidered that position, now was not the time. Not with his goal in its current uncertain state. Briar was his employee and if he didn’t stop, a sexual harassment lawsuit was waiting to happen.
Dammit—for the first time, he almost didn't care. That’s what finally struck him with any kind of self-preserving caution, and at this rate even that might not hold.
Jack cleared his throat, eyebrows raised expectantly waiting for Ciaran to take control and fill in the blank of Briar’s question.
“The expectation is that every morning you'll come to my office for briefing on the day. Since you’re in training and you and I will be working fairly close, Jack will be handling both of our schedules. It’s easier for him to fill us in once.”
“No problem, I can handle that. Friday, however, I will have to miss our briefing. I have an appointment with my lawyer.”
Jack tapped his stylus on the desk like a tiny gavel to interject. “Would you like me to start from the top?”
Briar opened her kissable red lips to answer but Ciaran jumped in. “Not today. She’ll be with me most of the day working on the new policy handbook. We can let you carry on with your day I think.”
It probably was not the best move to be alone with her, but Ciaran couldn't resist the opportunity. Jack gave Ciaran a sideways look but held his tongue. Collecting his coffee and precious tablet, he smiled at her and winked, leaving Ciaran with a sudden urge to fire his longtime assistant—a man he knew he could never replace.
Jack stopped in front of her on his way out and leaned in, but his conspiratorial whisper still carried. “His bark is worse than his bite. Don’t let this thug intimidate you.” Jack straightened. “Holler if you need me.”
He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Shutting them in together.
“So now can we discuss what in particular I'm wearing that offends you?” The look on her face as she asked the question, the affronted dignity and irritation, and more than that, her tone and the word choice were a challenge.
Ciaran had forgotten. He was too busy being consumed in the details of her and having her alone. The infraction was small and frankly it turned him on to see, as much as her reaction and resulting challenge had. He couldn’t let himself have her, but damn was it fun to get under her skin. He made the comment and now he had to answer for it.
“Fishnets.” He allowed his gaze to glide up the offending article of hosiery. “They have a certain unprofessional connotation that falls outside the bounds of business casual. Not quite polished enough for the Rand Enterprises look.”
Her dark eyes flashed like black ice, the ice cold danger that if you ignored could spin you out of control. It was too late for him—he already had. But the silence. That was the most telling feature of her mood. She opened her mouth as if to say something, stopped, as though weighing her words, and then started again.
Ciaran picket up his laptop and moved to join her on the sofa. Dangerous to sit so close to her—and not because of the possibility of frostbite—but he couldn't help himself, couldn't stay away from her any longer. She was magnetic.
“Did you read the policy handbook yesterday?” Ciaran kept his eyes on his screen, but felt hers boring into him as if she were waiting for something else.
“I took notes, but I don’t recall anything in the dress code about fishnets.”
Shots fired—good. He would have hated her to be the kind of woman who just bent to someone else’s will. Somehow, he’d known she had that kind of quiet strength, like tempered steel. She at least would make the workday interesting.
“It’s implied. Nothing worn and informal, too revealing or to sheer. If those terms don’t satisfy you, than manager discretion. If we listed every article of clothing specifically, we’d have a novel just on dress code.”
The regular irritated staccato of Briar’s pen on the edge of her notepad stilled, as the corners of her red painted lips turned down. “Manager Discretion is a cop out. I pegged you better than that.”
“To be fair, it wasn’t my first point. Now can we move on or do we need to start with that policy for the actual work to begin?” Ciaran glanced down at his watch. “I have a meeting in two hours and I would like to have this drafted for review by the end of the week.”
She leaned forward to grab her coffee off the table, scooting closer to Ciaran, until her knee brushed his. His body reacted to her immediately. A small innocent accident forced him to cover the evidence of her effect on him with a laptop that was not really up for the task. Her grip on the cup tightened and she glanced first at their touching knees and then up at Ciaran as if expecting him to move or say something snide.
He sat frozen in the snare of her dilated pupils, locked on his, which likely were just as bad, and the pink flush of heat gracing her soft cheeks and the swell of her breasts. Not focusing on that alone was a struggle. Damn, when she’s leaned over the table earlier he nearly choked on his coffee.
“Sorry. Where would you like to start? I have a list of policies I think should be added. I noticed you’re lacking one on social media for instance. I also didn’t see anything on nepotism and fraternization. Although, considering Rand Enterprises is owned and run your family, I understand why you don’t have one in here.”
And just like that he could see why Jack hired her. Briar saw straight to the point. She was perfect for him. He shook the thought lose. She’s perfect for Human Resources. Ciaran cleared his throat. “Let’s start with existing policies although I agree. We will have to address those topics. That’s why this needs to happen.”
Her eyes stayed down on her notepad as she sipped her coffee, but over the edge of the cup, Ciaran could see the faint hint of a smile at his small praise of her. It was a lovely smile and he wanted more of it. Another sign of what a long week this was about to be.
5
Running felt cathartic after a long day of her hormones on overdrive and it was only Tuesday. This never stopped being Briar’s favorite escape—meditative even. The oppressive heat of a summer that refused to acknowledge football season had started and the leaves that should be changing, didn’t put her off. The rhythm of each step pounding against the pavement, feeling the vibration of it ripple up through her muscles, as oxygen burned through her limbs. The sound of her own breathing. These became a focus to carry away her concerns. The only thing missing was the thrill of competition with the
adrenaline high that chased it, to make this feeling complete.
She needed every second of this to burn a man out of her thoughts and for the first time in months, she didn’t mean her soon to be ex-husband. Ciaran was an abrasive ass and noticed everything. Except her. But he did watch her. She would be typing up a section they just discussed and feel his gaze. Their eyes would connect, and every time the steel fire in his eyes made her breath catch. Then he’d look away. When this happed in an afternoon meeting, she caught him while someone else was presenting. Did he expect her to say something and she let him down? Or was it something more happening?
Briar did respect the hell out of Ciaran. He seemed to have a progressive attitude as they worked through policy after policy. Often, he embraced progressive ideas while other corporations of their longevity seamed to cling to the status quoi with an iron grip. Then, the man’s work ethic—she understood from Jack that he came in hours before all the rest of them. When she left tonight he was still at it. He worked like a man possessed—like he had a passion for his business that she longed to feel for anything.
Slowing, she found a shady spot and took her pulse. She needed to refocus. She had more than she could have asked for even with the oppressive humidity. The sun was bright, the leaves were still green and she was going to be a free woman—eventually, now that the papers were being served.
She’d been trying different areas for a good place to have her runs. Most seemed crowded with play equipment and kids. Not so with this one. Those things were here but there were trails available that weren’t so bad and the drive from the apartment had been short. She might even walk the distance as a warm up.
Briar set off again but made it two steps before she heard the bikes coming up behind her. She moved to the right to let them pass. The first flew past. The second swerved over and knocked into her.
She stumbled back into a tree but didn’t manage to catch herself in time to keep from tumbling into the smaller thorny vegetation beside it.
The bicyclist called back to her. “Get out of the way, lady!”
That asshat had the gall to blame her. “Fuck you,” she yelled back.
Briar laid there, seething. This was just like the rest of her life. She made way for others and not once did anyone have the decency to make room for her—even on a common park trail. When was it her turn?
Soft footfalls crunching the dirt path shook her free from her pity party. Time to get up before whomever this was found her laying here and had her ass committed, because she had to look crazy laying here sweaty and cursing for no good reason.
The tug of a branch pulled the shoulder strap of her tank, catching on the exposed strap of her sports bra as she moved to sit up. It dragged against her skin. “Shit. That hurts.” She reached to free herself but the strain on the fabric only got worse as she twisted to free herself.
“Need help?”
“I need assholes on mountain bikes to watch where the fuck they’re going.”
A deep chuckle caressed her skin. Then his voice registered through her frustration. She pulled harder to free herself as her cheeks burned. Why now? Why when she should have been in her element, did he have to see her now? The universe clearly had it out for her.
“I can see that. Let me help you up.”
“No that’s okay. I got it.” Then the fabric gave with a pop that snapped against her skin, then fell lax—too loose not to be exposing more flesh then she would have liked. She dropped her head to hide her face. “Shit.”
Briar turned her eyes up to Ciaran’s amused face. She gripped the torn edge or her shoulder straps, holding them up and herself in.
“What’s with you and tearing your clothes? It’s like you’re trying to flash me. Don’t you think we should know each other better first?” He held out his hand to her.
Laughter bubbled up. The whole thing was so ridiculous she couldn’t help it. He was kind of right. If she was going to flash him this often—it was her second time in as many days so she couldn’t argue the trend—she really should get to know him. It helped that this time he made a joke instead of being an asshole. Or was she just so keyed up before that she’d mistaken humor for a dick move? Either way the man was right.
She slid her free hand—the one not keeping her breast securely covered—in his outstretched hand. His fingers were warm and rougher than she expected for someone so well groomed, a dyed in the wool metrosexual. Maybe it was part of his hidden depths that she should get to know, kind of like the dry humor. He hauled her easily to her feet, pulling her until her body bumped against his, her covered breasts rubbing against his cotton T-shirt.
Ciaran looked damn good in a sleeveless shirt with its collar cut out to be more open. But the feel of his hard body underneath rubbing against hers, even for that unintentional millisecond, had her hot and bothered, more than an afternoon of running could hide. He released her hand and whipped off the aforementioned shirt.
“Here. I can run around topless and no one’s going to say anything.” He held the gray shirt out to her that she’d been having indecent thoughts about seconds before.
“Thanks. Nice to know chivalry isn’t dead.” She took it and clutched it to her chest for a moment.
A T-shirt covered in man sweat should have been grossing her out. She should have been passing it back, not putting it on. Instead, as she slid it over her head she took a deep breathe. Mmh—she’d forgotten how good a man could smell. Earthy but not in a dirty way, more like juniper or something a little evergreen and spicy. At least he couldn’t see her face in that split second of reaction. There was no hiding that lust but at least the rising flush in her skin could be explained away as embarrassment.
Until the t-shirt hit the back of her knees, she had no idea just how big of a man Ciaran was. Or for the love of god—just how cut he looked under that suit. This man ran often, and probably lifted weights because you didn’t get that kind of definition otherwise. She had a clear mental image of him on a chin up bar pulling himself up with bulging arms and flexing pecks. Her fingers twitch with involuntary need to trace their curve down the centerline of his abs. Then her eyes found the start of his V where his basketball shorts hung low on his hips.
Briars eye’s bounced up to meet Ciaran’s and her cheeks burned brighter with his knowing smile. She’d been caught.
“Run here often?” Great now her voice was coming out sultry, like a cat in heat.
“I was about to ask you the same.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been feeling out the trails for a good place to run. First time on this one since I moved here.”
“Mind if I keep you company today?”
“Well there is that matter of getting to know me before I bare it all.” Gigi would be proud of her for that one—not that Briar should be flirting. This may not be work but this man was still her boss, accidental run-in/rescue only carried her so far.
He smiled and his hand fell to the small of her back, ushering her back into motion at an easy pace and she let him. Her flesh beneath his hand tingled, as though her skin absorbed his energy right through the cotton.
“Can we start over? I feel like I got such a bad start and you’ve only seen me in the worst light possible.”
“I don’t know about that. You look like grace under pressure to me.”
She felt the compliment all the way to the tips of her toes. When was the last time a man had said something like that to her? “I’m not generally a late person, I’ve never been a klutz until I’ve been around you, and the last time I cursed like that I tore my meniscus.”
“That’s a hell of an injury to come back from. Like I said grace under pressure. Not many others would get back to the trails. How long ago?”
Briar smiled at his interest. “Junior year of college. I was prepping for the Olympic trials. I’d won nationals and even though my coach advised against it, I was working myself hard to get ready. I learned to listen after that.”
“Cross count
ry or sprints? What was your event?”
“Both but for the Olympics, I was going for the 100 meter dash. I miss it.”
“I’m sure that you do. To compete on that level takes passion and commitment that most people don’t have.”
Briar could feel the blush creeping up her neck with all the compliments. She would be surprised if she didn’t have hives on her chest at this point. She had to get the topic off herself fast and cool down.
“Did you do track or is this just a workout for you?”
“Just a workout. I did amateur boxing much to my grandfather’s chagrin. My mom used to tell me stories of her father and grandfather boxing in Ireland. When I asked, she let me. The look on my grandfather’s face the first time I came for a visit with a black eye is something I will never forget. Bless my mom, she wouldn’t back down and pull me out when he demanded it. Said his heir would not be a bruiser.”
“I know what you mean. My mom hated that I was a runner. Said it was fine as a hobby to help me keep my figure but it would never get me a husband. Dad made her back off and when we lost him I was old enough to fight for myself and stay in it.”
Although he faced the path ahead of them, his gaze seemed unfocused as he asked in a hushed voice, “How old were you?”
“Sixteen,” she answer, chocking back the burn of tears that threatened. It had been so long since she’d even turned her mind to it. “Got hit by a drunk driver coming home from the office.”
“I lost mom at seventeen to cancer. Dad was pretty much a mess after that. Left me to my grandfather to lick his wounds. Can’t say I blame him. She left a pretty big hole in all of us.”
“She sounds like she was a wonderful person.” She couldn’t help the reverent awe in her tone. Not many people could identify with that part of her past—losing a parent—she certainly wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The shared connection was unexpected but welcome.
“She was. She’s the reason I’m next in line for CEO of Rand. My Father loved her so deeply that when my grandfather forbid them to marry my Dad gave it all up and went into business for himself. When I was born, my grandfather settled it all on me and started grooming me to take my place as soon as I could read and count to ten.”
Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection Page 86
