by Beth Mikell
He smiled. "No, this is a private elevator. There are some restricted floors that do not offer public access."
The doors opened and he took Brooke’s hand and all kinds of heat shot up her arm with tingles and warm electricity as he pulled her inside. As they stood side by side, she gazed up at him, finding an impassive expression on his face, maybe even a hint of a smile. His thumb stroked over her skin and she flashed hot. She resisted the urge to reach up and twist her hair, but she was free falling! She was in the weirdest kind of fantasyland with no clue what she should do next.
Talk? Remain silent? Make a quip—though she was not that funny. God, if only she was Jennifer, Ms. Horn-Bee-Extraordinaire, Brooke would know what to say or do.
Thankfully, the elevator offered terminal velocity with a short ride and the doors opened.
"Here we go—welcome to the fishbowl," Damon said, leading her out into a semi-dark hallway lined with glass walls and various rooms.
There were conference tables with groups of men and women in deep discussion, and the other rooms reminded her of a James Bond movie with different gadgets undergoing testing. She was awestruck as Damon continued to lead her down the hallway, finally coming to stop in front of another conference room lined with wall-to-floor TV screens inside a video conference call with more S-Tec employees deep in an unfettered focus. A control panel was located on the outside of the glass wall and he flipped a speaker switch, filling the hallway with the sounds of the occupant's discussion, though Damon immediately lowered the volume, but didn’t look at her.
"This is where all the aerospace ideas are birthed into existence,” Damon began. “Or where problems are worked out, but unfortunately, I haven't the time to babysit the project as much as I'd like. And it's a huge deal, but my time is spread thin. We have government contracts underway and I need someone to monitor transcripts of meetings, verify that problems are resolved, and file necessary documents with different governmental departments. Most of all, I need you to be my liaison. I need an invisible force."
Finally, he turned and she cleared her throat. "Invisible force? You mean you don't want anyone to know I what I'm doing. "
His lips curved into a delicious smile. "As I mentioned, I need to switch tactics and make my decisions less public until my desired release of information. I want you to be my Aerospace Security Advisor, which you will receive a hefty salary, an office adjacent to mine and a company car and an apartment. I will need you on-call."
She had not even accepted, but it was pretty much a done deal with her hand still in his and heat sparking up her arm. Damon had maneuvered her into a boxed corner.
"I... I haven't said yes."
He grinned wide with amusement lighting his sea-beauty eyes. "But you will," he said so confidently with a matter-of-fact arrogance.
A sparkle of irritation burst through her stomach and she dropped his hand, taking a step back. "While I thank you for the proposal, any Joe-blow off the street can shuffle papers and answer a few calls or report to you. What do you really want?"
He descended so fast, pushing her up against the glass wall, his stomach was rock hard against hers, as he placed each of his hands on the glass surface at either side of her head. Her breath stopped and the coolness at her back was just what her skin needed after long, aching minutes of flushing excitement.
"I can't lie—I want you close," he rasped, brushing his lips across hers. "I want you so close no one will even know you're here. I want you to teach me all your rules so I can break every one of them—just to be in the same room with you. This may not be the most ethical way of doing business, Ms. Stone, but the fact is... I can't stay away from you."
Chapter 4
With her heart racing, Brooke sank into an unknown abyss of seduction with Damon pressed up against her body. She wanted to find every reason in the world to deny his claim, his words, even his actions, but for some inexplicable reason, she wanted everything he offered. He excited her. Lured her. And made her feel like a woman she had been so long denied.
"Why? You don't even know me," she breathed. Her lips brush against his as she spoke, but she did not care. She wanted his kiss, wanted his touch. She desired everything.
"Let me taste you, baby."
His tongue snaked out over the seam of her lips, though she automatically parted for him and she whimpered deep in her throat as his tongue curled over hers. She hardly noticed as he gathered her into his arms and pulled her snug up against his body. His hands sank into her hair, tilting her head up to deepen the kiss.
Brooke groaned. Then, she did the unthinkable… she pushed at his shoulders, dragging her mouth away. “Stop…” she rasped.
With the heat emanating off his body, and his darkened expression, his breath heaved, making her wish she had not stopped him. However, she had no choice. He twisted her so far inside herself until she had not a clue about anything else but him. If she agreed to his business proposal, kissing the boss would not be good. No, it would be wonderful, but highly inappropriate. Plus, her whole world had turned upside down with bills, a business going under, now her apartment shredded. She was not in a good place to fit in… whatever this was.
“I’m sorry, I can’t—”
Damon shook his head. “Shh… don’t apologize. It’s my fault,” he said, his hand caressing over her cheek. “I know it’s the wrong time, but you’re so amazingly sweet that I lost my head for a moment.” He stepped back.
God, the loss of his warmth screamed through her body. Brooke ached to grab him back, to mold him back against her, but she did not. Couldn’t. “Damon… I…”
A small smile curved his lips as he took her hand in his. “Let’s enjoy the kiss for what it was, Brooke. Sweet and beautiful. While I find you desirable, I know it’s the wrong time and place for… more. You just… make me want things, baby. Too much.”
His words hung heavy and she wanted to unleash herself for the first time in her life. She did not understand it, but she welcomed the tingly rush of emotions.
Was this what other women felt? Desired. Wanted.
Damon gave her a tour of his office and her potential office.
She ran her hand along the back of the black, leather sofa, thinking. This was too much, too fast. The changes were happening so quickly, she did not know how to process it.
“What do you think?”
Damon’s question centered her attention, and she glanced his direction. He stood beside the window, patiently waiting. Everything here screamed money. Expensive. And she didn’t belong.
Brooke shook her head. “I still have doubts.”
“I understand,” he said, taking a few steps her way, but stopped, and he blinked at her. “I know my offer seems too good to be true, but it’s real and it’s yours. If you agree, we’ll sign a one month contract. If you like the job, then we’ll discuss longer terms. Just say yes, and we’ll move you this weekend, so you can begin on Monday. I can make this happen.”
“Can you?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that?” Brooke was sure she should not be feeling anger during the best job interview of her life, but she felt cornered. Railroaded, even. However, the chance to make a change in her life was tempting. She could taste freedom from Uncle Duck’s debts.
His jaw tightened. “I run a multimillion dollar corporation. I think I can help you with your business. I have… people. Resources. I’m not without a few talents.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she resisted rolling her eyes. She never found the whole I’m-rich-and-successful thing very appealing. It always gave a conceited vibe. Why was he using it on her? To impress her? It wasn’t working.
“I can handle that myself, Mr. Sinclair. I don’t need someone to fight my battles for me. I’m resourceful that way.”
Damon’s eyes widened a fraction, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. “So? Is that a yes, Ms. Stone? Will you work for me? I’m entirely capable of a lengthy negotiation, but I’m not sure you’d have the stam
ina.”
Brooke arched an eyebrow, trying not to focus on how her body rushed with excitement. He could easily be the most gifted man with words. Bypassing his sexy innuendo, she said, “Yes, I accept the one month offer, but with one non-negotiable request.”
“I’m listening.”
Grinning, Damon moved closer, sinking a hand into his jeans pocket. His scent surrounded her, and for a second, she forgot what she wanted to say. How would she handle seeing him day after day? Working so closely? She needed to put a lid on herself. Permanently.
“I-I need to return to Bel-Air and see Jennifer and Harry… alone,” she murmured. “I’ll be back Sunday. I need to make a few arrangements for Ascent.”
He nodded. “I also have one stipulation. Shem goes with you.” Damon held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Your apartment was ransacked and it’s dangerous for you to be hitting the streets without protection. I’ve already told you that I’ve had a few security breaches, I’d feel better if he went with you. He goes, or I do. Either way, you can’t go alone.”
“Are you suggesting there is a correlation between my apartment and your security issues?”
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “But as my new employee, I take your safety very seriously. Let’s go to my office, sign the contract, then Shem will escort you back to Bel-Air. Everything will work out, Brooke. Trust me.”
Could she trust him? She asked herself the same question all the way to Jennifer’s.
****
Damon ran his fingertip over Brooke’s signature on the contract—the curls of her name were easy and confident. Never in his life had he felt girly butterflies twist in his gut. He had been married to Olivia, loved her, but he never had this. The kind of feeling that made him feel fifteen, hoping to catch a glimpse of his crush. With his wife, he had had a commitment, a companion, and love, but more in terms of reliance—a sure thing.
Olivia had been his best friend in college, and then they had moved into the natural step of husband and wife. They had walked in harmony, easy and dependable. Romance had been optional. They had matched each other in tastes and accomplishments, but they had still lacked something. Something he would never allow himself to crave… until now.
Brooke opened things inside him—things he could not fathom. When he was with her, he had to remind himself to breathe. He was not even sure he knew his own name half the time. Damon wanted to protect her. Be her savior and her lover. He wanted to fight for the right to hold her hand or earn her smiles. It was not because she was Olivia’s twin, but because she gave him something he had never had… purity. It may be only days, but enough to fill him with hope.
Then, a sting of guilt strapped him, making him regret his choices. He should have told Brooke the truth from the beginning. He should have allowed Jim Bartley the autonomy to handle this entirely, and not gotten involved. But he hadn’t.
Now he was standing in the midst of lies. The kind he abhorred. The damaging kind. He had her for a month—a month to show her who she was—who he was—and pray he would not lose her.
“Sir? Your car is ready.”
Damon looked up, finding Antoine, his assistant standing ready by the door. The man never took a casual day, always dressed in a suit. This day, no different. His African-American heritage gleamed with his honeyed hued skin and his serious, dark eyes. They had grown up together and Damon trusted this man with his life. He would entrust him with Brooke’s life too.
Standing, he gathered up her contract, carrying it as he went. He stopped beside Antoine. “Here’s Ms. Stone’s contract. Do what we discussed regarding her apartment upstairs, job, and security detail. Make sure everything is ready for her on Monday.”
The other man inclined his head, taking the document. “Of course.” He hesitated. “Do you… are you making the right decision, boss? Having her… so close to you? The reminder has to be killing you.”
If the question had come from anyone else, Damon would have laid his fist in his throat, but not Antoine Carver. They had helped each other out of some dark times, so he was right to be concerned.
He shrugged. “She may look like Olivia, but she’s not her. She’s drowning and needs help. If it’s the only way to honor the memory of my wife, I’ll fight to do it.”
Antoine’s expression grew cool. “Excuse me for saying so, but you don’t owe her anything.”
Damon stiffened, his hand clenching into a fist. “Just because we grew up together, doesn’t give you the right to question my choices. Don’t interfere.” He moved to leave, but his friend and employee grabbed his arm.
“Listen, brother, I only have your best interest at heart. You went through hell after Olivia passed away. I don’t want to see you battle your way out of hell again. This time you may not recover,” he said, drawing a breath. “Don’t try to recreate the life you had with your wife. Once Ms. Stone learns the truth, she may not share your… enthusiasm.”
All the fight and defense left Damon, as more guilt heaped on his shoulders. For good or bad, Antoine was right. But Brooke was different. She was not like Olivia. They were complete opposites in everything. Brooke was strong, whereas Olivia had been reserved. Always had been. It was one of the reasons he was having trouble choking down his late wife’s action to keep her sister a secret. She would not have kept something so important from him on her own. Someone else had to have advised her—made her or forced her. He only had to discover whom.
Looking at Antoine, Damon tried to sound convincing. “I know what you’re saying and why. As flippant as I may seem on the topic, I know. I really know. I’m not trying to recreate anything with Ms. Stone. I only want to help her. If I thought for one minute I’d lose myself in her, I’d walk away.” More lies, of course.
He could not walk away from her. Not unless that was the only way to make her happy. Still, he would fight like hell. The woman was entirely too stubborn for her own good. “I’m asking you as a friend, Antoine. Help me, help her.”
Antoine flashed a smile. “You know I will. Anything. I only wanted to be sure you were doing this for the right reasons. I don’t want to find your sorry butt drowned in some bottle later.”
Grinning, Damon shook his head. “Trust me. I got this.” But even as he walked away, he knew the lie inside his heart grew. He could not walk away. There was something wonderful and intriguing about Brooke Stone and he planned to root out every part of her. Discover her. Know her. Frankly, she was his. He protected what belonged to him.
****
Brooke laid her head back against Jennifer’s sofa and closed her eyes. She had spent the better part of an hour explaining all the ends and out of last night and today to her friend. The club, her apartment, and her new job made the three top subjects. Feeling wiped, she wanted a nap. A long one. Her stress with the last six months was finally catching up with her, knowing she was close to solving all her problems. Or the ones she could solve with money.
She ached to wrap a warm blanket around her shoulders and snooze for at least twelve hours. Honestly, she could not remember the last time she did that.
“What can I do to make this easier, baby doll? I’m a little disappointed McDreamy Sinclair was only head hunting you for a job and not your body. Especially after, he acted so protective of you. He wasn’t the man I hoped he’d be.”
Cracking her eyes, Brooke peered over at her friend. “Really? That’s all you got out of this whole discussion? You’re sad he’s not a date candidate?”
She would not admit she was disappointed too. What would be the point? She had not shared her lip locks either, not wanting to fuel Jennifer’s romantic inclinations further. Damon Sinclair was her new boss—end of story.
Jennifer grunted, grabbing a throw pillow, and stuffed it in her lap. “Of course not! I only hoped you’d found—” She shrugged, “—I don’t know. Someone. The kind of someone I wish to find.”
Brooke laughed. “What…? You mean Skydiver Mike wasn’t your dream guy?” Her fri
end threw the pillow at her, but she deflected easily, giggling.
“Now, you’re being mean,” Jennifer said, laughing. “You know I won’t ever speak to him again—not after the way he treated you. What a loser.”
“But what about Carlos? You said he was interested.”
Jennifer sighed. “Not feeling it anymore, doll face. I’m ready to give up on horn dog guys. Seriously, they only lead me down a path of sex and nothing more. I think it’s time to hold out for Mr. Right.” Before Brooke could say anything, she rushed and said, “Hey, you mentioned needing clothes. You know I have three closets full of stuff I’ll never wear again. It’s good, premium stuff too. Why don’t we pack you a suitcase before you head over to see Harry?”
“Okay.”
Jennifer leaped up, grabbing Brooke’s hand. “C’mon, baby doll. Let’s find you some hot clothes to wear around the office.”
She tugged her hand away, frowning. “Let’s keep it classy. It’s business. I’m not interested in—”
Her friend waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. Just because McDreamy isn’t crunching you, doesn’t mean we can’t sexify you. Let him see what he’s missing. Let’s do this!”
Like teenagers on a shopping spree, they spent the better part of two hours digging through Jennifer’s closets. Brooke wasn’t sure about some of her friend’s choices, so sure she’d get fired for indecent exposure.
A spandex skirt? No, she could not wear it with stilettos.
****
As Shem slowed the Hummer to a stop at the curb of Ascent Flights, the side door burst open. Damon stood glaring. His face was hard-edged and angry. Brooke barely had time to gasp, much less form a question when he said, “Come with me, now,” he growled.
Her body jerked forward at his command, but she stopped. She looked past him to her business. Several police cars were lined up, their lights flashing. There was an ambulance too.
Harry was hurt.
Her brain disconnected, seeing only him sitting in the back of the ambulance, holding something against his neck as a paramedic worked beside him. She moved, bulldozing Damon out of her way, but he gripped her wrist.
