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Desire was an emotion that encouraged smart women to make dumb decisions.
Hadn’t she seen that enough growing up with her mom bouncing from one destructive relationship to the next? Her mom had never understood why none of the men stayed. She hadn’t comprehended that the type of powerful, charismatic male she was attracted to traded on those very traits to get what he wanted—sex with a beautiful woman.
However, they’d all been incapable of giving her mom what she needed…love.
Tara’s mom had only broken the cycle by default when miracle of miracles, a strong, sexy man also turned out to have a heart.
It was Darren Colby’s influence in Tara’s life that had led her to believe that kind of man wasn’t always bad news. She was no longer so naïve. Darren was an anomaly in the male species, an alpha male with a heart…but she didn’t figure anomalies like that came along more than maybe once a millennium.
She would stay focused on her job and not the way Angelo Gordon’s dark good looks affected her libido.
Tara walked into the posh downtown hotel, projecting an unshakable confidence that was only skin deep. Inside, she was as nervous as she’d been her first day on the job. More even, because then all she’d been fighting was a fear of the unknown. Tonight, she fought her fear of being weak.
Angelo waited for her at a table in a small private alcove of the hotel restaurant. A historic landmark, the hotel’s rich décor of carved wood paneling leading to cavernously high ceilings was original to its nineteenth century construction. Despite the distance to the ceilings, the rich detail of the da Vinci-like scenes painted there caught her attention.
But even the artwork’s beauty could not keep her focus when she could feel Angelo’s regard across the restaurant. He watched her with unreadable blue eyes as she made her way toward him between linen topped tables graced by well dressed diners. Even from this far away, he exerted an aura of masculine power that sent her heart tripping.
Just like Baron.
Only unlike Baron, she would not allow herself to be fooled into believing Angelo was more than what he appeared on the surface, a ruthless corporate shark.
He stood when she reached the table, his height startling at close quarters. At five foot nine, she was no shrimp, but the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. It was a very odd feeling. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”
He waited for the maître d’ to seat her before sitting down again. “Angelo, please. I prefer a more relaxed environment in my companies.”
“Your approach appears to be quite effective. You’ve never lost a company yet.”
Something swirled in his indigo gaze as he poured her a glass of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table. “Actually, I have lost one, but that was a long time ago.”
Sensing he had no desire to discuss it further, she took a sip of the fruity wine and then asked, “Angelo is an Italian name?”
Other than the blue eyes, which were not entirely uncommon in Italian men—with his dark hair and tanned good looks, he had a very Mediterranean appearance.
“My mother was Sicilian.”
That explained a lot, but remembering a fashion shoot she’d done outside of Palermo one summer, she said, “Most Sicilian men are a lot shorter than you.”
“My father was American.”
“And tall,” she guessed.
He smiled, making her breath catch. This man was beautiful.
“Yes. According to my mother, that was one of the first things she noticed about him. There was more than a foot disparity in their sizes, but I can never remember them seeming like they did not fit.”
“I’ve heard love can be a great equalizer,” she said with a tinge of mockery she wished she didn’t feel.
But after her childhood and one disastrous personal affair, she had little belief in the emotion so many touted as the panacea for all ills.
“So they say.” His tone was no less cynical than her own.
The waiter came to take their order and she made a point of selecting her own meal. This was not a date and even if it was, she didn’t go in for the old world custom of the male ordering for the female. She’d spent too many years taking care of herself.
“You wanted to discuss my report?” she asked after the waiter left.
“First, I think I should like to know a little more about you, Tara.”
“I’m sure all the pertinent information is in my employee record.”
“Perhaps I prefer to hear it firsthand.”
“I was under the impression this was supposed to be a business dinner.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to offend her boss, but not so light he wouldn’t take the comment to heart.
His midnight gaze caressed her with tactile force and it was all she could do not to shiver. “My closest friends started as business associates.”
“You don’t strike me as a man with a lot of close friends.” She’d meant the words to come out worldly and sophisticated, but instead her voice was two octaves lower than normal and sounded flirtatious, darn it.
“You’re very perceptive.” He cocked his head slightly, his expression challenging her. “That does not mean you could not become one of them.”
“You’re very bold.”
“I didn’t get where I am hesitating to go after what I want.”
“If you want my business expertise, you can have it. If you’re looking for a personal relationship with an employee, I decline.” She couldn’t be more direct than that, but then this man apparently needed blunt.
He nodded, his expression showing no offence. “I can respect that.” Then he smiled. “That does not mean I won’t try to change your mind.”
“I would prefer if you didn’t.”
“I would prefer you did not treat me like a pariah simply because I own the company you work for.”
“Wanting to stick to business is hardly treating you like an outcast.”
“And denying me the possibility of friendship?”
“You don’t need my friendship.”
“You are wrong.” And the intensity in his expression said he was telling her the truth, but how could that be?
Unless his definition of friendship and hers were not quite the same thing. Maybe he was between girlfriends at the moment.
“I have no interest in becoming a business tycoon’s pillow friend.”
CHAPTER TWO
“DO YOU judge every man you meet by Baron Randall’s standards?”
She should not be surprised he knew about her past. Half the modern world had read the tabloid stories. Or at least it seemed that way sometimes. It was a good thing she’d learned early on in her modeling career that someone asking an awkward or painful question did not equate to an obligation on her part to answer it.
“That’s really none of your business, Mr. Gordon.”
“Angelo.”
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Angelo. I work for you and to my knowledge a personal relationship with my employer is not a requirement on my job description.”
His amused but piercing gaze did things to her insides she desperately wished it didn’t. “You are not only forthright, but you’re damn certain of yourself.”
“Yes.” He wasn’t the only person who knew what he wanted and went for it. Rather she knew what she didn’t want—a repeat of her disastrous affair with a ruthless business tycoon.
Despite the fact that Angelo made a pointed effort to restrain his conversation to her business report over dinner, Tara found herself unwillingly enthralled by the man himself. He was intense, dynamic and smart. Smarter than any person she’d ever met and yet, he didn’t dismiss her opinions if they differed from his. She appreciated that more than he could know, truly enjoying the evidence that he respected her even if she wasn’t quite in his league.
That was something she’d always felt was in doubt in her relationship with Baron.
She hadn’t been sure how Angelo would take her not-so-gentle refusal to get personal, but he’d responded with a professionalism and maturity she couldn’t help admiring. She’d known men a lot older than him that reverted to spoiled little boys when thwarted in their pursuit of a woman.
For that reason, she found herself relaxing as the evening progressed, less concerned when their conversation took temporary by-ways not related wholly to human resource management.
They’d spent an hour over dinner before she even realized it.
The waiter asked if they wanted dessert and Angelo looked at her. “Do you have a sweet tooth? I’ve had their raspberry crème brûlée and it is some of the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”
“Crème brûlée is my favorite,” she admitted, her mouth watering at the prospect of indulging in the treat.
With one of his rare, but devastating smiles, he ordered one for each of them.
The desserts arrived and she had to stifle an animal groan of anticipation when she saw the perfect caramelization of the glaze on top.
“You look like you’ve just been offered a dish of ambrosia.”
“Haven’t I?”
He laughed, the sound doing things to her even more insidious than the sight of the decadent treat.
She felt compelled to explain her over the top reaction. “I spent years eschewing refined sugar and processed food of any kind for the benefit of my figure and complexion.”
Appreciative eyes burned over her and she felt like she was wearing a spandex mini that revealed every curve rather than the black Jackie-O suit.
“You must still refrain quite a bit.” His voice caressed her with obvious masculine approval.
For the first time in years, she found herself blushing about a comment made regarding her physical appearance. She’d gotten very used to seeing her body as her tool in trade, but this man made her very aware of herself as a feminine being.
She shrugged, projecting the air of insouciance she should be feeling about his comment. “I didn’t stop modeling all that long ago.”
His eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression you came to Primo Tech straight out of college.”
“I did, but the last couple of years I supported myself with my modeling.”
“After your breakup with Randall.”
She grimaced. “Yes.”
“He paid for your schooling before that?”
She didn’t know why, but she found herself wanting to answer his question, when normally she would have cut such personal conversation off at the knees.
“He wanted to maximize our time together, so I agreed not to work.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t want you to give up school.”
“Oh, he did.” But as much as she’d thought she loved the swine, she’d been unwilling to give up her independence completely, or her dreams for her future.
“You refused.”
“Adamantly.”
“Did you retire from modeling because he wanted you to?”
Again, the question didn’t offend her so much as give her an opportunity to talk about something she’d kept locked away inside for two long years. “I’d always planned on retiring young enough to go to school and move onto a second career. So, when he said he wanted to be the only man in my life, not one in a cast of thousands, I agreed and quit a few years and a few goals before I’d planned to. I was actually flattered he felt so strongly.”
She knew her voice echoed her disgust with herself over her naiveté. Even so, her insistence on taking college courses had been a bone of contention between them until their break-up.
“Do you regret that decision?”
“I find regret a wasted emotion. When I had to go back to work to support myself again, it was harder to get the lucrative jobs, but I survived and I learned a lot in the process.”
Angelo studied her, what looked like real respect warming his gaze. “Yet even after going back to work, you excelled in your studies. I have heard modeling requires a great deal of dedication.”
No doubt he’d dated a few models in his time. Most rich men did, seeing beautiful women as adornments as surely as designers saw models as mannequins to display their wares.
Still, she couldn’t help liking the knowledge he was impressed with her efforts at school rather than offended by them as Baron had been.
“I don’t think I could have modeled full-time and gone to school as well, but I earned enough working through the summers to support myself during the school year.”
“You’re a very determined woman.”
“I’d say that was something you probably understand well.”
“You’d be right.” He pointed his spoon toward her brûlée. “Taste.”
Did he have any idea what the sexy timbre of his voice did to her insides? Of course not, and no way was she letting on either. Better to get over the strange, melting reaction than expose it in any way, but every word was like foreplay to her sexually deprived body.
Bad. This was very bad.
She grabbed her spoon, conversation ceasing while she obeyed his order to taste. She gave a helpless moan of pleasure as the first bite of the perfectly prepared sweet filled her senses. Her eyes closed and she savored the taste she indulged in so rarely.
She’d once had another model describe a chocolate torte as orgasmic, but until this moment she’d never had an erotic reaction to food before. The sensual slide of the vanilla custard across her tongue was just that though and goose bumps formed on her inner thighs as her womb clenched in an astonishing reaction to the delicacy.
Belatedly coming to terms with how her not-so-innocent enjoyment could be misinterpreted, she quickly opened her eyes. Straightening in her chair, she tried to wipe the pleasure from her expression and willed her unruly body to calm down.
Her spoon clattered to the table in her haste to let it go. “Um, it’s very good. You were right.” She forced her gaze to meet his, afraid of what she would see, but unwilling to play the coward. “I guess I got a little carried away there.”
Blue eyes looked back at her with hunger, but he shook his head. “Relax. You look like you think I’m going to pounce.”
“Aren’t you?” She wasn’t an idiot and she wasn’t a tease. She knew what her reaction had to have looked like to him.
A total come-on, despite all she’d said about not wanting to get involved.
“You’ve made your view of a relationship between the two of us very clear, Tara.” He spoke as if instructing a small child and perversely she wanted to tell him she was anything but. “I’m not going to read an invitation in a former model’s obvious love of feeding her starved sweet tooth.”
“Thank you.” And she should feel grateful. Extremely grateful.
Not disappointed.
“No problem. Now, enjoy your dessert.”
He’d let her off the hook with his assurance, so why did she feel even further enmeshed in his web than before?
“So, how was dinner?” Danette asked in a low undertone as she and Tara worked on slides for a presentation their manager was supposed to give to Angelo and the top management string the following morning.
Tara looked around, thankful no one was nearby enough to overhear her friend’s question. The dinner last night had been strictly business, but that wasn’t necessarily how others would interpret it.
After her affair with Baron, she’d been the butt of enough gossip to last her a lifetime. “Shh. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Danette’s hazel eyes widened, darkening to green with a knowing gleam. “So it wasn’t just business.”
“No,” Tara snapped, then realized her answer had come out wrong. “I mean yes…I mean it was business and only business.” If she didn’t count the orgasmic dessert. “Okay?”
“I don’t know. Angelo Gordon is a real hottie and you seem pretty frazzled for a woman who had a strictly business date last night.”
“It wasn’t a date at all.”
“Are you saying he didn’t make a move on you?”
How did she answer that? Had their conversation at the beginning of dinner been a move? She thought maybe it had, but then he’d backed off pretty easily.
She took too long to answer and Danette’s expression turned gleefully calculating. “So, he is attracted to you.”
That was something she couldn’t deny without lying. “Could we drop this discussion? We’ve got work to do.”
“Sure, but, hon, just answer one question…if last night was all business and no play, why are you blushing to the roots of your gorgeous hair?”
Tara still hadn’t come up with an adequate reply to her friend’s teasing comment by the time the other woman left work to get ready for her very real date with a budding journalist.
It had bugged her all day. For something like the hundredth time since waking that morning, she shoved thoughts of Angelo to the back of her mind. She forced herself to concentrate on the papers in front of her.
With no distractions around her and fierce effort, it worked. She was so engrossed that security came to tell her all external entrances but the main one had been secured for the evening before she realized what time it was. She looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was well after seven.
She should have left over two hours ago.
Muscles cramped from long hours of sitting in the same position protested and she stood to stretch. Her tummy growled, but her eyes were drawn back to the almost completed report on her desk. Just another hour or so and she would be done.
“Why are you still here?”
She jumped at the sound of Angelo’s voice, her entire body flushing with warmth and she hadn’t even turned to look at him.
When she did, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Why did the man have to be so darn sexy? Most of his management team was at least a decade older, balding and showing the effects of middle age in their belt size, but not Angelo. He was tall and lean with muscles to die for and if he was much over thirty, she’d eat the report she’d been editing.
“I was working on a project and got lost to the time.”
“What about this workplace effectiveness model you’ve been trying to sell to management? Doesn’t that include going home on time?”
She shrugged guiltily. “Theory doesn’t always work in reality.”
He smiled, white teeth flashing in his gorgeous face. “No, it doesn’t, but if you’re going to convince my management team of your theories, you’re going to have to live and work by them.”
“You’re right, of course.” She sighed, wishing life was as easy as putting ideas down on paper. “I guess you got caught up in something, too?”
His expression cooled for no reason she could discern. “I was putting together the plans for a new acquisition.”
“You’re buying another company?”
Satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but they remained strangely chilled. “Yes.”
“Um…congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He ran his fingers through the short, dark curls on his head, leaving them mussed and looking way too enticing for her own good. “Have you had dinner?”
“No. I’ll stop and get something on the way home.” She turned and grabbed her suit jacket off the hook on the cubicle wall behind her desk.
As she did so, she realized the sheer white camisole that looked perfectly acceptable under the jacket was much too thin for a business environment without it. It had gotten warm and she hadn’t even been aware of taking the jacket off, but now she wished she hadn’t gotten quite so engrossed in her work.
Looking down, she could see the shadow of nipples that had hardened upon her boss’s arrival and was darn sure he could, too.
“Have dinner with me.” His voice betrayed nothing, but he made no pretense of ignoring the display. Dark indigo eyes flicked from her breasts to her face. “Well?”
Sensation zinged through her, making her tight peaks sting and she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her suit jacket.
Panicked at how tempting the invitation was and the desperate reaction of her body, she blurted the first excuse that came to her mind. “I’m really not all that hungry.”
Her stomach gave immediate lie to her words with an audible growl and she had to bite back a groan of embarrassment.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Uh…”
“Look, Tara, I’m simply interested in sharing some company for dinner. I eat enough meals alone to get tired of it. Stop worrying. I’m not going to pounce.”
That was the second time he’d assured her on that score, but she was beginning to think it wasn’t him pouncing she had to be concerned about.
“I’m sure you’re not short on companions you could call on.” She couldn’t keep the cynical conjecture from her voice.
“You’d be surprised. I’ve never found the company of women with dollar signs in their eyes all that alluring.”
She gave him a frank once-over. “Like women are only interested in you for your money.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.” She’d never been good at prevaricating. She hated lies, no more so than since she’d been lied to so spectacularly by Baron Randall.
“If you find me attractive, why not have dinner with me?”
“Because you are who you are and I am who I am.”
“You mean the whole multimillionaire and junior-management trainee thing?” he asked with droll humor.
She found herself smiling. “Yes, that thing.”
“Why don’t we pretend to be nothing more than an unattached man looking for the company of a woman he admires a great deal for dinner?”
He admired her a great deal? That was a different line than Baron’s had been anyway. He’d been so focused on her beauty and then her sexual innocence, he’d barely given credence to her brain.
“All right, but let’s keep it simple. It’s late.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
She did and couldn’t help being surprised when he willingly let her direct him to a chain restaurant known for its quick and friendly service. The food was good, but not exactly five-star. Apparently, Angelo didn’t care about eating only in the best restaurants.
She liked that and told him so.
He shrugged. “When you have the freedom and finances to eat where you want, why limit yourself? Besides, this was one of my dad’s favorite restaurants when I was growing up.”
“You grew up in the Pacific Northwest?”
“Seattle.”
“Wow…I guess I thought all big business tycoons came from New York.”
He laughed. “I have an apartment there. Does that shore up your image of me?”
“That depends…do you call it home?”
“I don’t call anywhere home. I travel too much. I have a house in Palermo that would probably be the closest thing.”
“Do you speak Italian?”
“Fluently.”
“Oh…I took French in high school, but I was always more interested in numbers than languages.”
“I’m fluent in several. It comes with the territory, but my mother spoke Italian to me always and we spent part of every year in Sicily with her family.”
“You said she was Sicilian earlier…is she no longer alive?”
“She and my father died within two years of each other.”
“I’ve heard about that kind of devotion…one can’t go on living without the other.” She’d always questioned it though…wondering if two people could ever really be that necessary to each other.
His face contorted as if in pain, but then went so blank she had to wonder if she’d imagined the first expression. “They loved each other very much.”
He said it so coldly, as if he was unmoved by his parents’ emotion.
Still…“Their deaths must have been very hard on you.”
“I survived.”
She nodded. He was too strong not to have done, but she wondered for just a second what the cost had been for him to be so detached about it now.
“My dad walked when I was two.” Tara said after a silent pause. “He didn’t know the meaning of the word devotion.” Or commitment. Or love for that matter.
“Did your mother remarry?”
“Eventually. I had a few uncles who were every bit as allergic to the c-word as my dad before Darren Colby, my step-father, came into our lives.”