The Merger

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

C arys

“That’s much better,” I say, taking a step back. “You’ll be much happier in here.”

The bird of paradise stands tall in its brand-new pot, enjoying the late afternoon sun. The leaves are still curled, but there’s nothing I can do to fix that. Hopefully, the brighter lunchroom will be better for it than the dark conference room.

I gather my plant dolly and the strap I found in the maintenance closet that I used to secure the pot on the journey to the other side of the building. The maintenance manager and I met on the elevator this morning. He was kind enough to show me where they keep their equipment in case I needed to borrow anything. He also said I could have a shelf to store things to make it easier on me. It’s already been helpful.

Before stepping into the hallway, I look both directions for Gannon.

As has been the case all day, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Are you avoiding me, Mr. Brewer?” I whisper. “Because I’m supposed to be the one avoiding you.”

The office is quiet as I trudge down the hallway. The building started to empty just after lunch. The maintenance guy told me that’s typical for a Friday and that by the end of the day, no one would still be around.

It’s given me a lot of time to think—much more than necessary since I spent all of Wednesday night thinking about Gannon and most of yesterday, too. I’ve considered things from every angle. Am I imagining that there’s a connection between us? Do I just want him to be attracted to me so I see what I want to see?

“No, we’re definitely attracted to each other. Under normal circumstances, we’d be having sex,” I mutter to myself. “I can’t imagine he’s celibate. So why is he keeping me at arm’s length?”

My lips twist as I mull this over for the millionth time.

If I know anything in the world, I can read a man—and Gannon wants me. It’s downright palpable. What stops him from going after what he wants? He has my number. I’ve told him to contact me at any time, and surely, he knows I’d jump at the chance. Yet he hasn’t initiated any contact. There’s been nothing.

Why?

“And this, Miss Johnson, is why I didn’t want you to work here. Because you’re trouble.”

Why does he think I’m trouble?

“Are you still here?” John from accounting pops out of a cubicle, making me jump. “Need some help with that?”

I laugh. “No, but I almost needed smelling salts. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry.”

John’s smile is wide and genuine. He’s the kind of guy you take home to your mom. Ergo, not my type at all.

Still, he’s polite and kind, and I appreciate that.

“I figured you’d be out of here early on a Friday, too,” John says, walking side by side with me.

“Nope. I’m trying to get all of the plants serviced and on the mend. Once I do that, I won’t be here as much—if at all.” The wheels of the dolly screech. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

“We’re going through an audit, so that means extra hours.”

“An audit? That sounds scary.”

He flashes me another killer smile. “It’s not. Apparently, when Mr. Brewer’s father ran the company, things got really … murky. Now, external audits take place twice a year to keep things in check. It’s annoying but smart.”

“I can see that.” I pop open the maintenance closet door with a stopper and roll the dolly inside. Then I grab my tools that I tossed in here earlier and set them on the floor in the hallway. “Maybe Plantcy will be that big one day, and I’ll have my own audits.”

“Plantcy is your company?”

I grin, kneeling beside my stuff so I can get my tools organized and back in their containers. “Yes. It’s my pride and joy.”

“My grandmother was into plants. When she got old, we went to her house every day to check on her, run errands—that sort of thing. One of the chores was to help her tend to her babies, as she called them. The woman couldn’t see to pour herself a cup of coffee, but by gosh, she could see if you put an extra inch of water into her fern or whatever it was.”

I laugh.

“I always wondered why there wasn’t someone we could call to help. A home health for plants. Something like that.”

“Yes, exactly.” I nod proudly. “You get me.”

Movement catches my eye on my left, but I don’t turn. The shadow is tall and dark, giving off a moody, broody vibe.

A rush of tingles spreads across my skin.

“Hey, if you don’t have plans after work, do you want to grab some food?” John asks.

Gannon is just out of sight, but I know he’s there. He’s listening. Hmm …

“Actually, John, I’d love to have dinner with you,” I say. “But I have a party tonight for one of my closest friends. She bought her first house and is having a housewarming party. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

Gannon steps out of the shadows and into the light, stalking down the hallway toward us. Even though I can’t get a clear view of him, I can feel his vibes blasting our way. The intensity makes my mouth dry.

“Have fun at the party,” John says. “There’s always the possibility of next weekend, right?”

He must feel the glare pummeling his back because he glances over his shoulder. When he whips back around to face me, he’s pale.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“Bye, John.”

He races off into the opposite direction of Gannon.

My heart pounds as my sights set on the broody billionaire.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, stopping inches away from me.

I gaze up at him, trying to decide how to play this interaction. I could do what I think he wants and insist it was nothing. There’s the option of treating him like a god like every employee who works here does. Or I can fuck with him a little. He might say I’m trouble, but something tells me he likes it—even if he doesn’t admit it.

Besides, what’s the worst thing he can do? Fire me?

“What do I think I’m doing?” I ask. “Sadly, not what I thought I’d be doing when I’m on my knees in front of you.”

His eyes blaze.

“Relax,” I say, my voice low. “No one can hear me.”

“Do you even know John?”

I balk. “What?”

“Do you know him beyond chatting a few words in the office?”

“No. Not really. What’s it to you?”

“He was asking you out, Carys.”

I side-eye him as I get to my feet and collect my things from the floor. “Yes, he did ask me out. Very nicely, I might add.” Which is why I’ll never go out with him.

“Allow me to give you some insight on your potential beau. Did you know he allegedly cheated on his last two girlfriends?”

I laugh, looking at him like he’s crazy. “No.”

“That’s true. Did you also know he has a child in Kansas that he hasn’t visited in three years?”

“How would I know that? How do you know that?”

“It’s my job.”

“Is it?” I narrow my eyes. “Because I didn’t know CEOs were that invested in their employees’ personal lives. Seems a bit, I don’t know, creepy to me.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I agree. But sometimes I take a personal interest in people.”

“Too bad you don’t take one in me,” I mutter.

I enter the storage room and put my tools away carefully. Then I get the dolly situated in the back, and as I turn around, the door swings shut with a loud bang.

Gannon is standing in the doorway.

His lips are pressed into a tight line, his dark eyes are almost black, and he stares at me with a deliberateness that makes me shiver.

“You have to knock it off, Carys.”

“Is that another innuendo?”

His eyes blaze. “I mean it. This is exactly why I didn’t want you here.”

I know what he means. He didn’t want me here because he wants me as badly as I want him. Wow .

Empowered by this newfound information, I don’t back down.

“You didn’t want me here because you thought I might go out with a guy in accounting?” I ask, lifting a brow.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

I grin cockily. “Listen, I’ve been avoiding you just like you wanted. You’re the one who came upon me today—no pun intended, of course.”

His jaw flexes.

“I’ve been minding my business and doing my job,” I say. “You’re the one who seems to have a problem here.”

“Whether I have a problem or not, and what that problem might be, is none of your concern.”

I take a step back and let my gaze drag down his body until it lands on his cock. His pants bulge at the groin. It’s unmistakable. It’s also hot as hell .

If I press this issue, he might tell me to leave and never come back. Or, on the other hand, he might give in.

“It looks like it has a lot to do with me, actually,” I say, smirking.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

I hop onto the workbench behind me, positioning myself so that Gannon is framed between my knees. He’s not close enough to touch me. He’s just close enough to paint the picture of the possibility.

“No, you’re right,” I say, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead. “We can’t keep doing this.”

He licks his lips, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Goose bumps dot my skin as I imagine the feeling of that tongue on me. Around me. In me .

I shiver again.

“So we have a choice to make,” I say. “Rather, you have a choice to make.”

“What’s that?”

“You can look me in the eye right now and tell me you seriously don’t want this. That this is a terrible idea, and you want no part of it. If you do, I’ll quit. I’ll stop teasing you, and this will be my last week at Brewer Group.”

His gaze is steady, and he’s unblinking.

“But if you can’t do that …”

“That question isn’t fair, Miss Johnson.”

I smirk. “Oh, I think it’s fair. I just think you don’t want to be honest with me.”

A slow smirk crosses his lips, too. “And why do you say that?”

“Because I think you want to bend me over this bench. Don’t you?”

Gannon’s chest rises and falls, but he doesn’t break eye contact.

“Why won’t you?” I ask.

He cuts the distance between us, and holy fuck . My heart pounds, and my lips part.

Good God, I want this man to kiss me.

He plants one hand on either side of me, caging me in. Then he leans forward, his mouth dangerously close to mine.

“I’ll tell you why I won’t,” he whispers, the words kissing my lips. “Because it won’t stop there. Because that won’t be enough. It’ll never be enough .”

His rough words slip through his clenched teeth. He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I can taste his minty breath.

“You won’t know until you try,” I whisper back, leaning forward until our mouths nearly touch.

His eyes bore into mine. Our breaths mix in the air between us, and if either of us moved a muscle, we’d touch. Somehow, we hold steady and manage not to make contact—and I’m not sure if that’s the best or the worst thing to ever happen to me.

Finally, he pushes away. The movement sucks all the oxygen from my body, and I suck in a hasty breath as he faces me from the other side of the small room.

With the slightest nod I’ve ever seen a man make, he tells me he can’t. He won’t.

“Fine,” I say, hopping off the table. “Thank you for making yourself abundantly clear.”

“Carys …”

I ignore the way he growls my name. “I’ll be fine by Monday.”

“How?”

“By distracting myself with someone else.” I grab the door handle and look at him over my shoulder. He’s watching me with a mixture of confusion and anger. “But don’t worry. It won’t be with John. He’s not my type.”

I give him a cheeky grin, impressed with myself for not wobbling on my feet, and walk out.