Chapter 8
Noah
She looked good.Of course she did. Navy blue skirt on her slim hips, white blouse, her red hair down around her shoulders. The thick tresses had some curl to them, spiraling over her collarbones, and at the sight of all that dark red hair every nerve ending I had sparked to life, humming uncomfortably. She was just as sexy as I remembered. Sexier, even.
Her lips parted in shock, and her cheeks paled. Her assistant appeared behind her shoulder—I gave her a friendly smile and a wave—and Emma shooed her away, telling her everything was fine. Then she closed the door in the woman’s face.
“Don’t fire her,” I said, reading Emma’s mind. “She really had no choice.”
“Because you’re so charming?” Her voice was sarcastic.
I shrugged. “I can be persuasive. I told her we’re friends.”
She swallowed at that, and I watched the flawless line of her throat. She was still standing in the doorway, as if she was too scared to come any closer.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in that lounge-singer voice. Damn, that voice.
“Visiting you,” I said.
“All the way from L.A.?”
“It seemed like it was needed. You weren’t going to make the first move, and we have some things to talk about.”
She shook her head, the movement subtle. “We really, really don’t.”
“Sure we do. Like the fact that something I did seems to have scared the shit out of you. You think that doesn’t bother me?”
Now she looked stricken. “It wasn’t like that. I should have been clear when I left your place. I was too abrupt.” She shook her head again. “Noah, it isn’t you, it’s me.”
If you want to stab a guy in the heart, just run out the door after incredible sex, then throw some clichés at him. I swallowed the blow to my ego, which was mixed with a trace of relief that I hadn’t actually offended her, and said, “Okay, then, it’s you. Want to tell me the problem?”
“No, I don’t.” The words were forceful, but her tone was less so. She looked away from me and her gaze traveled around her office, as if she hadn’t seen it before. “I don’t want to talk about my problem at all.”
So she admitted there was a problem, then. I hadn’t flown across the country to accept a vague answer, but I needed to switch tactics. I raised the file I was holding and said, “We won’t talk about it. Instead, we’ll talk about your problem with horny recruits and Catharine Knowles.”
Anger flashed in her eyes, and she forgot herself long enough to take a big step toward me. “You’re reading my files?”
“I was in here alone for a while.”
“For fuck’s sake. Those are confidential, Noah.”
I liked it when she swore. I also liked it when she said my name. She’d said it loudly on my back deck, and I wanted her to say it again, over and over. I just wasn’t sure if that was in the cards for us now, or ever. Maybe I’d had my one shot, the only one I would ever get with her. The jury was out.
“I run a venture capital company, Emma,” I said, letting her name roll off my tongue, back at her. “Do you honestly think I’ll spill your confidential information?”
Her cheekbones flushed red. I was having some kind of effect on her—she had lost her usual cool. Was it arousal? Irritation? Embarrassment, because my presence reminded her of the fact that my mouth had been between her legs two weeks ago? Stop thinking about that, you idiot. Just stop.
“Sorry,” she said, forcing the word out. “I know you’re trustworthy. I’m just not used to anyone reading my files.”
“You already told me about this problem,” I reminded her, indicating the folder. “This just has the details. Aside from Samantha, who we agree we’re not counting, you have a recruit who eloped with one of her bosses and another recruit who had an affair. That’s a pretty big problem in a business like yours.”
“They’re both off the roster.” She sighed. “Oh, and the one who eloped is pregnant. Can I have my file back now?” She held out her hand.
I stood straight from where I’d been leaning on the desk, a move that brought me closer to her. I caught a whiff of scent from her, something light and floral. She hadn’t worn perfume when she was in L.A. “The reports in this file came from Catharine Knowles, not you,” I said, still holding on to the folder.
“I know,” she said, her eyes meeting mine for a single electric second, then dropping again. “I’m dealing with it. Catharine wants a recruit of mine, and I’ve been working overtime to find her one.”
“Can I help?” I asked her. “Do you want me to call Catharine and put in a good word for you? I don’t know her well, but she’ll take my call.”
Her hand had still been held out for the file, but now she dropped it. Her tone was so sharp it could cut ice. “I don’t need your help, Noah. I’ve been running my own business for ten years. I am completely capable.”
Okay, that had been a bonehead move. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I handed her the file. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I was talking to you CEO to CEO. There’s no reason we can’t help each other out.”
“I don’t need help,” she snapped, taking the file from me. “Besides, what kind of help am I supposed to think you need? You don’t have an assistant, and you don’t want one.”
I laughed. “You couldn’t pay me enough money in the world to have an assistant, so you’re right about that.”
“Why not?”
She was in my space now. I didn’t know how it had happened—whether I moved or she did. She likely didn’t know either. We were like a magnet and a piece of metal, moving toward each other without even thinking about it.
“Because I don’t want anyone in my business,” I said, answering her question. It was true, for lots of reasons. My business was my own. I lifted a finger and traced a lock of hair from her cheekbone, drawing it behind her ear, watching as my finger trailed across her perfect skin. “Except maybe you.”
She gave a huff of disbelief, but I noticed she didn’t move. Not an inch, as if she was afraid that moving would make me back off. She also didn’t bat me away. Her gaze rose to mine again; her eyes were rich, dark brown, like coffee. “Sure,” she said, and I could tell she was trying to muster a cynical tone that she couldn’t quite pull off. “How many women have you had on your deck since I left two weeks ago?”
“None.” I let my thumb drift to her jawline, trace it with a light touch. Her eyes went unfocused and dark, and since she didn’t move away from my touch I experimented further, drawing my thumb gently along the skin beneath her lower lip, which was painted a subtle cherry red with some kind of perfect, expensive lipstick. No gloss, no thick goop, just her perfect, rosy mouth enhanced to a siren red. It was fascinating, and so sexy I wanted to lick her lipstick off, wanted to see what it would look like smeared on my skin, my cock. Something about being around Emma Riley turned me into a very filthy animal.
“None?” she asked. Her voice was soft, and I knew she was as affected as I was.
“None,” I said again. I lowered my mouth so it was close to hers, so close I could feel her breath on my lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me what your problem is?”