7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
W hen Rowan first walked into the executive conference room the next morning and saw the seating arrangements, she almost applauded her boss. She didn’t want to be any closer to him than he wanted to be to her. This would work just fine.
Except…how could they collaborate from opposite ends of the table? While this arrangement worked well for distancing herself from him, sitting twelve feet away from each other would not be conducive to brainstorming and discussing the finer points of putting a bid together.
Before she thought it through any further, she grabbed the set-up at the far end of the conference table and settled into the chair next to the one at the head of the table. She had to replug and retape the wires running along the floor, but it was worth it. Pleased with herself, she shoved her things into a haphazard pile and opened her laptop.
In the process of going over the ideas she’d come up with and getting more excited by the moment, she didn’t see—or hear—her boss enter the conference room. Until his exclamation.
“What is this?”
Rowan jolted up from her chair, putting a hand over her chest to still her racing heart. His gaze dipped to her hand, then quickly back up to her face.
“You scared me,” she said, sitting back down.
“This is not the arrangement I requested for our meeting,” he said, his voice in full-on boss mode.
“That is apparent by the scowl on your face. The arrangement wasn’t optimal for working together, so I changed it.” She held his gaze, staring him down in spite of the quivering desire to run as far and as fast as she could. She refused to be intimidated by this man any longer. At least, on the outside. If a part of her, the very female and sex-deprived part, saw the fire in his eyes as an invitation, she squelched it.
Not the time, McCarthy. So not the time.
“There was a reason I had it set up like it was.”
“What reason? We can’t possibly work well from that kind of distance.”
He tightened his lips. “My reasons are my own. Move everything back.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Gerard set his laptop down and leaned forward, bracing himself on fisted hands on the conference table.
Rowan’s throat felt full of sludge, and she worked hard to bury the gulp she needed to take. Instead, she glared right back. “Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“I’m your employer. You’d do well to remember that.”
“Oh, I know that,” she huffed out. “You make sure I am aware of that every chance you get. Unless you can give me a plausible reason why we need to be at opposite ends of this table, I’m not moving.”
The man’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. Finally, after what felt like hours, he snapped up his laptop and sat in the chair that would be his for this day’s work. Their knees knocked together, and damned if Rowan didn’t feel the power surge straight up her leg and throughout her body.
Simmering inside because of his higher-than-thou treatment of her, happy she’d won the glaring contest, and praying that her core would stop pulsing with a need to be touched by him, Rowan forced her hands to relax under the table. Pasting on what she hoped was a bright smile, she turned to Gerard. “I’ve been brainstorming ideas. Without a bid request packet from Scott, we don’t know exactly what they’ll want to see, but we can easily determine the mood we want to set and come up with some basic numbers. I’ve done a lot of research into Scott Cybersecurity, and I think we have a good shot at this.”
She didn’t tell him about the research she’d done while working for Murdoch Financial. She’d never been part of the Scott Team, so the information she’d gleaned had been through hard work and reading between the lines. She’d heard rumors that the Scott account was in trouble but had no clue as to why or how. She only had public data to base her supposition on. But when her brother had seen her perusing Scott’s public financial statements, he reamed her up one side and down the other. She tendered her notice on the spot. Rowan would not work for some hedonistic, chauvinistic ass who thought she didn’t have an intelligent cell in her brain.
“Mood?” he asked, lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow. The man must have practiced that intimidating eyebrow lift. She pictured him as a child, a teenager, an adult, standing in front of a mirror practicing that move. An involuntary smile touched her face.
“Miss McCarthy?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Rowan gave herself a shake and hated the blush that warmed her cheeks. “I got distracted.”
“I can see that.”
“What did you ask?”
“I asked what you meant by mood. I’ve never once heard that word used when putting a bid together.”
“It’s the flavor of the bid.” She used her arms and hands to enhance what she said. “Like, do we go in hard core or take a soft approach? Do we skew our message toward the corporation or the people?”
“That’s an interesting take on the proposal process. However, I don’t think mood or emotion has any part in bids.”
“You wouldn’t.” He seemed bent on not accepting a single idea she offered up. It was infuriating.
“Excuse me?” The eyebrow went up again.
Had she said that out loud? Rowan rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Sometimes I blurt out what I’m thinking without giving it any thought.”
“You think I’m an…automaton?”
“Not…exactly. But maybe you could loosen up a bit. You know, not have that tie so tight around your neck, be willing to think outside the box.” She’d jumped in with both feet, so she might as well keep going. “And maybe you should listen to the people who work for you once in a while. We have great ideas.”
Gerard straightened, and Rowan knew she’d gone too far. No taking the words back now.
He stood and leaned in, towering over her, his expression fierce.
Rowan might have overstepped her bounds, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him intimidate her like that. As angry as he looked, she joined him in standing, using all five foot four inches of her height and wishing she had stilettos on. The man was too tall. Too exasperating. Too— She caught a whiff of his cologne. Wow. Like seduction in a bottle. She damn near leaned in to get a better sniff. No. Not going there. Even if the fire in his eyes did flame higher as she matched his posture. This was a power play, nothing else.
“You need to remember who owns this company, Ms. McCarthy.”
“And you need to remember that you hire good people for a reason, Mr. Barrett.”
With a rigid jaw, he stared at her for a long moment.
She glared back, her hands curling to fists on the table as she held her ground. Inside, she quivered like a bow with an arrow just let loose. No way she would show him that.
“Gah!” he said, backing off. “You are impossible to work with.” He closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm, turned on a dime, and left the room without another word, his back ramrod straight.
Rowan sat there, mouth agape, for a long while after he left. Considering the stoic disposition the man showed the world, it surprised her that she’d gotten under his skin. Had she hurt his feelings? She’d honestly not given any thought as to whether he had feelings, but hurting anyone went against the grain for her. Yet another reason she’d left the family business.
Rowan picked up her things and went back to her office, mulling over today’s events. Her boss pushed her buttons every time they were together. It was obvious he didn’t like her, so why did she spend so much time thinking about him? And why needle him? Was she trying to prove he wasn’t the right fit for her traitorous libido? If she’d hurt him, then there was more to this man than met the eye.
Maybe Gerard was right and Emersyn wrong. Maybe they just couldn’t work together.
Two things were certain, though. She owed him an apology, and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again in order to give it.
Back in his office, Gerard pushed the button that clouded his walls. He needed solitude to wrestle his emotions into some semblance of normal.
That woman got the better of him every single time. It was infuriating. And hugely seductive. When he was around Rowan, his cock paid attention. What the hell was up with that? Sure, she had bewitching dark eyes that filled with light when she was happy and darkened like storm clouds when she was pissed. He’d seen more of the storm since meeting her, and damn it, he wanted more light. He just couldn’t have it. There was too much at stake, and somewhere deep inside, he knew getting involved with Rowan could cost him more than any bet or lawsuit.
While she seemed to favor slacks, probably because she thought they made her look more corporate, he couldn’t stop thinking about the one time he’d seen her in an arrest-me red skirt, the kind his sister wore on a regular basis. Fuck. He’d barely gotten off the floor with his teeth in good condition, he’d clenched them so tight. Gray was no longer his favorite color. Red was, and that slit in the back had given him ideas he couldn’t get out of his head. But he couldn’t have that either. Who the hell had she been trying to impress that day? Him?
He glanced at the credenza housing his office safe and that stupid pledge. There were so many reasons why he couldn’t scratch that itch, including a promise to his father he believed in.
Don’t let some woman take this all away from you, Gerard.
I won’t, Father. I promise.
That was the reason he’d kept most of his dalliances short and not tied to Barrett Investments in any way. That’s why, when he met Brittney at a fund-raising event, he’d figured her casual attitude would be perfect for a moment’s respite. Selfish of him and hadn’t that worked out just swell? With her pending lawsuit, he’d probably have to settle just so he didn’t become tabloid fodder. That galled him. He’d done nothing wrong.
He’d clearly told Rowan not to fraternize with employees. Without looking too deep for the reason, he had to admit at least part of it was because he knew it would drive him crazy to see her dating someone else.
Was she? Dating someone else? Fuck. He ran his fingers through his hair, then wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and massaged the tight muscles. Rowan McCarthy had him wound up so tight he couldn’t concentrate.
Hell, she probably didn’t even think of him. Not since she deemed him an emotionless prick. Her accusation had stung. Loosen up, she’d said. Like he was some tight ass. He’d been accused of that before. His own mother had asked him—begged him—to relax more and remember there was more to life than Barrett Investments.
He needed to get laid, except he couldn’t. Because of that pledge, a meaningless one-night stand would cost him a hundred grand, and that was only the financial cost. He also didn’t think he could get dark, soulful eyes out of his mind long enough to focus on another woman, even just for a night. So uptight and tense it would be, at least for the near future.
A knock on his door shut down his pity party. “Come in.”
When the very subject of his musings walked through the door, he wondered which deity was toying with him, because someone or something kept throwing the object of his frustration in his path.
Reaching for the button to clear his walls, he clasped his hands on the desk. “Can I help you?”
Rowan approached his desk, and he refused to glance at hips that swayed as she walked, something she probably didn’t even notice. However, there was more uncertainty in her movements than he’d ever seen before, and that alarmed him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, standing.
“Um, no. I just…I just wanted to talk, if you have a moment.”
“Certainly.” He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Once she sat, he settled back in his chair, willing his goddamned cock to shut the fuck up. The sooner he got her out of here, the better. “What can I help you with?”
Rowan, who’d slumped in the chair, straightened. “I need to apologize for my comments earlier. I was out of line, and it’s not like me to say things like that. It was also very unprofessional. You’re my boss. You have a right to have things however you choose.”
In his way of thinking, apologies were a sign of weakness. Never apologize, just act. The mantra he’d learned from his father. Yet instinct told him coming here and saying that had cost her. Rowan worked hard to prove herself. Harder than anyone else he knew. Was she worried about her job? Was that what this was about?
“You don’t have to worry about losing your job.”
“Oh, this isn’t about the job. It’s about being the kind of human I want to be. What I said wasn’t nice, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let things stand that way between us.”
A woman of principles. Great. He was starting to wonder if there was anything to dislike about this woman. He took a deep breath, in and out, trying to decide what to do. He could either work with her, give her another project that would take all her time, or send her packing. He didn’t want to do that.
Shaking his head, he realized he wanted to work with her. And he knew that choice would cost him dearly.
“Is something wrong?” Rowan said, mimicking his earlier question.
He saw the worry in her face. No, not worry. Concern.
Fuck.
“Have dinner with me,” he blurted out.
“Wh-what?” She grasped the sides of the chair like a lifeline, her hands going white, she hung on so tight.
If he hadn’t been so shocked at the offer he’d made, he would’ve laughed. The surprise on her expressive face was priceless. Her eyes widened, and a blush reddened her cheeks. Even her mouth formed into a perfect “o”.
Did he mean what he’d offered? Gerard tipped his head, trying to decide. This was lunacy. He was tossing his iron into a raging fire that might burn that pledge he’d made to ash, not to mention upending his own peace of mind. But yes. He wanted this.
“You heard me.”
“I—Yes, I heard you. Not sure I believe it’s a sincere request.”
“I don’t renege on invitations.” He hated the coldness of his voice, but Rowan had a way of digging right in on what she obviously considered his flaws. Or was that his own fault? Was he applying emotions to her that she didn’t feel? He’d gotten to where he was by being willing to look at a problem from all angles, searching for the real reasons, and using that angle to propose changes. Exactly what she’d been discussing in their earlier meeting before things deteriorated.
Gerard took a long, slow breath in, then out. He watched her as she sat there, straight-backed and uncomfortable. Thinking. Deciding.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. And dinner might help us find our new footing. We need to be done with this in under a week, so maybe this will kickstart a smoother process.”
“So… A working dinner.”
Not really what he’d been thinking about, but that made the best sense. “Of sorts. A getting to know each other and finding the best way to work together dinner.” Because he’d decided. He wanted to work with her on this project. He wanted to get to know the mind behind the body. Hell, being honest, he wanted to know that body too. He could only pray that the pledge and the idea of his sister’s glee when he lost would keep him from taking things to the places he wanted them to go.
Gerard sat still and quiet as Rowan took her turn to watch him while she thought through her decision. Funny, was it getting warm in here? He almost reached up to loosen his tie as he waited for her answer.
“All right.” She nodded, one quick shrug putting the exclamation point on her decision.
“Good. Where do you live? I’ll make reservations and pick you up at seven.”
“At seven p.m., I’m still here. I do have another aspect of my job—the managerial part—that I need to keep up with.”
“All right. Meet me in the lobby at seven.”
“Why don’t we meet at the restaurant?”
“No. I can drive. I’ll bring you back to your car afterward. I’ll be working into the night anyhow.”
Rowan chewed her lip as she mulled his offer over. “I have my car with me today. Taking it gives me some control over the situation.”
So control was important to her. Gerard knew that feeling. He gave her a clipped nod. “All right. Let’s meet at Aversano’s at 7:30.”
Her eyes widened again. “You can get reservations there that quickly?” She held up her hand. “Never mind. Of course you can. I’ll see you there.”
“Valet your car. That way you won’t have to search for a parking spot and walk a long distance.”
A touch of fire lit her eyes. “This isn’t a date, Mr. Barrett. It’s a working dinner, and I’ll do what’s best for me.”
Stubborn woman. He was doing this why? “All right then. I’ll see you there.”
Rowan stood and walked to the door. She turned before leaving, as if she wanted to say something, but she held her words inside and left. Not before he’d seen the confusion in her eyes. Confusion he felt, as well.
Why had he set up dinner with the woman who tantalized him unceasingly when he couldn’t give in to the temptation? Being honest with himself, Rowan had intrigued him since he’d first seen her sitting primly in his office. There was a fire inside her, a fire that probably translated both to business dealings and in the bedroom.
Against his better judgment, he very much wanted to get to know her better. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried that she would be his undoing. He weighed risks here at Barrett on a daily basis and always listened to his gut. So why had he just thrown caution to the wind?