8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
A fter spending the afternoon going back and forth about whether or not to cancel dinner, Rowan gave up and changed into the basics for night events she kept in her office, trading her white cotton office shirt for a silk blouse in pale lavender that went well with her gray pencil skirt. Her suit jacket, currently hanging on the back of her chair, was a longer, one-button affair that complemented the color. She changed out her sensible flats for two inch black patent leather pumps, then sat back down at her desk, staring at a computer screen that made zero sense to her. The day had crawled with apathetic sluggishness. Her boss had asked her out to dinner. Her acceptance must have been a shock response. Why else would she throw herself into the lion’s den of rumors and innuendo, not to mention she was about to spend the evening with a man who lit a fire inside her. She could not give in to that. Besides, the man had shown zero interest in her. In fact, they had done nothing but butt heads every time they were anywhere near each other.
That made this safe, right? It was just dinner with her boss, one of the most powerful men in the industry she’d set all her career hopes on. Still, one huge question loomed. Why had he asked her out? It wasn’t a date. She needed to remember that. She would have said no if it had sounded like a date, right? Maybe. Okay, maybe not. Something about the man, even when they were at opposite ends of a conference table, made her take notice.
Today, when he sat next to her, power had oozed from him like the heady scent of his cologne, which was no doubt expensive. Spices, coffee, dark wood, all intermingled to exude authority. Rowan was drawn to the smell of him. He had such an alluring scent, she’d barely stopped herself from leaning closer to get a better sniff.
Rowan smiled. That probably wouldn’t have gone over well.
“Got a minute?” Michael said from her office door.
With a mental shake, she looked up. “Sure. What’s up?”
He came in and sat down, his normally perfect suit showing signs of wrinkles. That, more than anything, alarmed her. The look on his face matched his suit. Wrinkly with a dash of worried thrown in.
“Spill it, Michael.”
“I’ve been noticing a trend on the Drekler portfolio. A downward trend.”
“That can’t be. This is the safest fund we have, and it’s the one that gets us in the door with almost every company we pitch to. It hasn’t been gaining much, but it’s never dipped into the negative”
“Until now.”
Rowan swiveled toward her computer and brought up the prospectus for the fund. Sure enough, the graph was not headed in the right direction. She did not need this right now. More importantly, how had this slipped by her? “How did I not see this?”
“You’ve been pretty busy with whatever hoops the board and CEO’s have you jumping through.” Michael waited, and Rowan knew her second-in-command was dying to know what she was working on.
“I can’t explain. I’m sorry. I wish I could, but not yet.”
“I get it. Lots going on lately.”
She held her silence, and after a moment, he gave in graciously.
“I only found out about the Drekler portfolio today, so there’s no reason you should have known before this.”
Except he should have known. And she had set up parameters to be automatically notified if a fund started reacting to the market negatively. No one else knew she’d done that. Not even Michael. And she was the only one who got those notices.
“All right. Thanks for letting me know. I need to think about this overnight. Can we talk in the morning?”
“Sure.” He got up. Before turning to leave, he pierced her with a look. “You look nice. Got a hot date?”
“Wh-what? No. No date. It’s just a dinner meeting. Work stuff.”
“Too bad. You should date more. You look great, and I hope the guy appreciates that.”
Offering a stiff smile that disappeared fast once Michael left, she got up and went to the wall mirror in her office. She had half a closet full of white business shirts at home, so this was a change, but not enough to notice, or so she’d thought. It wasn’t some sexy little black number. And the only reason she’d switched shoes was in hopes of being a little closer to Gerard’s height. All the better to look him in the eye.
She’d pulled her hair up into a messy updo that framed her face. Sure, she’d applied a bit more makeup. That was a given for any nighttime affair, be it a date or a meeting. Everything should be more dramatic at night, right? Her lipstick was just her usual, a muted red with just a hint of shine.
Was it too much? Should she change? Rowan glanced at the clock. She had an hour before dinner. Thankfully, she’d brought her car today so she’d been able to decline his offer of a ride.
Sinking into her chair, she kicked off the shoes and wondered if she should put her suit shirt back on. This was a business meeting; that was all. What had made her change anything? Though asking the question was redundant since she already knew the answer. She’d wanted to impress Gerard, to show him she had a sharp mind but could also be feminine. To catch him, and keep him off guard. A smile touched her face. How would that feel, having him react to her subtle change of clothing, putting him on his back foot. Rowan warmed at the thought. Maybe, for that reason alone, she should stay as is.
Her computer blinked an update. The Drekler fund had gone down another notch. Damn. This time, her alert popped up. Why hadn’t it this morning? She checked her parameters, surprised to see they’d been changed. How could that happen?
Time passed unnoticed as she worked to unravel what was happening with the fund. Nothing she looked at made any sense.
“Were you planning to ditch out on dinner? You know I know where you work, right?”
Rowan gasped, pushing her chair back as she turned to her door. Gerard was leaning against the door jamb, looking as handsome as ever in his suit. He’d taken the tie off and opened the top couple buttons on his shirt and the effect was…devastating. And he was smiling. Smiling! Her heart raced, and she had trouble catching her breath.
“You, umm, you startled me.” Lame. True, but lame.
“When you didn’t show up for dinner, I got concerned. So I came back to look for you.”
“It’s not time for—” She glanced at the clock on the wall. Oh, shit. Almost eight.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I got into something here and lost complete track of time.” She slipped on her shoes and stood.
“I gathered that,” he said.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see how focused you are when you’re working.”
“Oh, wow.” She leaned over and shut her laptop, grabbed her suit jacket, and rounded the desk. “I had no idea it had gotten so—” She froze at the look on his face. “Are you all right?”
His gaze traveled the length of her like a panther eyeing prey. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he lingered on her chest before raising his eyes back to her face.
“You—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “You look amazing.”
The compliment infused her with a warm glow. Rowan couldn’t help but smile. “You look pretty good yourself.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m really sorry I messed up our business dinner.”
“You haven’t. Not yet. They are holding our reservations.”
“I had no idea that could even be done, especially at Aversano’s.”
“It can. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her purse and led the way out of the office. With Gerard walking beside her, his hand on her back as if guiding her, she felt branded by his touch. Thank God, no one else was here to see this. At the elevator, she pushed the button and turned to face him, trying to put some distance between them. The man was just too much…man.
Her boss smiled as if he knew her ploy, but mercifully, he kept silent.
He didn’t bring up driving again, but walked her to her car and opened the door for her before heading to his own vehicle, where a driver stood ready. Rowan followed them to the restaurant. Once inside, they were shown to a table for two near the back.
She craned her neck to look around. She’d only eaten here once and hadn’t had the wherewithal to appreciate the place. There were richly colored Tuscany landscape murals on the walls. “It’s beautiful here.”
Gerard held her chair out for her. “You’ve never been here before?”
“Actually, I have. Once. With my mother.”
When Rowan cupped her chin in her hand, elbow on table, and looked around, the sadness-tinged look on her face tugged at something completely foreign to him. Heartstrings for lack of a better word. No one had ever looked like that when thinking of him. For the first time in his life, he wanted that. Wanted someone to miss him.
“Is your mother gone?”
“What? Oh, no.” She grabbed her napkin and placed it on her lap. “Mother is fine. Just, well, that was the night she left my father.”
“Not a fun thing to go through as a child.”
She ran a finger around the rim of her water glass. “I was already an adult, and honestly, it was the best thing that ever happened to my mother.”
Gerard frowned. “Was your father abusive?” This was a TMI question, and it surprised him that he asked it. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s all right. No, Dad wasn’t verbally or physically abusive to my mother, me, or my brother. He just…wasn’t there. Being there would have required prying himself away from his desk.” She straightened, looking down at her plate and shifting her silverware. Her father was a subject she didn’t want to discuss, apparently. That intrigued him. He liked complicated layers, and Rowan presented more than one that he wanted to peel back to find out what made her tick.
He groaned. Wrong choice of words, because what he really wanted to do was peel that jacket and blouse off her shoulders and watch it fall to the floor.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he answered with a clipped finality, cringing inside at the hurt that flitted across her face.
She looked around the restaurant, then back at him, her face now unreadable. “You’ve apparently been here before.”
Safe ground. “Many times. The food is exceptional. I like to cook, but not usually when it’s just me. So on days my cook isn’t available, I tend to come here. This is my usual table,” he said, smoothing the linen cloth covering it.
“You have a cook? That must be nice.”
“I have a housekeeper who also cooks. She comes in most days and leaves me something to heat up. Sometimes, she cooks it there. Sometimes, she brings it from home. Leftovers she manages to get away from the brood she has.” He smiled. Marta was the perfect housekeeper. So busy with her own life, she didn’t take time to get nosy about his. Not that he had any deep, dark secrets. He simply preferred to keep his life to himself.
“Like I said, must be nice.”
He cocked his head. “Are you judging me?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Laughter drifted from her, full bodied, and it wrapped around him like a fucking cocoon. The way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. The way her cheeks flushed when she disagreed and was ready to argue a point. Hell, even her walk forecasted her mood: from a springy bounce to a sensual sway to a staccato march.
There was a lot to like about the woman sitting across from him. Gerard reached for her hand and held it, running his thumb over skin he knew would be soft as silk.
Rowan’s eyes widened, and that endearing blush filled her cheeks with rosy color. She stared at their hands as if in a trance, then she slowly pulled her hand from his and tucked it beneath the table.
He missed the contact even as he reminded himself that he didn’t yet know if he could trust her. Then, there was that pledge…
“Mr. Barrett—”
“Gerard, please.”
“I don’t think—”
“I did ask nicely.” That infuriating wall of hers had dropped into place. If it wasn’t for the high color in her face, he’d seriously consider that he’d misread her interest.
“Fine. Gerard. I thought this was a business meeting.”
He shrugged, holding her eyes captive with his gaze and daring her to look away. She didn’t. Maybe it was time for some honesty. “Against my better judgment, I find myself drawn to you.”
A look touched her face. Regret? She stifled it quickly and held up her hand, silently asking to have her say. He tilted his head briefly to indicate that he would keep his mouth closed for the moment.
“Any sign of impropriety on my part jeopardizes my standing as a director in your company, both to my people and to the board that we both have to answer to.”
She was right. The board would have a heyday if he dated any employee. Even someone with equal power. Power. He scowled. That was Brittney’s excuse in her attempt to bilk him out of millions. Just because she considered herself the jilted girlfriend after two dates and one night of mediocre sex.
He pulled his hand back. “You’re right, of course.”
Rowan leaned forward, an earnest need to be understood shining through in her expression and her firm, silky voice. “You yourself warned me against fraternization.”
He had, hadn’t he? Only because, if he was honest with himself, he’d been attracted to her from the first moment he saw her. He didn’t want her dating anyone else, let alone sleeping with someone from his company.
“I get it. And, again, you’re right.” That admission was enough and, as far as he was concerned, closed the matter. No way would he apologize for wanting to hold her hand. That had felt too nice to feel sorry about.
She sank back, her expression relaxing and a smile playing at the edges of her very kissable mouth. “Thank you. Do you think, maybe, we can talk about how we might work together on this bid?”
“Certainly.”
Their waiter showed up at that moment. They placed their orders.
Gerard ordered a bottle of wine, and her cheeks went all rosy again. She didn’t think wine was a good idea, apparently.
“I prefer wine with my dinner, whether business or pleasure. I hope you’ll join me.”
“Just a glass for me.”
The waiter nodded. “Your wine and salads will be out shortly.”
He walked off. Rowan had returned to toying with her silverware. “You selected a red blend.”
“I did.”
“I figured you for a purist.”
“I find the blends pull the best of the grapes in, making them a complex taste that suits me.”
She nodded. “I agree. That’s what I usually order.”
“Did I surprise you?”
“A little.” She still hadn’t looked at him, so he reached over and tapped her hand, quickly pulling his back, against the tide of his wishes.
“We’ll be working closely together on this project, so maybe we should find a way to get along, make this easier on both of us.”
“Oh, I’d like that very much. A lot is riding on this bid. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“I don’t think you could screw up anything beyond repair.”
She chuckled. “Thank you, but you have no idea.”
He sat back, arching an eyebrow as he rubbed his chin in mock severity. “That sounds like a story ripe for the telling. Should I have vetted you further before hiring you?”
“No. Not at all. No stories here.”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed the slight tension showing around her lips and eyes. He noticed everything about her. There were secrets in her past, and he wanted to know them. Tonight, however, was not the night for that. He took the high road, determined that, at some point down that road, he and Rowan would have a true heart-to-heart.
Their wine arrived, and he enjoyed watching her take her first sip. She didn’t swirl the glass or look at the color, but closed her eyes and savored the taste.
“Mmmn. This is very good.”
She’d probably freak if she knew what the wine cost. Gerard loved the taste of wine and refused to waste his time on mediocre vintages. He bought the best.
“I’m glad you like it.” He glanced over her shoulder and groaned.
“What?” she said, starting to look over her shoulder.
“Don’t turn around. And please, anything you’re about to hear must be kept strictly confidential.”
“A-all right.”
“Well, isn’t this sweet.” Brittney Larson stopped beside their table, piranha smile firmly embedded on her face. How had he ever thought she had something special? Never again.
“Brittney, it’s not smart for you to be here.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rowan’s eyes widen.
“Can I help it if we both enjoy the same restaurant?” She eyed Rowan, one hand twirling a strand of her perfectly curled, platinum blonde hair. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your flavor of the month?”
Expressive eyes became slits as Rowan opened her mouth to answer. He held up his hand, hoping she’d take the hint and stay quiet. If he didn’t handle this right, it would end up as part of the lawsuit. Or worse, splashed on every smut rag for sale in grocery stores. Brittney was a vindictive bitch, and he should have figured that out before he slept with her.
“No, I’m not introducing you. You’re supposed to stay away from me, Brittney. The restraining order says so.”
Fire filled her eyes. “That was a ploy you used for the courts.”
“I am not going to discuss this with you. You need to leave, now, before I have to call the manager over.”
“My, how the tides have changed. Time was, you wanted me on your arm.” Brittney waved her too-skinny arm and turned back to Rowan. “Be careful, my dear, or you’ll be the one watching him with his next conquest.”
She smoothed a hand down the side of her form-fitting white dress. “I’ll see you in court, darling.”
Gerard waited until Brittney was out of sight before he let go of the breath he’d been holding and unclenched his hands. He looked at Rowan, who studied him with curiosity in her large, dark eyes.
“She looks a lot like someone my brother once dated,” she said. “I’m not sure if she is or not. I only saw her one time as they were getting into a car at night.”
Gerard nodded, wishing this conversation were over.
“Ex-girlfriend?” she asked.
“No.”
“Ex-wife?”
“God, no.”
She nodded and took a sip of her wine. By the look in her eyes, she had a million questions, and she wasn’t going to stop herself from asking at least one more. He’d bet on that.
“Restraining order?”
He took a gulp of his very good wine, barely tasting it. “It’s a long story. Can we just get back to having a nice, normal dinner between…associates?”
Restraint probably wasn’t Rowan’s best feature, but she kept her mouth shut.
Over dinner, they managed to slip into an equal sharing of thoughts about the Scott Cybersecurity proposal. While she approached it from a different perspective than he, less business and more humanizing, she had good ideas. And when he began to talk about his ideas, she managed to find the compromise, the way their ideas could complement each other.
By the end of their dinner, they had a skeleton outline to work from. There was a lot of work ahead of them, but if they each made this a priority, they’d have one hell of a proposal to submit.
Rowan drained the last sip of her second glass of wine, much more relaxed than she’d been. He didn’t think she drank much. As animated as she was, she must be tipsy.
He handed his credit card over to the waiter. While they waited, he suggested he drive her home.
“I’m fine.”
“Be honest.”
She twirled her empty glass a couple times before answering. “I’m not fine. I’ll catch a ride share home and pick up my car on the way to work tomorrow.”
“What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t see you securely home?”
There went those expressive eyebrows again. He held up his hand, forestalling her. “You live out by the botanical gardens, right? Haight-Ashbury?” The crazy area of San Francisco. He almost shook his head over the idea of someone with her accounting and financial wherewithal living in the Haight. Artists and pot growers, he could see. But someone of her caliber?
“How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
“Where I live.”
“You work for me.”
“You know where all your employees live?”
She had him there. He’d read everything in her resume after that first meeting. “Not every one of them, but quite a few.” He smiled, hoping it would be enough to change the conversation.
“Isn’t that out of your way?”
“It’s a little past where I live, but not far. It won’t be any inconvenience.”
For once, Rowan gave in, and soon they were in the back seat of his car and on the road.
“I didn’t realize you use a driver. Well, I mean, I saw him earlier, but I thought you drove that fancy sports car to work.”
She’d seen him in his car. Interesting. “I don’t often have David drive me to work. Today, I had business to get a handle on before I arrived at the office. In those situations, he drives me in so I can work.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to have David deliver your car to you?”
“No. It’s safe enough there, and I can catch Muni in to grab it in the morning.”
Mass transit? Gerard damn near shuddered.
Their drive to her condo was pretty much quiet. She watched the scenery pass by, her chin in her hand again as she leaned on the armrest and stared out into the darkness.
He watched his own brand of scenery—Rowan. He’d never felt this drawn to a woman. He wanted her. In his life and in his bed. A very foreign feeling for him. Sex had always been for the sake of sex, nothing else. The women in his life never wanted for anything between the sheets. He made certain of that. He didn’t do emotion. Especially not when it came to sex. That only led to complications. She’d been right to focus their relationship on work. He didn’t have the time or the patience to coddle a relationship of any sort, and something told him she wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of woman.
Yep. Getting figuratively screwed was his new mantra.
David pulled up to an older Victorian building—painted bright blue—in the heart of Haight-Ashbury. It stood out, not his cup of tea, though the place suited her. Eclectic and full of nooks and crannies.
Rowan reached for the door handle. He stilled her with a hand to her arm. “Let me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, nodding.
That was, what, twice tonight he’d won? Telling David he’d get the door, Gerard chuckled as he exited the car, walked around, and opened her door.
“Thank you. I think we got a lot accomplished this evening.”
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
She bit her lip. “Mr.—Gerard, this isn’t a date. You’re my boss. I can see myself inside.”
“All the same,” he answered, holding out his arm for her to proceed.
If her clipped steps were any indication, she wasn’t happy about this. Tough. At the secure front door to the building—something he was glad to see—she turned to him. “Thank you again. I think we’re ready to dive into the particulars.”
He took her hand, watching as her eyes widened and darkened. They stood there, silent and unmoving, for a long moment. Realizing he still held her hand, Gerard released it, unable to resist stroking the underside of her wrist with his index finger. Her heart was beating fast. Like his. “I’ll see you in the conference room at 8 a.m. sharp.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it without a word.
Nodding a goodbye, he headed back to his car, though he wanted nothing more than to follow her inside. To see what her apartment looked like, what her tastes were. To taste her…
As he rounded the car to open his back door, he glanced up to see her standing where he’d left her, so he leaned on the roof of the car, waiting. Finally, with a small wave, she went inside. He didn’t get in until the door closed behind her. When he did, he caught the slightest hint of her perfume on his finger. Light and airy, like sunshine. Drawing in a deep breath, he reached for the perspective that had never failed him. Until now.
The rest of his ride home went by without him noticing. He was too busy replaying the night, wondering when he’d lost his fight to maintain decorum and keep things on the up and up. He could not have her. He could not sleep with her, and he had no right to know her secrets, though he could use recent downturns in Barrett’s financial outlook as a valid reason to question her. Maybe he should vet all of his employees again, starting with Rowan.
Rowan couldn’t be involved in the issues the company was having, if for no other reason than she’d come aboard after they started. It couldn’t be her.
At home, Gerard thanked David and got out, heading inside the quiet, cavernous condo that had been his sanctuary up until now. Tonight it seemed too quiet, too sedate, too—not her.