At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? Page 5

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m happy with the progress.”

  When Ryder had started sitting in on her meetings, she’d been wary, feeling like Big Brother was watching over her shoulder. But as the days had passed, she’d found they worked well together as a team and had come to value his input.

  He nodded approvingly and threw the BlackBerry on the seat beside him. “Good work.”

  They traveled in silence, Bernice and the driver chatting in quiet voices, Macy mentally running through the day’s agenda and preparing the commentary she’d be giving Ryder at the factory.

  And thinking about their upcoming conversation about her building’s security.

  Every so often, she flicked a glance at her boss lounging back in his seat. He occasionally watched the cityscape, but more often, made or took calls. Had his sleep been disturbed, too, or had the kiss been a purely clinical exercise for him with an eye on her father’s company?

  Even in the spacious luxury car, his legs lay spread to accommodate his considerable height, and one of his thighs rested within touching distance from hers. She could feel the body heat radiate across the distance, and she fought the urge to trail her fingers along the length to see if the muscles were as firm as they appeared through the taut fabric.

  She turned to focus on the peak hour traffic on the motorway, unwilling to let herself indulge in fantasies of an incredibly inconvenient physical attraction. A man who treated her as a commodity to be bought and sold was not a man she could let herself lose control with again.

  The problem was, she couldn’t put Ryder in a simple box. Instead, when she thought about him she almost became dizzy from the back and forth….

  He’d worked beside her in harmony for a week.

  He’d tried to buy her in a business deal.

  He was secretly protecting her from the media.

  He wanted them to have a loveless marriage.

  He brought her body to life like no man before.

  Macy closed her eyes to quiet the tumult of emotions churning in her belly. This project would be over in one month and one week, and then she’d be free. Would never have to see Ryder Bramson again. And in ten days, Ryder would have finished his appointments with his management teams in the Asia-Pacific area and would be on a plane home to America.

  All she had to do was survive ten days. The rest, after he was gone, would be easy.

  Ten days.

  She could do that.

  She began reciting projected growth figures in her head and came very close to forgetting about the masculine thigh that lay mere inches from hers.

  Very close, but not quite.

  Four

  After two hours of walking through the chocolate factory with Macy and shaking hands with employees, Ryder had developed a monster of a headache.

  It was probably sleep deprivation—he’d had major trouble getting a full forty winks since the moment he’d kissed Macy’s sweet lips. His body had been demanding a repeat performance, and more. Most nights he’d given up and worked until dawn…though he’d been tormented by visions of her mouth, the feel of her hands in his hair, the sensual sound she’d made in her throat when he’d claimed her lips.

  As he strode down the corridor, he took a deep breath and brought his body back under control. He was dangerously close to showing everyone in the factory just how much he wanted her. Fatigue made restraint seem less appealing, despite knowing he had to take it slow with her.

  He needed time to regroup. Mercifully, a twenty-minute break had been scheduled for him and Macy to discuss their thoughts so far.

  The obsequious assistant manager who’d taken them on the morning’s tour showed them into a boardroom. “This is where we’ll be meeting with the factory’s owner, so I thought you’d be most comfortable here. You won’t have to move.”

  Macy shook his hand. “Thank you, Peter. We appreciate it.”

  Peter held her hand a moment too long and Ryder scowled. “I want a cup—no, make that a pot of coffee, a glass of water and a box of aspirin.”

  Macy disentangled her hand. “And a cup of Earl Grey tea, if you have it.”

  Peter hurried off to carry out his orders as Ryder stalked around the room, lowering the blinds to eliminate the curious stares from people walking past, then dimming the lights halfway for his headache’s sake.

  He turned to Macy, surveying her. She’d worn her silken hair back in a damn knot again. It’d been pulled back every time he’d seen her except the first day they’d met. And the night they’d kissed. The night he’d felt the long strands of her hair slide through his fingers.

  He wondered how she’d react if he asked her to wear it down. Not well, judging by the thin frown line marring her forehead. She had something on her mind. He was sure no one else would have noticed but he’d spent almost a week watching her. And today she was a little distracted and that frown line appeared whenever she looked at him. It wouldn’t be long before she told him what was bothering her.

  He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You handled that group of protesting workers well.”

  She lifted one shoulder and let it fall in an elegant shrug. “Their questions were reasonable.”

  “And yet you refused to answer those questions.” Although the workers had barely realized that fact. She’d defused the tension effortlessly, leaving the workers feeling like they’d been heard as they returned to the production line.

  Macy slid gracefully into a chair and laid her briefcase on the pale green table. “I’m in no position to promise them job security until we decide to buy the factory or not.”

  “Which only made it harder for you to find a response to placate them. Yet you did.” He probably would have fobbed them off with a “no comment” so Macy’s smooth handling of the situation impressed him all the more.

  As Macy pulled her laptop from her briefcase, Ryder rubbed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. She obviously intended to use this session for work. Not going to happen. Not now that he finally had her alone again. Besides, he wanted to see if she’d tell him what was on her mind.

  He undid his jacket buttons. “We don’t need to go over those contracts, stats or whatever else you have in there. You’ve briefed me well enough during the tour and I’m confident in your knowledge if we move into other territory.”

  Macy hesitated then replaced her briefcase on the floor. “Okay.” She turned alluring hazel eyes on him. “What do you want to do?”

  He sank heavily into the chair at the head of the table just as a young woman entered with their drinks and a plate of sweets then discreetly slipped out again.

  He popped two painkillers into his palm from the box on the tray. “We can sit in silence. Or we can talk. Your call.” He swallowed the tablets then chased them down with the glass of water.

  Macy shifted in her seat. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”

  He poured a black coffee and sat back, letting out a long breath. “Shoot.”

  He could almost see her change gears as she lifted her mug of tea to her lips and sipped. “You hired extra security for the front of the office building.”

  Ryder leaned his head against the padded headrest, warm mug nestled in his hands, and watched her. “I needed to. The paparazzi can’t be trusted to abide by the law.”

  “And you instructed them to escort me home at night.” Her voice was soft, almost musical. It soothed his aching head.

  “It’s only next door.” It was his fault the vultures were following her. This was the least he could do.

  She reached for a shortbread and held it between two slender fingers. “And I suspect you’ve told them to create diversions when I’m ready to go home. There tend to be fewer photographers when I step out than when I check through my office window.”

  “All part of the security firm’s service.” He lifted his legs onto the seat beside him and crossed them at the ankles.

  In two delicate bites,
she’d finished the sweet biscuit. Ryder swallowed hard. Oblivious to her effect on him—or was she?—Macy retrieved her tea. “Tell me another thing.”

  Drawing his focus from her mouth back to her dark-fringed eyes, he nodded.

  “Are they the same firm supplying security to my apartment building?”

  Her tone was polite inquisitiveness, but he sighed. Knowing where this was going, he casually took a slug of coffee before replying. “Yes.”

  “And you’re paying for that service, as well.” She cocked her head to the side and again he was reminded of her feline quality.

  “Yes.” Of course he’d made sure she was safe. What sort of reprobate would he be if he hadn’t?

  She picked up her mug again and held it in both hands as she sipped. “How did you convince the owner to let you do it? He apparently refused security once before because it would give the wrong image.”

  Ryder held back a smile. She missed nothing. In fact, he had the strongest feeling she saw far too much—she’d always keep him on his toes once they were married.

  “I bought the building.”

  Macy’s lightly glossed lips parted, as if to speak, then she closed them again. What emotion was she hiding behind her long lashes? Was she pleased he’d done it? Indifferent?

  She crossed her legs and the higher foot began tapping a beat in the air. “Even if you’d signed a contract of sale, you wouldn’t have ownership so soon.”

  “I overpaid for it and used cash to ensure immediate transfer of the deed.” He’d paid through the nose, but it’d been worth it to have control over the building’s security. To be able to safeguard Macy.

  Her eyes flashed fire. “Ryder, I’m not some damsel you have to save. I can look after myself. I don’t appreciate secret maneuverings in some misguided attempt to protect me.”

  He shrugged and threw back the rest of his coffee before plonking the mug on the table. “It was no trouble.” In truth, he’d been pleased to be able to do something for her.

  “No trouble? You bought my building!” Seeing her exquisite mouth move with such passion was a pleasure to behold. He could have spent all day just watching it, just talking to her while she was fired up. But to be fair, he’d put her mind at ease.

  “Macy, you agree the paparazzi problem was of my creation?”

  Her eyes narrowed marginally and her answer was perfectly clear even before she replied. “Completely.”

  He arched a brow. “Then allow me to fix it.”

  She sucked in a lungful of air and held it for several beats. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “No more secret moves. If you do something for me or that affects me, then you tell me.”

  “Done.” He dropped his feet to the ground and leaned over to her, hand outstretched.

  She hesitated then shook on the deal. Her smooth skin against his sent a warm current of electricity rolling through his system. He didn’t want to release her fingers, to lose the connection, and noticed she didn’t let go, either. Her pupils slowly dilated. His senses became hyper-alert and his heart raced double-time. Every instinct he had screamed to lean over, pull her to him.

  Before he could act there was a light knock on the door, and Macy quickly withdrew her hand.

  The management team filed into the room and took seats, their faces serious at the prospect of a potential sale. But Ryder smiled inside. He’d already made a decision that was more important than anything that could come from this meeting.

  He’d been biding his time for seven days, as he would for any business deal where the other person was skittish.

  But that time was almost over. Macy had just shown she’d soon be ready for him to move their relationship forward. He had expected her to walk if she ever found out he’d bought her apartment building. She’d left her family behind once, and she was walking away from a promotion after this project was over. But she’d conceded on the building issue—it seemed she didn’t mind his involvement in her life as much as she’d like him to think.

  And her reaction to his touch spoke volumes…. He could still feel the effects sizzling through his bloodstream.

  A little time to smooth things over after this and then he’d make a move.

  Next step was to propose—properly this time. He’d do it in Sydney on their trip in one week.

  He leaned back in his seat. Everything he wanted was nearly within his grasp.

  Macy stood on the ground floor of their office building with a woman from another company, waiting for the lift, a small pile of folders in her arms. While the other woman chatted about the weather, Macy covertly scanned the buzz of people in the foyer for Ryder.

  She’d successfully avoided being alone with him since the tour of the factory four days ago. Avoiding him was so much easier than saying no to him—something she knew she’d have to do soon though; Ryder Bramson wasn’t a man to give up easily. She just hoped she had enough strength to do it when the time came, and not give in to her body’s yearning.

  When the lift arrived from the basement level, the doors slid open and she saw two of the American team. And Ryder. The man who still haunted her dreams and filled her unguarded thoughts. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against his magnetic pull.

  Half a step behind the other woman, Macy entered and turned to face the doors, finding herself within touching distance beside her boss. Even without seeing him, she could feel his intoxicating presence, the primal masculinity that was barely hidden by the veneer of a businessman.

  “Good morning, Macy.”

  “Hello, Mr. Bramson,” she returned with as much formality and professionalism as she could muster.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him sink one hand into a trouser pocket. “Everything going well?”

  She was uncomfortably aware of their audience—the others in the lift had no choice but to listen in. And since the morning of the photo in the paper, the staff had discreetly watched whenever she and Ryder crossed paths.

  She wrapped her hands tightly around the folders in her hands and stood taller. “Everything is going very well, thank you.”

  They stopped at the first floor and the other woman waved goodbye and left. Macy held back a grimace. One less person acting as a buffer. The journey in the lift had never taken so long.

  “The security staff aren’t too intrusive?” Ryder asked casually. But she wasn’t fooled—he was asking where they stood with their agreement that she’d accept his intervention on the security issue. She’d decided the day they’d discussed it at the factory that it was, in fact, his responsibility and it hadn’t bothered her since.

  “They’ve been very courteous and helpful.”

  “Good to hear,” he said. “Tell me, how are things with my new acquisition?”

  She felt the interest from their onlookers increase, felt their yearning to grasp the undercurrents of this conversation, their wondering if she was the acquisition. Ryder didn’t seem to be bothered, but she wanted the rest of the staff to be clear on this point at least. “Everything seems fine with the building.”

  They finally reached their floor and the others filed away, but when she stepped out, Ryder placed a staying hand on her arm. He held her gaze for several seconds—though it seemed to be minutes—searching for something, asking a question. Then he drew in a long breath. “I’d like to see you in my office. How does twenty minutes from now suit?”

  Her stomach fluttered and she wanted nothing more than to invent an excuse to avoid being alone with him. To avoid the conversation he planned on having—whatever it was, she was sure it wasn’t about her project. It was personal, she knew that with everything inside her.

  But despite all that had passed between them, he was still her boss, and a direct request was hard to deny.

  “I’ll be there.” Gripping the folders tightly, and with head held high, she strode back to her office.

  For twenty minutes, she distracted herself with work and determinedl
y ignored the mix of nerves and excitement in her belly. Then when the clock on her computer screen turned over to the appointed time, she stood and smoothed down her knee-length mocha skirt. She could handle whatever he said. Handle him. She’d survived worse.

  She walked resolutely through the corridors, aware her progress was being tracked by more than one person, and knocked on the closed door to Ryder’s office.

  “Come in,” the gravelly voice beckoned from inside.

  She opened the door and found him sitting at his desk, signing a pile of papers, each page in turn. He didn’t look up. “Close the door and take a seat.”

  Visions of being alone with him suddenly filled her mind—in the cab on the night of their date; in the alcove of her apartment building where he’d kissed her—and her heart tripped over itself at the thought of being locked away with him again. But reason quickly took over. They were beyond that now. He’d laid his offer on the table and she’d refused. They were no more than employer and employee, and she’d ensure they stayed at that level.

  She shut the door behind her.

  Ryder still didn’t look up as she sat in a chair that placed her directly opposite him. She crossed her legs. He continued to sign papers and move them to another pile. “I’ll be with you in a moment. Bernice needs these for the courier who’ll be here soon.”

  “That’s fine.” She watched him repeat the distinct signature over and over, noticing for the first time that he was writing with his left hand. She thought back and couldn’t remember seeing him write before, but he’d both held and typed into his BlackBerry with his left hand.

  Writing was a different animal though. There was something almost sexual about the way his square palm and long fingers curved around on the page as he signed his name, almost as if it were shaping her breast. Her breaths began to come a little faster. She’d never thought of left-handedness as being particular sexy, but on Ryder, something deep inside her wanted to reach out and grab him, link her fingers through his, bring them to her skin…