Читать книгу A Beauty Uncovered - Andrea Laurence - Страница 11

Two

“I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.”

Sam pressed into her temples and repeated the mantra to herself every time Mr. Eden buzzed her desk, but it didn’t do much to improve her mood. Frankly, it had given her a miserably pounding headache. It had only been three days without Agnes, but her godmother couldn’t come back soon enough. She had the touch for dealing with the beast, but Sam obviously did not.

Agnes had warned her he was “prickly,” and there couldn’t be a more accurate description of him. He just rubbed her the wrong way. Okay, he was busy. He had an empire to run. But would it kill the guy to be friendly or at the very least, polite? To ask how her day was or to tell her good morning? But no, he only barked commands at her. “Get me this.” “Go do that.” “Pick up my lunch.”

She’d already come to terms with the fact that she was never getting into his office. He had shut down any suggestion she made that involved that, so the mystery would have to remain buried. But he hadn’t come out of his office, either. He was there when she arrived and still working when she left. Why force her to sign a confidentiality agreement when the only gossip she could spread was that he was a jerk? From what she’d heard around the building from other ESS employees, that wasn’t exactly a secret.

“I need this job.”

Sam glanced at a few new emails and started typing up a letter. As the day wore on, it was getting harder to concentrate on her work. The headache was getting worse and she was starting to feel queasy. She hadn’t had a full-blown migraine in a while, but if stress set one off, that’s probably where she was headed. Her monitor was too bright. Every sound shot a sharp pain through her skull. She needed to go home, pop one of her migraine pills and take a nap to cut off the worst of it.

“Mr. Eden?” Sam pressed the speakerphone button, as much as she didn’t want to.

“Yes?” His response, as usual, was impatient and short.

“I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if I go home?”

“Is it terminal?”

His blunt question startled her. “I don’t think so.”

“Is it contagious?”

Her new boss certainly had high standards for sick days. If she wasn’t on her deathbed or in quarantine, he didn’t seem to care. “No, sir. It’s a migraine. My pain medicine is at home.”

He didn’t respond, but a moment later, the silver drawer shot out. Sam rose slowly from her chair and walked over. There was a lone bottle of ibuprofen in it. That wasn’t quite going to cut it. Apparently Mr. Eden was not afflicted with migraines. But his answer was clear. No, she couldn’t go home. She took the pills out and swallowed a couple. It was better than nothing. Maybe if she caught it before it was full-blown, she could keep it from getting too bad.

“I ordered Italian delivery for lunch,” he said as though they hadn’t had the previous discussion and the issue was resolved. “They should be in the lobby in about fifteen minutes.”

It took everything she had not to reply, “And?” He didn’t care that she didn’t feel well. He didn’t even bother to ask her to go get it for him, much less say “please” or “thank you.” It was just implied. He never asked her if she wanted to order, either. If she felt better, she might want to smother her irritation with a layer of mozzarella cheese, but she was never given the option.

Sam couldn’t quite figure out if he was some kind of genius who was thoughtless of others or if he just didn’t consider her worthy of his attention.

“Put it through the drawer when it arrives,” he added as though there were another option. He wasn’t going to let her bring it to him, so in the drawer it had to go.

Without responding, Sam reached for her purse, pulled out a couple dollars and picked up the laundry bag he’d left by her desk that morning. If she wasn’t going home, she might as well carry on as best she could. While she was downstairs, she’d drop off his dry cleaning and grab a turkey wrap from the deli next door. Maybe some caffeine would help. If she left now, she’d have enough time to run over and get back before the deliveryman arrived.

Her timing was perfect. As she strolled back into the lobby, she saw the delivery guy at the desk with a sack of food. Sam grabbed it from him and headed through the ridiculous layers of security to get back to her desk. She set both sacks on the desk and then walked over to the minibar where Agnes stored supplies to get a cup for her drink. She was about halfway there when she heard his growling voice over the intercom.

“Uh...my lunch, Miss Davis?”

“One damn second,” she said as she snatched a cup and slammed the cabinet door. She hadn’t spoken through the speakerphone, but unless the walls of his office were made of soundproof material, he certainly heard her. She didn’t care. Her head hurt, she was cranky and she’d reached her personal breaking point. There was no reason for him to be this rude.

Back at her desk, she clutched the paper sack with his food in her fist, ready to sling it in the drawer. Then she stopped. This whole thing had gotten old, quickly. He wasn’t concerned about her headache, so she wasn’t going to be concerned about his empty stomach. If he wanted food on his own timetable, maybe he should come get it. She brought it upstairs. He could come the last ten feet.

Sam slid the sack to the edge of her desk and looked up at the camera with an expectant arch of her brow. A moment later the metal drawer slid out to her. Nope, she thought.

She unplugged the cord from her phone, switched off her monitor and slipped out of her black Michael Kors cardigan. Walking to the closest camera, she whipped the sweater over her head, covering the lens. The other camera couldn’t see her desk from its angle, so she returned to her seat and pulled her lunch out of the bag.

She needed this job, but he also needed her. If he wanted his lunch, he was going to come out and get it. If he wanted her to do something, he was going to ask nicely. Sam wasn’t working here to be abused. If he didn’t like it, he could fire her, but she was pretty certain he wouldn’t.

He had no one to interview a replacement.

Five minutes passed. She could hear instant messages chiming on her computer, but with the monitor off she couldn’t see them. Another five minutes.

Then she heard it. The click of a lock and the turning of a doorknob. She’d roused the beast from its den. She was getting what she wanted.

And suddenly, she was nervous. She tried to go through everything in her mind that Agnes had told her. Scarred...don’t react...ignore it... She braced herself for his appearance and her non-response.

The door flung open, and her stomach tightened into a knot. She expected him to charge angrily at her, but instead, she only saw his profile as he walked over to the surveillance camera and tugged down her sweater.

It must be the other side of him that was damaged because what she could see was...nice. Really nice. He was tall and strongly built, which was surprising for a computer geek. His expertly tailored navy suit stretched across wide shoulders. He had dark brown, almost black hair that was short but a little shaggy and curling at the collar. And his strong jawline, high cheekbones and sharp nose gave him quite a regal and aristocratic air.

He was actually quite an attractive man. He almost had a movie star quality about him. Sam preferred her men tall, dark and handsome, and he seemed to fit the bill. She didn’t understand what he was...

Then he turned to face her. Sam struggled to hold a neutral expression as he walked to her, but it was hard. The whole left side of his face was horribly scarred. The skin was puckered and twisted from his temple to his jaw and down his neck. It extended back to his ear, warping the cartilage and pushing his hairline back about an inch from where it was on the other side of his face. His eye, nose and mouth were unscathed, but as he reached out to hand her back her sweater, she saw why.

His left hand was scarred, as well. You could almost see the outline on his face where he had reached up to protect himself from something. She didn’t know what, but it must have been horrible.

She swallowed hard and accepted her sweater, refusing to break eye contact. That part was easier because he had the most amazing blue eyes. They were dark blue like the most expensive sapphires, and they glittered just as brightly, fringed by thick black lashes. Sam could easily lose herself in those eyes and forget about everything else.

Only the loud click of the phone cord being plugged back in pulled her away. She looked down in time to see him snatch up his lunch. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her with a mix of irritation and confusion.

Unsure of what else to do, Sam smiled widely. She knew she was probably in trouble, but she’d used her brilliant smile on more than one occasion to smooth over her mistakes.

He didn’t smile back. Instead, he turned and stomped back into his office without speaking. He slammed his office door so forcefully that Sam leaped in her seat.

And then...silence.

She kept waiting for a scolding from the speakerphone. An email telling her to pack up her things. Certainly she was due for a tongue-lashing via instant messaging at the very least. But it was silent in the office.

Maybe she did know how to handle him. Agnes certainly wasn’t the kind of woman to take orders barked at her. Perhaps he needed to know what his boundaries were with her. His boundaries were abundantly clear and she’d respect them. For now.

Finally she was able to relax and eat her own lunch. Or at least she tried. A few bites into her wrap, the headache and nausea from earlier had faded, but something else seemed to be gnawing at her.

Her mind kept straying back to those beautiful, deep blue eyes.

Given the stern warning from Agnes about his face, Sam had expected him to be...ruined, somehow. But he wasn’t. Yes, he was scarred terribly. It made her sick to her stomach to think of what he must’ve gone through to have scars like that. But that was only a part of him. The other side of his face was strikingly handsome. He was tall and muscular. She could easily imagine running her hands down the hard muscles of his arms and pressing her body against the wall of his chest.

And those eyes...

The tingle of anxiety from earlier had now become a tingle of another variety. Sam twitched uneasily in her seat and took a deep breath to wish away her misplaced desire.

“Enough of that,” she said aloud. “We are not doing this again.” Picking up her wrap, she took another bite and tried to force her mind onto her lunch and off of her boss.

If the fiasco of her last job taught her nothing else, it was that work relationships were bad. Relationships with your boss were catastrophic. Especially when they were married and conveniently left that fact out of every conversation they’d ever had.

Sam was naive when she had let herself fall for her boss, Luke. She’d let her guard down for the handsome, charming liar. But she’d learned a hard lesson she wasn’t about to repeat. Given the circumstances of this job, she never thought it would be a problem. Brody was a grumpy, scarred recluse. Not exactly sexual fantasy material. But now she had seen him and things had changed. Which was frustratingly pointless. Agnes said Brody wasn’t married, but he was as off-limits as any other employer.

Disgusted, Sam flopped her lunch back onto its wrapper. She needed to start focusing on work and maybe she’d forget about the whiff of his cologne and the full curve of his lips. Or not.

Maybe she should’ve just let him stay in his office.

* * *

Brody shouldn’t have gone out there. He knew it, and yet he did it anyway.

Now he sat at his desk, silently brooding. He hadn’t been able to touch his container of baked spaghetti for the past hour. It was his favorite, but he’d lost his appetite the minute he came face-to-face with Samantha Davis.

The surveillance cameras hadn’t done her justice. She was absolutely breathtaking in person. She had a glow of confidence—a radiance—that didn’t translate through the lens. Neither did her scent. Her sweater had left the smell of her floral perfume on his hands. When he got closer to her, he also picked up a hint of what he assumed was her cherry lip gloss. It had made her full pink lips shiny and alluring.

Brody was suddenly very warm. He kept his office cool to offset the heat produced by all his computer equipment, but it wasn’t enough. He leaned forward and shrugged out of his suit coat, tossing it aside. It barely helped.

He wanted to kiss her and taste those lips more than he had wanted to kiss another woman in his life. His body had quickly reacted to being so close to her. His pulse raced, his groin tightened and his grasp of the English language vanished. It was an instantaneous reaction. One that forced him back into his office before he made a fool of himself.

Samantha would never kiss him. At least not because she thought he was attractive and wanted to kiss him. On the one occasion in the past where a woman had appeared interested, it was his bank account, not his body that drew her in. Once she got what she came for, she was gone.

Truthfully, Brody had enough money for women to overlook the scars. He’d known women to put up with worse for access to the black American Express card. Every billionaire in Forbes magazine had some busty blonde twenty years younger than him clinging affectionately to his arm in photographs. It didn’t matter how old or ugly or unpleasant the men were because they were rich. But that’s not what Brody wanted.

He wanted more than arm candy or a trophy wife. He wanted more out of a relationship than what he could buy. He might get sex in a dark room. He might get companionship in exchange for expensive gifts. But Brody would never have love and he knew it. It only took one time getting burned to learn that lesson.

But Samantha gave him hope. She hadn’t reacted the way he expected her to. There was the initial draw of air into her lungs, but there the reaction stopped. Or changed, he should say. Instead of her gaze running over his scars, it had found its focus in his eyes. There had been a softness there, a comfortable warmth in her dark brown eyes. And then...she had smiled.

No disgust. No pity. No irritation. If he didn’t know better, he might think it was actually attraction. He’d seen the same look in a girl’s eyes as she admired one of his brothers in high school. Or the way his foster mother, Molly, looked at Ken. But it had never been directed at him.

The problem now was figuring out what to do next. He was tempted to drop the rude act and actually try talking to her. Maybe from there he could consider asking her out. His gut warned him to stay away while his body urged him closer.

Turning back to the monitor, Brody lamented his inexperience with the fairer sex. The past few years with Agnes hadn’t helped much. What if he was wrong about Samantha’s reaction? He’d feel like a fool when she rejected him. And she would. The work relationship would be even more strained then. So he would keep his mouth shut on the subject.

But at least the worst was over. Samantha had seen him. The veil had been lifted and the awkward moment was behind them.

The chime of his email program turned his attention back to his computer. He had a teleconference with his executive staff in fifteen minutes. Not even his most trusted and senior employees ever spoke to Brody in person or saw his face. Typically his employees spent the entire time talking to a red curtain backdrop while he sat to the side. He could’ve just called a conference call, but he liked to see their faces during meetings. He could get so much more from their expressions than just their voices.

Before the meeting started, he needed the agenda and financial reports he’s asked Samantha to pull together earlier.

Brody reached out to press the speaker button and hesitated. There was absolutely no reason to go out to Samantha’s desk aside from the fact that he wanted to see her again. He almost wished she had recoiled in horror so he could return to focusing on his work instead of the sway of her hips as she walked.

Perhaps he’d read her reaction wrong. She might just have a good poker face. If he went out there and she avoided looking at him...if she shied away from his scarred hand...then he could return to his life in progress and know all was right with the world again. Yes, that was why he was going out there.

He pushed away from his desk and walked past the vintage pinball machine to the door. His hand rested on the knob for a few moments before he worked up the nerve to turn it. Earlier, he’d been angry and hadn’t thought before he reacted. Now he couldn’t shut his brain off long enough to make his wrist rotate. What if he was wrong? He didn’t want to be wrong, but what would he do if she was attracted to him?

“Coward,” he cursed at himself and forced his way into the reception area.

Samantha immediately shot to attention at her desk. She looked at him with wide-eyed surprise as he came out and approached her desk. Under the initial shock was a bit of apprehension. Her delicate brow furrowed as she fought a concerned frown. Was she afraid of him? She wouldn’t be the first, although he hated to think so.

“Is s-something wrong, Mr. Eden?” Samantha leaped up from her chair, nervously straightening her blouse and fidgeting with a ring on her right hand. “I apologize for earlier, sir. That was unprofessional of me. You’ll come out of your office when you want to.”

That explained it. She thought he was mad over her little stunt. She had probably been stewing at her desk, worrying she was about to get fired while he was thinking of kissing her. That only proved how far off base he was. He hadn’t been thrilled at the time, but it was just as well that they got over that first hurdle. She wasn’t about to be fired. Nor, sadly, was she about to be kissed. Brody shook his head dismissively. “No apology is necessary, Miss Davis.”

She breathed a soft sigh of relief and every tense muscle in her body seemed to uncoil at his words. He couldn’t help but notice every detail of her body from the slight movement of her full breasts as she breathed to the curve of her throat.

“Sam, please,” she said, distracting him from surveying her body.

Sam. He liked that. There was something sassy and decidedly feminine about the nickname despite its traditionally masculine use. “I should’ve come out sooner. I’m very busy.”

Sam nodded with understanding, but his excuse sounded lame to his own ears, so he figured it had to seem hollow to her, as well. “Of course.” She reached down to a file on her desk and handed it to him with a wide smile. “Here’s the report for your one o’clock meeting.”

Brody froze in place, momentarily entranced by the stunning beauty of her smile. Full, pink lips. Dazzling white teeth. It seemed so sincere, begging him to trust her. It lit up her face, making her even more attractive. His foster mother had always insisted that he was so handsome when he smiled. He never believed Molly—moms had to say things like that—but it was never a truer statement than with Sam.

He reached out and took the file from her, tucking it under his arm. At this point, he knew he should return to his office, but something kept him anchored to the spot. He wanted to stay. His mind raced for an excuse.

Brody sucked at small talk, so he wouldn’t even try. Instead, he thrust his hand into his pants pocket and found his USB flash drive there. The tiny memory stick held most of his important files, and he carried it with him everywhere he went. It was perfect, he realized. Just the thing he needed to help him figure out if his new secretary was sincere or a really good actress.

Grasping the flash drive in his scarred hand, he reached out to her. “I need you to print a file off this drive while I’m in my meeting.”

He watched as Sam looked down at the small device on the open palm of his hand. She hesitated for a moment and then reached out for it. Using her shapely, pink glittery fingernails, she plucked it from his hand without touching his skin. He might not have noticed how deliberate the movement was if he hadn’t been watching for just such a thing.

Brody tried to swallow his disappointment. She didn’t mind looking at him, but she didn’t want to touch him. It wasn’t surprising, but it was a letdown. She was polite and friendly to him because he was her boss. Nothing more. He should’ve known better than to let his mind wander to places it didn’t need to be. “There’s a white paper I’ve written on there about our latest database management innovations. Please print it out so I can redline changes later this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brody turned on his heel, ready to return to his office and lick his wounds, when he heard her voice call out to him again.

“Mr. Eden?” she asked.

“Yes?” He stopped and turned back to her.

Sam rounded her desk and approached him. His body tensed involuntarily as she came closer. She reached up to the scarred side of his face, causing his lungs to seize in his chest. What was she doing?

“Your shirt...” Her voice drifted off.

He felt her fingertips gently brush the puckered skin along his neck before straightening his shirt collar. It must’ve flipped up when he took his suit coat off earlier. The innocent touch sent a jolt of heat through his body. It was so simple, so unplanned, and yet it was the first time a woman had touched his scars.

His foster mother had often kissed and patted his cheek, and nurses had applied medicine and bandages after various reconstructive procedures, but this was different. As a shiver ran down his spine, it felt different, as well.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to grasp hers. Sam gasped softly at his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away when his scarred fingers wrapped around her own. He was glad. He wasn’t ready to let go. The pleasurable surge that ran up his arm from her touch was electric. His every nerve lit up with awareness, and he was pretty certain she felt it, too. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked at him, her moist lips parted seductively and begging for his kiss.

He slowly drew her hand down, his eyes locked on hers. Sam swallowed hard and let her arm fall to her side when he finally let her go. “Much better,” she said, gesturing to his collar with a nervous smile. She held up the flash drive in her other hand. “I’ll get this printed for you, sir.”

“Call me Brody,” he said, finding his voice when the air finally moved in his lungs again. He might still be her boss, but suddenly he didn’t want any formalities between them. He wanted her to say his name. He wanted to reach out and touch her again. But he wouldn’t.

Sam looked away to glance down at the pink and crystal watch on her delicate wrist. Brody couldn’t help but notice how every detail about her was so...sparkly. Her watch was simply the latest piece. The large cocktail ring on her right hand made her earrings look demure. The stitching on her silk blouse reflected the light as did the glitter that seemed to be embedded in her pink eye shadow. Her heels had a pattern of sequins and stones across the toe shaped like a daisy. Even the buttons on her sweater looked like dime-sized diamonds.

He wasn’t used to that. His sister, Julianne, was feminine, but she was also raised in a house full of boys. She could hold her own and very rarely, if ever, sparkled. Most of the time, she was actually covered in sculpting mud from her pottery.

“You’re going to be late for your executive meeting, Brody.”

His name coming from her lips sounded wonderful to his ears, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He looked down at his own watch, which was expensive, painstakingly accurate, but not at all flashy. She was right. He reluctantly took the file out from under his arm and held it up as he backed away. “Thanks.”

Returning to the safety of his office, he closed the door and flopped his back against the solid wood. He took his first deep breath in five minutes, the scent of her perfume in his lungs. It made his head swim, the blood rushing from his extremities to fuel his desire with a restless ache he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

No woman, sparkly or otherwise, had ever deliberately touched his scars like that. With every fiber of his being, he wanted her to do it again.