Читать книгу Working Overtime - Raye Morgan - Страница 9

The first thing Michael Greco heard was her low, velvety voice, and when he heard it, the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

He froze, his hand on a volume of contract dispute records, his heart beating just a little faster. He’d never heard a voice like that before. It seemed to curl around his senses like a slinky cat might wrap itself around your ankles, all sleek and seductive, and at the same time, a provocative mystery that promised to stay just out of reach.

He’d come into the law section of TriTerraCorp’s empty corporate library to do a little research over the lunch hour. For the last thirty minutes he’d been lost in his search, hidden by the tall bookcases, hardly noticing the group of women who’d come into the library after he’d arrived. The newcomers were gathered around the copy machine, laughing about something they seemed to be working on, obviously oblivious to the fact that he was in the room. The thick carpeting and the constant hum from the computers and other appliances helped to mask his presence. He’d ignored the women. But then that voice had arrived and greeted the others.

“Well, what do we have here?” she said, her voice husky in a way that stopped him in his tracks. “Is this a secret meeting of the Third Floor Conspiracy, or can anyone join in?”

“Hi, Char” came the slightly nervous answer, along with a rustling of paper. “We’re just…uh…we’re just…”

“Oh, let her see it,” a higher voice said impatiently. “Char’s okay. She won’t turn us in. Look, Char, it’s a calendar that we’ve been working on. Just something for laughs, to pass around the office.”

“A calendar?” Her rich tone seemed to vibrate his senses. “How controversial can that be? Let’s see it.”

There was more rustling of paper.

“Oh, you naughty girls. What have you done?”

Her laugh was just as provocative as he’d thought it would be, and he narrowed his eyes, enjoying it.

“The Most Eligible Bachelors of TriTerraCorp. What a good idea. These pictures are priceless.”

“Aren’t they great? The office hunks. Sherry did the graphics on her computer. She’s an artist at this stuff.”

Michael softly slid the book back into place on the shelf, cursing himself for his involuntary reaction. He still had goose bumps, and it was just a voice, after all. The woman probably looked like a tree gnome.

And, anyway, it didn’t matter if she did or she didn’t. He’d promised himself a woman-free trip this time. He’d spent too much time dating interchangeable lovelies ever since his marriage had crumbled into the dust and left him grasping for a new focus to his life. Wine, women and song were never the answer to that problem—though it sometimes took a while to get that through thick heads like his.

“Ignore the voice,” he muttered softly to himself, frowning as he tried to remember what he was looking for on the bookshelf.

But there it was again.

“You’ve even got Greg Holstein,” she was recounting. “He looks so cute in that lion suit! And Andy Martinez from Security as a trapeze artist. Sherry, this is a hoot.”

He swallowed hard. This was really strange. Her voice did something to him. It was almost the way a tuning fork resonated as it caught a note. He felt something respond inside every time she spoke. There was no use trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. But nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Maybe it was lack of sleep, he told himself grimly. After all, the night before he’d had a rough time. After a long, tiring flight from Florida, the company had put him up at the best hotel in Rio de Oro, but there was a rodeo in town filling most of the rooms and the partying had gone on fast and furious all night long. If he’d had a full hour’s sleep, he hadn’t noticed it, and now his eyes felt grainy and his head was throbbing. That had to be it. Fatigue had thrown off his internal balance or something.

Still, this had gone so far, he knew he had to see what this Char woman looked like. He tried to get a glimpse through the shelves, but the copy machine was at an angle and he only got a quick look at a flash of skirt. He was going to have to come out from the stacks and reveal himself if he wanted to see any more.

He sauntered casually out from behind the bookcase, and he could see the group of women clearly now. There were four of them, but the only one that held his gaze was the blonde who had her back to him. Her moonlight-silver hair was straight and silky as it fell halfway down to the small of her back. She wore a light blue suit that was cut snuggly enough to reveal a trim, firm body with a neat waist and hips that were appealingly round and inviting. There was a slit in the skirt that showed off legs as long as any he’d ever seen. If this was a tree gnome, they were making them less gnomelike these days.

“And…oh wait,” she was saying, pulling out a new page that hadn’t been attached to the others yet just as he settled his attention on her. “Is this Michael Greco person the new acquisitions specialist who’s supposed to arrive today? How did you get a picture of him so quickly? I thought he’d just been loaned out by the Miami office. Is he even here yet?”

At that moment, one of the women turned her head and noticed him and her mouth dropped open in horror.

“He’s here,” the tall blonde named Sherry was saying. “I saw him when he checked in this morning and I didn’t have to think twice. Listen, one look at the boy and you know he’s calendar material. I snuck that photo from Human Resources. That’s what we were working on when you came in, making copies. I’ve got to get the original back before lunch hour is over.”

Another of the women noticed Michael and began tugging on the arm of the third. But so far, Char didn’t know he was there, and Sherry didn’t, either.

“The funny thing is, I’ve just been assigned to do some research for him,” Char said musingly, holding the calendar out as though to get a better perspective. “Hmm….” Her voice trailed off.

“Isn’t he a cutie?” Sherry asked, beaming.

“A cutie? I don’t know.” Char put her head to the side as though she couldn’t quite get a fix on the picture. “He’s got that playboy look in his eyes, if you ask me.”

Sherry’s head swung around and she blanched. By now all three women knew Michael was standing just a few feet away. Only Char was oblivious.

“Uh…Char?” Sherry whispered urgently.

But Char was lost in contemplating the picture in the calendar.

“I’ll go even further,” she said. “I’d say he’s got a shifty look. His eyes are too close together. And there’s a ruthless set to his mouth I don’t really go for.” She shook her head. “Nope. I don’t like him.”

“Char!” Sherry wailed, reaching out as though to grab her friend and run.

But Michael didn’t give her time to do that. Stepping forward, he put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

“A real shady character, huh?” he drawled. “Here, let me have a look.”

Char slapped the calendar to her chest, spun on her heels and stared up into his hazel eyes. Her own eyes widened, then she blinked.

“Oops,” she said, making a face.

He looked down into her sparkling gaze and forgot to breathe for a moment. Yes, the face was just as good as the rest of her. That hair the color of moonbeams framed skin as pale as fine china with eyes as blue as a summer sky. Her lips were full and lush and perfect for kissing, and when he finally did draw in a breath, her wildflower-fresh scent filled his head. He felt a surge of desire so strong, a part of him wanted to grab her and carry her off to some private place, caveman-style. If there had ever been such a thing as a woman made especially for him, this would have been her.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to ignore that fact. “May I see the picture?” he asked coolly, holding out his hand.

She shook her head, holding the calendar tightly to her chest. “Oh, no, Mr. Greco, I don’t think you want to do that,” she warned, her eyes full of apprehension.

The other women were murmuring a warning as well, but he didn’t pay any attention. “Come on,” he said, his gaze holding Chareen’s. “How bad can it be?”

A flash of resentment flared in her gaze and he wondered if he’d come off a bit too arrogant. That was just as well, of course. He’d vowed to keep his distance from all attractive women on this trip, so why not lay a firm foundation? Still, he smiled as he held out his hand again.

She hesitated, then slowly pulled the calendar away from her body and handed it to him.

He looked down and frowned. “What the hell…?” he said, looking up at her and then down at the calendar again.

The picture had his head right, but the rest was pure fantasy. Somehow Sherry had attached the head from his file picture to the body of an extremely muscular pirate, ruffled shirt open to his waist, pants that fit like leotards and revealed more than was prudent. A jaunty black eye patch and a curved sword completed the picture. All in all, the result looked closer to a male stripper than it did to anything resembling reality. He looked into Chareen’s eyes again. Was that laughter he saw playing hide-and-seek among the silvery shimmers?

“It’s just a joke,” she said quickly. “They don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s all in fun, Mr. Greco,” Sherry chimed in, snatching the calendar from him with a nervous smile and beginning to back from the room. “I’m sorry if you’re offended. I’ll take your picture out. I’ll tear it up.” She demonstrated, ripping it out of the calendar and tearing it right before his eyes. “I’ll burn it. No one will ever see it again. I swear.” With a wide-eyed look at Chareen, she turned and disappeared through the doorway, along with her two co-conspirators. Giggling could be heard in the halls, then silence.

Chareen cleared her throat and tried to look innocent. Holding out her hand, she looked up at him and smiled brightly. “Well, Mr. Greco. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chareen Wolf. I guess we’ll be working together for a few weeks.”

Or…maybe not. He hesitated before taking her hand. There was no hint of amusement in his gaze, and she wondered for just a moment if he was going to hold what he’d heard her say against her. Should she apologize? Or pretend to have forgotten all about it?

But he finally did accept her handshake, though his side of it was rather perfunctory. “You are the expert in old Spanish land grants, aren’t you?” he said crisply, his eyes cool as they assessed her. “I was told I was going to need you if I wanted to get the acquisitions accomplished in a timely manner.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admitted, refusing to let him see any nervousness on her part. “I’m a paralegal. I know something about early-nineteenth-century Spanish legal language. And I specialize in researching old deeds.”

He nodded. “Just what I’m going to need.” He gestured toward the doorway. “Why don’t we stop in at the coffee shop and work up our strategy for this project over a cup of coffee?”

She hesitated. She’d had other plans for the rest of her lunch hour. But she supposed they could wait. For the time being, he was the boss. “Fine,” she said, turning toward the doorway.

They didn’t speak again as they strode side by side down the hallway. Chareen stared straight ahead, but her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Michael Greco was nothing like what she’d expected.

The last acquisitions specialist she’d worked with had been a huge, balding man with a laugh that shook the rafters of the building. They had worked really well together, and when she’d told Leonard Trask, the Legal Services manager who was almost like a second father to her, that she would be willing to take that sort of assignment again, she had expected to be paired with another older, nonthreatening sort of man. But Sherry had been right about one thing. Michael Greco belonged in a hunk calendar.

That in itself wasn’t going to be easy to deal with. It had been a long, long time since she’d had a man in her life, and she was determined it would be a much longer time before anything like that happened again. She had two little boys at home who were the result of her last experiment in romance. Her life was set. She was a single mom, and she had no intention of being anything else for the time being. Working closely with a man who had this sort of masculine appeal was not going to be a piece of cake.

But there was more. There was something about him that bothered her to the core of her soul and made her wish she could think of a way to get out of this assignment. She’d noticed it from the first, when she’d seen the picture Sherry had made from the photo she’d borrowed from Human Resources. He reminded her of someone—Danny McGuire, the father of those two little boys. It was just a fluke, of course, just a chance resemblance. But it was enough to make her wish she was anywhere but here. She only hoped they could get on with the business at hand and get it over with. The sooner the better.

She chose a latte, while Michael Greco poured himself a large cup of some very black blend, and they made their way to a table near the window, overlooking the rolling green lawn that led down to a small, reed-fringed duck pond. He made a move as though thinking of pulling her chair out for her, but she hurriedly pulled it out for herself, then felt a bit foolish for having done so.

But what the heck? She’d been doing things that made her look foolish from the very beginning with this man. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much, but it did. And that was unusual, because she was known around here for being a little sassy, a little brash, and a whole lot sure of herself. It wasn’t true, of course. But she had managed to develop the reputation. It was a good shield against her real feelings.

She glanced at him sideways as he began to talk, going over the fundamentals of the White Stones project. Did he really look a lot like Danny, or was she imagining things? He did have the same sort of thick brown hair, cut very much like Danny used to wear it. And his hazel eyes were just as knowing. But his nose was straighter. His had more of a Roman look, whereas Danny’s had looked as though it had been molded by a street fight or two. And his mouth was different. Danny’s had always been twisted in a mocking grin. Michael Greco had only smiled once that she knew of, when they had first come face-to-face. Ever since, she’d been getting the feeling that he didn’t want to be with her any more than she wanted to be with him. She moved restlessly in her seat, wondering why this meeting was so uncomfortable for them both. Maybe, for some people, it was dislike at first sight.

She wished, suddenly, that she was with her children. Three-year-old twins, they were at a stage where they were alternately adorable and infuriating, and she hated missing even a minute of their development. This had been a particularly topsy-turvy week, because she’d had to move her little family out of their home, as the landlord was doing some long-overdue repairs and painting. For the time being, they were living in quarters made available to TriTerraCorp employees, and the boys were having a little trouble getting used to it. Half of her mind was going over ideas of things she could do to make it up to her children, while the other half was listening to her new temporary boss.

“Don’t you agree?” he asked her suddenly.

Startled, she looked up and met his steely gaze. She had no idea what he’d asked her to agree to. He’d made her feel foolish again, and he’d done it on purpose. Her chin rose. “I never contradict the boss,” she said crisply, giving him a look of pure challenge.

His nod seemed to acknowledge that she’d gotten out of that one pretty well. Just as she settled back, pleased with herself, someone opened a door to the terrace and a sudden breeze swept through the room, scattering cups and papers. A napkin rose from the center of their table and Chareen reached to catch it. Michael reached for it at the same time, and somehow their hands met, fingers tangling. Electricity sizzled through her system and her gaze met his. The heat was sizzling through him, too. She could see the evidence in his eyes.

They both drew back as though they’d been burned and he quickly began talking again, going over the land that had been earmarked for the White Stones purchase, the various long-range uses of the property, the potential for the master-planned resort that was in the works. But her pulse was racing. She stared down at her latte and wondered if she was going crazy.

Michael went on, going over the fine points of the project and detailing the problems they were having with the Coastal Commission, which oversaw environmental concerns, but she was already familiar with most of what he was telling her, and her mind was wandering again. She knew from experience that this work would take a few months, at least.

Months, working side by side with this man. How often would their hands touch? How often would his gaze catch hers and kindle that shivery feeling? She didn’t want to think about it.

But there was no way she could get out of this, short of quitting her job. She was the only one who had the background to research the old Spanish land grants. He couldn’t do this without her. But somehow she was going to have to find a way to keep their actual physical contact to a minimum.

“We’re set to include two golf courses,” he was saying. “A convention center and a main hotel, along with two subsidiary hotels, one more of a spa and the other a sort of bed-and-breakfast. Then there will be a tract of condominiums, and a small, upscale shopping area, including four restaurants.”

Deciding that she’d better get with the program, she made an appropriate comment. “Wow. How large is the projected property?”

“About eight hundred acres. Mostly along a canyon that opens onto a wide beach.”

She frowned. That sounded familiar. “Where exactly is it?”

“North of Gaviota, south of Vandenberg Air Force Base.”

She nodded. That was a beautiful area of Southern California and she was looking forward to working there. She had an elderly uncle who still lived in the area. She’d visited his rickety beach house often as a child, walking down to the ocean on hot summer days. It was going to be fun being back there. But she was going to have to be wary.

A friend of hers had a saying she was always repeating, “If you don’t want to get burned, stay away from the fire.” Words of wisdom. She was going to keep them in mind.

Michael checked his watch and stifled a groan. They’d only been sitting here for a little over a quarter of an hour. It felt like much longer. The obnoxious minutes were dragging their scruffy little feet. This was like some type of unbearable medieval torture.

He glanced over at Chareen. She was staring down into her drink and he took the opportunity to take a good look at her.

He took in her silky curtain of hair, the soft curve of her cheek, her elegant chin line, and then his gaze trailed down into the opening of her blouse, where the upper swell of her breasts was barely visible. Reaction surged through him and he had to look away quickly, grabbing his coffee cup and draining it in one long swallow. It was as though someone had picked up one of his teenage dreams, looked inside and pulled out everything he liked in a woman, then mixed it all together and presented him with Chareen Wolf. There wasn’t a flaw on her. She was the sort of female who made grown men think about chucking it all and heading to the South Seas in a sailboat with only her on board.

His mind slipped back to a picture of Grace, his ex-wife. She’d been just as pretty, but every time he thought of her now, all he saw was the haunting look of disappointment in her eyes. It had been four years since he’d seen her, but the memory of that look still had the power to make him bleed.

So he’d spent the last few years looking for love in all the wrong places—on purpose. No commitments, no promises, no more disappointed looks. Casual relationships were all he could handle. He’d thought he was beyond being easily aroused any longer. That is, until he’d heard Chareen Wolf’s voice in the library.

But that wasn’t what he’d come to California for and he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked. The TriTerraCorp CEO had taken him to lunch before he’d left Florida and made it very clear that there was a vice presidency riding on this job in California. That would be great. After all, wasn’t that what he had been working toward for the last few years?

Business, Not Pleasure. That was going to be his motto on this project. He’d promised himself as much, and he knew he had the self-discipline to keep that promise. But working side by side with Chareen Wolf was not going to make it any easier.

But wait a minute. Here was a thought. Why did they have to work together side by side? After all, he was the executive officer here. He set strategy, others implemented his orders. He could set it up in any way he chose, and a good way was beginning to form in his mind right now.

He glanced at Chareen. “You know,” he told her casually, “I understand that you are used to working without too much direct supervision. Your department head told me you are the best TriTerraCorp has got at this sort of thing.”

She gazed at him brightly. “Well, I think I’m pretty good at my job,” she admitted.

He smiled at her. “So I hear. And I’m sure you’d prefer to work without me breathing down your neck all the time. So how about this?” He leaned forward, giving her a direct look that seemed to startle her. “Why don’t you set up your own schedule and make your reports to me through Leonard Trask, your supervisor. That way, you’ll have complete autonomy, unless I find any problem with your work. Though I hardly expect to do that.”

She sat up a bit straighter and seemed excited. “That’s a great idea,” she told him. “So, in other words, I’ll reserve time at city hall to delve into the archives and go over the deeds, then set up my own interviews with sources, write up a report and hand it to Leonard, who will pass it on to you.”

“Exactly.” He was pleased to see she was as quick as he’d heard she was. But just a little surprised that she seemed as eager for this hands-off approach as he was. When you came right down to it, he wasn’t used to women finding excuses to avoid his company. But that was neither here nor there. “You’ll still be available for any follow-ups we might need, of course.”

“I love it,” she said, smiling from ear to ear, her eyes shining. “Mr. Greco, you’re going to spoil me.”

“Believe me, Ms. Wolf, you’re doing me a favor.”

Great. She was going for it. He stretched back in his chair and risked a smile. He was a genius.

“That,” he told himself silently, “is why they pay you the big bucks, Greco. You are the man with the plan.”