Читать книгу The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair - Sara Orwig - Страница 9

When Anna sent a signal, she made it crystal clear.

Somehow, Parker knew that would happen. He knew if he bided his time, easing her slowly into a comfortable, sensual, intimate place, she would give him the go-ahead to take that kiss he’d been thinking about all night.

He’d been fighting arousal since she’d opened the door—hell, since he’d found her in the bathroom the other day. Every dance made him want to touch more; every time she laughed or asked a question, leaned gently against him or just sent him a subtle look of pure lust, his jaw slackened for some mouth-to-mouth contact with hers.

He thought he’d imagined the occasional admiring glance in the past, but tonight, Anna’s defenses were down. And her interest was up. Way up.

“The limo’s right over there,” he said, nudging her in that direction. “We don’t need to stay a minute more.”

A glimmer of uncertainty lit her eyes.

“Unless you want to,” he said, placing one finger on her chin to turn her face to him. He trailed that finger down her throat, into the dip between her collarbones, and then lower, barely touching, barely skimming her flesh.

Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted.

“It’s entirely up to you,” he added, dropping close to her ear to whisper the words and nibble her lobe.

She arched slightly with a quick breath. Then she closed her eyes and nodded so slightly, he almost missed it. With a firm hand on her back, he walked toward the waiting limo, and addressed the driver.

“We’ll go directly to the Ritz, John,” he said as he climbed in the car behind Anna. Although it might be fun to play in the limo while they tooled around London for an hour, he didn’t want her in a car. He wanted to get her back to the suite and directly in his bed.

He would, however, have to keep her warm on the way back.

Settling in next to her, he offered champagne, but she declined. He touched a button and filled the car with the soft strains of Andrea Bocelli’s new-millennium version of classical music and her eyes sparkled.

“I love this music.”

“You love music, I noticed.”

She smiled. “Broadway tunes are my favorite, actually.”

“West Side Story?”

Even in the dim light of the car, he could see her flush. “I’m sorry about that, again.”

“I’m not. Use the shower in there whenever you like. Leave the door open.” He curled an arm around her and feathered her hair with a kiss. “I liked the view.”

“But not the song.”

He laughed and moved his mouth to lightly kiss her cheek. “Your heart was into it, that’s all that matters to me.”

She turned to him, her face suddenly very serious, the laughter gone from her eyes. “My heart’s into everything that I do,” she assured him. “Even my work.”

“Good,” he murmured, inching closer to her mouth, not thinking too hard about the sincerity in her eyes. His mind was not on work at the moment. “I like that in a woman.”

He kissed her again, working to keep it light and easy, but hot and hard was winning the battle. He tunneled his fingers into her hair and found the comb that held it in place. In one twist of his wrist, her hair tumbled.

He finger-combed it, inhaling the sweet fragrance, gliding his tongue over her teeth. She leaned her head back against the seat so he could kiss the tender skin of her throat and nibble his way into the V of her dress.

She tasted sweet and hot and smooth.

Unable to stop himself, he slid one hand from her nape, down the halter strap to the tender, precious curve of her breast, covering her easily. Instantly, her nipple pebbled against his palm, firing a blast of lava-hot blood through him, pulling groans of pleasure from both their throats.

“Parker.” She sighed, lifting herself just enough to let him know she enjoyed the touch.

“Glad we’re back on a first-name basis,” he teased, dragging his hand along the tight fit of her waist, over her hip and finding the slit that had called to him all night.

His hand hit flesh and her whole body shivered. He chuckled softly into another kiss. “Look what I found,” he whispered, tracing the tight thigh with one fingertip, inching higher to torture both of them.

Another moan of delight shuddered through her. He quieted that with a long, wet, hungry kiss, opening his hand to caress the taut muscle of her thigh. His fingers moved higher, over velvety skin, anxious just to touch her once. Just to feel how creamy she was. Expertly, he ran his thumb once over the silky nub of her panties, eliciting a soft gasp in their kiss.

“Maybe we should take the long way back,” he suggested, taking one more featherlight stroke over the damp silk between her legs.

Slowly, easily, she closed her fingers over his wrist and slid his hand away.

“Too fast?” he asked. “Too much? Too soon?”

The fire in her eyes said no to all of the above, but she nodded.

He took a deep breath and gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hand on a far less controversial spot on her waist. “I’ll wait.” He could. His body hummed with need, hard and relentless, but he would wait. “At least until we walk in the door.”

She smiled, then caught her lower lip under her two front teeth with a heartbreakingly unsure expression.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping her jaw and lifting her face to meet his. “You’re not sure? Are you… I mean, you’ve done this before, right?”

“I had a serious boyfriend when I lived in Indiana.” Her whole expression changed with the admission.

He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to hear about this boyfriend, at least not at this particular moment. But she obviously wanted to tell him something.

“What happened?” he asked.

She lowered her head, gnawed on that lip again, thinking. “He hurt me. He…”

A natural male fury whipped through him. “He forced you?”

“No, no,” she said. “Nothing like that. He just… lied to me. He used me and I…” She sighed and turned to the window. “It cost me my job.”

Oh. Suddenly her hesitation was totally understandable. She must have worked for the guy, and this would feel like history repeating itself. And what could he say?

“And you’re worried that could happen again,” he said.

“Can you, in good conscience, promise me that if I sleep with you, it would never affect my job?”

He breathed slowly, studying her. “I can’t promise that, Anna.” As much as his hardened, aroused body wanted him to make all sorts of promises, he couldn’t actually make that one. Because it might change things in the office. That was life.

The limo slowed in front of the Ritz, and he gave her a moment to smooth her hair. When John opened the back door on her side, Parker watched her climb gracefully out of the car, the sexy red dress clinging to every curve he wanted to explore with his hands and mouth.

Nothing was going to happen to his career if they had sex and things didn’t work out. He was smart enough to know that. And so was she.

He cleared his throat and willed his arousal to subside as they made their way to the elevator. When the doors closed he turned to her.

“Anna,” he said, wrapping the hand that still held hers around her back. “You know what I want. But, it’s your call.” He resisted the urge to kiss her, but continued. “If that means we end up in bed together, well—” he smiled and touched her jaw with his other hand “—great. But…”

If it meant kissing her chastely good-night and keeping the best administrative assistant he ever had, that was great, too. Not as great, but Parker knew when to compromise and when to push.

The doors opened and he took her hand, leading her into the hushed hallway. He pulled out the room key and opened the massive double doors to the darkened suite, the only sound the steady thump of his heart while he waited for her decision.

He’d forgotten to leave a light on, and they stood in the shadows, inches apart. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the limo and he knew the next word she said would seal their fate.

She turned to him and slid her arms around his shoulders, locking at his neck. He resisted a grin of victory, but lowered his head for the kiss he expected.

“Thank you for the most amazing party I’ve ever been to.” She rose on her toes, kissed his cheek and backed away. “Good night, Parker.”

He could barely see her disappear into her room, but in the silence, he heard the lock turn. He stood in the dark for a few minutes, tapping the card key against his palm. The card key that she obviously didn’t realize was a master and could open her bedroom door.

Smothering a soft sigh, he shook his head, the disappointment finally making it down to the lower half of his body to deliver the bad news.

The lady said no.

He shimmied out of the tuxedo jacket, threw it over a delicate French provincial chair and strode to the bar, flipping over a brandy snifter and filling it with a solid slug of the good stuff. With one hand, he loosened his bow tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of the tux shirt.

He took the drink to the balcony that ran the length of the salon, folding into a comfortable chair and inhaling the sounds and scents of an active avenue two stories below.

Didn’t this beat all? He was in London, in his favorite suite, with a smoldering hot woman undressing in the next room… and he would be going to bed alone.

Why hadn’t he thought this through when he’d issued the impulsive invitation? Because he’d been seeing legs in heels and hearing off-key songs in his head, that was why.

Drinking a little deeper than the heavy brandy called for, his throat burned. Hell, everything burned. He wanted her. He really wanted her.

But she wanted…

Now there was an unanswered question. What did Anna want? A promotion? A boyfriend? A husband? A good time?

She really didn’t talk about herself so much. She asked a lot of questions about his business; made herself basically indispensable; got him hot, bothered and distracted… but what was her deal? For a minute, he was a little annoyed at himself for not asking.

Then he narrowed his eyes until the city-lit sky blurred and he let the most unsettling thought settle right down on him.

What if Anna wanted . . . information?

The leak at Garrison had started about three or four months ago, right when she’d moved into the desk outside his office. She’d been promoted from HR, where, according to his department manager, she’d been an exemplary, if low-profile, employee.

But, still.

Ice hardened in the very veins that had been molten just minutes earlier.

Was Anna the spy?

Evidence, however circumstantial, started flashing like frozen images of proof in his head. She knew about every deal that had fallen through in the last two months. Of course she did; she had total access to his office. She’d even showered in there! How often had she been in there alone?

The only people who knew he was coming to London were the charter-jet people, maybe someone in his travel department… and Anna. And, in the elevator, she’d acted as if she’d never even heard of Jordan Jefferies, which seemed impossible in their business.

The impact of the revelation catapulted him to his feet, and he bounded back into the salon as the facts popped into his head and fell into place.

She knew the names of competitors. She constantly steered the conversation toward work. She always seemed so interested in the business, and even a little bit nervous around him.

Even on the plane yesterday, she’d dragged him back to open files, forcing him to go over every minor element of every major deal, and then, what had she done when they’d gotten to London? E-mailed it all. She’d said she was sending his e-mail for him, but was someone getting copied on that correspondence? Someone named Jefferies?

Oh, man. He almost cracked the crystal in his hand as he reviewed the events of the last hour. As soon as he’d talked about the spy, the minute he’d focused in on the mole in his operation, what had she done?

Classic, by-the-book, take-no-prisoners sexual distraction. Right up to the hotel room, she’d had him panting, pawing and as far away from thoughts of spies as he could be.

What did she take him for? He slammed the snifter so hard on the bar that brandy sloshed over the side and, in one move, he scooped up the master card key he’d left there.

What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Garrison?

He could still hear her seductive voice, feel the pressure of her kiss, the soft breath of a… traitor.

Jamming the card key into the lock on her bedroom door, his heart kicked against his ribs. And he froze. What if he was wrong?

Without making a noise, he turned the knob and opened the door. In the shadows, he saw her shape in the bed, the sheet almost covering her, but for one achingly long, sexy leg draped over it. He heard her sigh and shudder.

Already asleep… or faking it?

“Anna.” His voice was sharp, demanding.

She jerked up, pulling the sheet over whatever she wore. “What do you want?”

He heard the tremor in her voice. Was that because she knew he’d figured out her game?

“Please, Parker, I’m sorry if I took things too far.”

Disgust roiled through him. Did she really think he’d come in here and force her into having sex?

The sheet fell from her trembling hands, the moonlight revealing that she wore something tiny and strappy, like a tank T-shirt. Something easily lifted and removed.

Against everything he called control, his body responded. He was, after all, a man.

But not a stupid man. There was nothing to be gained by accusing her like this. He may have just leaped to one wild conclusion.

Swallowing hard, he gripped the doorknob. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

In the dim light, he could see that she very much doubted that was the truth. “I’m fine.” She brushed a hair off her face. “Are you?”

The fact that she asked hit him somewhere deep, somewhere he’d rather not be hit by a woman he no longer trusted.

“Yeah. Good night.” He closed the door and stared at it for a long minute.

He was probably right, and she was the spy. And if she was, then two could play this game. Now that he knew who his spy was, it was just a matter of feeding her misinformation. And if she really wanted to do her job for the Jefferies brothers well, she would probably have to get close to the CEO of Garrison, Inc.

Very close.

Parker Garrison may have been played for a fool by her this evening. But it wouldn’t happen again. Next time, he’d get everything he wanted. Everything.

And he wanted Anna. If he could crush Jordan and Emilio Jefferies in the process, all the better. But he could never let her know that he’d figured her out. In fact, the first thing he needed to do was let her wonder where she stood.

Anna Cross would find out the hard way not to play chess with a master.

Somehow, Anna made it through to Monday morning, but the magic of Saturday night seemed as far away as London when she tucked her handbag into her desk drawer and turned on the computer for the day.

“I didn’t expect to see you here today.” The receptionist appeared from the tiny galley kitchen that the Garrison executives shared, an empty coffeepot in hand.

“Of course I’m here,” Anna said.

“Thought you might make a week of it across the pond.” Sheila added a British accent to the last three words, and tempered the tease with a wink. “There were a few early calls this morning. The editor from Luxury Travel magazine called about the layout he’s doing.”

“Okay,” Anna said, jotting a note. “Anything else?”

“The secretary at the charter-jet company called this morning to make sure Mr. Garrison and Ms. Cross had a pleasurable trip.” Her voice was rich with implication and accusation. “So. Did you?”

“You can let them know that it was fine, thank you.”

“You’re holding out on me.” Sheila laughed lightly. “Come on, spill the beans. Is he as demanding in bed as he is in the office?”

Anna managed a very disgusted glare, even though the memory of the moment he’d walked into her bedroom was still vivid. He could have demanded, and she might not have fought him. But he hadn’t. And she’d barely slept once he’d backed out of the door, leaving her absolutely aching for more.

“Sorry to disappoint, Sheila. It was all business.” Unfortunately. Fortunately. Oh, God, she was so confused.

“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” She beckoned Anna with the coffeepot and a very sympathetic smile. “Come here while I brew the mud. You look like you could use a friend.”

Was it that obvious? Parker’s distant coolness on the flight home had been a double-edged sword. It cut her because he was so icy, but it relieved her to know she could go back to work and a few steamy kisses had caused no real harm.

Obviously, he’d had a chance to think over the recriminations of an office affair and had decided she was too good an assistant to lose.

Or maybe he didn’t want her.

The thought made her stomach squeeze with a sense of disappointment she had no right to feel. But he’d left her so confused. He’d hardly said six words to her on the flight, and three were See you tomorrow.

“Ever get involved with your boss before, Anna?” Sheila’s question yanked her back to the present.

“No,” she answered honestly. The boss’s biggest rival, yes. And hadn’t that turned out great? “It would be beyond dumb,” she added.

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I used to be a Playmate, did you know that?”

The entire company knew Sheila had worked as a bunny at the now-defunct Miami Beach Playboy Club. “I’ve heard that.”

“Got all tight with one of the managers in the operation.”

Anna wasn’t entirely sure she wanted this much information, but couldn’t help asking, “What happened?”

“What always happens,” Sheila said with a world-weary exhale. “He got laid and I got canned.”

“Oh.”

Sheila nodded knowingly. “But, hey, it was fun while it lasted. That guy could…” She shook her head while she measured the coffee. “Let’s just say he taught me some tricks that every girl should know.”

“Would answering the phone be one of them?” Parker’s voice was thick with sarcasm, eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise from Anna and a snort from Sheila. “Because my line just bounced from the main switchboard to voice mail after ringing about fifteen times.”

Anna blinked at his tone. “Sorry, Mr. Garrison.” She looked him directly in the eye as she passed through the narrow doorway and managed not to brush one fiber of his thousand-dollar suit. “I’ll get your phone.” She added some steel in her voice as she hustled toward her desk just as the next line rang.

“Mr. Garrison’s office.” His name rolled off her tongue, flipping her stomach as the sight of him had done. This was why people shouldn’t get involved at work. Forget what happened to her in the past. She couldn’t even say his name without causing a mental meltdown.

“Hello.” The voice on the phone was low, rich, female and unfamiliar. “I want Parker Garrison.”

Get in line, Anna thought wryly. “May I tell him who is calling?”

“This is Cassie Sinclair Garrison, returning his call.”

Anna corralled her scattered thoughts. Cassie Sinclair… Garrison? She was using the name now? That would put Parker in a fine… finer mood. She turned just in time to see him heading into his office.

“Mr.—” She blew out a half breath. What did she call him now? Every time she said Mr. Garrison, they’d both think of his “warning” kisses. At least, she would.

“Who is it, Anna?” he asked, pausing at his door.

“Cassie Sinclair.” No need to have him fume at her because his illegitimate half sibling was using her father’s name. Let him find out on his own.

The color drained slightly from his sculpted cheekbones. “I’ll take that call.” He disappeared into his office, and closed the door with a definitive click, making her feel as shut out as he had on the plane when he’d slept or read the entire flight.

Behind her, Anna got a whiff of Sheila’s spicy perfume.

“Not that it’s any of my concern,” she said, hitching a lazy hip against the arm of the guest chair. “But my experience tells me if you don’t clear the air, then whatever is ricocheting off you two is going to do both of you in. And you’ll cave first, darlin’.”

“Nothing is ricocheting,” she insisted. Except her heart. Why was he treating her like this? Would it be different if she had slept with him? Was he mad at her for saying no, or at himself for being… a man?

And what a man he was.

“Just clear the air, sweetie,” Sheila said, giving Anna’s hand a friendly pat. “Tell him you’re sorry you did or you didn’t, but don’t lose your job over it if you can help it. No man’s worth a paycheck, trust me.”

As if she didn’t already know that. “Thanks for the advice.”

Sheila winked. “Anytime. And anytime you want to share the gory details…” She pointed toward the closed office door. “I bet that stud knows a few tricks, too.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Anna said, her professional demeanor as secure as the button that held her modest shirt closed tight at the collar.

Sadly, Anna had to admit Shelia knew what she was talking about. As soon as that door opened, she was going to heed the unsolicited advice. She would tell Parker that despite the kisses and the chemistry they felt, they had to remain employer/employee only. But nothing else.

And once she told him that, she could get back to concentrating on her job. Maybe.

“Thank you for calling me back, Ms. Sinclair.”

“Actually, I use both my last names. It’s Cassie Sinclair Garrison.” She ladled extra emphasis on their shared name and Parker just closed his eyes in revulsion.

But he refused to take the bait. “We need to talk about the questionable provisions in my father’s will,” he said, keeping any hint of emotion out of his voice.

The connection from Nassau was clear enough for him to hear her soft cough. “I’m not aware of any questionable provisions. It was all perfectly clear to me.”

She was not going to be easy to manipulate. Well, of course not. Like it or not, she had Garrison blood in her veins and they were a stubborn bunch.

He powered on. “I think you’ll agree that there’s absolutely no reason for you to be bothered with the responsibility of twenty percent shares of Garrison, Inc. I’ve been running the company—”

“Not a bother at all,” she assured him.

“I make the majority decisions for this company,” he said firmly.

“I understand that and I hope you’ll continue to do so,” she said. “To be honest, I have no desire to exercise my new control, but I’ll keep it. I have a hotel to run.”

Relief washed over him. “Then I’ll have my attorney arrange for you to rescind the shares immediately.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said coolly, as Parker stood and squinted into the Miami sunshine. “I have no intention of rescinding anything. I just don’t want to exercise those shares right now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the sound of any of this. “Then why not turn them over to me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

She wanted money. Of course. “I will have my attorney draw up an extremely fair offer, Miss… Sinclair.”

“It’s Garrison and I wouldn’t trouble your attorney because I will not sell my shares for any price, fair or otherwise.”

“Why not?” She had to know he’d offer her well above market value.

“Because they were a gift.” She paused for a moment, then added, “From my father.”

Parker swallowed the bitter, metallic taste of fury in his mouth. “From your illegitimate father,” he ground out.

“Be that as it may, he was and will always be a father to me. You may not know this, Mr. Garrison, but your father spent a lot of time in Nassau and he took very good care of my mother and me.”

Forget apathy. Forget leaving family emotions at the door. This woman was doing everything in her power to incense him. And it was working.

“Is that so?” he replied. “Frankly, no one in my family—including my mother, the one and only Mrs. John Garrison—was aware of that.”

She was quiet long enough to know he hit a mark. “Mr. Garrison, I’m going to make this very easy on you,” she finally said.

“How’s that?”

“Let’s not talk anymore. If you have anything, absolutely anything, to say to me, put it in writing. I don’t want to discuss business with you. I don’t want to rescind my shares. I don’t want to sell my shares. I don’t want to hear about your mother. I don’t want to meet your brothers and sisters and have a cozy family reunion. Is that clear?”

Oh, she was a Garrison, all right. He didn’t even have to see the cleft in her chin to know for sure. “Crystal clear.”

“Good. And don’t try some underhanded, sneaky way to get rid of me. My father told me you can be ruthless.”

He could be ruthless, all right. And would be, if necessary. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know how much this means to you,” she snapped back. “I don’t put anything past you.”

She didn’t know anything about him and what meant what to him. “Excuse me, but you’re the one who appeared out of nowhere claiming to be a Garrison.”

She choked, her own temper obviously torqued. “I haven’t appeared out of nowhere. I’ve been right here, for twenty-seven years, the daughter of John Garrison and Ava Sinclair. There were no ‘claims.’ “

“You’ll have to prove it.” The words were out before he could stop himself, erupted by his boiling blood. “We want to run full DNA tests and until conclusive proof is on my desk, my father’s will is being contested in court.”

He heard her breath escape in frustration. “Fine. Sic your lawyers on me. I don’t care. Let me run my property the way I always have. Garrison, Inc. will get the appropriate percentage of my profits. In the meantime, stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.”

She clicked off before he could respond. Swearing softly, Parker threw his phone on the desk and strode toward the door, his command that Anna get Brandon Washington on the phone already forming in his mouth.

He whipped the door open and almost knocked her down.

What was she doing there? Listening?

He glared at her, and she backed up a step, but lifted up her chin defiantly. “I want to talk to you.”

Of course she was listening. The Jefferieses would probably want a full report. He gave her a smile, which wasn’t difficult because even behind those little glasses, she was pretty. Very pretty.

“About what?” he asked, keeping his tone friendly.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the clerk who was slowly unloading the morning mail in front of her desk.

“Morning, Mario,” Parker said, greeting the man who’d worked for the company since the year his father had opened it.

“Mr. Garrison.” He nodded slowly, obviously more interested in the conversation than delivering the mail.

“Please,” Anna said to Parker, starting to close his door. “It’s personal.”

But he put his hand on the wood to keep it open. “How personal?”

She speared him with a look. “Very personal.”

He dipped one inch closer and the color immediately rose to her cheeks. For a spy, she sure had a weak spot. Several of them, in fact. One behind her ear, one just at the rise of her breasts and the weakest of all, the soft inside flesh of her thigh.

His body stirred at the thought. Might be time to exploit those weaknesses. “Then why don’t we discuss it over dinner, Anna?”

Her eyes widened. “Dinner?”

“Yep. I feel like celebrating.”

“You do?”

He cocked his head toward the phone on his desk. “It appears all the problems have been solved,” he said smoothly. “Cassie Sinclair is going to rescind her shares. So, let’s celebrate.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He’d win this and Cassie would rescind her shares, or sell them to him. But it wouldn’t hurt to see if a little misinformation got dripped into the Jefferies organization.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She brightened, sounding very sincere. How would it sound when she relayed that information to Jordan and Emilio Jefferies? “Would you like me to get Brandon Washington on the phone for you?”

Damn, she was good. Spy or not, she had a skill for anticipating everything he needed. How would that translate in bed? The thought tightened his gut.

“Yes, please. And call Brittany Beach Restaurant and tell my sister to get us the best table in the house tonight.”

“All right. Then we’ll talk tonight.”

They would. And he would plant a few more decoy targets and then he’d sit back and watch Anna, and Jordan and Emilio, try to hit them. “I’ll look forward to it.”

The only problem was, he would. All day.