I tried not to fidget for the next hour as Mark was gril ed by Cross and the two Kingsman directors, both of whom were attractive brunettes in elegant pantsuits.
The one in raspberry was especial y enthusiastic about garnering Cross’s attention, while the one in cream focused intently on my boss. Al three seemed impressed by Mark’s ability to articulate how the agency’s work—and his facilitation of it with the client
—created provable value for the client’s brand.
I admired how cool Mark remained under pressure
—pressure exerted by Cross, who easily dominated the meeting.
“Wel done, Mr. Garrity,” Cross praised lightly as they wrapped things up. “I look forward to going over the RFP when the time comes. What would entice you to try Kingsman, Eva?”
Startled, I blinked. “Excuse me?”
The intensity of his gaze was searing. It felt as if his entire focus was on me, which only reinforced my respect for Mark, who’d had to work under the weight of that stare for an hour.
Cross’s chair was set perpendicular to the length of the table, facing me head-on. His right arm rested on the smooth wooden surface, his long elegant fingers stroking rhythmical y along the top. I caught a glimpse of his wrist at the end of his cuff and for some crazy reason the sight of that smal expanse of golden skin with its light dusting of dark hair made my clit throb for attention. He was just so… male.
“Which of Mark’s suggested concepts do you prefer?” he asked again.
“I think they’re al bril iant.”
His beautiful face was impassive when he said, “I’l clear the room to get your honest opinion, if that’s what it takes.”
My fingers curled around the ends of my chair’s armrests. “I just gave you my honest opinion, Mr.
Cross, but if you must know, I think sexy luxury on a budget wil appeal to the largest demographic. But I lack—”
“I agree.” Cross stood and buttoned his jacket. “You have a direction, Mr. Garrity. We’l revisit next week.” I sat for a moment, stunned by the breakneck pace of events. Then I looked at Mark, who seemed to be wavering between astonished joy and bewilderment.
Rising to my feet, I led the way to the door. I was hyperaware of Cross walking beside me. The way he moved, with animal grace and arrogant economy, was a major turn-on. I couldn’t imagine him not fucking wel and being aggressive about it, taking what he wanted in a way that made a woman wild to give it to him.
Cross stayed with me al the way to the bank of elevators. He said a few things to Mark about sports, I think, but I was too focused on the way I was reacting to him to care about the smal talk. When the car arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief and hastily stepped forward with Mark.
“A moment, Eva,” Cross said smoothly, holding me back with a hand at my elbow. “She’l be right down,” he told Mark, as the elevator doors closed on my boss’s astonished face.
Cross said nothing until the car was on its way down; then he pushed the cal button again and asked,
“Are you sleeping with anyone?”
The question was asked so casual y it took a second to process what he’d said.
I inhaled sharply. “Why is that any business of yours?”
He looked at me and I saw what I’d seen the first time we’d met—tremendous power and steely control.
Both of which had me taking an involuntary step back.
Again. At least I didn’t fal this time; I was making progress.
“Because I want to fuck you, Eva. I need to know what’s standing in my way, if anything.” The sudden ache between my thighs had me reaching for the wal to maintain my balance. He reached out to steady me, but I held him at bay with an uplifted hand. “Maybe I’m just not interested, Mr.
Cross.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips and made him impossibly more handsome. Dear God…
The ding that signaled the approaching elevator made me jump, I was strung so tight. I’d never been so aroused. Never been so scorchingly attracted to another human being. Never been so offended by a person I lusted after.
I stepped into the elevator and faced him.
He smiled. “Until next time, Eva.”
The doors closed and I sagged into the brass handrail, trying to regain my bearings. I’d barely pul ed myself together when the doors opened and revealed Mark pacing in the waiting area on our floor.
“Jesus, Eva,” Mark muttered, coming to an abrupt halt. “What the hel was that?”
“I have no freakin’ clue.” I exhaled in a rush, wishing I could share the confusing, irritating exchange I’d had with Cross, but wel aware that my boss wasn’t the appropriate outlet. “Who cares? You know he’s going to give you the account.”
A grin chased away his frown. “I’m thinking he might.”
“As my roommate always says, you should celebrate. Should I make dinner reservations for you and Steven?”
“Why not? Pure Food and Wine at seven, if they can squeeze us in. If not, surprise us.”
We’d barely returned to Mark’s office when he was pounced on by the executives—Michael Waters, the
CEO and president, and Christine Field and Walter Leaman, the executive chairman and vice chairman.
I skirted the four of them as quietly as possible and slid into my cubicle.
I cal ed Pure Food and Wine and begged for a table for two. After some serious groveling and pleading, the hostess final y caved.
I left a message on Mark’s voice mail, “It’s definitely your lucky day. You’re booked for dinner at seven.
Have fun!”
Then I clocked out, eager to get home.
“He said what?” Cary sat on the opposite end of our white sectional sofa and shook his head.
“I know, right?” I enjoyed another sip of my wine. It was a crisp and nicely chil ed sauvignon blanc I’d picked up on the walk home. “That was my reaction, too. I’m stil not sure I didn’t hal ucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones.”
“So?”
I tucked my legs beneath me on the couch and leaned into the corner. “So what?”
“You know what, Eva.” Grabbing his netbook off the coffee table, Cary propped it on his crossed legs. “Are you going to tap that or what?”
“I don’t even know him. I don’t even know his first name and he threw that curvebal at me.”
“He knew yours.” He started typing on his keyboard.
“And what about the thing with the vodka? Asking for your boss in particular?”
The hand I was running through my loose hair stil ed.
“Mark is very talented. If Cross has any sort of business sense at al , he’d pick up on that and exploit it.”
“I’d say he knows business.” Cary spun his netbook around and showed me the home page of Cross Industries, which boasted an awesome photo of the Crossfire. “That’s his building, Eva. Gideon Cross owns it.”
Damn it. My eyes closed. Gideon Cross. I thought the name suited him. It was as sexy and elegantly masculine as the man himself.
“He has people to handle marketing for his subsidiaries. Probably dozens of people to handle it.”
“Stop talking, Cary”
“He’s hot, rich, and wants to jump your bones.