Chapter 4
Cole rubbed the area between his eyes. Since the conversation with his former in-laws, he sported a killer headache. Spending the rest of the day at Dewdrop Tavern with Charlie, he’d hoped a few drinks would alleviate the ache that ran like wildfire through his veins from the knowledge that Shelly took their child’s life, but it hadn’t.
Last night, he’d tossed and turned thinking about Shelly’s behavior. Her depression could explain why she accused him of cheating whenever he had a business meeting that ran past four o’clock. Not once had he considered stepping out on his wife. They might not have had the best marriage, but turning his back on her was not an alternative.
“Your four o’clock is waiting.” Leslie knocked on his open door and dropped a folder on his desk. “Manhattan Advertising Group.”
“Give me a sec,” Cole said, crossing the room to the round table and opening the file folder.
She nodded and scooted out of the room.
He thumbed through the pages, glancing over the notes he’d written about the owner, Dina Saunders. A knowledgeable creative director, yet he never had the opportunity to work with her due to his lack of respect for the CEO of the company she’d worked for. When he learned she had branched out on her own, he jumped at the chance to see her artwork on his new product and had his staff contact her to set up a meeting.
Manhattan Advertising Group and one other agency rivaled for the marketing campaign of The Fold. Hands down, he wanted Ms. Saunders. If she accomplished half of what her reputation alluded to, her talent would be advantageous to his project.
He closed the folder and tapped his fingers on top. What are the chances of meeting two women named Dina? Was it a common name?
Last night when he returned home, he’d hoped to run into the woman who lit his body on fire. When he didn’t, he did the next best thing. He went to his apartment, turned on the music, and searched for Amber Rose in the chat room.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t there.
Pushing the button on the phone in the center of the table, he called Leslie. “Send in Ms. Saunders.” He’d get this over with and head home. Fatigue from a sleepless night was getting the best of him.
When two sets of footsteps flowed into the office, he raised his head.
Violet blue eyes met his. The blonde-haired beauty’s shocked expression had to mirror the feelings skittering across his face. The woman who had kissed him so willingly, giving him so much pleasure, stood before him, wearing a formfitting green dress, sexy, yet all business.
He had an answer to his question, Dina from his apartment building, the woman he dreamed of, owned the advertising agency under the last name of Saunders instead of Wright.
Under the mask of a controlled business man, when he felt everything but in control, he stretched out his hand. “Ms. Saunders.”
The debate of what to say played over Dina’s beautiful features before a small smile lifted the corners of her lips and she grasped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Nerve endings went into overdrive everywhere they touched. He released her hand, rubbed his fingers across his sweaty palms, and turned to his assistant. “Thank you, Leslie.”
Leslie disappeared out the door, shutting it behind her.
The sweet lips that had pressed against his parted. “Mr. Dunbar.” The intimacy of what they shared on the sidewalk escaped on her whisper.
Eagerness descended to his libido in an instant. He blew out a breath and tried to regain control.
Before this meeting progressed, they needed to talk to clear the air. Her last name was Wright. The woman starting a new company was Saunders. His mind roared with possibilities of why she had two different last names. “You’re married?” he blundered.
By the expression on her face, his comment caught her off guard as much as him. He wasn’t one to pry, or to speak so rash especially during a business meeting, but given what they shared yesterday, no matter how fleeting, he had a right to know.
Eyes wide, she blinked. “You’re Cole Dunbar. Of course…it makes sense, everyone calling you sir, seeing you here yesterday.” Her eyes narrowed. “You own Techno Park. You’re the anonymous owner.”
She avoided his question and jumped to conclusions quickly and accurately. If they’d talked more about yesterday, the meeting today would not have happened. A fact that saddened him. “Please, let’s sit and discuss the campaign. I’m anxious to see your artwork.”
After a moment of considering him, she laid the portfolio on the table, set her briefcase in a chair, and busied herself spreading the boards on the table. When she had them arranged the way she wanted, she stepped aside and met his gaze. “On the street, I didn’t know who you were. If I had, I’d never…”
Sexual electricity snapped across the room. The pull to her was strong. The proper way to handle the situation escaped him. Torn between picking up where they left off and conducting a quick meeting to get her out of there, he was left confounded. “Are you ready to give the presentation?” The even tenor he usually possessed failed.
Hurt flashed in her eyes before turning edgy. A shrew business person emerged as she showed him the artwork and explained the campaign. Her concise, no-fluff plan convinced him his instincts were right, Dina Saunders-Wright was a creative genius.
Each word she spoke drew his gaze toward her mouth. The shape of her lips, the way her mouth formed words, the manner in which she said, Big John. So enamored with watching her, he hadn’t noticed she called his new invention by the incorrect name.
When she finished the pitch, he studied the drawings and struggled with a reason why she had the wrong name. After all the hours she poured into the project, how could he tell her? In any other circumstance, he’d take the straight forward approach, so why over think it this time? “The product’s name is The Fold, not Big John.”
The skin between her brows wrinkled. For a brief moment, she looked mortified, but recovered quickly, pulling out a piece of paper from her briefcase. She laid a piece of paper on the table in front of him. “Big John is the product name on the proposal.”
He scanned the paper. Heads would roll. “There’s a misunderstanding. When my product manager emailed the information, he failed to revise the name.”
“I don’t understand. Was the name changed during manufacturing?”
“My technology team picked Big John for the invention since it’s a mini-computer,” Cole said. “The term is an oxymoron. They called it by the porn label around the office. The name shouldn’t have gone any farther, especially on contractual documents. I apologize for the mix up.”
The question begged asking, why did his team see fit to correct the name on the other competing agency but not for The Manhattan Agency?
A plethora of expressions crossed her face, changing from solemn to smirking. “I’ll have a new campaign together for you by the first of next week, if that’s okay.”
He was glad she handled the confusion in stride.
“The device is clever. The gadget will fit in my back pocket. The computer-generated keyboard is a consumer’s dream.”
Her insight on his invention moved him, more than it should. “The keyboard triggered the idea.” The meeting portion needed to end. “Please, bill me for your hours.”
“Of course.” Her red lips spread into a firm line, stirring the already uncontrollable hunger racing through him.
After giving into his whims with Dina and learning how heartless his wife was, Cole found himself in unfamiliar territory. He wanted Dina so much he ached just looking at her. Acting on his craving after learning what a heartless bitch his wife was wouldn’t bode well for him and Dina to have a chance at a healthy relationship.
And, he wanted one with her…badly.
He threaded his fingers through his hair and paced the length of the room and tried to harness his emotions.
****
Disbelief clattered around in Dina’s brain. The man she’d lived down the hall from for the last year, her dream guy, was her first client, the owner of West Technologies who earned the nickname “Hard core.” She scoffed, and stuffed the paper back in her briefcase. How in the world had she not heard Twenty-ten’s name? A man so rich, so powerful, so ingenious couldn’t have evaded the rumor mill that was her best friend’s mouth, yet he had.
She looked his way. Dressed in a charcoal business suit, his hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked from one side of the room to the other. A distant gaze replacing the sharp, intelligent one she witnessed during their meeting.
Eye-candy in Armani clothes, he possessed confidence, strength, and an overwhelming amount of raw masculine charm that drew her to him like peanut butter and chocolate. She wanted a taste, yet knew she couldn’t. The delicious combination was lethal for her.
His intense gaze locked on hers.
What was he thinking? Had her actions from yesterday morning made him second-guess if he should work with her? Did he want to kiss her again?
She diverted her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun beamed through the window showcasing Upper Manhattan. The beauty of the city stole her breath much like the man pacing the room like a caged tiger. “Even from the second floor, the view is beautiful of Central Park,” she said, hoping to reduce the awkwardness between them.
Cole stopped in front of his desk, his face twisting with concern…no guilt…or was it empathy. She couldn’t distinguish what his narrowed eyebrows conveyed.
“The reason I picked this office,” he said, his voice tight as if emotions blocked the back of his throat.
Despite the few words of banter, the tension in the air remained thick. Soon he’d have to speak his thoughts or she’d need to say goodbye. Standing there fixed in place and not addressing what happened between them and how it would affect their probable working relationship wouldn’t do.
She eyed his office while she mustered the courage to act on what she needed to do and landed on the intricate carvings lining the corners of his desk. “I love your furniture.”
Something shined in his eyes. “Are you single?”
Finally, the conversation moved forward, yet the forcefulness in which the question was asked gave her pause. It appeared as if he thought he had a right to demand answers from her. His questions about her personal life had nothing to do with wanting her to lead his advertising campaign, but everything to do with what transpired between them on the street. As much as she wanted what happened discussed, she couldn’t help but to ask, “Are you bringing personal concerns into a business meeting?”
“Depends. Are you unattached?”
Cole’s intense gaze locked on hers, sending desire screaming through her body. She lowered her gaze to his bow lips, and remembered the sidewalk scene. How his lips puckered a moment before he kissed her. Her chest tightened, and she tugged at the top of her dress.
What mattered was her new business, him a potential client, and not how he tempted her, but the tingle rushing through her from his gaze and from his closeness said differently.
“I’m divorced. Saunders is my maiden name.”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, and just stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. His scrutiny sent uneasiness plummeting to her stomach. Had she just blown her pitch by not making sure the conversation stayed on task? Again, she sought refuge by taking in the office furnishings. In the far corner, a cabinet stretched to the ceiling. Next to it, a bar with a decanter filled with brown liquid and two glasses sat on a silver tray. Closer to the door, a makeshift living room, leather couch, loveseat, and a chair. The office impressed her. Darn it, he impressed her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, reeling in her craving, and skimmed over her images spread out on the table, the reason for the meeting. “Mr. Dunbar, what direction do you want to take Big John?” The innuendo of the misspoken name slammed into her brain. Had he noticed? “I mean, The Fold.”
He pressed his lips together, making a low masculine sound low in his throat. “Please, call me Cole.”
She planned to say his name and inform him the new drawings would be ready on Monday, but her brain went in a different direction. “Cole,” she said in a husky tone. In one long stride, he closed the distance between them.
Her heart flipped.
“I like hearing my name on your lips.” His voice was seductive, raw, and filled with longing. Pulse racing, heartbeat increasing, the insanity had to stop before they went too far and jeopardized their working relationship. He hadn’t told her if she’d gotten the job or not. She didn’t want his decision influenced by their attraction, yet she said what would ensure another connection, “Cole—”
He cupped her face and his mouth swallowed whatever else her brain might have come up with. The kiss was hot, wet, and delicious. He lowered a hand and curled it around the small of her back, edging her closer.
His chest pressed against hers, his hips grinded against hers, his hardness pushing against her abdomen.
She wanted more, much more.
As if he heard her wish, he shifted, placed a leg between hers, his toned thigh muscles hitting the spot between her legs that would drive her crazy in five seconds flat. She gasped and curled her arms around his back, urgently bringing him closer.
In the back of her mind, she knew their connection was wrong on so many levels. Their working relationship, her distrust in men, but Lord help her, she couldn’t stop. But she had to, had to end the deliciousness her body had been missing, wanted.
From deep within, she found strength and placed her hands on his chest and pushed.
He eased his head back and searched her face. Their bodies still pressed together, his hands on her hips.
His hot, searing gaze mixed with an unidentifiable mien caused her stomach to flutter. “We can’t.” The words escaped on an exhale. “My company’s in the infancy stage. If word reached the media I gained a client by…”
“Sleeping with them.” The undercurrent of his voice fortified with sex, hit its mark, launching goosebumps over her skin.
She stared at the base of his neck, the tender spot where she wanted to press her lips and bury her face. “I can’t have a negative reputation.”
He stepped back and shoved a hand in his pocket. The other scrubbed the back of his head. “Your reputation will stay intact,” he said, his tone all business. “If you’re awarded the job, it will be based on your ability. I can recommend, but the board will vote based on the drawings. But I am impressed. You gave dignity to a device with a porn name.” He chuckled, an uneasy one, yet some of the awkward tension dissolved.
His quick-on-his-feet answer resolved the possible repercussions of them being together. Still, she had reservations.
“Would you like to go to dinner?” His voice dropped an octave.
She hadn’t expected him to switch gears so fast. Just when she had her brain back on business, his seductive voice threw her a curve ball, leaving her in a state of want. “We can’t,” she said, but her voice cracked, giving away her real feelings.
“You say no, but your eyes and voice don’t agree.” He touched the tip of her nose with a finger. “Whatever is running through your pretty head, you’d better stop before I lock the door and do everything you imagined on the conference table.”
For three hundred and fifty-two days, no, make that over five hundred days, she’d been without sex. With him gazing at her with bedroom eyes and her vaginal walls clenching, rational thought wasn’t possible. She needed a second alone to think. “Where’s your bathroom?”
He motioned to the other side of the room.
She dragged her overheated body across the carpeted floor to the tile and closed the door. Changing rooms didn’t help. His scent surrounded her. She leaned her back against the door, stared at the single toothbrush lying near the faucet, and tried to make peace with what she wanted.
Could business mix with pleasure? Could she date him and not put her business or her heart in a vulnerable position?
Cole wasn’t just any guy. He was her dream guy. The one she visualized in her dreams every night when she went to bed.
She walked over to the mirror. Her flustered face looked like she’d already gone a few rounds. Her boobs sweated, hair mussed, and her core…screamed for more.
What about business integrity?
She waited for the mirror to give advice, but her evil side nagged in her ear. Not an issue. Go for it.
A knock sounded on the door. “Are you okay, Dina?”
She wetted down her unruly hair.
You can do this.
She opened the door.