The grunts and few words and clear dislike for the corporate world didn’t exactly make her feel all warm and fuzzy. Then again, that wasn’t his role. His job provided Carla with a setting where she could face her fears and perform her work and then leave at the end of the month without a backward glance. Mr. Jackson Rivard and his gruff demeanor but mighty fine ass would be naught but a distant memory once she was through. She never had to see him again. The faint haze of disappointment around that thought didn’t matter. Not one bit.
Carla heaved her duffel onto the bed and unzipped it. She’d bring her suitcase in later, but she’d packed a change of clothes and shoes in the duffel bag she could use for now. She pulled out what she needed and peeled off the sweaty skirt, blouse, and blazer. Standing in only her bra and panties, she looked longingly toward the bathroom. Dare she risk an extra five minutes for a jump in the shower? She knew Jackson stood out in the hallway, expecting her just to change her clothes and come right out. She chewed her lower lip, deciding. Then she made up her mind and took off everything.
Screw it. I’m hot, I’m sweaty, I’ve been traveling the entire day and I deserve a shower. He can wait five extra minutes.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from her room. The shower had been heavenly and she just hadn’t been able to pull herself out. She felt a little guilty, but it couldn’t be helped. Unfortunately, a deserted hallway greeted her when she stepped out the door. Damn.
She walked back the way they’d come, assuming Jackson had gone to his room to wait for her. But which one was it? Three doors down, or four? She ambled down the hallway, gut churning with indecision. Knowing these rooms were not just offices but more like private apartments held her back from knocking. She didn’t know a soul apart from Jackson and she didn’t want to disturb anyone. Still, she had to find her host. Taking her best shot at the door she thought most likely his, she gave it a few raps.
She waited, listening intently for any type of sound. Was there someone inside? She thought she may have heard something but couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. She knocked again.
“Coming,” a female voice called out.
Carla cringed. Shit. She’d either gotten the wrong door completely, or she’d gotten Jackson’s door but had disturbed his…wife? Girlfriend?
Steeling herself, Carla waited for the door to open. But when it did, instead of being berated by an irate girlfriend, a beautiful young girl in her early twenties greeted her. She sat in a wheelchair.
“Hello.” She had a smile as warm and welcome as the sun. “Can I help you?”
“Ahh…” Carla halted, momentarily at a loss for words. She sensed a familiarity from the way the woman spoke, but couldn’t quite figure why. “My apologies. I was looking for—”
At that moment, the adjacent door opened and Jackson stepped out into the hallway, his face glowering and eyes icy cold. In seconds he was beside the girl and his angry face became transformed into one of concern. “Amy? Is everything all right?”
“Of course, Jackson,” she assured him. Amy looked up at Carla. “I think this lady may be lost.” As if noticing her for the first time, Jackson turned to look at Carla. “What are you doing?” She could not mistake the irritation in his voice.
“She’s right, I lost my way. You didn’t say where you were going. I did my best to guess where that might be.”
“You guessed wrong.”
“For that I apologize.” Carla bristled. “Not to you, but to the young lady.” She directed her gaze to Amy. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Mr. Rivard left no instructions where to meet him so I was trying to do my best on my own.”
“No harm done.” Amy smiled at Carla and looked up at Jackson. “I’m fine, really. You’d better see your guest.”
He leaned down to be at the same level with her and then murmured something in her ear, clearly meant for Amy alone to hear. Carla backed away, giving them privacy. Obviously Jackson was in love with this woman. Carla did her best to ignore the burn of jealousy flashing through her veins. He could be incredibly rude, but the man couldn’t be faulted for ignoring his loved ones.
Amy rolled her chair back inside and Jackson gently shut the door behind her. He turned to Carla. “Let’s go.” He set out toward the stairway.
His sharp tone irked her and she wanted to say something. Hold off, Carla. She sighed. Her conscience was right. The traveling had tired her, and she didn’t want to blurt out something she’d regret.
As they stepped outside, she noticed it hadn’t gotten much cooler. At least the breeze had picked up. She paused and slipped a hand beneath her hair to raise it, allowing the air to cool the back of her neck. She noticed Jackson glaring at her before quickly turning away. Shoot, was he annoyed she stalled? Is that what he thought?
He headed toward the main group of buildings at a fast pace. At least she had no trouble keeping up since she wasn’t sinking into the ground on spiky stilettos. The practical walking shoes she now wore, though boring, couldn’t be faulted for impeding her progress.
“These buildings are mainly labs,” he said, indicating the small, white, wooden structures dotting either side of the walkway. “You’ll find anywhere from five to twenty researchers in any given one, depending on what they’re doing.”
He pointed toward a building directly on his right.
“This one serves as long-term storage for extracted raw venom. It needs to be kept at a constant temperature in a sterile environment so the tests aren’t altered by potential contamination. There are only two people on the entire grounds, not including myself, who I allow in there. I don’t want to take the chance of ruining the samples.”
“The fewer people allowed in, the lesser the chance of foreign substances entering the lab.”
“That’s right.” He sounded impressed. “You catch on fast.”
“Yes, I do.” She didn’t mince words. She needed Jackson to know she hadn’t ended up here by accident. She still smarted over her embarrassing pass-out in his office and wanted him to see her, the real Carla Saunders, rising exec, not some swooning, weak-willed idiot.
He showed her where various tests were conducted, where they sterilized equipment, where they tended after king cobra hatchlings. Once more she felt the hairs on her arms rise, as if one of those very snakes were crawling across her skin. She tried to repress a shudder but it slithered down her body. She chanced a quick look to see if Jackson had noticed, but his attention was directed the other way so she might’ve dodged that bullet.
“What kind of research is done there?” she asked, nodding toward the largest building.
“Gastronomic.” A rare grin touched Jackson’s lips. He sniffed the air with gusto. “And if smell is any indication, our ‘researcher’ Jean Auber is making boeuf bourguignon.” He turned to Carla. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am, actually. I haven’t eaten for hours.”
“Chef Jean’ll take care of that.” He placed a light hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the door. Her body reacted as if he’d stroked a finger across her breast, her pulse kick-starting into overdrive, sending tiny beats of pleasure flowing through her body.
Silly, silly girl. Calm down right now and remember: for the next month, this man is your boss.