Ryan would never have believed it possible if he didn’t witness her already brown-black eyes darken to coals. Anger and pride flashed but he couldn’t miss the hurt, couldn’t help but realize that he’d pushed one button too many, that he’d gone too far. He fumbled for words as she turned away to stare out the window, her hands in a death grip in her lap.
But God, his work was his life and she was screwing with it. He wanted that hundred million, he wanted to share the risk with an investor. And the one he’d had on his hook he’d just cut loose because of this woman and her way of speaking without thinking, of screwing up his life.
And it killed him to know that if she made one move to sleep with him, even kiss him, he’d be all over her like a rash. He was a reasonably smart guy, a guy who’d had more than his fair share of gorgeous women, but this one had him tied up in knots.
Not.
Cool.
Thinking that he needed separation from her before he did something stupid—not that this entire evening hadn’t been anything but one long stupidity—he reached across her and pushed her door open. Jaci seemed as eager to get away from him as he was from her, and she quickly scrambled out of the cab, giving him a superexcellent flash of a long, supple leg and the white garter holding up a thigh-high stocking. He felt the rush of blood to his groin and had to physically restrain himself from bolting after her and finding out whether the rest of her lingerie was up to the fantastic standard her garters set.
Ryan banged the back of his head on the seat as he watched Jaci walk toward the doormen standing on the steps of her building. She was trying to kill him, mentally and sexually.
It was the only explanation he could come up with.
* * *
Jaci, vibrating with fury, stood outside Ryan’s swanky apartment building in Lenox Hill and stormed into the lobby, startling the dozy concierge behind the desk. He blinked at her and rubbed his hand over his face before lifting his hefty bulk to his feet.
“Help you?”
Jaci forced herself to unclench her jaw so that she could speak. “Please tell Ryan Jackson that Jaci Brookes-Lyon is here to see him.”
Deputy Dog Doorman looked doubtful. “It’s pretty late, miss. Is he expecting you?”
Jaci’s molars ground together. “Just call him. Please?”
She received another uncertain look but he reached for the phone and dialed an extension. Within twenty seconds she was told that Ryan had agreed to see her—how kind of him!—and she was directed to the top floor.
“What number?” she demanded, turning on her spiked heel, wishing that she’d changed out of the dress she’d worn to the ballet before she’d stormed out of her apartment to confront him in his.
“No number. Mr. Jackson’s apartment is on the top floor, is the top floor.” The doorman sighed at her puzzled expression. “He has the penthouse apartment, miss.”
“The penthouse?”
“Mr. Jackson recently purchased one of the most sought-after residences in the city, ma’am. Ten thousand square feet, four bedrooms with a wraparound terrace. Designer finishes, with crown moldings, high ceilings and custom herringbone floors,” the concierge proudly explained.
“Good for him,” Jaci muttered and headed for the elevator, the doorman on her heels. At the empty elevator, the doorman keyed in a code on the control panel on the wall and gestured her inside. “The elevator opens directly into his apartment, so guests need to be authorized to go up.”
Whatever, Jaci thought, as the doors started to close.
“Have a good evening, miss.”
She heard the words slide between the almost closed doors and she knew that she was about to have anything but. She’d been heading up to her apartment, intending to lick her wounds, when she’d suddenly felt intensely angry. It made her skin prickle and her throat tighten. How dare Ryan treat her as if she was something he’d caught on the bottom of his shoe? He’d refused to let her speak, had ignored her pleas to allow her to explain and had acted as if she were an empty-headed bimbo who should be grateful to spend any time she could in his exalted presence. And how stupid was he to challenge Leroy like that? It was entirely possible that he’d decimated any chance of Leroy funding Blown Away with his harshly uttered comments... And he accused her of acting rashly!
Unable to enter her apartment and stay there like a good little woman, she’d headed downstairs, hailed a cab and headed for Ryan’s apartment, seething the whole way. Maybe he could afford to let Blown Away blow away but she couldn’t! She wasn’t going to allow him to lose this chance to show the world, her family—to show herself—that she could be successful, too. It was a good script and she was determined that the world would see it!