A total and complete lie. She was going to Flying Squirrel. He was going insane. As she slid into his limo and perched on the seat next to him, he got a whiff of something fruity, but he couldn’t put a name to what she smelled like. Because it couldn’t be something simple like apple or cherry. Whatever it was had coupled with her natural scent to become wholly exotic and slightly spicy. Delicious. He had the wildest urge to unbutton her blouse and bury his nose in her cleavage on a mission to discover the source of the fragrance.
While he was there, he could satisfy his burning curiosity for what she had hidden under the suit today. They never had circled back around to that after she’d thrown him totally off track with the story about her ex.
Today was a new day. Plenty of opportunity to nose around, so to speak.
The torturous car ride mercifully ended a few minutes before eight when Warren’s driver dropped them off near the entrance to Flying Squirrel. Warren’s father had built the corporate office complex about fifteen years ago and then left his sons in charge when he retired. Invisible hands kept the grounds meticulously groomed, and a cheerful fountain gurgled in the central pool in the middle of a courtyard area shadowed by a large arch spanning the entrance. Typically, Warren didn’t register much of it because he always had his phone out as he swept through the courtyard, but it seemed rude to be face down in his email with Tilda by his side, so the phone stayed in his pocket.
He should keep his phone in his pocket more often. A quiet sense of pride sneaked over him as he soaked in the landscape of the company he ran with his brother. This was his legacy, the continuation of the drinks his father had started making in his mother’s kitchen during the seventies. That’s why Warren worked as much as he did. He truly loved what he was doing here, contributing to the vision on his way to global domination.
Tilda was a big part of that. For now. Eventually the campaign to smear Down Under Thunder off the map would be successful and his need for Tilda’s marketing expertise and project management skills would be at an end. Then what? She no longer worked for Craig. She’d have a green card, so she could stay in the US if she wanted to, but that didn’t necessarily mean she’d choose to stay in Raleigh or even continue her association with Warren once their marriage was dissolved. They’d have no reason to see each other again.
Unsettled Warren shrugged that off, nodding to the people who worked for him as he and Tilda navigated the building to the executive office suite on the top floor.
“Get some coffee and meet me in my office,” he told her brusquely, and she scurried to do as requested.
God, did he always sound like that? He’d never really paid attention to how he talked to his staff other than to notice whether they did as he’d directed. It was his job to run the company, not to make friends, and the more distance he employed, the easier it was to avoid complications that came with his drive to run other people’s lives in much the same way he did Flying Squirrel.
That’s what ultimately had happened with Marcus.
But Tilda wasn’t a run-of-the-mill employee. She never had been. And when he’d admitted that he’d been attracted to her prior to the marriage, he was also acknowledging it to himself. Her response? I’m skittish because the man in my past is an ass.
When she bustled into his office with coffee in one hand and her tablet in the other, she wore her game face and what he’d noted earlier was the world’s ugliest suit. He had the strangest urge to take her shopping. She was his wife. Wasn’t it normal to want to buy her pretty dresses? She’d look spectacular in green. One of those soft fabrics that draped at the hip, a wraparound maybe, with a neckline that crossed over her breasts into an X that marked the spot Warren could not stop obsessing over.
“I was thinking we should start with the Wheatner and Ross proposal,” she said and took her typical seat on the other side of his desk.
Too far away. That was not where he wanted her, but somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate the suggestion to hop up on his desk so he could get to work stripping her out of that horrific suit. It was criminal that she hid such an amazing body behind the boxiest, most unattractive outfit imaginable.
“That’s a great place to start,” he told her as he rose from his seat and rounded the glass desk to sit in the matching chair next to hers.
Her slightly widened eyes tracked his progress as he settled in. “What are you doing? You always sit behind your desk.”
“The view is better from here.”
As he let his gaze trail down her legs, the only part of her she hadn’t hidden, her cheeks pinked up. “You can’t say things like that. We’re at the office. We agreed to keep things professional between us.”