Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

Later, of course, it would have been easier to track him down. But by then, the scab had turned to a scar, and my resolve was stronger. So I'd walked into this room without any expectation at all that he would be here.

And yet, despite all that, some part of me had believed that even while I was avoiding him, he was keeping an eye on me. Watching the way my music career spiraled down. Making a note of the fact that I'd finally given up on ever writing a song again and had enrolled at UT to pursue an MBA. Getting married to Owen.

It's humbling to realize he didn't know any of that. To be faced so blatantly with the simple truth that we were young, that we'd shared an intense passion, and that we've both moved on.

Or we had until we met in a dark alley, and all that heat and lust and longing came rushing back.

Once again, I turn my attention to Mr. Stark. "When we knew each other, I was Kimberly King," I explain. "I started using Porter when I got married. But everyone still calls me Kiki."

I don't look at Noah. And I definitely don't mention that I'm divorced. Under the circumstances, I think I'll hold that little factoid close to the vest.

Under the circumstances.

What exactly does that mean?

The circumstances are that I've prepped the shit out of this assignment. That I want this job, and that I need it desperately.

But that's not all. Unfortunately, the circumstances also include the memory of last night's kiss, and the way I melted in his arms. I may have been the one to push him away, but that didn't stop the flood of wildly erotic images invading my dreams last night.

Which means that if I want to toss

up the specter of my former husband as a barrier between me and future temptation, I think I'm entirely justified. Noah may not be loyal to his spouse, but my loyalty to the institution of marriage and the small fraud I'm perpetrating runs deep.

Too bad I'm not wearing a wedding ring to complete the illusion. Then again, Noah's not wearing one either. But some men don't. Some women, too. Maybe I'm a woman who doesn't want to follow convention either. Maybe I--Stop it.

I'm not someone who shakes easily, and the fact that I'm mentally all over the place on such an important day is frustrating as hell. Yes, this is a nightmare situation, but I'm still standing, which means I've aced the hardest part. Now I need to kick the past to the curb, and all non-business thoughts of Noah along with it.

Determined to get back on track, I give myself a firm mental yank, then flash a confident, easy smile at both men. It's time to pull myself together, act like a professional, and win this assignment.

The good news is that I genuinely love my job. The even better news is that I've been preparing like a maniac for this presentation, because I have too much riding on this opportunity. Land this project, and my life will be very firmly on the right track after having been derailed for so many years.

Blow it, and I'm going to have to make some really hard decisions.

A lot of pressure, sure. But I do well under pressure, and by the time I've set up my laptop and am walking both men through the plan overview, the past with Noah has faded away. All that matters now is convincing a potential client that I'm the best for the job. And since this was an open RFP, I know who my competition is. And, dammit, I really am the best.

As I move through the various elements of my proposal, I can see by Noah and Stark's faces that they know it, too.

"I'm impressed," Noah says when I finally step back from my computer and ask if they have any questions. His words are simple, but they mean a lot. I know how important quality is to him, and I also know he pushes himself as hard as his team. He's not a man who gives an A for effort. If he says he's impressed, he means it.

"You've managed to present a cohesive plan that integrates all of our potential markets, and at the same time treats each market and its relationship to the product distinctly. There's overlap, but only minimal."

Like a schoolgirl, I blush with pleasure.

Stark nods agreement. "It's a surgical strike plan. If it's executed properly, the results will likely exceed your projections."

"I was being conservative," I admit, imagining the feel of the pen in my hand as I sign my name to the consulting contract.

"Nothing wrong with that," Stark says. "But the big question is the if." His words bring me down to earth.

"If I can pull it off?" I keep my tone both casual and confident. "I hope my proposal and my resume illustrate my skill in reaching--and exceeding--all projections and project milestones."

"Confidence is a valuable tool," Noah says. "And your skill is proven by your resume and what you showed us here today. But we're working under a tighter timeline now."

I raise a brow, then look between both men.

"There are rumors we'll lose our competitive edge if we don't jump on this quickly," Noah says, then passes me a print-out with the new, tighter schedule.

"Oh." I feel a twinge of irritation that neither man told me that from the get-go. But that's quickly replaced by the realization that this is a test. Am I innovative and flexible? Damn right I am.