"Ridiculous," I said in the echoing room.
My old couch, the decorator-chosen one that had fit my old condo so perfectly, looked like an abandoned piece of junk. My furniture pieces were shabby squatters in my vast, shining mansion.
Not that I blamed Sheila, my ex-interior designer. She had taken my rejection to heart and decided her schedule was just a little too full to accommodate me. I had no choice but to move in what I had and deal with it. I rubbed the sore muscles in my neck as I dragged myself upstairs to the master bathroom.
Sleeping on the couch was a terrible choice, but my bed was too lonely in the upstairs suite. I had avoided it, and all the far-fetched fantasies I knew would keep me awake.
Tasha and I had put in an amazing day of work, and it was still all I could think about.
Without the benefit of an overeager assistant, Tasha had taken our idea and turned it into a full-blown plan. By the end of the day, possible locations had been chosen, and she'd already started negotiations with one city. The GroGreen community garden was already taking shape.
I yanked a towel out of a moving box and dug up my essentials. Once they were dumped on the long counter, I turned on the luxurious rain shower head. The hot water eased the pain in my neck but did nothing to chase away the other nagging ache. I smiled under the deluge, thinking how shocked and disapproving Tasha would be of me falling for a co-worker, but that only heated me more.
I was falling for Tasha Nichols. Her dark, flashing eyes and that smile that always gave me a little jolt. The floral scent I caught every time she brushed back her hair. Those black high-heels and legs. I wondered if she was a runner; they were so sculpted and smooth. I could picture her jogging, her curves caught in a tight tank-top, still bouncing with every step.
I cranked the water to ice-cold.
It would be a snowy day in hell before I caught more than a glimpse of her legs under a conference table. Tasha had loosened up yesterday, but she was still all business. Sure, there were a few times when her laugh was genuine, when her hand brushed my arm, when I caught her watching me. Still, she had deflected every invitation I had offered from happy hour to dinner to a ride home. Tasha was all business, and I was just going to have to get used to it.
Plus, she was friends with Ivy Madison. I knew Ivy's husband, Matthew, and had had an entanglement with not one, but two of his gorgeous cousins. I was certain my reputation was cemented in Tasha's mind, and there was no way I was getting out of it. Tasha thought I was a shameless flirt, a playboy, and nowhere good enough for her.
She was right.
I didn't treat women badly, just casually, and there wasn't a casual bone in Tasha's body. She was serious, and I was certain there was no way she would ever take me seriously.
A hundred plans jumped to mind as I turned off the shower and dried off. Tasha's one disadvantage was that she had to work with me. The board had dictated it, Stan expected it, and she couldn't brush off those facts. Tasha was stuck with me. Now, all I had to do was show her I was more than my reputation.
I smiled at myself in the steamy mirror. There had been that one glorious moment yesterday when Tasha and I were on the same page. She was so shocked that I had hit on an idea similar to the one she had started; the look on her face gave me hope. We spent the rest of the day arguing out the details. It had taken all my best negotiation skills to make sure she divided the work evenly. Tasha
was used to doing everything herself, but she also wanted to. She was hell-bent on going it alone.
So, my first plan was to be by her side every step of the way. Sure, she was going to hate it, but I had hope. Even our chief operations officer had noticed.
"You're two sides of the same coin; anyone can see that," Stan had said. "But if you move too fast, if you spook her, if you even think about hurting her, I will end you."
That little exchange was still a roller coaster ride every time I thought of it.
I was wondering about it again when my phone rang. "Evan, surprised to hear from you. Isn't this normally your tee time?"
"Not as surprised as I am that you picked up. I just thought I should check on you, considering all the bad press you and your company is getting. Father's worried you'll be heading out on another one of your benders," Evan said.
"I'm not an alcoholic, Evan, and I'm not hung over. In fact, I have to leave for work in a minute." I put the phone on speaker and set about shaving.
"You're still going to work?" Evan asked.
I gritted my teeth and narrowly avoiding nicking my throat with my razor. "Yes. Not everyone stops working as soon as they think they've made enough money."
"I've got a patient this afternoon," Evan said. I could hear the bitter edge as soon as I mentioned money. "Seems like you have a lot of work ahead of you."
He wanted me to agonize over the bad press my success was getting. Evan wanted me to know I still didn't have our father's approval. Too bad he was going about it all wrong. Thinking about work did nothing but make me happy.
"Sorry, bro, gotta run. Early meeting." I hung up the phone and whistled while I finished shaving. In less than an hour, I was meeting Tasha at the garden site.
It felt great to arrive early and catch the shocked look on Tasha's face. She took the cup of coffee I handed her and blinked at it. "What's this?" she asked.
"Your favorite. Americano with a splash of cream. I asked the head of security before I left last night," I said.
"You asked Otto my favorite kind of coffee?" Tasha asked.