Bared to You, Page 4

  The question was asked so casually it took a second to process what he’d said.

  I inhaled sharply. “Why is that any business of yours?”

  He looked at me and I saw what I’d seen the first time we’d met—tremendous power and steely control. Both of which had me taking an involuntary step back. Again. At least I didn’t fall this time; I was making progress.

  “Because I want to fuck you, Eva. I need to know what’s standing in my way, if anything.”

  The sudden ache between my thighs had me reaching for the wall to maintain my balance. He reached out to steady me, but I held him at bay with an uplifted hand. “Maybe I’m just not interested, Mr. Cross.”

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips and made him impossibly more handsome. Dear God…

  The ding that signaled the approaching elevator made me jump, I was strung so tight. I’d never been so aroused. Never been so scorchingly attracted to another human being. Never been so offended by a person I lusted after.

  I stepped into the elevator and faced him.

  He smiled. “Until next time, Eva.”

  The doors closed and I sagged into the brass handrail, trying to regain my bearings. I’d barely pulled myself together when the doors opened and revealed Mark pacing in the waiting area on our floor.

  “Jesus, Eva,” Mark muttered, coming to an abrupt halt. “What the hell was that?”

  “I have no freakin’ clue.” I exhaled in a rush, wishing I could share the confusing, irritating exchange I’d had with Cross, but well aware that my boss wasn’t the appropriate outlet. “Who cares? You know he’s going to give you the account.”

  A grin chased away his frown. “I’m thinking he might.”

  “As my roommate always says, you should celebrate. Should I make dinner reservations for you and Steven?”

  “Why not? Pure Food and Wine at seven, if they can squeeze us in. If not, surprise us.”

  We’d barely returned to Mark’s office when he was pounced on by the executives—Michael Waters, the CEO and president, and Christine Field and Walter Leaman, the executive chairman and vice chairman.

  I skirted the four of them as quietly as possible and slid into my cubicle.

  I called Pure Food and Wine and begged for a table for two. After some serious groveling and pleading, the hostess finally caved.

  I left a message on Mark’s voice mail, “It’s definitely your lucky day. You’re booked for dinner at seven. Have fun!”

  Then I clocked out, eager to get home.

  “He said what?” Cary sat on the opposite end of our white sectional sofa and shook his head.

  “I know, right?” I enjoyed another sip of my wine. It was a crisp and nicely chilled sauvignon blanc I’d picked up on the walk home. “That was my reaction, too. I’m still not sure I didn’t hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones.”

  “So?”

  I tucked my legs beneath me on the couch and leaned into the corner. “So what?”

  “You know what, Eva.” Grabbing his netbook off the coffee table, Cary propped it on his crossed legs. “Are you going to tap that or what?”

  “I don’t even know him. I don’t even know his first name and he threw that curveball at me.”

  “He knew yours.” He started typing on his keyboard. “And what about the thing with the vodka? Asking for your boss in particular?”

  The hand I was running through my loose hair stilled. “Mark is very talented. If Cross has any sort of business sense at all, he’d pick up on that and exploit it.”

  “I’d say he knows business.” Cary spun his netbook around and showed me the home page of Cross Industries, which boasted an awesome photo of the Crossfire. “That’s his building, Eva. Gideon Cross owns it.”

  Damn it. My eyes closed. Gideon Cross. I thought the name suited him. It was as sexy and elegantly masculine as the man himself.

  “He has people to handle marketing for his subsidiaries. Probably dozens of people to handle it.”

  “Stop talking, Cary”

  “He’s hot, rich, and wants to jump your bones. What’s the problem?”

  I looked at him. “It’s going to be awkward running into him all the time. I’m hoping to hang on to my job for a long while. I really like it. I really like Mark. He’s totally involved me in the process and I’ve learned so much from him already.”

  “Remember what Dr. Travis says about calculated risks? When your shrink tells you to take some, you should take some. You can deal with it. You and Cross are both adults.” He turned his attention back to his Internet search. “Wow. Did you know he doesn’t turn thirty for another two years? Think of the stamina.”

  “Think of the rudeness. I’m offended by how he just threw it out there. I hate feeling like a vagina with legs.”

  Cary paused and looked up at me, his eyes softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry, baby girl. You’re so strong, so much stronger than I am. I just don’t see you carrying around the baggage I do.”

  “I don’t think I am, most of the time.” I looked away because I didn’t want to talk about what we’d been through in our pasts. “It’s not like I wanted him to ask me out on a date. But there has to be a better way to tell a woman you want to take her to bed.”

  “You’re right. He’s an arrogant douche. Let him lust after you until he has blue balls. Serves him right.”

  That made me smile. Cary could always do that. “I doubt that man has ever had blue balls in his life, but it’s a fun fantasy.”

  He shut his netbook with a decisive snap. “What should we do tonight?”

  “I was thinking I’d like to go check out that Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn.” I’d done a little research after meeting Parker Smith during my workout at Equinox and as the week passed, the thought of having that kind of raw, physical outlet for stress seemed more and more ideal.

  I knew it wouldn’t be anything close to banging the hell out of Gideon Cross, but I suspected it would be a lot less dangerous to my health.

  “There’s no way your mom and Stanton are going to let you come out here at night multiple times a week,” Cary said, hugging his stylish denim jacket around him even though it wasn’t more than slightly chilly.

  The converted warehouse Parker Smith used as his studio was a brick-faced building in a formerly industrial area of Brooklyn presently struggling to revitalize. The space was vast, and the massive metal delivery-bay doors offered no exterior clue as to what was taking place inside. Cary and I sat in aluminum bleachers, watching a half-dozen combatants on the mats below.

  “Ouch.” I winced in sympathy as a guy took a kick to the groin. Even with padding, that had to sting. “How’s Stanton going to find out, Cary?”

  “Because you’ll be in the hospital?” He glanced at me. “Seriously. Krav Maga is brutal. They’re just sparring and it’s full contact. And even if the bruises don’t give you away, your stepdad will find out somehow. He always does.”

  “Because of my mom; she tells him everything. But I’m not telling her about this.”

  “Why not?”

  “She won’t understand. She’ll think I want to protect myself because of what happened, and she’ll feel guilty and give me grief about it. She won’t believe my main interest is exercise and stress relief.”

  I propped my chin on my palm and watched Parker take the floor with a woman. He was a good instructor. Patient and thorough, and he explained things in an easy to understand way. His studio was in a rough neighborhood, but I thought it suited what he was teaching. It didn’t get more “reality based” than a big, empty warehouse.

  “That Parker guy is really hot,” Cary murmured.

  “He’s also wearing a wedding band.”

  “I noticed. The good ones always get snatched up quick.”

  Parker joined us after the class was over, his dark eyes bright and his smile brighter. “What’d ya think, Eva?”

  “Where do I sign up?”

  His sexy smile
made Cary reach over and squeeze the blood out of my hand.

  “Step this way.”

  Friday started out awesome. Mark walked me through the process of collecting information for an RFP, and he told me a little more about Cross Industries and Gideon Cross, pointing out that he and Cross were the same age.

  “I have to remind myself of that,” Mark said. “It’s easy to forget he’s so young when he’s right in front of you.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, secretly disappointed that I wouldn’t see Cross for the next two days. As much as I told myself it didn’t matter, I was bummed. I hadn’t realized I’d been excited by the possibility that we might run into each other until that possibility was gone. It was just such a rush being near him. Plus he was a hell of a lot of fun to look at. I had nothing nearly as exciting planned for the weekend.

  I was taking notes in Mark’s office when I heard my desk phone ringing. Excusing myself, I rushed over to catch it. “Mark Garrity’s office—”

  “Eva love. How are you?”

  I sank into my chair at the sound of my stepfather’s voice. Stanton always sounded like old money to me—cultured, entitled, and arrogant. “Richard. Is everything okay? Is Mom all right?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine. Your mother is wonderful, as always.”

  His tone softened when he spoke of his wife and I was grateful for that. I was grateful to him for a lot of things actually, but it was sometimes hard to balance that against my feelings of disloyalty. I knew my dad was self-conscious about the massive differences in their income brackets.

  “Good,” I said, relieved. “I’m glad. Did you and Mom receive my thank-you note for the dress and Cary’s tuxedo?”

  “Yes, and it was thoughtful of you, but you know we don’t expect you to thank us for such things. Excuse me a moment.” He spoke to someone, most likely his secretary. “Eva love, I’d like us to get together for lunch today. I’ll send Clancy around to collect you.”

  “Today? But we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow night. Can’t it wait until then?”

  “No, it should be today.”

  “But I only get an hour for lunch.”

  A tap on my shoulder turned me around to find Mark standing by my cubicle. “Take two,” he whispered. “You earned it.”

  I sighed and mouthed a thank you. “Will twelve o’clock work, Richard?”

  “Perfectly. I look forward to seeing you.”

  I had no reason to look forward to private meetings with Stanton, but I dutifully left just before noon and found a town car waiting for me, idling at the curb. Clancy, Stanton’s driver and body guard, opened the door for me as I greeted him. Then he slid behind the wheel and drove me downtown. By twenty after the hour, I was sitting at a conference table in Stanton’s offices, eyeing a beautifully catered lunch for two.

  Stanton came in shortly after my arrival, looking dapper and distinguished. His hair was pure white, his face lined but still very handsome. His eyes were the color of worn blue denim, and they were sharp with intelligence. He was trim and athletic, taking the time out of his busy days to stay fit even before he’d married his trophy wife—my mom.

  I stood as he approached, and he bent to kiss my cheek. “You look lovely, Eva.”

  “Thank you.” I looked like my mom, who was also a natural blonde. But my gray eyes came from my dad.

  Taking a chair at the head of the table, Stanton was aware that the requisite backdrop of the New York skyline was behind him and he took advantage of its impressiveness.

  “Eat,” he said, with the command so easily wielded by all men of power. Men like Gideon Cross.

  Had Stanton been as driven at Cross’s age?

  I picked up my fork and started in on a chicken, cranberry, walnut, and feta salad. It was delicious, and I was hungry. I was glad Stanton didn’t start talking right away so I could enjoy the meal, but the reprieve didn’t last long.

  “Eva love, I wanted to discuss your interest in Krav Maga.”

  I froze. “Excuse me?”

  Stanton took a sip of iced water and leaned back, his jaw taking on the rigidity that warned me I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “Your mother was quite distraught last night when you went to that studio in Brooklyn. It took some time to calm her down and to assure her that I could make arrangements for you to pursue your interests in a safe manner. She doesn’t want—”

  “Wait.” I set my fork down carefully, my appetite gone. “How did she know where I was?”

  “She tracked your cell phone.”

  “No way,” I breathed, deflating into my seat. The casualness of his reply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, made me feel ill. My stomach churned, suddenly more interested in rejecting my lunch than digesting it. “That’s why she insisted I use one of your company phones. It had nothing to do with saving me money.”

  “Of course that was part of it. But it also gives her peace of mind.”

  “Peace of mind? To spy on her grown daughter? It’s not healthy, Richard. You’ve got to see that. Is she still seeing Dr. Petersen?”

  He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Yes, of course.”

  “Is she telling him what she’s doing?”

  “I don’t know,” he said stiffly. “That’s Monica’s private business. I don’t interfere.”

  No, he didn’t. He coddled her. Indulged her. Spoiled her. And allowed her obsession with my safety to run wild. “She has to let it go. I’ve let it go.”

  “You were an innocent, Eva. She feels guilty for not protecting you. We need to give her a little latitude.”

  “Latitude? She’s a stalker!” My mind spun. How could my mom invade my privacy like that? Why would she? She was driving herself crazy, and me along with her. “This has to stop.”

  “It’s an easy fix. I’ve already spoken with Clancy. He’ll drive you when you need to venture into Brooklyn. Everything’s been arranged. This will be much more convenient for you.”

  “Don’t try to twist this around to being for my benefit.” My eyes stung and my throat burned with unshed tears of frustration. I hated the way he talked about Brooklyn like it was a third-world country. “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions. It’s the goddamn law!”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Eva. I’m simply looking after your mother. And you.”

  I pushed back from the table. “You’re enabling her. You’re keeping her sick, and you’re making me sick, too.”

  “Sit down. You need to eat. Monica worries that you’re not eating healthy enough.”

  “She worries about everything, Richard. That’s the problem.” I dropped my napkin on the table. “I have to get back to work.”

  I turned away, striding toward the door to get out as quickly as possible. I retrieved my purse from Stanton’s secretary and left my cell phone on her desk. Clancy, who had been waiting for me in the reception area, followed me, and I knew better than to try and blow him off. He didn’t take orders from anyone but Stanton.

  Clancy drove me back up to midtown, while I stewed in the backseat. I could bitch all I wanted, but in the end I wasn’t any better than Stanton because I was going to give in. I was going to cave and let my mom have her way, because it hurt my heart to think of her suffering any more than she already did. She was so emotional and fragile, and she loved me to the point of being crazy about it.

  My mood was still dark when I got back to the Crossfire. As Clancy pulled away from the curb, I stood on the crowded sidewalk and looked up and down the busy street for either a drugstore where I could get some chocolate or a cellular store where I could pick up a new phone.

  I ended up walking around the block and buying a half-dozen candy bars at a Duane Reade on the corner before heading back to the Crossfire. I’d been gone just about an hour, but I wasn’t going to use the extra time Mark had given me. I needed work to distract me from my crazy-assed family.

  As I caught an empty elevator car, I ripped open a bar and bit viciously into it
. I was making strides toward filling my self-imposed chocolate quota before I hit the twentieth floor when the car stopped on the fourth. I appreciated the added time the stop gave me to enjoy the comfort of dark chocolate and caramel melting over my tongue.

  The doors slid apart, and revealed Gideon Cross talking with two other gentlemen.

  As usual, I lost my breath at the sight of him, which reignited my fading irritation. Why did he have that effect on me? When was I going to become immune to his hotness?

  He glanced over and his lips curved into a slow, heart-stopping smile when he saw me.

  Great. Just my crappy luck. I’d become some kind of challenge.

  Cross’s smile faded into a frown. “We’ll finish this later,” he murmured to his companions without looking away from me.

  Stepping into the car, he lifted a hand to discourage them from following him. They blinked in surprise, glancing at me, then Cross, and then back again.

  I stepped out, deciding it would be safer for my sanity to take a different car up.

  “Not so fast, Eva.” Cross caught me by the elbow and tugged me back. The doors shut and the elevator glided smoothly into motion.

  “What are you doing?” I snapped. After dealing with Stanton, the last thing I needed was another domineering male trying to push me around.

  Cross caught me by the upper arms and searched my face with that vivid blue gaze. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  The now-familiar electricity crackled to life between us, the pull made fiercer by my temper. “You.”

  “Me?” His thumbs stroked over my shoulders. Releasing me, he withdrew a lone key from his pocket and plugged it into the panel. All the lights cleared except for the one for the top floor.

  He wore black again, with fine gray pinstripes. Seeing him from the back was a revelation. His shoulders were nicely broad without being bulky, emphasizing his lean waist and long legs. The silky strands of hair falling over his collar tempted me to clench them and pull. Hard. I wanted him as pissy as I was. I wanted a fight.

  “I’m not in the mood for you now, Mr. Cross.”

  He watched the antique-style needle above the doors mark the passing floors. “I can get you in the mood.”