Dante's Fire (2 page)

“You learn a lot delivering mail.” It took all his power not to choke on his own saliva. Holy crap, if she only knew how close she was to the truth. His palms tingled. “And I could fudge a document, get you a raise and month’s long vacation if you like.”

Her face smoothed out and she relaxed back in her chair. “Yeah, sounds really good. Wonder who I should take with me on that extra long vacation,” she said, her smile soft and subtle, but slightly wicked and definitely hot.

What was she really thinking? He cocked a hip and smiled. “I might be available”

“Seriously though, how do you know so much?”

“When anyone sees the mailman, they think we’re not listening. Kind of like the custodian. I bet the cleaning crew know more about Inferno than anyone.”

“Perhaps.” She uttered the word softly, gazing at him with a bit more intensity than usual. His gut screamed for him to yank her into his arms and force them both to acknowledge the brewing attraction.

But he didn’t. Just remained silent.

She smiled and changed the subject. “Hey, I saw Metallica is doing a concert. Gonna go?” she asked.

Dante grinned. His preference for wearing heavy metal t-shirts to work was a constant source of teasing. No thirty-five year-old dressed like an angry teen, but his job allowed it, and he never apologized for his taste. One of the benefits of being undercover—no one cared about his appearance. “Sure. Wanna come with me? Or is the opera in town?”

He’d spotted the tickets on her desk. Two. Sally from marketing said she’d gone with some blonde Swedish guy but he hadn’t made it to date number two. Inferno was the water cooler of gossip, innuendo, and reality property television shows all rolled into one. Still, he used the information to keep abreast of who Selina dated. His satisfaction she rarely dated a man more than a few times bothered Dante, but there wasn’t much he could do. She’d already gotten under his skin like some bellowing Frank Sinatra ballad.

Her husky laugh stroked his ears and tightened his jeans. “Don’t be a music snob.
La Boheme
at the Met was beautiful.”

He rolled his eyes. “Who died at the end?”

She shook her head. “Someone always dies in great operas. It correlates the tragedy and beauty of life, reminding us of our mortality.”

“It’s called depressing. A bunch of string instruments putting you to sleep, listening to a foreign language while you take bets on who’s gonna die? That’s beautiful?”

Her brow arched. “And heavy metal assaulting your ears while screaming about sex, drugs and rock and roll is better?”

God, he loved their discussions. Her sharp intellect and wicked humor always shined through. No wonder she was flying toward partnership. She was able to argue with the best, yet make the person feel valued for his opinion. His lips curved in a half smile of admiration. “Hell, yes. It’s kind of like boxing. You have a bad day, listen to some metal, and all your angst disappears.”

“A good cry is just as important.”

“But less fun.”

She laughed again. “Maybe. I guess we agree on one thing. Music--in any form--is important. It instills passion.”

His gaze darkened. “As do other pleasurable things.”

Her jeweled eyes flared, and he grit his teeth as the surge of sexual energy crested once again. Crap. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. They bantered, flirted lightly, but rarely uttered any sexual challenge, knowing the lines could not be crossed. She’d never date a mailroom guy. She wore designer suites, attended the opera and feasted at five star restaurants. She was going for full partnership at Inferno Enterprises. The entire office would laugh at her if she’d dare be seen with the likes of him. Still, the flash of hunger on her face told him she felt the same kick of energy between them.

Dante wished he were the man to bring her that type of passion. He wondered if she was sexually satisfied. Wondered if she pleasured herself late at night to some fantasy of the perfect male figure in her life. Wondered if he got the chance to take her to bed if he’d ever be able to let her go.

He caught her quick indrawn breath. It was too much today. He couldn’t trust himself. Left to his own devices, he’d go after what he wanted. Sometimes he lingered when she invited him to join her for a quick cup of coffee. Most times, he beat a quick retreat. No need to torture himself for too long in her presence, or delve further into the strange vibrations between them. They were casual friends, yet a galaxy apart. Economically. Physically. Emotionally.

At least on the surface.

Unfortunately, Dante knew that the surface was all that mattered.

She opened that lush mouth to speak, but he backed up with a wave and turned on the heel of his sneakers. “Better get back. See ya, boss. Good luck with Forrester."

"Thanks, Dan." She paused. "See ya."

The door clicked behind him. He never hesitated, just pushed his mail cart to the next office without a glance back.

***

Selina Rogers stared at the closed door and shook off the idea that Dan was more than a mailman.

She enjoyed Dan’s daily visits, and looked forward to the break in her day. He was witty, intelligent, and always seemed to sense what she needed. It struck her as odd he knew things about her that no one else did. As if he had the ability to look deep into her whole being. One time she was feeling under the weather but pushing through, and he came with chicken soup from the cafeteria, forcing her to eat. He knew when she had sleepless nights and needed the coffee strong. Knew when she neared deadline she craved cupcakes from Magnolia bakery. She found out Dan fed her personal assistant updated information so she’d be taken care of. Who did that? A friend. A concerned co-worker? Or a man wanting...more?

For the first time, he’d finally gazed at her with a raw hunger she’d never seen.

And she’d liked it.

But she shouldn’t, and for a variety reasons. She’d spent a lifetime getting to this place in time. She had goals and she wasn’t about to get distracted by a kind and sexy mailman who, while he was generous, sweet, and wickedly smart, seemed to have no aspirations to better his position in life. She wasn’t really a snob, but any long lasting relationship needed to be with someone who walked the same path and understood how seriously she took her career.

Selina dragged in a breath, picking up the contract on her desk.
Focus
. She was dealing with one of the biggest deals of her career and shouldn’t let a man shake her up. Selina read the first few paragraphs, but the words began to blur. Instead, she remembered the intensity of Daniel Stark's eyes. Inky black with smoldering depths and ancient secrets. Pain. He rarely let her glimpse the emotion; content to share only distant warmth he kept in check. But sometimes during one of their chats, he let the real stuff escape.

God, she remembered the first day he strolled into her office. After exchanging a few polite words, she figured he’d be a bit of eye candy and they’d never move beyond a polite greeting. Instead, their relationship grew, until she looked forward to his appearance, and their casual chats. Her gut screamed there was something so much deeper hidden within his piercing eyes. Daniel didn’t talk like a mail carrier without any natural ambition. Yet, two years had passed and he still held the same routine, not seeming to want to do anything else with his life.

And then there was that scar.

A chill skittered down her spine. She'd never asked what had happened to him, and he’d never offered. Most people averted their gaze pointedly - the jagged, deadly gash marked so deeply into his olive skin you could almost imagine the slice of the blade. Still, she believed it only added to his good looks. With his long dark hair that brushed his shoulders, sensual dark eyes and carved mouth, he was a rebel dream. His wardrobe consisted of various rock-n-roll t-shirts, worn jeans and sneakers. This made for a visual delight in such a conservative, stuffy office. Personally, she loved hearing about his world of heavy metal bands, ice-cold beer and letting the moment flow. It was such a balance from the life she’d chosen for herself. Probably another reason she enjoyed his company so much.

That and the fact he was so damned delicious to look at.

She adjusted her chair and tried to shake off the inner taunt. Ridiculous. She had no idea why the occasional burst of lightning caught her breath in his presence, or the tingly knowledge that warned her to look harder. She had no time, and no inkling to get involved with anyone. Especially a man from the mailroom with no clear future. Selina had made a decision years ago to make sacrifices for her dream of a successful career, and she was very near the finish line.

Once she had Forrester on board.

She tapped one peach-colored nail against the edge of her chair in a steady rhythm. Working with millionaires was a rough job, especially chauvinistic male millionaires. Since William Forrester had conquered Vegas in securing major land deals and competing with the best casinos for profit, his name rose to the
Fortune
list. Now the city of New York lay at his feet, and Selina sat on the deal of a lifetime.

As part of the lead team in acquisitions for Inferno Enterprises, she was the one who needed to reel the big mackerel in, and right now, he squiggled on the line dangerously. With the best property at her fingertips, she'd concentrated on the pickings of a land lot to rival Trump's wet dreams. They'd gotten a line on Forrester immediately, but the man liked to play the game hard, so he already had three other companies begging to do his bidding. Selina personally detested the man, with his leering eyes and crude humor, but she smiled and bit her lip. Hard. Until it bled.

She was lucky, and she knew it. A life spent in foster care never boded well for future successful, satisfied individuals. Selina couldn’t help the backbone of pride and ambition built within her that helped her make the most out of every situation. She hadn’t been abused by her foster parents, but merely tolerated. She may not have experienced fierce love, but the temporary security helped her grow strong. She learned to read people, find their wants and needs, and focus on her drive to escape a lackluster life and create something extraordinary. Instead of lapsing into a life of drugs, sex, or alcohol, she used education to further herself. Got a scholarship. Graduated college. And became an expert in her field by twenty-five-years-old.

She always knew she wanted to work in property. When she was little, she’d been fascinated by the mansions shown on television, and the huge, towering buildings in Manhattan. She’d spin fantasies of living in that type of world, and decided early on she’d be the one to match people with their dream houses. After obtaining her real estate license, she rose easily to the top of the small local real estate office, and dove right into business real estate, where the payoffs were bigger and the risks higher.

She loved the adrenalin rush, and piecing the puzzles together to make a fit. Inferno Enterprises had always been the goal. The up and coming company boasted a soaring profit margin, opportunity for growth, and a solid portfolio for stability. They hired her and she’d spent the next few years proving her worth.

She may not have had anyone waiting in the wings to praise her, but knowing she baked the damn cake on her own without help made eating it all by herself that much sweeter.

Selina knew she always related better to men than women did. Female friendship puzzled her, with their catty ways, and their consistent talk about babies, marriage, or houses. She adored her apartment, her freedom, and her money. Yes, she was lonely at times, but never enough to want to sacrifice herself for an angst-ridden relationship, or a casual one night stand that may make her feel worse in the morning.

She did things on her terms and enjoyed every moment.

Her earpiece pinged. She clicked the button. "Hello?"

"Rogers! Down at the bar at six. Last one here buys first round."

She chuckled at the sound of her colleague Tom’s voice. "Let me guess. Everyone's down at McAleers already?"

"You got it."

"Have a beer on me. I have hours of work ahead.”

His groan rumbled in her ear. “You gonna make everyone feel like shit for leaving at five on a Friday? How’s that for fucking morale?”

“You
should
feel like shit. But if you get your ass in here by six am tomorrow and help me out, I’ll forgive you.”

She held back a laugh as her teammate cursed with a few colorful verses. “Fine. If I get everyone to agree, will you get your ass here in an hour?”

She calculated how much she could get done, what she’d accomplish with her team in the early hours of the morning, and took a leap. “Give me two. And you better be still standing when I get there.”

“No promises, but we’ll take it. You’re gonna be behind on beers though, so you may need to do shots.”

Ugh. She hated shots, but she knew the drill well. “Fine, but if I’m still conscious, you’re buying dinner. And you better reach deep, Tommy, because I hold out for steak - no burger."

He gave an answering laugh. "Not worried. Gary is always the pussy. He’ll get stuck with the bill.”

"You're right. See you later.”