Take Me (5 page)

He led me into one of a handful of rooms with
walls and doors. But damn, the view out the window beat the hell
out of my current office. White sand beach two blocks away here
versus the gray trees standing sentinel over the dark St. Charles
River back in Boston wasn’t even a contest.

The room itself contained an oval white table
and dark brown conference chairs. No phones. No filing cabinets.
None of the usual stifling corporate accoutrements.

Once we danced through the small talk of
pleasantries such as my trip, Radcliffe cut to the chase. “You look
a little uptight to be working here, Ms. Sullivan.”

“We both know appearances can be deceptive
and assumptions deadly in this business, Mr. Radcliffe.”

He removed his wire-rim glasses and used the
tail of his shirt to clean the lenses. “And what’s your first
impression of me in person?”

I’d done my homework. Emmett Radcliffe wasn’t
the type that tolerated smoke blown up his ass. I smiled. “If I
didn’t know your history and your net worth, my first impression is
that you’re a Tampa Bay beach bum.”

He roared until he gasped for breath. “Good
to know you got some balls, Margaret. Or do you prefer Maggie.”

“Actually, I go by my middle name, Lacy.” I
smiled. I was liking Emmett more and more.

We smoothly moved into comparing our
respective visions for the future of his company. His children
weren’t interested in the business, and he didn’t want to leave his
loyal employees to some unknown fate. I had to respect his
commitment.

After talking for over an hour and a half, a
beep sounded from his shirt pocket. He pulled it out. “My lawyer’s
here. I want you two to meet since you’ll be working together quite
a bit during the transition.” Emmett grinned at me. “If he likes
you, you’re in.”

The owner’s statement should have reassured
me that I was his front-runner for this job, but a sense of dread
fell over me. I checked my watch. Ten forty-five. There were
hundreds of attorneys in the Tampa metro area. The odds would be
astronomical that Emmett was Ian’s eleven o’clock appointment.

A sharp knock on the conference room door
interrupted my thought, but my heart rose in my throat. The door
swung open, and Ian said, “Your receptionist sent me back,
Emmett—”

He froze when he spotted me.

Somehow, I forced my shaking body upright and
smiled. I prayed my expression didn’t look as sick as I felt, and I
held out my hand. “Why, Mr. Hollister. What a pleasure to see you
again.”

“Ms. Sullivan.” Ian’s stiff smile didn’t look
much better than mine felt. His touch when he took my palm was
equally tense.

“You two know each other?” Emmett’s shrewd
gaze passed from me to Ian and back.

“We were seated next to each other on this
morning’s flight from Atlanta.” I kept my expression as neutral as
possible and prayed Ian wouldn’t contradict me.

“Well, since I’m not making introductions,
you two can chat while I get more coffee.” He favored us with one
more odd look before he left and closed the door behind him.

“What the hell was last night about?” Ian
growled. His pale eyes bore into me.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I shot
back.

“Did you sleep with me just to get an edge
for this job?”

“You’re the one who seduced me.”

“Because you wanted me to.”

Well, he was right on that count, but I
couldn’t admit it. Not now. “Look, last night would not have
happened if I’d known you were Radcliffe’s attorney. You weren’t
exactly forthcoming with your name.”

“Neither were you,
Margaret
.”

Ian was the last person I wanted to
antagonize, but the use of my first name set me over the edge. “In
other words, you expected to meet some ancient crone who wouldn’t
tempt you to break your thirteen-year vow of celibacy.”

“Yes.”

We glared at each other for a very long time.
Despite his snarkiness, of which I was equally to blame, I got the
sense he shared my disappointment. If Radcliffe hired me, any
bedroom games were officially over. Neither of us were the type to
let sexual politics interfere with our careers.

Finally, he blew out a deep breath. “As my
daughter would say, this sucks.”

“Yes. Yes, it does,” I managed to say before
Emmett walked back into the room with his steaming mug.

The three of us settled down to business.
Emmett laid out his tentative plans. At each step, Ian launched a
million questions at me. How I kept my voice from trembling as I
answered each one I would never know. Whatever truce existed
between us before his client had re-entered the room evaporated
under his rapid-fire inquiries.

Emmett chuckled. “Lighten up, Hollister. This
isn’t a cross-examination at a murder trial.”

“I want to make sure you leave the company in
the best hands.” Ian glanced at me. “I’m sure Ms. Sullivan
understands.”

“Of course,” I murmured.
It’s just
business
, I reminded myself, except his attitude seemed pretty
damn personal, like he had something to prove.

“That’s everything I need here. Walk me out,
Emmett,” Ian said.

Radcliffe shot me a half-apologetic smile.
“Be right back.”

The two men left, and I stood. Pacing in
front of the huge window overlooking the beach didn’t calm my
nerves. How did everything go to hell so fast? I had a wonderful
night with Ian. I was excited about the prospect of leading
Radcliffe Software. And now…

Now, I wasn’t sure if I needed to salvage
this opportunity, if it was necessary or even if I wanted to.
Working with Ian and not being able to touch him would be
uncomfortable, difficult. An even worse thought occurred. What
could Ian possibly be saying to Emmett about me?

The urge to bury my face in my hands grated
across my nerves. The one time in my life I took a wild chance, and
look what happened.

Emmett appeared in the doorway and cleared
his throat. A slight smile curved his mouth, but it didn’t reach
his eyes. “Why don’t I take you around to meet the department
heads?”

I stifled a groan. My chances here were
obviously dead. I slapped a grin on my face and said, “Sure.”

* * *

It was closing in on two when Emmett
declared, “Let’s get lunch.”

As we whizzed down a coastal road in his
Jeep, he pointed out landmarks and gave his opinions on the various
neighborhoods. Well outside of Tampa proper, he pulled over to a
tiny seafood restaurant that was little more than a shack on the
beach. One good gust from a tropical storm would blow the clapboard
building into the Gulf of Mexico.

The older woman in the stained apron at the
counter yelled, “The usual, Emmett?”

He held up two fingers and led me to the
patio that overlooked the sand. Children raced up and down the
beach with brightly colored buckets. Parents kept watchful eyes for
trouble while gulls kept watchful eyes for dropped scraps.

Once again, I felt an impending cloud of doom
closing in on me as Emmet rattled on about the pro football team’s
chances this fall. The proprietress set two plates stacked with
crab legs, fries and slaw on the table. She also set two bottles of
beer in front of us.

I tried to make my smile to her as apologetic
as possible. “Could I get an iced tea instead?”

“You a teetotaler, Sullivan?” Emmett
barked.

“No…” Why did I feel like I had stepped in
quicksand? “I don’t normally drink during an interview.”

“Interview’s over. This is a heart-to-heart.”
He tried to dismiss our server, but she slapped his hand.

“Quit being an ass, Emmett. If the girl wants
some tea, I’ll get her some tea.” She winked at me before she
sauntered back inside.

He took a swig of his beer before he said,
“Want to tell me why I lost my lawyer and one of my board directors
this morning?”

He could have knocked me over with a fry.
“What? Ian quit?”

A mischievous gleam appeared in Emmett’s
eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

“You thought what?” I was now up to my waist
in the metaphorical quicksand.

“That you two are more than seatmates on a
plane.” He picked up the top crab leg on his plate and snapped it.
“But you didn’t tell him you were interviewing here, did you?”

I sucked in a deep breath. Not that I wanted
to discuss my personal life with a potential employer, but Emmett
Radcliffe wasn’t going to accept some bullshit lie.

Releasing the air in my lungs, I shook my
head. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t want him to think…”
Oh god, this
is worse than the time I got a ‘C’ on my report card.

“Think what?” Our proprietress was back, but
she carried two glasses of tea. She set one down in front of me
before she pulled over another chair and plunked down between me
and Emmett.

“Lacy, this is my wife Sheila.”

Sheila held out her hand, which I took. My
head rang with the rapid shifts in conversation. She looked
expectantly at her husband.

“Hollister decided to break his monkhood with
my CEO candidate.” Emmett pulled white meat out of the shell,
dipped it in the little cup of butter on his plate, and popped the
morsel in his mouth.

I prayed for a lightning strike, but the sky
remained bright blue with only the occasional puffy white cloud.
Emmett’s heart-to-heart could only mean he was feeding me to ease
the pain of dropping me on my ass.

“About time.” Sheila’s grin could have
powered all of Massachusetts for the winter. “You’ve been trying to
bring him on board from the beginning.”

“Excuse me?” What the hell was going on here?
“You’re interviewing me because Ian declined the position?”

“Don’t get your feminist panties in an
uproar, Lacy.” Sheila patted my hand. “I’m not talking about him
running the company. Ian helped Emmett design the project manager
software in return for me babysitting his kids while he went to
night school for his law degree.”

I turned back to Emmett. “So Ian used to work
for you as a systems programmer?”

He cracked another leg and sucked out the
meat before answering. “Nope. He was part of the construction crew
who fixed our house after a double whammy from Hurricanes Frances
and Jeanne. I needed the input of a real life person who would
actually be using my program. We had a nice trade-off. I offered
him a job more than once, but he wanted to work for himself. So
what was it you didn’t want Ian to think?”

Crap. I couldn’t get out of this gracefully.
I reached for my bottle of beer and took a drink. “Our…whatever
this is, is brand-new. I didn’t want him to think I was stalking
him.” Shit, that did not come out right. I took another desperate
swig.

“So, are you?” Emmett popped a couple of
fries in his mouth.

“Am I what?” I couldn’t keep track of the
conversation. I was floundering that bad.
This is why you never
mixed business and pleasure, you idiot.
Except I hadn’t known
my pleasure was part of my potential business.

“Stalking him.”

Adrenaline shot through my bloodstream, and
my heart pounded. “No! Oh, god, no. I wanted the job here long
before I met Ian.”

From the smirk on Sheila’s face, I hadn’t
just stuck my foot in my mouth. I had shoved my leg down my throat
up to my knee.

Emmett fished in his pocket, pulled out his
keys and slapped them on the table. “Can you drive a stick?”

“Yes.” At last, a question I could answer
without my blood pressure skyrocketing. A little relief seeped into
my veins.

“The job’s yours on one condition—I want my
attorney-slash-board member back. You screwed this up; you fix it.
Consider it your first test as CEO.”

“Yes, sir.” I tried to project confidence,
but I didn’t have a damn clue how I was going to woo Ian Hollister
back into the Radcliffe Software fold again. Well, except for the
obvious method, which is how I’d inadvertently destroyed Emmett’s
business relationship to begin with.

The GPS on my phone announced the last turn,
and I pulled into the office building’s visitor parking lot. Sheila
had scribbled the address on a napkin for me. I couldn’t admit I
already had Ian’s business card. I’d made enough of a fool of
myself at lunch.

The way my stomach roiled, I was thankful I
hadn’t eaten the crab legs and fries. Sheila promised to feed me
once a week after I found a place to live, as if my success in my
current mission was a done deal.

This close to five o’clock on a Friday meant
the offices should be starting to clear out. I prayed I was right.
Fewer witnesses if my encounter with Ian devolved into a shouting
match.

Not that I really believed it would. He
struck me as the type who would be ice cold when he was
furious.

I couldn’t remember walking across the
parking lot or riding the elevator to the correct floor. All I felt
was an arid mouth when the pretty, young receptionist inside the
lobby of Hollister & McKinney smiled and asked, “How can I help
you?”

“Is Mr. Hollister in?” I managed to force out
the words without choking on the sand in my throat.

“May I say who’s calling?” Unconsciously, her
attention darted to the hallway on the right.

“It’s a surprise.” I placed my index finger
on my lips and winked at her.

“Ma’am! You can’t go back there!” she called
when I pivoted and marched for the large office at the end of the
corridor.

I ignored her. Besides, she hadn’t said he
was in a conference or with a client, so I knew I wouldn’t be
interrupting something. Running to beat her warning appeared too
damn desperate though, and I wasn’t about to resort to such
tactics. Behind me, I could hear her pseudo-whispering to Ian over
the intercom.

No knocking. Instead, I shoved the door
open.