Daring to Trust the Boss. SUSAN MEIER
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said, “I don’t think there’s time for shopping.”
Billy said, “You can shop at home.”
Loraina agreed. “You get better bargains there anyway. I saw designers on TV the other day showing how to make clothes from your local store look like big-city fashions.”
“I don’t want them to look like big-city fashions. I want them to be big-city fashions. Can’t we stay another day?”
Billy exploded. “No! I’m missing two practices already! I’m not missing three!”
“You and your precious football.”
“You and your precious clothes! At least some day football might get me a scholarship. What are clothes going to get you?”
“A boyfriend?”
“You don’t need a boyfriend!”
Both parents said that at once and might have made Tucker laugh, except Cindy’s next whine started a discussion that had all five Prentisses talking at once. Tucker had been in boardrooms where five people talked at once. He’d been in boardrooms where five people yelled at once. But this discussion—sort of stupid, but very important to the people talking—whipped around him like a tornado. He had absolutely no idea of what to say.
Worse, he didn’t think they cared or wanted him to say anything.
A feeling of alienation stole over him, which didn’t surprise him. In foster homes, you didn’t comment on another kid’s life or problems. You weren’t really family; you were boarders. He remembered falling asleep trying to imagine himself in a family like this and never quite being able to put himself into the picture. He couldn’t put himself in this picture either. Even though he was actually, physically here.
Olivia’s laugh penetrated his discomfort and he glanced from the arguing teens to Jim to Loraina who groaned and said things like “Settle down” and “If you don’t stop fighting nobody’s getting anything.”
He peeked at Olivia again. Her pretty face relaxed in her laughter.
Now she was happy and he was the one who felt like an outsider.
* * *
Olivia had never been so glad to see an elevator door open and take people away as she was to see her parents and siblings leave Tucker Engle’s office. He made good on his promise of his limo for their use that afternoon, but he’d been quiet through their lunch.
“Do you want me to go back to reviewing Bartulocci financials this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
He said the word while staring at the elevator that had just taken away her family and his limo driver.
A minute ticked off the clock. Then another. Then another. He just kept staring at that elevator.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
But Olivia didn’t think he was. Normally, he was a tad brisk. Formal. Even with Elias and Ricky from the start-up, two guys who considered him a friend, he’d been formal. She didn’t like this sullen side of him. “I want to apologize again for my family.”
“Your family is very nice.”
She winced. “My brother and sister fight all the time.”
He turned away from the elevator and headed to his office. “I’ve heard that’s normal for brothers and sisters.”
She scrambled after him. If this mood was the fault of her family, she had to help him get rid of it. “Heard?”
“I don’t have any brothers and sisters.”
He strode to his desk and bent down to retrieve a briefcase from the floor. He stopped so quickly, bent so quickly and rose so quickly, that Olivia didn’t have time to get out of his way. When he stood again, they were mere inches apart.
She caught his gaze. She could smell the vague scent of his aftershave, feel the raw maleness that drifted off him. After being attacked, she hadn’t often let herself get close to a man. Especially not someone as far out of her league as the town rich kid had been—as Tucker Engle was.
But he was so handsome and she couldn’t seem to step away, or break contact with his beautiful emerald eyes.
When she spoke. her voice was a mere whisper. “You’re an only child?”
“You could say that.”
Though they were talking about something totally innocent, electricity crackled between them. “You don’t know if you’re an only child?”
“No.” He took a long breath. “I’m a foster child.”
“Oh.”
He stepped away. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m fine.”
“Yes, of course.”
He walked around her and strode to the door. “This meeting shouldn’t last more than an hour.”
With that he was gone and Olivia let out her breath in a grand whoosh. A foster child? Her heart ripped in two. Not because he wanted her to feel sorry for him, but because he didn’t.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHAT THE HELL was that?
Tucker walked through the building lobby, pushed open the revolving door and stepped onto the sidewalk, his heart beating out a weird rhythm and his mouth dry. He’d told Olivia he was a foster child because it would have been odd to keep a secret that was a matter of public record. He’d said it as if it were no big deal, but having her parents in his office, seeing physical proof of how much they loved her, he knew it was. Eating with them brought back memories filled with scars that had felt like open wounds. Then he’d turned and there she’d been, right at his fingertips, close enough to touch, and damned if he hadn’t been tempted.
He combed his fingers through his hair and stopped to wait for the traffic light to cross the street. He could still feel the rush of heat that whipped through him, the swell of sharp, sweet desire. He couldn’t remember ever being this attracted to a woman—especially one he barely knew. But standing so close had all but made him dizzy, and holding her gaze had sent molten lava careening through him.
The light turned and he hustled across the street and down the sidewalk. He had a meeting with a few bankers who had a sudden case of nerves about the terms of a deal he’d offered to purchase a struggling manufacturing plant. They needed to be coddled. He couldn’t be distracted by an attraction that was out of line.
Ridiculous.
So far off base it shouldn’t even be acknowledged.
All he wanted from Olivia Prentiss was for her to do her job.
And he needed to do his.
Heading for the building lobby, he went over the terms of the agreement for Echo Manufacturing in his head. He’d crafted this deal with the precision of an artist. He wouldn’t change anything. He had to make the bankers see things his way.
After a two-hour meeting spent attempting to alleviate the concerns of stubborn autocrats with no vision, he was crossing the street again. As persuasive and charming as he’d been, they’d ordered him to totally redraw the offer.
Though that made him forget everything that had happened that morning, it did not make him happy. In fact, if fury were a living thing, his temper would be Godzilla.
His head filled with facts and figures, he entered the elevator to his office suite. He was so immersed in his work that when the doors opened he probably would have walked straight through Olivia’s office without even a greeting. But as the doors slid apart, the word gin! blasted him.
He stopped. There at Olivia’s desk, an empty Chinese food carton