Losing Control. Robyn Grady
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I can’t refuse.”
“I’ve been at it all day. Didn’t even stop to eat.”
That made two of them. She must be as hungry as he was, and he was starved. After a day alternating between meetings and being glued to his desk, he felt restless, too. Itchy. Hot. When his gaze dropped to her lips again, he ran a finger inside his steamy collar. He ought to go.
Cole eased around her. “Now isn’t a good time.”
“Now is a great time.”
“I’m late.”
“What for this time?”
He rotated back. “I’m sure I don’t have to answer that,” he said. But when he saw the disappointment shining in her eyes, his gut kicked and, against his better judgment, he found himself giving in to this infernal woman for a second time that day.
“But, if you’re that keen,” he muttered, heading back, “I’ll give you five minutes.”
“Five minutes isn’t nearly enough—”
“Five minutes.” He set his case on his personal assistant’s desk and flicked on the desk lamp. “Starting now.”
Taryn froze for three beats before setting her laptop down. When she thumbed a button, an impressive spread—complete with feature banner—flashed on to the screen. Setting his hands on his hips, Cole slanted his head. Nice effect. Although he wasn’t sold on the title.
“Hot Spots?”
“We thought it had more bite than the original name.”
“We?”
“Roman and me. I know it sounds kind of provocative—”
“If you want to tape an endless stream of topless bars and nudist beaches,” he cut in, “sorry, it ain’t gonna fly.”
The airwaves were clogged enough with that content.
“I was going to say that it’s more a hook than anything erotic. Let me show you a preliminary list of locations that have shown interest and, as of today, have offered to cover all associated costs.”
The screen page flipped over to reveal a slide show of a resort Cole knew—although not personally. Only a sheik could afford the prices. He could think of better ways to blow a million or two. Still, the cogs in his brain began to whir faster.
“That’s Dubai.”
When he named that country’s most exclusive resort, Taryn nodded with a grin in her eyes. “All expenses paid there. Everything.”
“That’s impressive. But that’s one location. I imagine you’ll do the grand tour of the resort and surrounds, which will make good footage, but what’s the twist?”
Where’s the something new?
Their shoulders all but touching, she angled in more and, in the soft shadows, those blue eyes were hypnotic. Then that natural warmth of hers reached out again. Sumptuous. Soothing. It was like being enveloped by the lure of a toasty fire after coming in from the cold. When his fingertips began to tingle where they lay splayed on the desk next to hers, he was struck by the urge to cover her hand, maybe tug her close and see if he couldn’t experience some of that warmth head-on.
Sucking down a breath, he straightened.
Definitely time to go.
“I’ll think it over.”
“Will you?”
He arched a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve already made up your mind.”
“If you believe that, why are you here?” Wasting my time.
“Because I also believe in this show.” Her chin lifted. “And that wasn’t five minutes.”
“It was long enough.” Especially considering the way he was feeling.
“But I have more to show you, Cole. Lots more.”
The tendons between his shoulders, up the length of his thighs, all hardened to steel and then locked. He should get this charade over with. Tell her now. Stay on course. But how was he supposed to deal with that dewy-eyed, indignant look without feeling like the world’s biggest heel?
An image of Dex’s puzzle flashed into his mind’s eye and something he’d thought unbending inside of him grudgingly moved. Before he could talk himself out of it, he took a mental sword and cut them both some slack. Taryn had more to show him?
“Then get your gear.” He grabbed his case and headed out. “You’re coming with me.”
Four
When Cole Hunter insisted she accompany him to dinner, Taryn’s entire body flashed hot. Time alone in that kind of setting was a bad idea. The way he sometimes looked at her—with curiosity and hunger simmering in his eyes—he might want to consume a big juicy steak but in a deeper place, whether he admitted it or not, Cole was also flipping a coin, deciding whether he could afford a side order of her.
Sorry, but she wasn’t on the menu.
Then again Guthrie Hunter’s son was prickly enough. The edge she rode where he and her position at Hunters was concerned was already razor thin. If she refused this “invitation,” Cole might close up completely and, like it or not, after listening to Roman’s stories regarding the “Commander” all day, she’d come to the conclusion that she needed Cole on her side.
Plus, her brain and body were running on empty.
Although every instinct warned against leaving this building alone with Cole, she guessed they could talk business while they ate. The golden rule, however, still applied. She had no intention of getting too close to trouble.
So, with nerves jumping in her stomach, Taryn accompanied him out, collecting her bag on the way. They passed late-shift news employees with their noses to the grindstone. Cole sent a good-night to the uniformed security man, who stood watch near the giant glass autosliders, and a moment later he was opening the passenger-side door of a low-slung Italian sports car. Taryn’s throat bobbed on an involuntary swallow. She had the weirdest feeling if she crawled inside that dark warm space, she might never come out.
Soon they were buckled up and weaving through Sydney’s upper-end streets. In the near distance, arcing lights from the bridge spread shimmering silver ribbons over the harbor while beside her Cole changed gears with the intuitive grace of a professional. She couldn’t ignore that subtle yet intoxicating masculine scent, the ease with which his large tanned hands gripped the leather of the wheel. In such close proximity, his legs seemed somehow too long, those shoulders almost too broad. Every available inch of this car seemed filled with the smoldering energy that was Cole Hunter.
Taryn pressed back into the molded bucket seat and clenched her hands in her lap. She’d never felt more unsettled. Never more female.
As they flew over a main arterial and the busy world whirred by, he said, “I’d kill for a good thick steak.”
“I thought you’d be a steak man.”
“You’re not a steak woman?”
“Vegetarian.”
“I’m sure my regular place caters for that.”
“You mean caters for those of us who choose to live on the fringes.”
In the rapid-fire shadows, his crooked grin flashed white. “No disrespect intended. I grew up in a male-dominated household. Tofu and soy weren’t in our vocabulary.”
Taryn peered out the window. She didn’t care about Cole’s eating habits. She cared only about getting this proposal through and at last moving forward with this show.