In His Sights. Danica Winters
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from winning. It was really no wonder her half brother had loved it, right up until he had become CEO of Heinrich and Kohl. Even in his new role, he’d still hovered, constantly reminding her that she was to do her best, as they had much to lose.
Then again, not everything was terrible about her new position: it afforded her a great deal of travel and leisure—though this time she got to stay home in the heart of NYC. She was relieved that after this brutally long and drawn-out meeting, she could go home.
There was a man standing to her left beside the table. His name badge said Jarrod Martin. She didn’t recognize the man, but he appeared to be in his early thirties and comprised entirely of muscle. He’d come in with the entourage that accompanied the parliament members, and was likely acting as a guard. But, instead of bringing her comfort, every time she looked at him, she felt an unwelcome warmth cascade through her.
If only it were a year ago, when her life had been focused on nothing more than giving in to the whims of her heart, she would have easily made the man her lover. She caught herself glancing down, hoping to see if his back was as scrumptious as his front. She wasn’t disappointed.
Her contact, and lead ambassador for the Riksdag, Hans Anders, cleared his throat as he took the floor. He was sitting three down from her at the conference table. His fingers were tented in front of him as he spoke, a look of distaste forming when he addressed Mindy directly. He clearly thought a woman in gun manufacturing was some kind of farce. She’d always thought that the Swedish were more progressive when it came to empowering women, but clearly there were some men in every culture who thought it best for a woman to stay in the kitchen.
Needless to say, she hated the bastard.
“Furthermore,” Hans continued, “it is not in our best interest to allow a machining plant in our countryside. While we welcome international businesses with open arms, by bringing in a gun manufacturer, it could be misconstrued as our implied consent and role in the international gunrunning trade.”
“Sir, while I appreciate your thoughts and hear what you are saying, I humbly disagree,” she said, forcing herself to remain seated even though all she wanted to do was stand, face him down and put an end to this argument. “My company is in no way an advocate for international violence. We pride ourselves on our stellar record within the global market. While we cannot control where or how our guns are used, the same can be said about many other incredibly lucrative businesses—such as pharmaceuticals. Would you deny a person access to a lifesaving medication because you are afraid of the medication being misused?”
Hans opened his mouth, no doubt wishing to rebut, but she didn’t give him the chance to speak. She had the floor, and no matter what some man thought, she was going to keep it.
“What you are talking about is a what-if, while you—and the entire Riksdag—should be focused on the bottom line of our proposal. This year alone, our plants in the United States have brought in $7.2 billion in taxable income. We believe, should you allow us to open our plant, we will either match or exceed this figure every year for your country.”
Hans looked as though he had swallowed a sour grape. Money always took precedence. Really, this endeavor would be a win-win for both parties. All she had to do was prove it.
“Why don’t we take a little break, and we can come back and discuss this further after lunch.” Hans stood up and shuffled through the papers of her proposal.
Though Hans wasn’t the head of the parliament, he sure acted like it. Without his approval, this would go nowhere. She’d spend the next six months apologizing to her brother and the board, and trying to find a suitable replacement for the warehouse and manufacturing building they had purchased in Sweden.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “And please note, my family’s company always strives to create a healthy environment for employees. It would be an honor to have our company located in a place that has an empowered and ambitious workforce.”
Smiles appeared on the faces of the men and women around the table.
Maybe she wasn’t so bad at pandering after all.
The guard to her left, Jarrod, stepped closer to her. “If you’d like, I’d love to escort you to lunch. I hear there’s a great deli just around the corner.”
Her mouth watered, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the man who’d asked her or the prospect of salty, fatty meats. Either way, she was happy to oblige. “Of course, though I thought you were with the parliament members.” She motioned to the group around them.
He smiled. “I doubt anyone will miss me. As it is, I was brought here just to be a visible presence in the meeting room.”
“Oh yeah? Did they think that I was the kind of woman who would jump on the table and threaten them if I didn’t get what I wanted?” She stood up and made a show of her petite, but heavyset frame. “I’m hardly equipped—or likely—to throw my weight around.”
“I’ve always found that one shouldn’t underestimate the power of an angry woman.” He laughed.
“If you don’t feed me soon, you’ll get to see exactly how hangry I can get,” she teased.
“Well, I’m only going with you if you promise not to take me down,” he said with a laugh.
A wave of torrid thoughts washed through her mind. She couldn’t help the heat that rose in her body and colored her cheeks.
She tried to cap all of her dirty thoughts, but it was a losing battle. She hadn’t had sex in six months. A girl only had so much willpower.
Maybe she could just take him during their lunch break. They had an hour, and with the way she was feeling, that would leave them plenty of time to cuddle afterward.
Oh goodness, what was wrong with her?
Maybe going with him to lunch wasn’t such a great idea after all. If things were going to devolve into some midday rendezvous, she was probably better off staying in her office.
Whenever her body took the lead, it never seemed to end well.
When she had been younger, to say she had been a bit of a party girl was an understatement. Until her father’s death, she had been spending her time—and her father’s money—shopping, traveling, hanging out with her friends…and having her heart broken by men.
Throughout the years, people had told her she was spoiled. However, she had never really seen it that way. Though she had been economically gifted, it came at a price. Her mother had died when she was young and her father’s success had taken its toll. During his rare appearances at home, he had spent all of his time in his office yelling at hapless underlings or business associates. He rarely had actual free time, but when he did he liked to spend those days on the golf course. Mindy didn’t blame him for his parental failings. However, she was extremely tired of having to justify how she had become such a headstrong and wild woman—she couldn’t have been anything else, thanks to her free-range childhood.
She allowed the members of the Swedish parliament to exit in front of her in a gesture of goodwill. Jarrod stayed by her side. His arm brushed against hers, making the hairs on her skin stand at attention. It was as though there were a charge between them, something resembling static electricity, but she tried not to pay it any mind. Maybe it was nothing more than her thousand-dollar shoes scuffing against the carpet. It struck her as funny that even now, after all of her dalliances with men, it was still possible to mistake attraction for actual electricity.
That was what it was—her attraction to him was science. They were like two magnets drawn to each other by nature’s cosmic forces—nothing more. But dang, those forces felt good.
She waited for a few moments, until they were alone in the room, and then she turned to Jarrod. “Look, if you have a job to do, we can always meet after work.” It came out sounding far more lurid than she had actually wanted it to. Rather, she had hoped it would be an invitation for a real, grown-up date…one that wouldn’t resemble anything like the Netflix-and-chill dates of her past.