The Boss's Surprise Son / Doctoring the Single Dad. Marie Ferrarella
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for this year. I set up an appointment with the CFO for tomorrow morning.” She handed him the files then sat and crossed her legs, waiting for a response.
With determined professionalism he looked away from the tempting sight of her navy skirt inching over her knees onto her thighs.
After reviewing the documents, he tossed the file on his desk. The action startled Savannah, catching her in the middle of a yawn. Sometime during the day she’d removed her jacket, but otherwise she looked as fresh and serene as when she’d walked through the door this morning.
He winced when a glance at the clock revealed that had been close to thirteen hours ago.
The overhead light cast fiery highlights in her dark red hair, drawing his attention. She wore the mahogany mass up on her head but this late in the day escaping tendrils cascaded over her neck and brow. Maybe not so fresh after all, but sexy.
Way too sexy. And touchable.
He definitely had no business wanting to touch her.
He needed to give the woman a dress code, he thought with an inward groan, one that included oversized jackets and buttoned-up shirts. Looking at all the toned, creamy-white skin revealed by the light gold, sleeveless, scoop-necked blouse, he knew he needed to change the course of his thoughts or risk embarrassing himself.
They’d been working together since before seven this morning and it was after eight at night now. A repeat of the past two days. What he needed, what they both needed, was a break.
As if on cue, Rett strolled through the door. “You guys still working? I thought you said you had the proposal pretty much wrapped.”
Rick leaned back in his chair.
“We do. The attorney has it. We’ll get his comments in the morning and go through it one last time. I was just going to suggest we call it a night and start out fresh tomorrow.” That was good, that should end the torment of the day.
Except Rett had other ideas. “Hey, you have a fifteen-hour flight on Saturday. You’ll be begging for something to do to fill the time. Save your review for then and give Savannah tomorrow off.”
“Wait a minute,” Rick protested.
“Come on.” Rett dropped into the second visitor’s chair. “I bet she’s already put in over forty hours. With all the overtime she probably hasn’t even had a chance to pack. Have you?” He directed the question to Savannah.
“What?” Her eyes grew big as the attention centered on her. “Oh, well actually—”
“See.” Rett waved a triumphant hand. “Think about it,” he tossed at Rick. “In the meantime, why don’t I call and make reservations for the three of us for dinner. You both deserve a decent break.”
“I really should head home.” With a weary sigh Savannah rose to her feet, drawing Rick’s attention once again to her blouse, and the way sunshine clung to her breasts. Much as he strived for professional detachment, yellow had just become his new favorite color.
“No, join us,” Rett insisted. “You’ve worked hard. Let us treat you to dinner.”
She hesitated for a moment and then smiled. “Okay, you only have to ask me twice. Why don’t I meet you at the restaurant? Then I can just leave from there.”
They finalized plans and Rick insisted on walking her to her car. Then he followed her to his favorite steak house, silently cursing his brother’s interference.
Rick disliked mixing business with pleasure, and dinner with Savannah definitely blurred the edges of personal and professional. Her performance this week had surprised him; he could admit that. And despite the occasional distraction of her stunning legs or the sweet scent of her shampoo, they’d accomplished an amazing amount of work. She’d stayed calm and often anticipated him, providing reports and stats before he could ask.
Dinner should be innocent enough with Rett along.
Yeah, strictly business. In fact, he’d use dinner to discuss options on where they should open the first international store.
Unfortunately just as he reached the restaurant Rett called to say he couldn’t make it after all. Rick couldn’t help but curse.
Savannah waited just inside the door, buttoned into her jacket, her hair once again neat and tidy.
“Rett blew us off for a date, so I guess that leaves just you and me,” Rick said bluntly.
She bit her lip, drawing his attention to the plump, pink perfection of her mouth. “Maybe I should just go home. It’s been a long day.”
He should grab the offer, but the weariness in her sea-green eyes got to him. “No, stay. You have to eat and this will be better than some fast food you pick up on the way home.” Not waiting for an answer, he settled his hand in the small of her back and indicated to the maître d’ they needed a table for two.
She quickly stepped ahead of him, leaving him with a view of her gently swaying hips as he followed her to their table. Telling himself the hunger clawing at his gut was for food, he ordered a rib eye.
“I want something I can sink my teeth into,” he declared with a smile.
Rick’s words caused a fluttering in Savannah’s in-sides. She’d like to dismiss the response as a symptom of hunger, but unfortunately she was too self-aware for the flimsy excuse. Really, she should have headed straight home and avoided any chance of an intimate dinner with Rick. But the thought of having to cook after the long day—days—she’d put in held as little or less appeal than a plastic drive-through meal. And she’d thought she’d be safe with Rett along, too.
The waiter delivered their drink order. Rick placed both arms on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve pretty much narrowed the choice of location for the first store to London or Paris. I know you put together a list of properties earlier this week. What are your impressions?”
Okay, she knew the key to maintaining an emotional distance from him hinged on concentrating on work, and she appreciated being asked for her opinion. But she couldn’t take any more today. Her brain couldn’t hold another fact.
She inhaled a bracing breath, and then met his gaze. “Can we talk about something besides business?”
For a moment shock stole his voice. “What?” he managed to croak.
“My brain is fried. No more shop talk.” She outlined her rules in clear, concise terms.
Rick stared at her, clearly speechless. Yet after a moment he relaxed back into his seat and opened his hands, palms out to her. “Sure. We’ll talk about whatever you want.”
“Try to hold back your enthusiasm,” she said with a wry smile as she reached for a roll. Tearing it in half, she put the remaining half back in the bread basket.
Totally at ease in his habitual black suit and white shirt, Rick exuded elegance and class, putting most of the other men in the room to shame. The broad stretch of his shoulders and confident tilt of his dark head added to his sense of presence.
He looked good, really good. He always did, but tonight she found it hard to look away. She should be leery, especially when his gaze revealed he liked looking at her, too, but she didn’t have the energy. Instead she enjoyed the delicious tingle of excitement zipping along her nerves.
A sensation common sense promptly squashed.
She didn’t want the situation to change. She valued this job too much to risk it on the unsteady influence of romance.
“Okay.” Rick picked up the half roll, took a bite. “Where’d you learn to speak French?”
“High school. I took it instead of Spanish. And then I took an advanced class in night school. After the class ended a bunch of us would get together for dinner at a French restaurant once a month and only speak French. It helped to cement the language. Especially if others in the restaurant joined