Stephen looked around at the shelves surrounding them. They were all piled high with materials.
“So this is what things really look like around here,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “I was beginning to think, judging from your austere office, that this was a place where even a paper clip wouldn’t dare to be out of place.”
“I haven’t had a chance to settle in yet,” she responded.
Let him think what he liked, she thought. She didn’t want him getting any hints of her life as it was now.
She walked toward the back of the room to search for the samples she was looking for, and he followed, then stopped beside her. In his dark pinstripe suit, he pulled off the look of restrained power effortlessly.
Retrieving a small chip from a cardboard box, she said, “This is a sample of the type of wall covering I’d like to use in the conference rooms.”
As he took the chip from her, their hands brushed, sending awareness shooting through her.
“As you can see,” she went on, determined to ignore the sensation, “it’s not quite white, but close enough, I think.”
“Right,” he muttered, but his eyes were focused on her, not the sample in his hand.
She scooted over to another shelf. “And these are examples of the fabrics I’d like to use. This is the white leather—” she tapped a bolt of fabric “—and this is the midnight velvet.”
She watched him feel the leather, his tanned hands dark against the lightness of the fabric, and an erotic charge went through her.
Cursing her wayward mind, and seeking to distract both him and herself, she yanked the bolt of velvet fabric forward with more force than necessary.
“As you can see, the color has a depth and a richness to it that make it more than merely navy-blue. It’s plush, and at the same time, fairly easy to clean thanks to the wonders of new industrial processes.”
He reached out and touched the fabric, his hand slowly stroking over it.
She nearly gulped. It was impossible, she belatedly realized, to have this conversation without a sexual subtext.
“You’re right,” he said, gazing directly at her. “It’s…sinful.”
She could see amusement lurking in his eyes. Damn him. He knew exactly the effect this conversation was having on her.
The sudden ring of a phone made her jump and broke the spell.
Stephen arched a brow.
“We keep a phone in the supply room,” she explained, hurrying over to a nearby cabinet, “in case anyone needs to be reached while they’re working.”
While they’re being seduced by the look in a client’s eyes.
Picking up the phone, she said, “Hello?”
“Megan, it’s Tiffany.”
What a time for her babysitter to call! Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to tell her secretary to forward any important calls. She cast an involuntary look at Stephen from the corner of her eyes.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked.
“Just checking in.”
She groaned inwardly. “Thanks. That’s thoughtful.”
“Jade wants to go to the park,” Tiffany continued, “so we might not be here when you arrive home. I didn’t want you to worry, so I thought I’d call now. If we don’t beat you back, we’ll be on the way.”
“That’s fine.”
“We might stop for some ice cream.”
“Just remember what she’s allergic to,” she responded in a lowered voice.
“Will do.”
When she hung up, Stephen asked, “Is everything okay? I heard you mention the word allergic.”
She thought frantically, even as she struggled to appear composed.
“Ah, it’s a client I’m taking to lunch,” she fibbed. “I was just reminding my secretary to bear in mind what the client is allergic to when making reservations.” She waved her hand around. “You know, ah, ethnic cuisine and all.”
“Right.”
She cleared her throat. Time to get out of the pressure cooker that the storage room had turned into. “If you follow me back to my office, we can consider the layout of the Garrison Grand redesign in greater detail.”
What was Megan hiding? She’d appeared furtive when speaking on the phone in the storage room earlier in the day.
Stephen stared out the window of his office, his fingers steepled, his feet crossed on his desk.
He knew she wasn’t married. She didn’t wear a ring, and he figured Megan would be one to change her surname when she got married.
Maybe there was a boyfriend in the picture.
His lips thinned at the thought of Megan with another man. Still, her reaction to his asking for a date hadn’t been to say she was seeing someone. She’d been about to say something, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t that. She would have finished her thought otherwise, because a steady boyfriend would have afforded her an easy excuse to turn him down.
Still, he wondered how many lovers she’d had since their breakup. He’d hardly been celibate himself. They’re were plenty of beautiful women in South Beach who were only too happy to hook up with the wealthy and good-looking owner of one of the trendiest places in town.
But none of those relationships had gone as deep as the one with Megan. When his mind had slipped its leash and he’d compared those women to her, they’d come up short.
He thought back to Megan’s accusation. No one leaves a Garrison.
Yeah, it had irked him to be dumped. Particularly since, as far as he was concerned, their relationship had been just fine. The sex had been great, and she’d challenged and fascinated him out of bed, too.
She was the one woman he’d actually given thought to settling down with.
“You look severe.”
He looked at his open office door and noticed his new sister-in-law, Anna, holding on to the doorjamb.
He pushed away from his desk and lowered his feet.
Anna walked into the room. “What were you thinking? I could practically see the storm clouds.”
“Nothing,” he said, standing. “What brings you to the Garrison Grand?”
He kept his personal life private, including the particulars of his short-lived affair with Megan.
Still, now he knew Anna and Megan were friends, he figured his new sister-in-law could be useful to him. He wasn’t averse to doing some subtle digging.
“Parker and I are having dinner at the Opalesce Room,” Anna responded.
He flashed a smile that more than one woman had characterized as devilish. “Come to invite me along?”
Anna laughed. “Hardly. Parker and I are still honeymooners.”
“Yeah, how can any of us forget?”
The change in his brother had been extraordinary. The guy actually seemed to be in love, which—given the train wreck their own parents’ marriage had been until their father had died—was some feat. It also spoke volumes about the woman before him.
His parents’ marriage had been marred by Bonita Garrison’s drinking. Still, after John Garrison’s sudden death from a heart