And then she smiled at a departing Margo, and realisation struck.
Elise bore an unsettling resemblance to a painting he’d once seen hanging in his father’s study when he was fourteen years old. The woman had been standing before a window with the sun shining on her arresting features. Her dark hair had been caught at the back of her head, her eyes shut and her face lifted in sun worship. The artist had captured her image from the point of view of a lover staring down at his paramour.
Their differences in height once Elise Jameson reached his desk were strikingly similar.
Except that woman had been nude.
And that painting had also caused prolonged rows between his mother and father, with one vowing to burn the painting and the other mocking the jealous fit. The painting had lasted six days before it’d disappeared. And even though he’d snuck into his father’s study to stare at it, Alejandro had been glad once it was gone.
All he’d cared about was that the rowing had ceased. Albeit, inevitably, temporarily.
He blinked the memory away, irritated with his ongoing traipse down memory lane, to find a manicured hand proffered.
‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Aguilar. I’m Elise Jameson.’
He took her hand, noted the soft but firm grip, the smoothness of her skin, the spark that travelled along his palm, and released her.
‘I’m aware one of my employees suggested we may be interested in your services, but don’t you think it was a touch foolish to just present yourself here? You could’ve wasted the entire day,’ he stated in a voice he knew was clipped.
Her eyes, which were more tilted and vivid in real life, widened a touch, before she blinked back her composure. ‘You say foolish, I say impeccably timed,’ she replied coolly.
He lifted a brow. ‘Are we to disagree so soon? You think that bodes well for our potential working relationship?’
Her shoulders tensed infinitesimally. ‘Pardon me for being forward, but if you require a yes-man or -woman who’ll jump at your every suggestion, then perhaps Jameson isn’t the right fit for you. Sycophancy isn’t in our remit.’
He noted then that, although her accent was American, her features bore a hint of an Asian heritage, making her beauty even more enthralling. He also noted his own faint amusement with irritation. Rounding the desk, he approached the tray laden with coffee and bagels and poured his fifth cup of espresso. ‘Coffee?’
‘No, thank you. I’ve had my daily allotment. Any more and you’d have to prise me off the ceiling.’ One corner of her crimson-painted mouth twitched and Alejandro found his gaze tracing the full curve.
Striding back to his desk, he gulped down half of his beverage. ‘In that case, sit down, Miss Jameson, and tell me what is in your remit.’
She took the time to unbutton her jacket, giving him a glimpse of the jade-coloured silk top beneath and a shadowed cleavage before she sat down.
‘Normally, it works the other way round. You tell me what you need PR-wise and we advise you how to achieve it, sycophancy not included, of course.’ Another smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Over the scent of ground coffee beans, he caught the faintest hint of her perfume. Crushed berries mixed with an elusive spice. Unique. Captivating. He caught himself inhaling deeper to chase the scent and gritted his teeth.
‘We seem to have skipped a step or two in the traditional interview process, so perhaps we should go with the flow here.’
She blinked. ‘I could go with the flow. Except I’m not even sure where the river starts, Mr Aguilar. Wendell Grant was equally cryptic when he called and asked me to come here. Sadly, cryptic won’t cut it if you need my help.’
‘Since I haven’t decided whether I do or not, I’m not going to go into the specifics of a highly confidential deal.’
Her mouth tightened a touch before she smiled her insincere smile. ‘If you’re worried about confidentiality, our impeccable record speaks for itself.’
‘Be that as it may, until you’re officially hired, I prefer to practise a little...restraint.’
Her gaze locked with his for a long moment. Then she nodded. ‘As you wish. So let’s talk hypotheticals. What can I do for you?’
A frown tugged at Alejandro’s brow. She was intelligent. And she was saying all the right things. But he couldn’t shake the feeling something else was going on beneath the surface.
‘How old are you?’ he asked.
Her eyes widened. ‘Why is that relevant?’
Alejandro folded his arms, mildly disturbed by his own question. ‘Is it a state secret?’
‘Of course not.’ Her gaze dropped to his desk. ‘But you have my file right there in front of you. You’ve read it so you know my age. If I wanted to lie to you about anything—which I don’t, by the way—lying about my age would be the stupidest one to start with, don’t you think? And other than to catch me out in a lie, I’m not sure why—’
‘Do you always answer a simple question with a diatribe?’
Beneath the make-up, heat flushed her cheeks. Her nostrils flared a touch before she blinked back her composure.
‘I’m twenty-five. As it says in my file,’ she returned acerbically.
‘How long have you worked for your parents?’ Again a question he hadn’t anticipated asking.
Her mouth compressed. ‘Since I graduated university at twenty-one.’
Alejandro studied her silently. To her credit, she didn’t fidget.
Unfolding his arms, he rested his elbows on his desk. ‘I don’t think this is going to work out, Miss Jameson. Thank you for coming.’
First came a look that closely resembled relief. Followed by surprise. Then her lips parted as shock set in. ‘Excuse me?’
‘If you can’t see your way through answering a few simple questions without getting emotional, I don’t see how you can deal with the hard stuff. Margo will see you out.’
She started to get up. Halfway through the act, she dropped back down. ‘This is some sort of trick, isn’t it?’
It was Alejandro’s turn to be surprised. He regained his senses quickly. ‘I’ve been working on a deal that is determined to fall apart at the last minute. Trust me, wasting time with tricks is the very last thing on my mind. Goodbye, Miss Jameson.’
Shadows and questions swirled through her hazel-gold eyes. Her lower lip twisted, as if she was gnawing it from the inside. Eventually she rose, her fingers clamped around her briefcase, her jaw angled with stubborn pride.
Without a word, she turned away from his desk. In that moment, Alejandro wished he’d also turned away. The sight of her trim waist and voluptuous backside triggered another onset of libido-tugging.
He gritted his teeth.
The timing and circumstance of this attraction to her were abhorrent enough to send him to his feet. He’d vowed a very long time ago never to mix business with pleasure when another deal had disintegrated because of a fleeting liaison with a competitor. He’d been young and foolish enough to imagine one would not affect the other. Although the incident had only temporarily slowed down his meteoric rise, Alejandro had learned the lesson well enough to keep his affairs private and brief.
Dragging his gaze from the shapely legs heading for the door, he strode to the window and stared at the view. Lake Michigan didn’t offer much solace. Like a lead domino falling over, Elise’s image, the feel of their palms touching, the silkiness of her skin, tumbled through his mind. Even the sound