The Charmer’s Gambit Read online

  “All right, this should be enough for you to get started.” He set the laptop on the table between us. “I’m going to order some dinner. Any preferences?”

  “Not really.” I hadn’t eaten much all day—a side effect of stress and not sleeping well. That made nearly finishing this glass of wine dangerous, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I set the glass aside and picked up his computer to review the contents on the screen. “What am I looking at?”

  “The property in France that I’m acquiring. There are a few others, but this is the most imminent, as they want an in-person meeting in just over a month.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked more out of curiosity than anything else.

  “Various places, none of which are set in stone yet, so let’s focus on the French vineyard first.”

  “You’re the boss.” I regretted it the second I said it. Grimacing, I met his amused gaze.

  “Client,” he corrected. “But feel free to address me as ‘sir’ anytime, darlin’.”

  I snorted. “Not going to happen.”

  His pupils dilated as he studied me. “We’ll see,” he murmured in a tone that lacked his usual teasing quality. It was low and alluring and touched me in all the right places. Oh, I liked that voice far too much, as well as the look that came with it. Confidence smoldered in his chocolate irises and curled his lips into a seductive smirk that had me clenching my thighs.

  Shit.

  Maybe meeting in his suite was a bad idea. I always seemed able to ignore my attraction to him when in the comfort of my own space, like the apartment or the office. But here, in his space, with his spicy scent seducing my senses, I felt hypnotized by his presence, by the way his thumb swept over his bottom lip as he studied me, by the heat flaring in his eyes.

  Look away.

  I focused on the website he pulled up, and started reading in French. It was all gibberish, not due to a lack of understanding, but due to my brain forgetting how to read. Each word sounded wrong in my head. I couldn’t even translate the company name.

  Yes, this is a great start.

  Pull it together, Dawson.

  I peeked at Will and found him leaning against the wall, with an ankle crossed over the other, as he played with his phone. Completely unaffected. Meanwhile, my cheeks burned with a fervor.

  The man was potent. If a few glances and words set me on fire, what could his hands do?

  So not thinking about that.

  Except I was. A very vivid image of what I would like his hands to do to me flashed through my thoughts. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. This was what forced celibacy had debased me to. And the lack of sleep wasn’t helping.

  Focus, Rach.

  I started rereading the vineyard’s history, and the words semi-clicked in my mind. I’d gotten about halfway through a paragraph when Will’s warm tones distracted me again.

  “Evenin’, Vanessa.” A pause, then his trademark chuckle caressed my senses. “You know me so well. Uh-huh. There will be two of us dining tonight. Yes.” Another deep laugh. “No, she’s a colleague. Exactly. Thank you, darlin’.” He slipped the phone into his pocket with a shake of his head and pushed off the wall to sit across from me again. “I ordered us a pizza.”

  “Didn’t hear anything about food in that conversation.” It was the second time tonight I sounded like a jealous girlfriend. First with the women downstairs, and now with his phone call. So unprofessional.

  He brought his ankle up to rest on his knee. “Vanessa knows what I like.” I just bet she does. “So what do you think of the vineyard?”

  “Uh, I’m not done reading about it yet.”

  He arched a brow. “I thought you spoke French fluently.”

  “Bien sur que oui, mais je suis fatiguée.” Of course I do, but I’m tired. Not the full truth, but true nonetheless.

  “Très bien, ma chérie.” Very good, sweetheart.

  His accent blew mine out of the park. Why was that so sexy? “What other languages do you speak?”

  “Italian, Spanish, and I know enough German to be dangerous.”

  Impressive. “I only know French and English.”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders. “You weren’t groomed to work for an international hotel chain. I’d argue your law degree from Northwestern is far more impressive.”

  “Don’t you have an MBA from Stanford?”

  “Are we measuring our resumes, Miss Dawson?”

  “Just pointing out your impressive qualifications, Mister Mershano.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “You find me impressive, do you?”

  I rolled my eyes at the innuendo in his tone. “Stop distracting me. I need to read.”

  “Now I’m a distraction?”

  Picking up the throw pillow beside me, I hefted it at his head. He caught it with one hand and laughed.

  “Careful, darlin’. You don’t want to start a pillow fight with me unless you intend to finish it.” His deep baritone elicited a shiver from deep within me. The man affected me like very few men ever had, and his gaze said he knew it. My decision to meet him here escalated from maybe being a bad idea to definitely being a bad idea. I clearly couldn’t keep my mental faculties in check around him in such an intimate space. Next time, we would meet in my office or in a conference room. Or in a crowded café.

  Ryan’s ringtone filled the air, dousing cold water over my hormones. It must be after seven thirty.

  Will hopped up to grab my purse, forcing me to scramble off the couch. I nearly dropped his laptop in the process but managed to set it on the table and reach him just in time to snag the phone from his hand.

  “Whoa, darlin’. I wasn’t going to answer it.”

  The ringing stopped, then started again a second later. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose. Ryan wouldn’t stop until I answered. If I turned off my phone, he’d show up at my office tomorrow. Or worse.

  “Is there somewhere I can take this?” I asked without looking at Will.

  “Sure, down the hall is the master bedroom. I’ll stay out here to wait for the food.”

  I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  My stocking-covered feet slid a little as I wandered down the marble-floored hallway to the open door at the end. I passed two doors along the way but wanted to be as far away from Will as possible when I made this call. The last thing I needed was for Ryan to hear a male voice in the background.

  Shutting the door behind me, I moved to the oversized bed in the middle of the room and leaned against it. The dimming sun cast the room in eerie shadows, befitting my mood. When the phone rang again, I answered it.

  “Hi—”

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  I cleared my throat. “I told you I’m working.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Rachel.”

  “I’m not.” Silence settled over my shoulders and scattered goose bumps down my arms. He wasn’t even breathing. “Ryan—”

  “You know, when you mentioned having to work, I actually felt bad. I picked up a nice dinner for us to enjoy in your office, so imagine my surprise when I opened the door to an empty room.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. Not because of the darkness coloring his tone, but because of his words. Baker Brown resided in a secure building. Keycards were required after hours, and they were programmed by floor. I also locked my door before I left. It was possible a security guard let him up, he knocked without an answer, and he jumped to assumptions, but I doubted it.

  He has a key to my office . . .

  “Where are you?” he repeated when I said nothing.

  My legs started to wobble, forcing me to sit on the bed. “I’m with a client,” I managed.

  It seemed that whenever my confidence started coming back, Ryan chased it away with a simple appearance or a tone. How many times would I allow him to do this to me? Why did I put up with it?

  Every time he showed up or called, he acted like we were still together. It didn’t matter what I sai
d or how many times I refused, he still owned me.

  And I hated him for it.

  I hated myself for allowing it.

  “You’re with a client?” he repeated, incredulous.

  “A potential one, yeah.” I coughed to dislodge the cotton balls coating my throat. “I’m reviewing their portfolio and assessing the scope of their project.” I purposely avoided a male pronoun. “Baker Brown is drawing up a proposal, and if it’s accepted, I’ll be the primary point of contact.” I stopped explaining. Too much information.

  He said nothing for too long. “What’s the project?” I listed a few financial statistics, and he let loose a low whistle. “And they want you to lead it?” He sounded not so much surprised as impressed.

  “Yes.” I didn’t elaborate.

  “Wow, that’s great, baby! Why didn’t you say anything?”

  I shivered at his swift change in demeanor. Hello, Doctor Jekyll. “I didn’t want to jinx it.” It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spot. Because it’s none of your fucking business, was what I wanted to say, but the words sat heavy in my chest.

  “Are you out with clients right now?”

  I didn’t correct his use of the plural. “Yes.”

  “So that’s why you didn’t answer. Okay. Sorry, babe, I thought . . .” He trailed off on a breath, and I sensed him shaking his dark head. “Hey, we need to celebrate.”

  Or we could not and say we did. I bit my lip, considering. “Well.” Think faster, Rach. “Assuming the proposal is accepted, I’ll have to drop all my current tasks to get caught up. There’s a lot of work to do, and they want me to travel, so I have no idea what my schedule is going to look like or when I’ll be free.” It all came out in a rush, a habit when my nerves took over. He’s going to think I’m lying.

  “Yeah, no, I totally get that. Of course. We’ll figure it out, though, baby. We always do.”

  You mean you always figure it out. “Right.” A female voice floated down the hallway, telling me the pizza had arrived. Or maybe Will’s friends from the bar. I frowned. “I’ve gotta go.” My voice sounded stronger. Irritated, even.

  “Of course. Go woo the client, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

  Those last three words used to empower me. That was before I understood their purpose. “Thanks,” I forced out, my temporary strength forgotten.

  He blew a few kisses through the phone before hanging up, and I threw myself into the pillows behind me. I pulled one over my face and fought the urge to scream. It was that or throw my mobile across the room. I’d done that before. My bank account hated me for it.

  “Fuck!” The feathers muffled my yell, so I did it again. And again. Over and over, while my body trembled with rage.

  “You know, darlin’.” The deep male drawl chased away my unease, replacing it with a hotter emotion. One that slid over my body like a forbidden caress, causing all my limbs to lock in place. “A man might get the wrong idea after finding a woman lying in his bed and screaming, ‘Fuck,’ over and over again.”

  6

  Cursing in Bed

  I pulled the pillow away from my head and stared up into a pair of amused brown eyes. Will’s hands were in his pockets, his stance casual. The desire to grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him down hit me hard in the lower abdomen. It’d been far too long since a man touched me.

  Time seemed to stand still as his gaze dropped to my mouth. Intensity replaced amusement, causing his pupils to flare. Suddenly he didn’t seem so relaxed, and I didn’t feel nearly as tense. What would he do if I grabbed him? He stood less than a foot away. It wouldn’t be difficult.

  Heat fluttered across my skin as my breathing shallowed. Will’s innate sexual confidence seemed to fill the room, making my hormones go to war with reason. My attraction to him was never a question, but I knew better than to follow through on it. That didn’t stop my nipples from hardening against my lacy bra. He must have noticed, because he glanced down, then continued his survey in a slow motion that felt like a caress against my skin.

  This is it. After weeks of what felt like verbal foreplay, he was finally going to make his move and prove the real reason for wanting me on this case. Relief mingled with disappointment. I wanted him on a base level and would certainly enjoy a night in his bed, but a small part of me hoped he considered me more valuable than just another conquest. Oh well, at least he’ll end my bout of forced celibacy, and help—

  Will cleared his throat and took a step back.

  “Pizza’s here.” His tone lacked the usual teasing quality I’d come to associate with him. “I’ll be in the living area.”

  I stared after him as he sauntered out of the room. Wait, what? Had I misread his body language? No. No way. I knew what desire looked like, and it practically radiated from him. But he’d walked away. Without even an inkling of hesitation. He had to have sensed my acceptance, right?

  I frowned. Sarah teased me about my constant cold shoulder, a habit I developed to thwart male advances. Was it so much a part of me that I’d let it follow me into the bedroom? A glance down at my exposed legs sent heat crawling up my neck. No. Definitely not a cold-shoulder issue. If anything, my hiked-up skirt lent a desperate appearance, and my hair probably looked like a hot mess thanks to the pillows.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and grimaced. How unprofessional did I look sprawled out on a client’s bed, screaming, Fuck! on repeat? On top of that, in my mentally tired state, I misread Will’s expression. I shook my head to clear it.

  The calm, collected, confident version of myself settled over my shoulders as I rolled off the bed. The bathroom mirror confirmed the bird’s nest on my head. I ran my fingers through the unruly blonde waves and used the hair tie around my wrist to pull it all back into a messy bun. Not the most professional, but better than before. Tucking my blouse back into place, I smoothed my hands over my wrinkled skirt, grabbed the phone I’d left on the bed, and headed back into the living room.

  Will was seated at the dining table, reading something on his laptop, when I entered. The pizza box sat untouched, with two plates off to the side and our wine glasses. Mine appeared to be full again. I picked it up by the stem, took two fortifying sips, and busied myself with serving the pizza while he studied his screen.

  After a minute, he shut the lid. “Your firm sent over the proposal,” he murmured as he accepted the plate I held out for him. No sign of awkwardness or acknowledgment of what just happened in the bedroom. Maybe it was all in my head?

  “Do you agree to the terms?” I asked, voice professional.

  “Most of them. I’ll need to confer with Garrett on a few items.” His forearms flexed as he sliced through the monstrosity of sauce, cheese, and crust in front of him. Who knew eating Chicago-style pizza could be sexy? He made it look like a work of art as he popped a bite into his mouth and waggled his brows.

  “Not bad for a Southerner,” I teased before following suit. Mmm. There were pepperonis hiding beneath the cheese. Always a delectable surprise.

  “Not my first time,” he replied. “So who was on the phone?”

  I almost choked on the food in my mouth. It took a minute to remember how to chew and swallow. I followed it with a healthy sip of wine. “Uh, no one important.” Yeah, that’s convincing.

  “ ‘No one important’ makes you scream profanities, huh?” Incredulity colored his tone, but his expression remained playful as he devoured another masterful bite of cheesy goodness. “The proposal lists you as the primary contact but Janet as the project lead. How do you feel about that?”

  The change in topic was jarring. I expected him to press harder, but he dropped it. Because he recognized my discomfort, or because he didn’t actually care?

  “The firm considers you a lucrative client,” I replied. “It makes sense to assign a partner as the lead.”

  “But you’ll be doing all the work.”

  I shrugged. “That’s how the business operates.”

  “That’s not how
I run my company.”

  “Yes, but you have what, a hundred employees? Baker Brown has significantly more.”

  “Mershano Suites has hundreds of thousands, and Evan always gives credit where it’s due.” He paused to inhale another bite before fixing me with a look. “And Mershano Vineyards has closer to five hundred employees.”

  “Really?” My preliminary assessment of his company a few weeks ago wasn’t as thorough as I thought—a result of not taking his offer seriously, something I regretted now. I could have gotten a head start on this project. Instead, I would be playing catch-up for weeks.

  “And I expect to add more with these acquisitions overseas.” He finished his pizza and pushed the plate aside. I expected him to want more, but he rebooted his laptop instead.

  “Once the contract is signed by me and your firm, I’ll send you everything I have on the pending merger and the other properties I’m interested in pursuing. Plus you’ll have access to Mershano Vineyards’s records, financials, and other key components. In the interim, you can read up on the terms the vineyard in France has requested. That should keep you busy this week and allow you to properly introduce our first project to your team next week.”

  Sounded about right. I polished off my pizza and glass of wine while he composed an email filled with project materials. My pocket buzzed a minute later to let me know his message had arrived. Walking back to the living area, I pulled my laptop from my bag and fired it up on the couch.

  It dawned on me a few minutes into reading that he may have wanted me to leave, but a glance at him said he wasn’t in a hurry to kick me out. He was engrossed in his own work, or maybe the proposal, and didn’t seem the slightest bit irritated that I’d taken over his couch.

  With a yawn, I went back to translating the website on my screen and read all about the vineyard he was acquiring in the South of France. The pictures were gorgeous, and the winery’s reputation was solid. I wondered idly why they were selling, then stumbled upon a photo of the elderly owners. It seemed they were childless and looking to retire. Interesting.