The Charmer’s Gambit Page 6

  I started reading through the terms he’d forwarded, and stretched my arms over my head. Every muscle along my shoulders and neck seemed to ache. I considered packing up to leave, but Will’s comments about preparing for next week rattled around in my mind. If I wanted to prove to the partners that I had what it took to lead a project of this magnitude, then I needed to be prepared. Arriving with all the high-level background details would be a healthy start.

  My eyes drooped a little as I continued reading in French. It wasn’t so much boring as exhausting. The weekend was definitely catching up with me. When the words started to blur, I pinched the bridge of my nose and let my lids fall closed. This happened all the time in college. I just needed them to reset, and I’d be right as rain. Stifling a yawn with my opposite hand, I laid my head back against the soft cushion and relaxed.

  Just for a minute.

  I breathed deeply, inhaling the alluring scent surrounding me. Peppermint cloves and something decidedly masculine.

  Delicious. It made my mouth water.

  I burrowed deeper into the heaven surrounding me, luxuriating in the satiny cotton and plush pillows. My limbs felt well rested, my chest warm and content, but my feet felt constricted. I wiggled my toes against the suffocating fabric and frowned. Why did I wear pantyhose to bed?

  My eyes opened as I shot forward. “Oh no.” The curtains were drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows, masking the light pouring in from outside, but a sliver was all I needed to see. My head fell to my hands on a curse as I started shaking it back and forth. “Fuck.”

  “You do seem to enjoy saying that in my bed, darlin’.”

  I flinched and peeked at the well-dressed blond leaning against the door frame. He had traded his white button-down and black pants for a light blue dress shirt and charcoal slacks. Even in the dim lighting, I could see his dimples.

  “What time is it?” Sleep clung to my throat, softening my voice.

  “Just after ten in the morning,” he murmured, amusement coloring his tone.

  “Fuck!” My phone must have been in the other room or dead, because I’d missed my six o’clock alarm. Being late was a pet peeve of mine, and I never arrived for work after nine.

  I jumped out of the bed, only to have a warm body halt me in my tracks. Will’s hands went to my hips, steadying me before him when I would have fallen backward. “Whoa there, darlin’. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

  My head spun, trying to catch up with my body’s too-quick movements, and I clutched his biceps for support.

  “I spoke to Janet this morning,” he continued, “and told her we were meeting over breakfast to review some of the materials. No need to rush about.”

  I palmed my forehead with one hand while the other gripped his arm tighter. A variety of words fought for precedence in my mouth, leaving me mute. I had no idea where to start.

  I’m sorry.

  I can’t believe I fell asleep.

  I can’t believe I slept.

  I have way too much work to do.

  Will pushed me back a step, causing the back of my knees to connect with the mattress. I sat on instinct and let go of his arm. Both hands went to my roaring head. How much wine did I drink last night? Because I could swear I felt hungover.

  “Be right back.”

  I barely registered his murmur over the tribunal going on in my head. Talk about unprofessional. First the odd moment in his room yesterday, then me falling asleep in the middle of reading up on his merger, and now this? I bit my lip and shook my head. This could be the biggest moment of my career, and I was well on my way to blowing it.

  The curse word caught between my teeth as Will reentered the room. His expression said he knew what I’d been about to say and that he wanted to laugh but refrained. “Here.” He handed me a glass of orange juice, making my nose wrinkle. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

  “What a mess,” I whispered, more to myself than to him, and took a drink. The thick pulp told me it was freshly squeezed, and yeah, it felt heavenly against my throat. I finished half of it before saying, “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Feel free to use the bathroom to freshen up. We can swing by your place on the way to the office so you can change.”

  I winced. “Nothing like doing the walk of shame with a client.”

  “No shame here.” His chocolate gaze snagged mine and held. “I suspect we’ll be pulling a lot of long nights together over the next month or two, Miss Dawson. And I’m looking forward to every minute.” With that suggestive statement hanging between us, he turned and softly closed the door behind him.

  7

  A Done Deal

  None of my previous hotel rooms came equipped with the amenities I found in Will’s en-suite bathroom. Toiletries were typical, but the variety of hair brushes and dental supplies were not. I took advantage of them and fully showered and groomed myself before re-dressing in my skirt suit. It helped me feel somewhat human again and also granted me the time I needed to gather my bearings.

  At least until I stepped in the living area and found Will chatting with a dark-haired man of similar height and stature. His crisp suit screamed elegance and wealth, as well as good taste. It clung to his torso, tapered at his waist, and highlighted the strength of his thighs. His cuff links winked in the light, platinum, not gold, and his grin was all arrogance.

  “Miss Dawson,” he greeted.

  His suave tones sent a chill of familiarity down my spine. One late night of endless debate left him unforgettable. “Mister Wilkinson.”

  His striking blue eyes held a hint of menace that made my pulse race, but when he held out his hand, I reciprocated. His firm grip screamed dominance, but it wasn’t bone-crushing or cruel. Just an alpha confirming his presence. When I returned the gesture subtly, his lips curled and he flashed a look at Will that was too quick for me to read. Approval, maybe?

  “Nice to finally meet you,” he murmured as he dropped my hand. “Will tells me we’re stopping by your place on the way to the office?”

  The knowing way he said it made me cringe. “Yes, or you both can head to the office and I can meet you there.”

  Garrett glanced at his watch. “No, we have time.”

  I frowned. “When is your meeting?”

  His responding smile hinted at his nickname. The Devil indeed. “Oh, sweetheart, the tricks I could teach you . . .”

  “We don’t have a meeting time,” Will elaborated, amused. “Garrett prefers the element of surprise.”

  “Which you just ruined.”

  “Rachel won’t say anything.”

  I cocked an eyebrow as some of my personality returned. “Do you speak for me now?” What was with rich men and constantly throwing me off my game?

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Will replied as he hefted my bag over his shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed it sitting beside him on the table. “But as I have your laptop and phone,” he continued, “I feel rather confident in my assessment.”

  My jaw unhinged. “Some would call that stealing.”

  “I call it safeguarding. Shall we?”

  I parted my lips to argue, but the fight left me on my next breath. I didn’t want my phone back. Not after last night. Ryan always chose random times to reach out to me, but something about his approach was different this time. It felt more urgent, which concerned me. Desperation made him even more dangerous, and I couldn’t afford for him to escalate his advances right now. Not when it was so clear I still lacked a backbone around him.

  “Rachel?” The concern etching Will’s brow was the last thing I needed.

  “For the record, I’m only letting you hold on to my stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it.” The snarky tone felt forced to my ears but seemed to appease him enough to smooth the lines on his forehead.

  “Whatever you say, Miss Dawson.”

  “Can I get a recording of that?” Because those words would definitely come in handy over the next few weeks.

  He pre
ssed his hand to the small of my back to propel me forward. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

  “He talked you into it.” The laughter in Sarah’s voice came over the phone loud and clear. “I can’t say I’m surprised. That man is all kinds of insistent.”

  I relaxed into my office chair and sighed. “It’s not like I had a choice. He’s hiring my firm.” I’d left Will and Garrett in the elevator, wishing them both the best as they headed upstairs to surprise the partners. After listening to their male banter over the last ninety minutes, I knew Jeff and Janet would have their hands full. Part of me pitied them, while the rest of me was relieved to have some space. Too much arrogant male for one day, thank you very much.

  “Uh-huh. Admit it. You’re flattered.”

  I snorted. “I’m really not.”

  “I’ve known you what, almost twenty years now? You’re totally flattered.”

  “I’m going to hang up on you. Bye, Sarah.” I pretended to put the phone down, then brought it back up to my ear and waited a beat. “Okay, so I’m a tiny bit flattered and a whole hell of a lot annoyed.”

  “Aha! And there it is, ladies and gentleman, my best friend admitting defeat. You do realize I’m recording this conversation, yes?” Her teasing tones forced me to smile. Sarah would have no idea what this small gift of normalcy meant to me. The last few days had been a whirlwind of insanity. I felt like I was losing myself in the process, but a few words from her grounded me in reality.

  “You know, the next time you need a contract reviewed, try calling your other lawyer friend for help. Oh wait, you don’t have one . . .” Sarcasm hung from my every word.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I pictured her waving her hand around while she spoke. “So tell me everything.”

  “There isn’t much to say other than he arranged a meeting with Baker Brown first thing yesterday morning, invited me, and then insisted on making me the lead contact for the case. He’s up there right now with Garrett discussing the proposal my firm sent over last night.”

  “Garrett is there?”

  “Yeah, apparently, he flew in first thing this morning, which tells me Will is playing hardball over something in that proposal.” Why else would he invite The Devil to come out and play?

  “Is Garrett as pompous-looking as he sounds?”

  I laughed. “He wears arrogance well.”

  “That good-looking, huh?”

  “I couldn’t even begin to do him justice,” I admitted. “He gives Will a run for his money.” Perhaps literally if that suit was anything to go by.

  “So the three of them in a room . . . ?”

  “Would make me consider looking twice,” I replied, knowing she meant Evan, Will, and Garrett.

  “Nice. We should make this happen, although I think you’ve already looked more than a few times at Will?” A question lingered in her voice, as it always seemed to lately when we discussed Will.

  “You know he’s not my type.” Except for maybe physically.

  “Actually, I’d argue he’s precisely your type.”

  “I don’t date men like him.”

  “Which again, I’d argue isn’t true,” was her soft reply. “You can’t let Ryan control you forever, Rach.”

  The mention of his name wiped the grin from my face. Emotion burned a hole in my throat, thwarting my ability to snap out a reply to that too-accurate assessment.

  “He’s not Ryan, Rach. You have to see that,” she continued, knowing she’d struck a nerve. “I worried you might liken his persistence to that of your ex, but you have to see that he would never actually force himself on you, right? I mean, aside from hiring your firm, which, I suppose, could be seen that way . . .” I sensed her frowning. “Remind me to kick his ass for that.”

  “He gave me a choice,” I murmured. “Yesterday, I mean. After the meeting, he brought me lunch and told me he would walk away if I really didn’t want to work with him.” I should have let her kick his ass—because that would be fun to watch—but part of me felt the need to defend him. Because he did offer me a choice and then proceeded to prove my instincts wrong at every turn.

  “Ryan would never have given you a choice,” was all she said in reply, her point made.

  “He came over Saturday night.” I winced at the weakness in my voice but felt a surge of strength for finally admitting it to someone. It was when I kept him a secret that things were worse for me. I knew that, but each time, it felt like ripping off a Band-Aid and exposing my soul.

  “What?!” Sarah exclaimed. “That fucker! Is it because he knew I moved out?”

  “No, but he knows now after seeing all the boxes.”

  “Jesus, Rach, why didn’t you say anything Sunday morning? Never mind, I know why. You knew I wouldn’t leave.” I pictured her pinching the bridge of her nose as she let out a long sigh. “You need to get a restraining order.”

  “The last time I tried that, he showed up with the paperwork and burned it two inches away from my face.” I shivered at the memory, both in fear and rage. “You know it’s not that easy with him.”

  “Maybe Will or Garrett—”

  “No.” I didn’t know what she planned to suggest, but my answer was adamant. “I’m not involving them, or Evan. You might trust them, but I barely know them.”

  “But—”

  “No. We’re not having this discussion.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “Do you need me to come home? Because you know I will.”

  “No, no, of course not.” The last thing I wanted was to take her away from happiness. Ryan was my issue. “I can handle him.” I fought the urge to laugh hysterically at that pronouncement. As if I’d ever been able to handle him.

  “Have you ever considered talking to Caleb’s friend? You know, the sexy fed?”

  My brow pinched at the mention of my brother’s name, then my heart sped up.

  “You mean Mark?” I never told Sarah how much he already knew about Ryan, and her dropping his name out of the blue made me wonder what she suspected.

  “Yeah, he’s FBI right?” she asked.

  I swallowed roughly. “Uh, yeah.” Except I didn’t think that was true. I suspected Mark was really involved in black ops of some kind, maybe the CIA or something even more elusive. Half the time I called his cell phone, it went straight to voicemail and he replied a week or so later with a vague “Sorry, work trip.” But he always called me back. And he was always there when I really needed him. Like three years ago.

  Shoving the memory from my mind, I switched focus to a more comfortable topic. Something a little more fun. Revenge.

  “Actually, that reminds me, did you still want me to reach out to him about pranking that twin of yours?” After Abby forced Sarah to participate on The Prince’s Game, we discussed a few ideas for payback. If anyone could pull off an elaborate ruse, it was Mark Kincaid.

  “Yeah, I do, but I want to plan it for next year. I’m currently punishing her by letting her think I’m still suffering from a broken heart. Once I admit to dating Evan again, then I’ll need to lull her into a false sense of contentment before really getting revenge.”

  I laughed. “I approve.” Abby deserved it, and worse. “Just let me know when to talk to him.”

  “You could talk to him about Ryan.”

  My insides churned at the reminder of why she’d brought up Mark.

  Sarah had no idea how her words affected me, how they dragged up memories from a moment I’d prefer to forget. The moment I broke and called for help. Mark hadn’t asked any questions, but he had to know. It was written all over my face and neck in bruises. Yet he showed up, helped me move, and never demanded a reason. Just handed me a business card with a mysterious phone number and told me to call it if I ever found myself in a similar situation.

  To this day, it sat idle in my wallet. I couldn’t bring myself to discard it despite knowing I would never use it. I made a personal vow that afternoon to always take care of myself first and to never end up in a similar situation again
.

  “Rachel?”

  I cleared my throat as I tried to remember what sent me down the rabbit hole. Talking to Mark. About Ryan. Right. “Uh, yeah, maybe.”

  “Come on, Rach. You know you want to let the sexy fed kung-fu Ryan’s ass.”

  My lips curled. “That is a fun image.” Mark would take his pompous ass down with a single punch.

  “He could dispose of the body too, right? I like this plan. Let’s call the fed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If only it were that easy.” Sarah only knew small details about Ryan, and I intended to keep it that way. A ding on my computer drew my attention to an incoming email from Janet. Will’s name was in the subject line. “Uh, I gotta go.”

  “Work?”

  “Yeah. Looks like Will just became our client officially.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Yeah, something tells me Will doesn’t know how to take things slow.”

  She laughed. “Too true. All right, good luck. Let me know when you fall into bed with him.”

  “That’s not . . .” My voice trailed off when I realized she’d hung up after that parting sentence. “Not fair, Sarah. Not fair at all.” I sent her a text with my heated rebuttal, then switched gears. Time to work.

  8

  Convoluted Conversations

  Janine stood by the receptionist’s desk, just like earlier this week, waiting for me. I half expected to be escorted to the conference room, but instead, she led me to her boss’s office, where Jeff and Janet were waiting for me. They wore matching smiles, something I took as a good sign, and the redheaded assistant closed the door behind me.

  “Well, I guess you know why we’ve asked you up here.” Janet’s knowing look left me a little unsettled, but I rolled with it.

  “Will?” Because why else would I be here?