Sigh.
“Let’s get started,” he said. “You can share your knowledge with me.”
His eyes warmed, so I forced a smile. “Sure, Mr. Evaldson. I’d be thrilled to share my limited knowledge with you, so long as you understand that I’m still learning.”
I locked my knees as I raised my head, meeting his gaze, just as my father had taught me. “Make the connection, even when it’s hard—especially when it’s hard, Zaila. That’s how you get ahead in this world, by making that connection.” My father hadn’t meant to connect with a future of twisted sheets and sweaty bliss, but that’s where my mind went. Sorry, Daddy.
Gunnar’s lips parted as his pupils dilated, making me wonder if he felt the connection between us as well. To me, it was as clear as the Great Wall of China. But who knew what Gunnar perceived. It was possible he was humoring me, or just wondering whether he’d left the stove on at home.
Chapter 4
Gunnar
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Zaila Monroe had stunned me. That never happened. And yet…she’d done so effortlessly, just by being herself.
If Lydia, Jay, Tim, and Veronica hadn’t been in the room, I could have had a massive sexual harassment suit on my hands. Because said hands would be on Zaila’s sweet ass, tucking her in close to my chest, to the heart I worried she could easily burrow her way into.
Time to face facts: my attraction to this woman was not simple appreciation. My infatuation was something stronger—something I would have scoffed at if I weren’t reeling from my new Zaila-infused reality.
I shoved my fists into my suit pants so hard, I heard a stitch pop. Then another. At this rate, I’d be pants-less by the end of the meeting, and that would be another way to a sexual harassment lawsuit. I forced my shoulders down, relaxed my jaw, and bent my arms at the elbows. Control was my specialty. Ice cold and rigid, that’s how I held myself. That approach had won me ever-larger oil contracts and allowed me to bring hockey to Houston. It kept me making informed business decisions instead of acting on impulse.
Control. I had it in spades, and I’d executed it on a daily, if not hourly basis—until now.
In this moment, as my control threatened to shred, I longed to thread my fingers through Zaila’s thick, dark mass of waves, tugging her head back to expose the smooth expanse of her neck and plunder those pink lips until we were both drunk on pheromones and lust.
“Didn’t I tell you this intern knew her stuff?” Lydia’s peppy comment snapped me out of my fantasy.
Intern. My jaw clamped tight. Zaila was my company’s intern. I spent a long moment examining her features. Christ, she was young. Too young for me.
“You did,” I said, managing a nod.
I made my first million while she was learning to tie her shoes. Great, now I feel like a creepy older man and a robber baron.
“I’m so glad you think so, Gunnar.” Lydia smiled brightly at me, inching closer, a calculating gleam in her eye.
Lydia steered Zaila toward a chair at the opposite end of the table, all the while talking about the Wildcatters’ social media presence. The babble was excellent cover for me to get myself under control.
Unlike a lot of men, the idea of spending time with a younger woman had never appealed. I enjoyed being able to talk to my companions. Intellectual discourse was a form of foreplay. Zaila and I wouldn’t have anything in common, so this ridiculous need would fizzle as soon as she spoke again. It had to.
Lydia came to my rescue. “Zaila, why don’t you give us an overview of what you’d like to do with the Wildcatters’ social media presence, emphasizing our corporate wellness?”
Zaila fumbled with her notepad, her hands shaking. “N-now?” she squeaked.
I sighed as tension eased from my shoulders. Zaila was not a poised, successful businesswoman. I’d have to give Lydia a raise for showcasing her youth and inexperience. Saving me from myself.
“Yes,” I agreed. “That’s why we’re meeting.”
Zaila bit her lip, which trembled slightly, before pulling in a deep breath. “I thought I was here to observe the process,” she said with quiet dignity.
“Oh, come on, Zaila. I know you have ideas,” Lydia needled. “This is your big chance to impress the owner.”
I sat forward, my forearms on the table, ready to step in. Ultimately, managing my desire for the young woman was on me. I didn’t want Zaila to be uncomfortable or thrown to the wolves because I couldn’t control my feelings.
But before I could postpone the meeting, Zaila flipped a page in her notebook—without looking at Lydia, which I had to admire. She refused to let the woman intimidate her.
“All right. Well, you wanted to showcase some of the staff who work with the players, which makes sense, seeing as the team wouldn’t function optimally without support,” Zaila began. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know any of the key players in those roles because I’ve only been in the building for approximately five hours, but from what I know about the team’s structure, I’d suggest we start with the nutrition and PT teams. These two groups are the ones who ensure the athletes are in top condition, which makes them nearly as valuable as the players themselves. I’d like to ask each of them a series of questions and request detailed, fact-based answers we can use to show regular people they don’t need to spend six-plus hours a day training to achieve healthful results. In fact, I think it might be useful to explain how the staff use these strategies in their own lives, which would connect to Joe Everyman more quickly than a specialized D-man diet-and-workout regimen.”
As she spoke, Zaila looked me square in the eye most of the time, sometimes including Jay, Tim, Veronica, and Lydia. And once she got going, she rarely looked at her notes. I was impressed.
