“Not here. Let’s spread out on the conference table.”No, no spreading of anything.She grabbed reports, laptop and bottle of water.
His quiet moan landed in the apex between her legs.Going forward, she’d ignore her damn physical reactions. So what if he was the sexiest, most handsome man on the planet? He pulled out a chair at the conference table and gestured for her to sit, then sat next to her. She crossed her legs. He eyed them. His delicious cedar scent reminded her of their bodies curled around each other’s like vines crawling up a tree.
Stop.
She handed him a copy, set meeting expectations, then launched into her summary. While listening, he furrowed his brow again. Something—besides the MobiCom merger and his ailing portfolio—was eating away at him. She wanted to run her finger down his forehead and erase the knot.
“You’re concise and organized,” he said.
“Are you okay?” she blurted before she could stop herself.
He stared into her eyes for several seconds as if contemplating a response. “I’m good.”
What is wrong with me? Brigit Farnay didn’t sleep with her clients and she certainly didn’t pause during a meeting to inquire about their emotional status. But she felt his pain, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she wanted to help him through it. “Why isn’t Francesco using multiple investors or borrowing from a financial institution?”
“No outside investors.” He strummed his fingers on the polished wood. “I need complete control over this project.”
Stroking her bracelet, she stared into his eyes. “Control is fickle and fleeting.” She pulled up his portfolio and highlighted her recommendations.
At one point, he placed his hand over hers to direct the mouse. The heat from his hand skirted up her arm while arousing tingles flowed through her. She’d craved his touch all day. Time to douse her internal fire. She wiggled her hand out from beneath his and picked up her water bottle. As soon as her lips curved the rim, he stopped talking, midsentence, to watch. The cool liquid should have drowned the smoldering embers, but their eyes met and the sparks burst into flames. She set the bottle down, but couldn’t look away. The longer she held his gaze, the stronger his pull. He glanced at her mouth and started to lean toward her.
No!
She whipped her face toward the laptop, severing their explosive connection.
He had so many questions. Why liquidate these mutual funds? Why dump those international stocks? Why purchase those positions? Why unload his junk bonds? Why invest in that biotech company over this one? Why purchase those particular shopping centers? He fired question after question. Like ripping a Band-Aid, she was candid and succinct.
He disagreed with each of her recommendations and his own suggestions were a clear indication of why he needed her to manage his wealth. His flaring nostrils and exasperated tone proved he wasn’t adjusting to their agreement. She stayed calm, the voice of reason, patiently explaining why her decisions were necessary to grow his business to the next level.
In the end, he acquiesced. She’d execute the trades in the morning and he’d have his thirty million as soon as they sold. Although he wasn’t pleased, this new financial direction would lead to a more lucrative future.
Ten o’clock. Shane had delivered dinner hours ago and they’d eaten while they worked. Even so, she’d still lost track of time.
He cracked his knuckles. “Losing is a new concept.”
She shook her head. “No, Colton. You didn’t lose. You just didn’t get your way.Bigdifference.”
“This damn well better work.” He pushed out of the chair and stretched. He’d long since removed his sport coat and the blue shirt clung to his hard body. “Let’s swim. I need to blow off some steam.”
She shifted her gaze from his broad-shouldered torso to his eyes, then she cleared her throat. “No, thank you.” Seeing him bare chested would not help.
“No one swims alone here. You’ll have to join me. Plus, you’ve been sitting for too many hours.”
“You’re so bossy.” She closed her laptop.
“I find that ironic coming from the woman who spent the last several hours dictating the direction ofmyfinancial future.”
“Why don’t you work through your frustration at your club?”
His eyes turned stormy and he moved dangerously close. “Seeing you in a bathing suit will help me far more than anything at Uninhibited.”
Her insides quivered low in her belly. Fighting the urge to smile, she stood. Though she wasn’t impervious to a compliment, she’d swim because she needed the exercise.
Once behind her closed bedroom door, she slipped into her black bikini. The halter-top hugged her breasts and she repositioned them beneath the spandex. After throwing on a long tee, she left her bedroom and almost bumped into Colton. Like a posted sentry, he stood outside her door, clad in brown swim trunks.
That man was nothing but broad shoulders and strong, well-defined traps and lats. Mouth-watering hot. And then she glanced at his firm ass.Oh, God, help me.Why swimming? Why not ping pong in really baggy sweats?
He didn’t say a word, nor did he hide his frustration. She was his wealth manager, not his therapist, and under no obligation to help him work through his angst. So she too remained silent as they headed downstairs. She fully expected Colton would be headstrong and he’d proven her right. Her recommendations were sound, made with the best of intentions, and would yield handsome profits.I need complete control over this project.Those words echoed in her mind. Why was he so protective of her company?
