Page 68 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

Allison.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her. I set down the referral note, straightened in my chair.

"Allison, I want to—"

She raised one hand.

I stopped.

She stood in the center of my office and looked at me for a long moment.

"That worked just about how I thought it would," she said finally. The corner of her mouth moved. "Mr. Harrington would like to meet with you privately to go over the single most critical funding priority." She let it settle. "I think he's on board, Lacey. You may have moved him."

I stared at her. Moved him.

"That's—" Impossible? I stopped, started again. "That's great. That's amazing. I thought I'd—"

"Torpedoed the entire thing?" Her expression was dry. "Yes. I imagine you did." She tilted her head. "But you'd be wrong."

I sat back. The referral note was still in front of me, irrelevant.

I should have felt relief. Whatever had worked in that boardroom, I hadn't rehearsed. I'd lost control of it, and it had been the best presentation of my life.

"So, he's not—"

"He is not offended. He is not withdrawing his support. He is interested in a real conversation about what we need, rather than sitting through a presentation." She paused. "Which, if you knew him better, you'd recognize as a step forward. Derek likes assertive women." Her eyes twinkled.

Assertive women? Me?

"Okay," I said, sounding profoundly unassertive. "Where does he want to meet?"

"His home office," she said. "He prefers it there when it isn't a formal board context. You'll have his full attention without the audience." A beat. "You need to do this, whatever your personal feelings about the man. It's too important."

Personal feelings. What? Did I have personal feelings about Derek?

I nodded, on autopilot. "Of course. I'll call his office today."

Private meeting. His house.

Something shifted between my legs.

What the hell?

This was Derek. Tight-ass, controlling, professionally maddening Derek, who'd sat in that boardroom all morning looking like he owned it because he more or less did, who'd needled me in front of the board and then watched me with that crooked half-smile when I lost my temper.

Am I looking forward to this?

Strangely I thought I was, and I had no idea why.

"Lacey."

I startled and looked up.

Allison was at the door, one hand on the frame, already half-turned to go, looking back at me with an expression much more amused than usual.

"Once again," she said, "you performed well beyond my already considerable expectations." A small pause. "It's becoming a pattern."

"Thank you, Allison." She wasn't one for idle compliments.