Code of Control, page 4
She stared at his open palm, avoiding the contact.
“What? You can’t shake on it because you know you will be the first one to crack?”
“Oh, I can shake on it, but that would mean touching and I’m not falling for your ploy.”
“My pl—” he sputtered, his hand lowering in slow motion.
“You wanted honesty…I just gave you honesty,” she said sweetly.
“Honesty would be a whole lot better if you were not smiling at me as you are.”
“I can’t help my smile.” However, it did not lesson. Nor did she turn away from him.
Two seconds later, he leaned back to stare at her face, gave her a harsh look in return, and then chuckled. “Damn, you’re one tough cookie to crack.”
“You should have done a much better job of kissing me if you wanted me to crack. I’ve had better.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Do tell.” If she hadn’t licked her lips at that point he might have believed her.
“Nope. I’ll save the telling for a bedtime story.”
Nolan’s loins tightened. “Are you going to be in the same bed as I to tell me this story?”
“Not on your life, Mr. Morgan.”
“What if there is only one bed?”
Her grin widened. “Then you had better get used to sleeping on the floor.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte could not wait to get started on the next two weeks. Nolan was everything a woman would want and more…and damn, if anyone knew this as fact it was she. She’d never met a man so put together, so sure of what he desired, or so sure of what made him tick as if a well-oiled Swiss clock.
But, he was her boss, so this was the perfect opportunity for her to show him what a code of control entailed. If she could get him to understand the probability and statistics of bad judgment, lack of concern to possible outcomes, she would never have a problem in the field, OSHIT would praise her abilities, and she would never have to question job security again.
How to get him to understand was a whole other ballpark. The more she glanced at his profile, the worse this became. Every atom in her body vibrated for his touch. She’d had him deep inside her, for Christ’s sake. They could not have gotten any closer to each other last night and again this morning than if conjoining twins. She knew his facial twitches when in the throes of ecstasy. She knew what pleasured him, how to touch him to make his body drum. Hell, she knew the exact octave of his snores.
These were going to be two incredibly torturous weeks for her. She would never make it without cracking.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he suddenly asked.
Charlotte shook her head, warding off the fantasy. “Nothing. Just thinking.” He was out of the Hummer, standing at her side of it, waiting for her to get out.
“Thinking can get you into a lot of trouble out here.”
She gave him a softened smile. “I’m sure it will.”
“Oh, it will, but not because of me.” A hurried frown marred his face, replaced quickly by a tip-lipped grin. “So, are you ready to face the music?”
“That would depend,” she said.
“On what?”
“Who’s playing the song?”
His false smile widened. “I know I already asked you this, but are you going to be this way the entire two weeks?”
“And what way would that be?”
“Combative, censored, an arm’s length away at all times.”
“I’m not combative,” she argued.
Nolan’s brow touched his hairline.
“Fine, I might be a little combative…”
“A little? Hell, woman, I have been standing out here for the better part of three minutes and you still have not exited the Hummer. It’s getting late. The mosquitoes are starting to suck me dry.”
Charlotte glanced at her watch. “It’s only four o’clock, and mosquitoes aren’t out until summer.”
“I meant late for your first introduction to the world of Nolan Morgan.”
“The world of Nolan Morgan?”
“Yeah, it’s sort of a Jurassic theme park, or so I’m told.”
“I bet I can guess the type of person who would tell you such a thing.”
His smile reached deep inside her, then stopped abruptly when he said, “My ex-wife. Now get out of the Hummer before I drag you out of it.”
Shocked he would divulge personal information about having an ex-wife, Charlotte moved out of the vehicle slowly. She looked him over, head to toe. For some strange reason she could not imagine him as married. Even so, she could not stretch the imagination to what the woman would look like, be like, or why she would ever divorce such a handsome, intriguing man who had the arrogance of Godzilla.
His grin grew to where his dimples dug deep. “You’re thinking again.”
“Aren’t I allowed to think?”
“Not unless I say so, and not if it involves a slip of the tongue about my ex-wife.”
“You never meant to tell me you’d been married?”
“Nope.”
“Then why did you?”
“Likely for the same reason I hired you…even after sleeping with you. There’s something about you that draws stuff out of me, whether it’s meant to come out of me or not.”
“Stuff? Sounds a little gross, Mr. Morgan.”
Nolan’s chuckle went deep. “Okay, poor choice of words, but you know what I mean.”
“I could make this difficult on you and pretend I do not know what you mean.”
“But you won’t,” he jibed.
Charlotte gave him easy escape this time. “No, I won’t.”
“How very big of you,” he declared.
“This does not mean you’re off the hook, however,” she said quickly.
“Off what hook? Were you fishing for something, Ms. Raven?”
Charlotte’s smile slipped, only a little, then returned in full force. “If I was, you’d know. You would not have to ask me.”
He gave her an odd look then said, “Let’s go inside. I’m getting hungry. We’ve got a lot to do, and I need to write up a few reports before we head to bed.”
Charlotte followed Nolan up the sidewalk to the farmhouse, keeping three feet between them at all times. Her safety zone from a complicated, virile man. He produced a key from his front pocket, slipped it in the lock and opened the door. He then stepped aside to let her through.
She was not at all certain she should enter the house unprotected. After all, she met this man last night, had sex with him, a veritable stranger, and she would now be crossing into the lion’s den knowing exactly what he was after; and if catching it, aware of how much he would take from her before she cried Uncle.
He flipped on an overhead light, bringing clarity to the situation.
Everywhere the eye looking, her intrigue about him increased. It’s likely why she let him take her to a hotel room. He exuded confidence—exactly what she needed in a man. Dark leather furniture, modern lamps and side chairs—this place was not at all what a country farmhouse should look like. She halted in her tracks, flabbergasted by the continuous contradictions bombarding her from four sides.
“What? Did you think there would be an apple pie baking in the oven? Sorry to disappoint. I don’t bake.”
“I’m not sure what I expected,” she squeaked. His large hand had settled on the small of her back.
“Come, I’ll show you to your room.”
“I get my own room?” she teased, tongue in cheek, her gaze instantly clashing with his.
“Keep up the lip and you might not,” he warned rakishly. “The floor is cold at this time of year and I doubt you’d like it down there.”
Charlotte zipped her lips with her fingers, smiling at his face. He then led her down a long hallway to the right of an open kitchen. She did not dare peek through any open doors until certain she was allowed.
“Bathroom is in there.” He pointed at the second door. “Shared, of course.”
“Shared?”
“My bedroom connects to it from the other side.” She must have looked confused, because he added more. “This isn’t the Ritz, sweetheart. You get what you get out here. No complaints.”
“I wasn’t complaining…”
“No, you were thinking about complaining, and that’s the same thing in my book.”
“How is thinking…” she started, moments later realizing he was only trying to get her goat. “I don’t complain,” she muttered as afterthought.
“We’ll see about that,” he rued. He opened a door on the other side of the hall. “Office. If you need anything in here just ask. Do not use the computer on the right.” He pointed to it. “That’s OSHIT’s mainframe.”
“Out here?”
His head bobbed. “Yes, all the way out here. This is not Siberia. There is Internet in Iowa. A little hit and miss on account of all the sexually fanatic sheep messing with a man’s success, but it’s here.”
“I did not mean…”
His chuckle went deep, coursing through her. “I know exactly what you meant. You’re so damn easy to read.”
She arched a brow. “Why you hired me?”
One muscular shoulder shrugged, making light of his involvement, as they moved farther down the hall. “One of many reasons,” he muttered.
“There are more?”
He turned and looked at her before opening the last door. “Yes, Ms. Raven, there are many more reasons to my hiring you.” He pushed open the door to an opulent room, tastefully done in mocha and mauve.
“Nice. Do the decorating yourself?” she asked, trying to maintain an aloofness when so near him. She hadn’t dared draw in a deep breath, his cologne doing irreparable damage to her psyche.
“No. My ex-wife did,” he said. “Her idea of the color scheme. I haven’t had the time to change it to my liking.”
Charlotte turned around, flabbergasted. “I’m having this strange feeling about you all of a sudden, and if we are going to be stuck with each other for the next two weeks, perhaps longer, I should probably tell you so, shouldn’t I?”
His smile lowered. “Tell me I have a hang-up about my ex?”
“Um…yes.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“I can’t have a hang-up about her. She’s dead.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped to the floor.
“End of tour,” he said abruptly. “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’m going into the kitchen to start supper.”
“Nolan?”
“Leave it alone, Charlotte.”
She stepped forward, halting when he quickly reacted from possible touch. “You can’t drop a bomb like that on me then expect me to leave it,” she determined.
“I can. You will. End of story.”
“Nolan…”
He held up his hand. “Please, Charlotte, just leave it be, for now.”
She was about to argue, but she closed her mouth quickly when he looked the other way. “What’s for dinner?” she said instead.
His eyes returned to hers. “It’s a culinary surprise.”
“Same as the rest of this day has been, a surprise?”
“Yep. Same thing.”
“No hints?”
“Not a one,” he answered, his mood changing gears.
“As you can see, I don’t have much to unpack, since you said this was maneuvers, and since I did not bring a thing along with me to an interview. What should I do while you’re in the kitchen?”
“Your things are in the closet.” His head jerked toward the closed doors.
“Excuse me?”
“There should be a suitcase in there with some of your personal items.”
“My what?” She was shocked to the core by this news.
“You don’t think I would bring you to my home without doing a thorough investigation of you, do you?”
“A thorough what?” she yelped.
“I sent a team over to your place, once discovering who I hired. They took the liberty of packing some clothing for you and whatever else a woman might need for two weeks extended stay.”
“Are you for real?” she exclaimed.
“As real as they get,” he calmly said.
“You sent a team to break into my home?” Her tone loud, she hoped she was getting her point across. He might, and she considered this a far stretch, he might be taking this boss thing a little too far.
“Not break into it. Enter the premises with my permission,” he said, smiling at her.
“Aren’t you forgetting one very important detail?” she asked.
“Such as?”
“I should have been the one to give any permission, not you.”
“We do things a little differently at OSHIT. You’ll have to accept that, or this won’t work between us.”
“I’m beginning to think this was not such a good idea to begin with…” she interrupted.
“Good idea or not…the man in charge is the man in charge. That man would be me, Ms. Raven. Like it or leave it.”
“You don’t budge much, do you?”
Nolan smiled.
“I’m coming to the conclusion that working for you is a bad idea, as well.”
“How so?”
“You don’t have boundaries.”
He pretended hurt. “I have plenty of boundaries.”
“Oh? Then how is it I haven’t seen any of these imaginary lines since meeting you?”
“It’s just a suitcase and some toiletries, Charlotte. It’s not like we went through your empty bank accounts.”
“But it’s my suitcase…and my toiletries,” she scoffed.
“So?”
“How would you like it if I’d broken into your home and packed a suitcase for you?”
His dimples sunk deep. “I would love it. It would save me a ton of time.”
“Y—you…” She was too flabbergasted to continue. He’d sent people into her home, knowing ahead he was going to kidnap her. That was a little scary. “And what do you mean…empty bank accounts?” she hotly probed.
“You’re dealing with OSHIT, Charlotte. We know everything about you, and if we don’t, we’ll uncover it eventually.”
“Everything?”
“You can’t be who you are without us knowing how you got there.”
“No shit,” she rudely muttered, looking away.
“Dinner is in one hour. You can freshen up; unpack what you want, but stay out of the kitchen until I call for you.”
She turned around quickly. “Is that an order, Mr. Morgan?”
“If you call me Mr. Morgan again it will be a threat to your welfare, not an order,” he promised.
Charlotte looked for facial signs he was bluffing. None came. The man was as cold as ice; hid his emotions with great success.
Last night, that coldness had drawn her in. She’d needed a moment of numbness, and he’d provided the mystery and danger to her every desire. That and she’d thought she could have one night without the nightmares. Big mistake.
“Nolan,” she mumbled as his smile grew.
“Yes, Charlotte?”
Dammit. She did not have anything more to say to him, still shocked he would allow people to go through her home without permission.
He stared, seeming as if wanting to add something himself, then muttered, “Welcome to the lion’s den, Ms. Raven.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped to the floor, as he stepped out of the room, aiming for the kitchen. Good God! Had he read her mind?
Chapter Six
Dinner, of course, turned out to be as much of a surprise as the man was. Four courses, wine and ample candlelight graced the dining room table; Charlotte called to dinner almost an hour later, ravenous. She’d been in her room, twiddling her thumbs since it did not take much to unpack the few clothes they’d stolen from her apartment. Nor did she have much to do until he was ready to allow her entry into the rest of his home.
She sat at the dining room table, set her chin on her knuckles, staring at his face. He had such a commanding face—mesmerizing almost. High cheekbones, arched brows, just a possible hint of Greek heritage, mocha eyes as rich as dark chocolate…and yet he lives in the middle of friggin’ Iowa, the epitome of contradiction.
“Why this place?” she suddenly asked, trying to draw him into a deeper conversation. So far, through three of the four courses, he’d not discussed much. It was almost as if he was avoiding doing so.
He set down his spoon. “Why did I buy this place?”
Charlotte nodded.
“I didn’t. It was given to me.”
She took a sip of her wine, lowering the glass. “Given to you?”
This time Nolan nodded. “In a roundabout way this was my grandparent’s first home. They moved here in the thirties, nearly lost it, and then started over in South Dakota.”
“Odd place to start over,” she interjected.
“It was the dust bowl era. Lots of people uprooted, but my grandparents, instead of trying to peddle it off to whoever would give them any money for it, kept hold of it. The family never said how. I’m sure it wasn’t legal.” He looked away as if he knew more than he was sharing. When his eyes returned, they were full of melancholy. The first insight to the man hidden beneath the hardened shell. “By most standards, what I have is considered miniscule…in a purely farming aspect. You already know the physical aspect of me is not…shall we say, small. But four hundred acres with my name on the deed is.”
She did not bother to hide her blush. “You’re quite the surprise. I never figured you to open up and allow a stranger entry into your life,” she said, raising his brows. “An ex-wife, ancestral home…”
Nolan reached for his wineglass. He worked down a huge swallow of the fermented grapes before answering this. “You haven’t gained entry, Charlotte, and you’re not a stranger. You’ve gained insight. Entry will come later.”
Charlotte picked up her fork, avoiding eye contact by sticking the utensil into another piece of delicious, perfectly cooked steak. Nolan was already into his dessert. “Is this possible entry sometime during the next two weeks?”
