Make You Mine, page 14
He gave her an indulgent look, despite the irritation brewing inside him. “Look, we don’t even have the contract yet, so why are you thinking about this?”
Glowering, she plopped her hands on her hips. “Did you seriously just give me don’t worry your pretty little head?”
His blood began to boil. Okay, now I’m pissed. What a totally unfair and crappy thing to accuse me of.
“And . . . I’m outta here.” He rose before he said something he’d truly regret. “However, just so you know, I’m not prepared to team up with the companies that have beaten us out of three big contracts in the last year.” He stomped across the room, grabbed his jacket, and yanked open the front door. Totally aware that he was behaving like a typical macho jerk, he turned to glower right back at her. Then he pulled rank. “And do not bring this up at Monday’s board meeting. Got it?”
Chapter Fourteen
That man did not just give me an ultimatum and storm out!
Maddie pulled herself up to her full height, stalked to the door, and raced down the steps, heedless of the chill night air. “Jackson Cornell Walker! Don’t you dare drop your CEO crap on me and walk out.”
Jack had already pushed the remote to unlock his truck, but he stopped. Hand on the door handle, his blond brows furrowed and his lips in a grim line, he watched as she paused at the bottom of the steps, then strode to within a couple of feet of him. His hair gleamed golden in the dusk-to-dawn light above the garage doors and that same light caught a spark of sapphire in his eyes. “How do you know my middle name? Nobody uses my middle name except my mother; and not since I was fifteen and out past curfew.”
“Google,” she snapped, not about to get drawn into his circle of charm. “I am a member of the board of directors of Walker Construction, and as such, I deserve your respect.” She blew out a breath, raked back the hair that had fallen into her eyes on the trip down the stairs, and handed him back his own line. The one that had sent her blood pressure soaring. “Got it?”
He canted his head and stared at her, his brow smoothing out, and the corners of his mouth lifting.
“Are . . . are you laughing at me?” She wasn’t certain, although she imagined steam might be coming out of her ears.
“No.” He took a step closer. “Never.”
“Then what?” She pressed her hand to her chest because it was starting to hurt and she was having a hard time catching her breath.
Dammit. Esophageal spasm.
It sometimes happened when she got really angry, and right now, she was furious. She could take a lot—hell, she had taken a lot of crap from male superiors in her career. Men who believed she couldn’t possibly have a good idea because what do women know about construction, anyway?
Normally, she shrugged it off and went about her business after some droopy-panted framer tried to show her how to cut a two-by, or a roofer tried to explain to her why ring roofing nails made of hot-dipped galvanized steel were the best and afterward, attempted to teach her how to use the pneumatic nail gun. She’d learned to sidestep those guys, especially the ones who thought they needed to spot her on a ladder by putting their hands on her butt. This was different.
She was a director. At the moment, a director in pain, but a director nonetheless.
“Are you okay?” Jack peered at her in the dimness. “You look . . . pained.”
Maddie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, allowing the spasm to ease ever so slightly. “I’m fine,” she managed, holding up one hand, then taking another couple of breaths.
He didn’t seem convinced, although he waited.
At last, the spasm dissipated enough that she could speak again. “If I were Cam or Joe or Eli or maybe even Anna, you’d at least consider what I suggested. Talk about it. Not simply reject it out of hand.” She crossed her arms, wishing she’d grabbed her jacket on her way out.
Jack eyed her, his expression unreadable. “I’d never laugh at you, Madeline.”
“You wouldn’t be the first if you did.” She shook her head, and the movement made the messy bun fall all the way out, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.
Jack reached out a hand as if to touch it, then pulled back. “Here, take my jacket. You’re shivering.”
The last thing Maddie needed was his jacket, all warm and smelling like the woods and sunlight. The cold, which was starting to affect her, would keep her focused. “No, thank you. All I want from you is a promise that you’ll think about what I suggested. I know it’s an old-fashioned idea—several builders cooperating to build a neighborhood. Hiko is watching us all scramble to get these specs done, but if we can demonstrate real teamwork, show them that we’re all willing to work hard and persevere to give them the best houses possible”—she shrugged and offered a small smile—“we all win.” She pointed one finger at him. “And I will bring it up at Monday’s meeting.”
Jack chuffed a laugh. “If for no other reason than because I asked you not to?”
She kept her gaze locked with his. “You didn’t ask me. You ordered me.”
He nodded. “I did.” Dull-red color rose from his collar and he swallowed hard. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed. “But I think it’s a great idea and worthy of the board’s attention.”
He gave her a cockeyed smile that damn near broke her resolve. “If I agree to think about it, will you forgive me?”
She stiffened her spine. “Well, I’ll certainly respect you more than I do at the moment.”
His smile grew and his blue, blue eyes twinkled. “I guess I can’t ask for more than that, can I?”
“Not at this point.”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“Yes.” Careful, now, Maddie. Beware of sexy CEOs asking for anything.
“Will you wait to mention it to the others until I’ve had a chance to give it some thought?” He held up one hand in the three-finger Boy Scout salute. “I promise I’ll talk to you again before Monday. Scout’s honor.”
For reasons that made her cringe, she longed to throw herself into his arms and kiss him stupid, which would be totally inappropriate and a huge mistake. Instead, she smirked. “You were never a Boy Scout.”
The look he gave her was full of mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m an Eagle Scout, Ms. Ross, since I was fifteen.”
“Ah, the same year you got in trouble for breaking curfew?”
He quirked a brow. “Quick, very quick. I do appreciate a quick-witted woman.”
Somehow, she seriously doubted brains were at the top of Jack Walker’s list when he was looking for female companionship. “Do you indeed?”
His gaze softened and his expression turned almost tender. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky and sensual.
Her head told her to get back inside before things took a turn she didn’t need. However, her heart beat faster as he stepped another couple of feet closer. “Here.” He took the jacket he’d slung over his shoulder and wrapped it around her. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.” But she let him because . . . because sometime in the last few minutes, all the righteous indignation had faded, and now there was only that white-hot electricity crackling between them.
He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, then cupped her chin. “Your lips are turning blue. I only know one way to fix that.”
“Tea?” The word came out croaky as she put her hands against his chest, honestly intending to push him away. Instead, she gripped his shirt front and tugged, taking his mouth fiercely when he dipped his head.
Game on.
The kisses—and there were several, but Maddie stopped counting at six—left her weak and breathless and so full of hunger that she was bereft as he leaned away.
Somehow her arms had curled around his neck and her fingers had entwined themselves in the thick hair at his nape. “Come back upstairs with me.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.
*
Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever take a normal breath again. Every muscle in his body had tensed when she pulled his face down to hers and the kisses—heated, desperate kisses—had turned him inside out. His emotions went on point after she said the words he’d longed to hear, Come upstairs with me. But as soon as she’d said them, her eyes had gotten huge and she’d looked like a terrified doe caught in headlights.
He released his hold on her and gave her a wry smile. “I’d accept that invitation in a heartbeat if you didn’t look so horror-stricken.”
Her gaze broke away from his and she shifted her feet restlessly in the gravel drive, mumbling something he didn’t catch.
“I’m sorry?” He peered down at her. Jack was too aware of the effect he had on her and if she were any other woman, he’d have hauled her up the stairs before she could utter another word. Hauled, hell. If this were anyone but Madeline Ross, she’d have led him up the stairs before he’d had a chance to say sure thing. She wanted him, maybe as much as he wanted her, although that seemed impossible because his hunger for Maddie was beyond description. And he’d tried.
Writing in his journal each night, he poured out his heart, just as he had nearly every day since freshman English class at River’s Edge High. His teacher, Katherine Cole, had insisted every student keep a journal. He’d hated it at first; however, within a few months, it became his release.
Jack had dozens of black marbled composition books stored way in the back of his bedroom closet—each one filled with thoughts, fears, ideas, dreams, and even some very early hack poetry that no one else would ever see. In the last few years, he’d switched to leather-bound journals that he’d discovered in a shop while on vacation in Paris with an actress he’d met through Aidan Flaherty. The new journals were the highlight of the trip; the actress was long gone.
Journaling was how he decompressed at the end of a day, writing long, rambling paragraphs meant for his eyes only. He’d tried a journaling app on his iPad, but it wasn’t the same as writing with the Mont Blanc Starwalker fountain pen his dad had given him for his twenty-fifth birthday. He relished the weight and feel of the instrument in his hands. He loved uncapping the pen over a fresh lined page and recapping it when he finished. It was a ritual—sitting at his leather-topped desk that had once belonged to his great-grandfather, who had been an English professor at Warner College, filling the pen from the heavy, bronze antique inkwell he’d found at Clyde Schwimmer’s shop, and writing. Sometimes for ten minutes; sometimes for over an hour.
Blinking, he lifted her chin with one finger. “What did you say?”
She gazed at him. “I said I meant it, but—”
He exhaled a long breath. “Yeah, that but.”
The yearning in her eyes practically undid him. Maybe if they did go upstairs, he could ease this ache and get over her. Put her back in the safe zone of colleagues or even boss and employee because, no matter how she spun it, she worked for him. But standing there, her eyes huge and glistening in the yellow-white light, her lush lips red and kiss-swollen, he knew there would be no going back. Besides, he didn’t want only one night with Madeline . . . he wanted a lifetime. Maybe longer if he could swing it.
He stroked one finger down her soft cheek, noting the freckles sprinkled across her nose. Had those been there before or were they covered up with makeup? Maybe they’d arrived since she’d been out in the warm spring sun going from work site to work site. “Don’t think I’m not aching to swoop you up and carry you upstairs to your bed and—” He left off the list of things he wanted to do with her because saying them out loud would only make them harder to resist. “Oh, Maddie Ross, what you do to me.”
She smoothed her hands down the front of his T-shirt, stopping for a second to outline the Walker logo over his heart in a gesture so innocent and enchanting it made his knees weak. “Thanks for the gear,” she whispered before taking off his jacket, stepping back, and holding it out. “Good night, Jack.”
Their fingers touched, but he didn’t pull her back against him as he was longing to do. Instead, he accepted the jacket and opened the door to his truck, causing the roof lights to flood the interior of the cab. The move released him from her spell and her from his, apparently, because she turned and headed for the steps. “Good night, Maddie.” She didn’t look back as he slipped into the truck and started the engine.
*
Anna’s door was partway open when he entered their hallway—a sure sign she’d seen him arrive at the parking area before he pulled into his garage under the condos. He didn’t have a chance to slip by. There she was, tall and elegant, even in her yoga clothes, her long hair in a ponytail, a bottle of water in her hand. How did his cousin always manage to look cool and collected?
“Wanna talk?” She held out a hand in invitation.
“Not tonight, coz.” He started past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his bicep.
“Come on in. I’ve got bread and cheese and wine and . . . a shoulder.”
“What makes you think I need a shoulder?”
She smiled. “I know you. I know that defeated look.”
He slumped, sighed, and followed her into the condo, amazed all over again at how his cousin managed to read him like a book. He could only hope that she believed he was worrying about the vandalism at the spec site and not his fascination with Maddie Ross. Tired to the bone, he was grateful for the food because he hadn’t stopped on the way home from Maddie’s. He was hungry, but just too tired to put forth the effort.
The microwave dinged and a moment later, Anna set warm fragrant bread in front of him, along with melty Brie, a bowl of strawberries, and a glass of white, which after a sip, he recognized as Conor Flaherty’s chardonel. He took another sip, allowing the crisp, cold wine to cool his throat and his raging emotions.
He noticed she’d plopped down in the chair opposite his, but she had no plate. “Aren’t you eating?”
“I ate at Mac’s after yoga.” She reached for a bright-red berry and popped it in her mouth.
“Thanks for this.” He spread some of the soft cheese on a slice of bread and took a bite, savoring the warm, nutty flavor. “I’m so damn tired. It’s been too long since I worked like that.”
“Yeah, Maddie said you were out there helping clean up the mess.”
He munched thoughtfully for a few minutes, enjoying the simple fare and his cousin’s quiet place, the soft music, the breeze coming in through the balcony doorway.
Anna reached for more berries. “What are we going to do about the vandals?”
“Maybe stick a camera up there in a tree or something. Maddie suggested posting guards until we get it under roof.” He didn’t expound—he was too damn exhausted.
“Hey, Maddie had a fabulous idea tonight,” Anna began rather cautiously. “You should ask her about it.”
Ah, so that’s why she’s plying me with food and wine. Maddie has already talked to her. A detail she’d failed to mention.
“She told me.” He smiled at Anna’s surprised expression. “I stopped by her place to take her . . . something.” Anna didn’t need to know he’d gone to Maddie’s to gift her a whole bag full of Walker swag. He’d never hear the end of that. Let her assume whatever he dropped off had to do with work.
Anna sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you think?” When he hesitated, she frowned. “Please don’t tell me you blew her off.”
“I didn’t,” he lied, because the last thing he needed tonight was a lecture from Annabelle. “I told her I’d think about it.”
Anna made a face. “I think it’s a great idea. A cooperative effort between the four biggest builders on this part of the river? Unheard of, maybe, but it might impress the hell out of Hiko management.”
“Ya think? Or are they going to want uniformity more than choices?”
“They’re going to want beautiful, simple designs. We all went into this with that as our starting point. I can’t believe the others are doing their specs much different from ours. As a matter of fact”—she moved forward to perch on the edge of her chair, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye—“I’ve gotten a look at Beakins’s and Cromwell’s designs. They’re very similar to what we’re putting up.”
“How’d you manage that?” Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Never you mind, coz.” She winked and took a slice of bread, spread some cheese on it, then set a strawberry on top and bit into it. “I have my ways.”
“Annabelle Walker, you have no shame.”
“I learned from the best.” She quirked a brow at him as she chewed.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t teach you that kind of subversive behavior,” Jack denied, slathering the last piece of bread with gooey Brie.
“Did I mention any names?”
Ordinarily, Jack would have enjoyed spending time sparring with his cousin, but tonight, all he wanted was to go home, get a shower, dump his ache for Maddie into his journal, and go to bed. Tomorrow, he’d figure it all out—the mess at the spec site, the vandalism, the sad last-quarter earnings that Elvin had shared with him, the startling concept of sharing the Hiko homes contracts with his competition, and Maddie. Always Maddie.
Chapter Fifteen
“Congratulations, Maddie. You’re our Emma,” Aidan announced with a flourish.
“I am?” Maddie squeaked, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she’d just auditioned for Aidan Flaherty, better known to her as Pete Atwood from the now-defunct TV series, LA Detectives. If she were the swooning type, she’d be on the floor of the old showboat right now. As it was, her heart was pounding and her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. This was Aidan Flaherty!
“Yup.” Aidan flashed her the dimples that had women’s hearts from New York to California fluttering. He’d recently won an Oscar for his role as Stanley Kowalski in a remake of A Streetcar Named Desire, and as Maddie understood it, he was now in huge demand in Hollywood. Yet, here he was, auditioning actors, singers, and dancers for the new season of shows on his riverboat. And she’d just won the starring role in Salvaged Virtue, a one-act comedy that his brother had written in the style of old vaudeville melodramas. “We’re doing the whole vaudeville-type thing this summer, with songs and acts from the twenties and thirties, plus this little play of Brendan’s. So if you can sing and dance, we can probably find another spot for you.”
