“I’ll see you tomorrow,” her boss said and shut the door.
As the cab pulled away, she saw him stride down toward the waterfront, hands in his pockets, tall and strong and a relentless force.
GABRIEL RARELY SECOND-GUESSED himself, but he was doing so tonight. Charlotte Baird was highly competent, to the point that he’d blasted through far more work than he’d expected to complete today, so he’d made no mistake there. She was also petrified of him, had once again almost hyperventilated herself into a faint in the elevator. Logically, he should transfer her to a less frontline position within the company, but he hated the idea of all that talent being buried away or taken advantage of by another Anya.
Striding across the flat paving stones of Auckland’s central public-transport hub, he crossed the street to the ferry terminal and stood watching the evening water traffic as he considered the problem. Not only was Charlotte spectacularly easy to work with, anticipating his requests even after only a single day working together, she had an excellent sense of what was important and what wasn’t. He’d had far fewer interruptions from other staff today as a result.
Quite aside from that, and even disregarding his physical attraction to her when she wasn’t being a mouse, he liked Ms. Baird. He’d heard her talking on the phone with a woman called Molly for a few minutes late this afternoon, caught a glimpse of a dry wit that had made him grin. Yeah, he liked the woman behind the mouse.
However, that woman tended to go into hiding around him.
Tapping his fingers on the metal railing, he turned and almost ran into a statuesque blonde in a sparkly dress. “Hi,” she said, the look in her eyes making it clear she’d recognized him, two women who were clearly her friends standing a short distance away. “My friends dared me to ask you out, but I was planning to do it anyway.” Her smile deepened. “Join us for a drink.”
“Appreciate the offer,” Gabriel said, “but I’ve got to return to the office.”
“If you change your mind, we’ll be in there.” She pointed out a waterfront bar. “We’re all huge rugby fans, would love to watch tonight’s Argentina-England game with you.” Biting down on her lower lip, she leaned in a little closer. “If you’d rather watch in private, my apartment’s not far.”
Gabriel could tell from her tone and smile that watching sports wasn’t the only thing on the menu. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t until he was back in the office that he realized he hadn’t even been tempted by the stranger’s offer… because he had another blonde on his mind. That could prove problematic, but it had nothing to do with Charlotte’s suitability for her position. He’d give her a week, see if she stopped quivering in terror. Any longer and he’d probably give in to the urge to snarl.
That thought in mind, he went over to the design specs again, was trying to figure out why the second-floor design wasn’t working for him, when Charlotte’s office phone rang. Guessing that an international contact who’d e-mailed him earlier to ask if he’d be in had called the wrong line, he walked out to his PA’s desk and picked it up. “Bishop.”
“Son?”
His entire body went rigid at that single word, the gravelly voice one he hadn’t heard in over a year, since the last time Gabriel had told him to get lost. “I have a father,” he said, “and it’s not you.”
Hanging up, he returned to work, shoving aside unwanted reminders of his origins with the habit of long practice. The boy he’d been was long gone. In his place stood a man who knew who he was—and what he wanted. Hauling a certain mouse out of her burrow was high on that list.
6
LACE PANTIES AND POOR ERNEST
CHARLOTTE ARRIVED AT WORK at seven thirty the next morning to find Gabriel Bishop’s office door open, but no carnivorous predator inside. A fresh suit was hanging on the back of his door, however, which meant he’d been in already.
Deciding to catch up on e-mails that had come in overnight from international suppliers as well as stores involved in a stock take, she was typing a reply when a sweaty Gabriel arrived fifteen minutes later. He was dressed in black running shorts and a faded University of Auckland T-shirt that was currently sticking to his body.
She’d known he was in shape¸ but now she realized none of it was an illusion created by his well-cut suits. Okay, she’d already known that, but seeing his muscled body in the flesh was a whole different ball game. He was built like a tank, hard and powerful.
Each of his thighs was thicker than both of hers put together, his biceps toned, his shoulders appearing even wider than usual. Everything about him was big. Civilized clothing didn’t make him look better, she realized—it toned down his intense masculinity. Out of his suits, with the ink on the upper part of his left arm exposed, as well as that on his opposing thigh and…
Her skin hot and lower body clenching, she just nodded in response to his “Good morning.”
Disappearing into his office, he returned with his suit pants and a fresh shirt slung over his arm, along with a sports bag. “Push the meeting with Sales to nine, will you, Ms. Baird? I need to talk to HR about something before then.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlotte said almost soundlessly, but he was already gone, heading toward the employee shower one floor down.
The thigh tattoo went all the way around, the design intricate.
Heart rate a rapid stutter, Charlotte got up after he disappeared and decided to go grab him a coffee. He’d bought her one yesterday after all. She was just being nice. “Oh, shut up, Charlotte,” she muttered once she was in the elevator, and slumped her face into an upraised hand.