In point of fact, Gabriel was dead certain Ernest hadn’t made any kind of a move. Charlotte just didn’t act like a woman who was taken—and every time Gabriel called her late at night to check on something, she was at home. That meant Ernest was a dimwit, because what kind of man wouldn’t make a move on Charlotte if he had her?
Yeah, well, the dimwit’s luck was about to run out.
“Yes,” he said aloud, “I need it tonight.” It wasn’t a lie, not this time. “This agreement could significantly cut our transport costs, but we’re on a strict timetable.”
A quick nod. “I’ll start on it right away.”
CHARLOTTE SAT DOWN AT her desk, a desk no one in the company had ever expected her to possess, least of all Charlotte herself.
Just like she’d never have predicted she’d one day just grab her boss’s tablet and force him to move into the twenty-first century, but he’d been pushing and pushing and pushing until she couldn’t take it anymore. Using the headphones she preferred over earbuds, she connected the sleek black recorder he liked to use, and his deep voice filled her ears.
It still made her stomach flip, even after close to three months in his proximity.
Blowing out a quiet breath, she began to type, focused on getting the details exactly right. It was why she had this office, this position, despite her shortcomings… despite the fear that lived inside her even after all the other strides she’d made, a sinuous, mocking beast that still woke her some nights in a cold sweat.
Last night had been a bad one.
Heart pounding hard enough to make her feel sick, she’d had to get out of bed, check she was alone in the house before she could close her eyes again. But no matter the fear, she was living a good life. Maybe it wasn’t exciting, she admitted, and maybe her timidity and continued inability to not be afraid was increasingly frustrating… and maybe she’d never have the passionate connection Molly had found with her rock star, but—
“Ms. Baird.”
Jerking at the sound of Gabriel’s voice mixing with that on the tape, she removed the headphones to see him scowling at her. “I’m almost done.”
“Good. Once you finish that, I need you to find Finley and get his ass in here.”
Realizing the scowl hadn’t been for her, she finished up the document, proofed it, then printed it off and handed it to him. Simon Finley had left the office at five, was having a beer at home when she located him.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “That bastard has no life and thinks no one else does either.”
Hanging up on the other man after getting a promise he’d be in within a half hour, she knew Finley was wrong. As shown by the parade of red roses, Gabriel did have a life outside work, one filled with long-legged beauties who not only had va-va-voom bodies and faces but brains. Even the models Gabriel dated weren’t simple clotheshorses; they all had their own perfume or clothing lines, other business ventures.
Yeah, she was never going to be in that league, she thought, picking up the phone to answer a query from the security guard downstairs. “Charlie, delivery guy just dropped off takeout for the boss. I can’t leave my post right now with Steven on break—you okay to come grab it?”
“I’ll be right there.”
After picking up the food, which she saw was from a top-tier restaurant Gabriel liked, she brought it up and carried it through to his office. It was a routine they went through at least three times a week, Gabriel pulling more hours than anyone else in the company.
As usual, the last container was marked “Charlotte.” Normally, she was the one who placed the order, but on the rare occasions he did so himself, he never forgot to order for her, and he never got it wrong. She had no idea how he’d noticed she liked certain things and not others, but he had.
“Finley?” Gabriel asked without looking up from the computer screen.
“On his way back into the city. He’s in Albany, so it’ll be twenty minutes at least with the current traffic.”
No answer, his concentration on work. Taking her dinner back to her desk, she opened it to reveal fragrant jasmine rice with a plastic tub of Thai green curry beside it, a prettily cut cucumber on the rice as a garnish. Mouth watering, she grabbed the included fork and began to eat at her desk.
“Ms. Baird.”
She almost dropped the fork at Gabriel’s quiet but penetrating call. Damn man. Leaving her food, she went to the doorway of his office. “Is there a problem with the document?”
“No. Bring your dinner in here.”
Blinking, she went back to retrieve the container. They never ate together—he was usually working and eating at the same time, and she had to eat quickly in case he wanted her to enter last-minute changes or organize meetings or phone conferences as soon as he was done with whatever he was working on.
Last week, she’d had to call suppliers in London, Namibia, and Finland, all in the space of a single—long—day. Saxon & Archer was once more being lauded as the luxury department store in Australasia, and it had a great deal to do with their rejuvenated supply chain as well as the rising staff morale. All driven by the inexorable force known as Gabriel Bishop.
When she returned to his office, it was to find he’d come around to the black leather seating area to one side that he sometimes used for more casual meetings. His tie was off, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up as was standard by this time of day. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. The sensual curve of his lower lip was the only point of softness on him.