A Man of His Word (13 page)

R
osebud sat across the table, staring at Dan. She could tell he knew she was staring, because he kept grinning as he handed over sheet after sheet of official company biography. “And Jim Evans—he's my chief engineer. They'll all be coming up together in two weeks—the day after the hearing, actually. If Jim gets done with his current project, he might make it in earlier, but I can't guarantee that.”

A small part of her was immensely relieved that he really was flying up his own team. She had been worried silly that Dan had just been whispering sweet nothings in her ear because he wanted to get her into a compromising position. But he was nothing if not serious about it—and he had the itineraries to prove it. “They aren't going to be staying with you, are they?”

“I don't think Cecil is open to that option,” he replied, answering the correct question. But then his face got dark—the same look he'd gotten when he'd asked her about Thrasher. He flipped a piece of paper over and began scribbling.

He doesn't like you.
Dan's handwriting was borderline atrocious, but she could still make it out.

Big shock there.
Aunt Emily's not a big fan of you, either,
she wrote back.

Dan sighed, like he'd been hoping for a better outcome.
I kind of hate this sneaking around thing,
he wrote back.

Me, too. But I don't know how to get around it.

He looked at her, and she saw something in his eyes that wasn't like and wasn't even lust. She'd never seen that look before—on anyone—and the intensity of it gave her goose bumps. “What?”

I'm working on it,
he wrote.
Be careful.

I will,
she promised.

 

Careful
was harder than it sounded. For one thing, Rosebud and Aunt Emily weren't exactly on speaking terms, which made dinner every night awkward. All that awkwardness spilled over to the office. Judy could tell something was wrong, and began acting like it was her job on the line.

For another thing, every day Rosebud saw Dan made it that much harder to keep her hands off him. They both knew that there could be no touching and certainly no kissing anywhere they might get caught. No temptation allowed, period.

But Dan had the nerve to let his stubble get a little closer to a full beard, until just the sight of his face made her ache in good ways. She had wild fantasies about stripping for him at the office and doing all sorts of crazy things on the conference table—even on the wobbly chair. All the unresolved tension nearly gave her a tummy ache.

Careful
also required that they take long and winding routes to the cabin both weekends—so long that, by the time they got there, it took everything she had not to rip his shirt off.

But once they were at the cabin,
careful
was the last thing
on their minds. She had been afraid that there was no way the sex could top the excitement of that first weekend, but Dan took great pleasure in proving her wrong. The first time he went down on her, scraping his near-beard over her breasts, down her belly and between her thighs, she screamed so loudly that she lost her voice.

The first time he took her from behind and reached down between her legs from the front until he found her throbbing little spot, she came so hard that she accidentally knocked him off the mattress and onto the floor. But instead of being mad at her, he just rolled her onto her back and promised she wouldn't get away the next time.

The first time he gathered her into his arms after another explosive orgasm and said, “I think I'm falling for you, Rosebud,” he brought her to tears—tears he kissed away.

“I think I'm falling for you, too.” Which was, of course, a gross understatement of the situation. Rosebud didn't think—she knew she was falling in love with Dan. She was already in love with him.

“Just Dan and Rosebud,” he said, sounding happy and solemn at the same time as the crickets chirped away outside. The world—their world—was calm and peaceful. “That's what I want. Just Dan and Rosebud.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “That's what I want, too.”

But they both knew it wasn't that simple.

 

“Dan coming in today?” Judy asked as the coffee perked.

Rosebud worked at keeping her face still, although she knew it was pointless. Dan—and her relationship with him—was sort of an open secret by now. No one could prove anything, but lots of people had noticed how much time the two of them had spent in the conference room in the past two and a half weeks. “I'm not sure,” she said, trying to be convincing. “I don't know if I'll have time for him. The court date
is tomorrow, after all.” Judy was not convinced, to say the least. Rosebud sighed. “Let me know if he shows up, okay?”

“Of course,” Judy replied with a wink.

Great,
Rosebud thought.
So much for being careful.

Tomorrow was the big day, although it was just another battle in the war. She was doing the final check on all her ducks. Each row had to be perfect. Dan had told her that if she got the preliminary injunction, the odds were decent that he could get control of the project by the time the order expired. Rosebud was itching to tell someone about their plan, but unfortunately, the plan included telling no one. Neither she nor Dan could afford to have their positions compromised. Things had to go off smoothly or they wouldn't go off at all.

She dove into her briefs, only vaguely aware that it was well past Dan's normal arrival time. He'd said he might have things to do—after all, his team was coming in this weekend—so she refused to spend much time thinking about it.

It wasn't until Judy knocked on her door that she realized it was half past ten. “Is he here?” she asked as she dug for her lipstick.

“No.” The sheer terror in Judy's voice snapped Rosebud's head up. Judy was as pale as was physically possible. If Rosebud wasn't mistaken, the woman was on the verge of passing out.

“Who is it?” Her voice rang tinny in her own ears. Something was wrong.

“It's Cecil Armstrong.”

Rosebud's blood ran middle-of-January cold. After all this time,
that man
had the nerve to show up? What the hell was he doing here? Where was Dan?
Snap out of it,
she ordered herself. Now was not the time to panic. “What does he want?”

“He wants to talk to you. And he's got another man with him. Not Dan.”

“Did you get a name?”

“I think he said Shane Thrasher, but…” Judy waved her hands, which only seemed to spread a sense of panic around the room like an aerosol can. “He's got a gun. I can tell—I've seen those cop shows. Under his jacket.”

“Oh, hell.” Shane Thrasher. “Okay. Don't panic.” Like that was even an option right now. Rosebud wasn't even sure her heart was still pumping. “Can you get them some coffee?”

Judy looked like she wanted to cry.

“Don't worry about it,” Rosebud said before the waterworks started. “Just get Joe. I don't care if you have to drag his butt out of bed—I want him to get that gun out of this building, okay?”

“Okay,” Judy said and all but sprinted to her phone.

Rosebud wasn't much better. She grabbed her phone so fast she dropped it. “Come on,” she said as Dan's number rang in her ear. “Pick up.”

He didn't. The call went straight to voice mail. The panic in her belly ratcheted up a notch. Where the hell
was
he?

“Dan? It's Rosebud. Your uncle and Shane Thrasher are sitting in my conference room, and I don't know where you are. If you could…” Could what? Get the cavalry and ride to the rescue? Bust in here with both barrels blazing? “If you could just let me know if you know what's going on, I'd really appreciate it. I—” Her mouth snapped shut, biting the
love you
in half. No weakness. No confession. “Uh, I'll talk to you later, right? Bye.”

She forced herself to go through her normal pre-meeting routine. Braided hair—check. Lipstick—check. Files in order—check. But there was no convincing herself. Nothing about this unscheduled meeting was normal, and that unavoidable fact had her stomach churning so fast she was nauseous.

After all this time, Cecil Armstrong had come to see her.
There was always a chance he'd come in peace, she thought as she buttoned up her suit jacket. Or maybe he was here to give up. Surrender would be nice.

Her pep talk failed to make her peppy.

“Rosie?” Joe White Thunder popped his head in the door. She jumped so hard that she almost knocked her chair over. “What's going on?”

“Oh, thank God.” Joe was here. The whole world hadn't gone completely mad. “Cecil Armstrong is in the conference room with his head of security, a man named Shane Thrasher. Judy said she saw Thrasher's gun. I need you to make sure he gets it the hell out of here.”

Joe stared at her for a long second in what could only be shock before he squared his shoulders. “I'll take care of him,” he said, looking twenty years younger in an instant and sounding every inch the Lakota warrior.

Rosebud's heart was pounding so hard she was sure her whole body was visibly shaking. She did
not
want to go in that room before she knew where Dan was, but the longer she put it off, the more nervous she would become. She had to get this over with quick.

She stood with her hand on the doorknob, trying to get her body to respond to her orders. Joe put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a strong squeeze. “You can do this, Rosie,” he whispered.

“Right.” She still wasn't sure what
this
was, but she could do it. Taking a last breath of Cecil-free air, she opened the door to the conference room.
Into the abyss,
she thought.

Cecil Armstrong stood over the wobbly chair with a man who had to be Shane Thrasher on his hands and knees, looking at the undercarriage of the wounded seat. A small sense of victory calmed her nerves. She still had the upper hand.

Armstrong looked much like he did in the photos she'd found of him, but in person he seemed more shriveled,
more…yellow. Sallow, she thought, remembering the name for it, like he never saw the sun. In her mind's eye, she had always thought of him as this huge mountain of an obstacle she had to conquer, but in person he was a good eight inches shorter than Dan. Just an old, shriveled-up man, she thought. The realization gave her strength. He had no power over her, none at all. She was not afraid, and she was not going down without a fight. It didn't matter that Dan wasn't here. She was confident that he had a good reason for not answering the phone. He probably didn't even know Cecil was here. She and Dan had a plan, and she was going to stick with that plan, come hell or high water.

“Mr. Armstrong, what a surprise.” At least her voice was listening to her orders. It came out strong and confident. She turned to Thrasher, who was now standing. “And Mr…. Thrasher, is it?”

Thrasher's eyes slid over her with cold familiarity. He smirked without saying anything, and Rosebud saw a muscle above his eye twitch. Forget middle-of-January cold. Her blood was running Arctic-circle icy.

“Miss Donnelly, at last we meet.” Armstrong's smile was wide—and dangerous, like a shark circling. He looked at Joe with utter contempt. “I assure you, Miss Donnelly, this is strictly a business call. I only have business with
you.
”

He could bring his muscle, but she couldn't have Joe in the room? To hell with that. But Rosebud refused to get even one feather ruffled by this man. “Mr. Thrasher, we have a strict policy on firearms in the building. Mr. White Thunder will be happy to escort you to your vehicle, where you can lock your firearm in your trunk.”

Thrasher did that mercenary smirk again, but he held up his hands in a motion of surrender. “Sure thing.” He turned to Armstrong. “You don't need me here for this part, do you?”

Armstrong gave the wobbly chair a little shake. The chair
wailed in protest, which made Armstrong smile. Rosebud swore she saw a few extra rows of teeth in there. “I think I can manage this just fine.”

Manage what? Rosebud would give her left foot to know what the hell this little visit was about. Still, she held her position until Joe and Thrasher were out of the room. “How can I help you today, Mr. Armstrong?”

Still standing, Armstrong opened his briefcase and took out a large manila envelope. “Miss Donnelly, I'm sure you can appreciate that your little legal maneuvers have cost my company a rather large sum of money.”

She immediately felt a little better. This territory was more familiar. “Mr. Armstrong, I'm sure you can appreciate that your little dam will cost my entire tribe a place to live.”

“That's unfortunate,” he said in the same tone of voice one might use to describe three-day-old roadkill. On the one hand, he was creeping her out. On the other hand, she was glad to see her impression of the man had not been wrong. He was a blight upon the land.

He tapped the envelope on the table. “All the same, I'd like to formally ask you, for the last time, to drop all your lawsuits against
my
company.”

Rosebud's attention zeroed in on that envelope. If her blood got any colder, it would freeze solid. Where the hell was Dan? “I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Armstrong.”

Armstrong tilted his head to one side and appraised her. She was not afraid, she repeated to herself.

“Dan mentioned you were a real looker, but I don't think that does you justice.”

The clap of fear she felt might as well have been thunder. But she could handle this. She
had
to. “I'm flattered.”

Armstrong gave her another dangerous smile. “I have something I want you to see.” He slid the envelope over the table.