Always Will: A Bad Boy Romance (5 page)

She raises her eyebrow again.

“I’m being serious,” I say. “I keep hearing your name come up from the rest of the management team. I have a feeling Brad was relying on you pretty heavily to keep things from completely crashing and burning around here.”

Her face softens a little, and I see a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says. “The last year has been … trying. Brad seemed to think he could run his company by making sweeping changes and spending too much money, and then running off on vacation for a month, leaving the rest of us to deal with his bullshit.”

“That’s definitely my impression,” I say. “I’ve been meeting with Brad for the last eighteen months, and half the time he was calling me from beaches or ski resorts. It’s interesting, because the guy honestly had no idea how he’d gotten his company into so much trouble. Over the last six months, he seemed to start to get it, but I think he just wanted out.”

“I think he didn’t want to work,” she says. “He had this idea that he’d build up the company enough that it would somehow run itself.”

“Good thing he’s gone,” I say.

Since we started talking about the company, her posture has completely changed. She’s no longer standoffish, no longer leaning away from me with her arms crossed. She’s much more open, and although she’s talking about her frustrations, her tone of voice is relaxed.

I’m so fucking turned on by this
competent businesswoman
thing she has going on.

“I suppose,” she says.

“But you aren’t so sure about me,” I say.

Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates.

“You can be honest with me,” I say. “I walked in here a couple of days ago like I own the place. Of course, I do own the place, but that’s beside the point. What are your concerns? Other than the fact that you want me to bend you over your desk right now and fuck you senseless.”

“Goddamnit, Ronan.”

I laugh. I know I went too far with that comment, but I can’t help it. “I’m sorry. Really, serious question. What are your concerns?”

She puts her hand to her mouth and tilts her face, looking at me almost from the corner of her eye. “My concern,” she says, “is that you’re going to fundamentally change the direction of our products—that you wanted this company so you could take what we’re doing and integrate it with your gear and apparel lines. But what we do here is so much more than that. Our products are changing how people take charge of their health. The research team is on the brink of making our devices much more portable, and the tech is state-of-the-art. People will be able to provide incredible amounts of data to their doctors, nutritionists, and trainers. We’re not just counting the number of steps people take or tracking the calories they consume. We’re talking about devices that collect an enormous amount of data about a person’s body, nutrition, and activity level, and put it into a usable form. This is going to help people make better decisions about their health, with real data to back it up. So my concern is that you’re going to turn it into a toy. A gadget for rich kids who want to have the latest cool piece of hardware to show off to their friends.”

“A toy? Why would you think I see it as a toy?”

“Because that’s what you do, Ronan,” she says. “Your company makes fancy toys.”

My first instinct is to be pissed, but I didn’t get where I am today by only listening to people who agree with me. At Edge, it’s always been the people who pushed back that led to our best breakthroughs.

“How is it my products are toys, and yours aren’t?” I ask.

“Edge is all about high-end apparel and gear,” she says. “Technical apparel, sure—and I’m not belittling that. You create quality products, and you have excellent brand recognition. That isn’t easy in that market, and I respect what you’ve done. But we aren’t designing products for wealthy weekend warriors who want to look legit while they go rock climbing. We’re designing products for the average person who wants to take charge of their health and live a better life.”

I lean back in my chair. “You think I’m a snob.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but that’s what you’re thinking,” I say. “Mr. Rich Man only cares about selling toys to the wealthy. You look at me and all you see is a guy dripping with privilege.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“You didn’t have to,” I say. “Where did you go to college?”

“Excuse me?”

“College. Where did you go?”

“University of Washington,” she says.

“I went to Stanford.”

“And your point is what?” she asks. “That you went to a prestigious and expensive school?”

“My point is scholarships,” I say.

“I’m not following you.”

“I went to Stanford entirely on scholarships,” I say. “My parents could never have afforded to send me to an Ivy League school. Hell, my parents couldn’t have afforded to send me to the local community college, so it was all down to me. In case you were assuming that I come from money and had everything handed to me on a silver platter.”

“I told you, that isn’t what I meant.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “You can make it up to me by coming to dinner with me tonight.”

“No.”

I hold her gaze, and my mouth turns up in a slight smile. “Do you have other plans?”

“That’s none of your business,” she says.

“You don’t have plans, but I’ll take a rain check anyway.” I stand up and straighten the cuffs of my sleeves. “I have a lot of work to do, so I’ll chat with you later.”

I don’t really want to walk away, but I know it’s the right move. She and I are in the midst of a fencing bout, and although she scored a few points on me, I think I’m in the lead.

Barely.

I need to take a breather before we go in for another round.

7: Selene

Instead of pushing myself to make a decision about Aidan, I postpone our date.

Is it the adult thing to do? Hardly. But the fact that I’m agonizing over it is telling me something. If it felt like the right thing to do, I wouldn’t hesitate. It’s not like I jump into bed with every man who buys me dinner, but I’ve never been shy about sex. I love sex. I love good, hard, passionate sex. But a man I sleep with is always a man I really, really
want
to sleep with. By the time we hit the sheets, I’m aching to see what he can do to me.

With Aidan, there’s no ache.

So I tell him I can’t make it on Friday, and spend the evening alone. I pick up dinner on my way home from work, and don’t answer the text I get from my brother until it’s too late for me to go out. A boring Friday night is my penance for lying to Aidan.

Working with Ronan remains … awkward. At least, it’s awkward for me, although I try to hide behind a mask of professionalism. He seems completely at ease, even when he’s looking at me like he’s imagining me naked—which the asshole probably is. Every time we’re in the same room together, he finds a way to make a comment that leaves me on edge. And he clearly doesn’t care who hears him. Nothing he says is genuinely inappropriate, but he’s obviously flirting with me. I’m sure everyone else can tell.

And when he catches me alone, he holds nothing back. I try to make sure that happens as little as possible.

But I can’t avoid him. There’s been a constant stream of meetings to get Ronan up to speed. I do have to admit that it’s refreshing to work for someone who wants to be involved. Brad would rant about the state of the company, dump a huge set of projects on everyone, and then take off. Ronan is in many ways Brad’s opposite. In meetings, he listens more than he talks, sitting back in his seat, his eyes intense. He has a way of making people feel at ease, even though we’re all still getting to know him and everyone is nervous about their jobs. So far he seems content to let us continue to do our jobs while he eases himself into his new role.

I’m surprised. And maybe a tiny bit impressed.

Thursday morning, I get an email from Ronan.
Team meeting. Noon. Capital Grill. Lunch is on me.

I’ve been putting in a lot of hours lately, and lunch out actually sounds like a nice change—even if it is a working lunch. I send a quick reply.
Thanks. See you then.

It’s a short walk to the restaurant, so I grab my purse at about ten to noon and head down the elevator. I don’t see anyone else from the office going in the same direction, so I check my email again from my phone, worried I got the time wrong. I hope I’m not late. But his message says noon. Maybe I’m the only one who will be on time.

I walk into the restaurant and find Ronan waiting up front.

He pockets his phone and smiles. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” I say.

The hostess grabs two menus. “Your table is right this way.”

She leads us to a small table near the back. I glance around, looking for a larger one. Ronan sits and the hostess gives me an expectant look, so I take the seat across from him. She hands us our menus and walks away.

“I thought we were having a team lunch,” I say. “This is a table for two.”

“There are some things I need to go over with you,” Ronan says.

“Just me?” I ask.

“Just you.”

“Ronan—”

“It’s work-related,” he says.

I put the cloth napkin in my lap and pick up the menu. The waiter comes by and I order a grilled chicken Caesar. Ronan orders the salmon.

“You can get more than a salad,” Ronan says after the waiter leaves. “I won’t even expect you to put out.”

“God, Ronan, you’re an HR nightmare.”

His mouth turns up in a grin. It’s downright predatory.

I really need to get some control over this situation.

“Okay.” I fold my hands and put them on the table. “I’m actually glad you pulled this supposed
team meeting
on me. If we are going to make this work, we need to set some ground rules.”

“For what?” he asks.

“For working together.”

He looks so relaxed, leaning back in his seat, with one wrist resting on the table. “What sort of ground rules?”

“For starters, I am not going to date you,” I say.

“Define dating.”

“You’re really going to be difficult, aren’t you?” I ask.

He just smiles.

“Dating means … going out as a couple, just the two of us,” I say.

“But sharing a meal as colleagues doesn’t count?” he asks.

“I guess not.”

“Deal. What else?”

“I’m
not
sleeping with you,” I say, my voice firm.

“Yet,” he says.

“Ronan.”

“Fine, we’ll come back to that later. What else?” he asks.

“We won’t come back to it later. And no … shenanigans in the office.”

He laughs. “Shenanigans? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You need to stop hard-core flirting with me in front of my coworkers.”

“No flirting in front of coworkers,” he says. “Fine. What else?”

“No closed door meetings in your office just the two of us,” I say.

“That I can’t promise,” he says. “There are a lot of reasons I might need to have a closed door meeting with you.”

I sigh. “Fine, closed door meetings with legitimate reasons only.”

“Is wanting to fuck you on top of my desk a legitimate reason?” he asks.

“Ronan!”

“All right, all right,” he says, his one dimple puckering. “Anything else?”

“Just … keep it professional,” I say.

“Always,” he says. “My turn.”

“Your turn?”

“If you get to make demands, I think it’s only fair that I do, too,” he says. “Every business negotiation has a bit of give and take.”

I raise my eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Neither of us date other people,” he says.

“What?” He cannot be serious.

“I don’t want you dating anyone else. And I won’t either.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I say.

“Not in the least.”

I tilt my head to the side. “I’m already dating someone. Are you actually suggesting I break up with him?”

“Dating someone? Who?”

I roll my eyes. “Aidan. You interrupted our date the other night.”

“Him?” he asks. “That had to have been a first date.”

“Not even close.”

“Second?”

“No, I’ve been seeing Aidan for a while.”.

He waves his hand. “Regardless, it doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it count?”

Ronan’s eyes never leave mine. “It won’t last.”

“How would you know?”

That wolf smile creeps across his face again. “You haven’t even slept with him yet.”

My mouth drops open, and I snap it closed as fast as I can. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he says. “You definitely haven’t slept with him. And you aren’t going to.”

“Is that a demand?”

“No, it’s an observation,” he says. “I don’t have to demand anything, because you already know you’re going to break up with him soon. After that, my rule applies. No dating anyone else.”

“And how long does this rule apply?” I ask.

“As long as yours do.”

I laugh and shake my head. “So, your rule is that we can’t date other people, but I can date Aidan, because you think I’m going to break up with him anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“And unless I change my mind about my rules, I can’t date anyone else?” I ask.

“Right.”

“But you can’t date anyone either,” I say.

“Absolutely.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “If I agree, that means no one-night-stands. No getting around it by bringing women home without taking them on a date.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “No dates. No sex.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask.

He smiles again, but doesn’t answer.

I stare right back at him. What he’s asking is ridiculous. If Aidan is an exception, I can keep dating him as long as I’d like. Maybe I
will
sleep with him. I can go on, happily seeing Aidan, while Ronan has to spend his nights alone.

Of course, the thought of staying with Aidan just to piss off Ronan makes me a little queasy. I absolutely hate to admit it, but Ronan is probably right. He’s a self-absorbed asshole, but he’s perceptive. And if I don’t stay with Aidan, do I really want to abide by Ronan’s terms? Not date anyone else?