Beneath the Surface (12 page)

“Did he ask you to get him pain relievers?” he shouted but instantly regretted it. It wasn’t her fault, and there was no need to yell at her.

Dale glanced between the two men, fumbling for something to say.

She opened her mouth and closed it again quickly before giving in and shoving past Kyran to hand the coffee and pills to Taylor.

“No, he didn’t ask me. I saw he wasn’t feeling well and thought he needed some help.”

“He needs far more than that.”

“Do you think you’re helping matters by yelling at him?” She helped Taylor sip from the small cardboard cup. “Let him have aspirin, give him an hour, and then you can go as wild as you like. Okay?”

“Since when are you his babysitter? And I really don’t think he needs you to help him drink. He has hands.”

Dale cocked her hip as she placed her hand on it. She wouldn’t let him get to her, which was a good thing considering how pissed he was at the moment.

“Mr. Reese, please. I’ll personally deliver him to your office as soon as he can string a coherent sentence together. You have my word.”

Kyran held his tongue. He wouldn’t say anything that might upset her.

His issue was with Taylor, not Dale.

She watched him for a moment before her gaze darted to the door. It was clear to him she wanted him to leave. He bit back a smile as he turned away from them, amusement at her actions diffusing his anger. She’d referred to him by his last name and hadn’t flinched. She astounded him.

Clearing his throat and trying to will away his growing erection, he sternly said, “He’d better be in my office within the hour, Ms. Porter. I’ll hold you
personally
responsible if he’s not.”

Dale rolled her eyes and waved him away with a wiggle of her fingers.

Kyran stalled, about to shoot her a sarcastic response, but he caught himself and continued forward. Not bothering to close the door to Taylor’s office, he walked along the corridor, intending to collect his gym clothes and blow off some steam in the basement. The voice drifting from reception put a halt to his plans . . . and his hard-on.

Clara, his father’s future ex-wife. At least she would be when his father came to his senses. She flicked her red hair over her shoulder, checking out her manicured nails. As usual, she balanced on her high heels, making up for her barely five foot frame. Kyran thought she looked ridiculous.

He winced when she laughed, her maniacal giggle far too loud in the quiet of the office. She did it on purpose; it was like her personal calling card, warning them that she was there. Of course, he’d have to greet her, otherwise she’d go in search of them and stumble upon Taylor with his mighty hangover. Yet again he was covering for his brother, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”

Stepping out into reception, he plastered on a fake smile. It was all a lie. He couldn’t stand the gold digger.

“Clara.”

“Kyran,” she said in her high-pitched voice, standing on her tiptoes so she could air-kiss both his cheeks. “What a wonderfully warm welcome.”

Her perfume choked him, the toxic fumes scratching at his throat. How the hell did his father live with the smell without coughing his throat raw?

“And what can I do for you today?” He hated himself for being so false with her.

“Your father sent me. Well, he thought I could pop in after I finished my shopping.” She looked around him toward the offices. “Were you just coming from Taylor’s office? Can I speak with him also?”

Kyran picked up her shopping bags and placed his hand at her elbow to escort her to his office. “Taylor is on a conference call. He should be finished shortly. I’ll have my assistant pass him a message about you being here.”

“Your father would have preferred to come himself, of course ,but he had far more pressing matters to attend to.”

“I’m sure the golf course could have waited for half an hour.”

“Silly.” She giggled, linking her arm through his. “He wouldn’t pick golf over seeing his sons.”

Kyran placed her bags on the floor next to his desk and then pulled out a chair for her. He could think of a thousand things he’d rather be doing than being stuck with Clara, breathing in her flowery, chemical scent. He hoped she would deliver his father’s message quickly and leave, but he knew her too well. This would not be quick, and it would not be painless.

“Take a seat, Clara. I’ll e-mail Taylor’s assistant myself and make sure he stops by the office before you leave.”

“Oh, goody.”

Her language made him curl his lip. It was so childish—not something he’d ever heard a thirty-seven-year-old woman use. His father had to be deaf as well as blind when it came to his wife.

Opening his e-mail, Kyran typed in Dale’s address. His assistant, Lucy, entered and served coffee while he tried to figure out what to type in the message.

“Kyran, don’t you have any sweetener? I refuse to use sugar. I don’t take yoga class for nothing.”

“I’m sure we have some in the kitchen.” He smiled, refusing to call Lucy back. Eventually, Clara stood and fetched her own sweeteners. It left Kyran alone for a few moments to collect his thoughts and contemplate what he could say to Dale. He wanted to type something suggestive, something that would have her blushing in her seat, but instead opted for professionalism. After all, the main rule of this relationship was to keep it away from the office.

While he waited for Clara to return, he sat back in his chair, looking out across the city, and wondered what Dale’s reaction would be when his name popped up in her in-box. Would she try to hide the e-mail? Would it make her heart beat faster? Maybe her skin would flush a light petal-pink, just like it did when she was aroused.

“You don’t have any. I’ve searched every drawer.”

Clara’s voice snapped him into the present. The image of a blushing, desire-fueled Dale evaporated, and he was left with Clara, the banshee.

“I’ll see to it that we have a good supply for when you return,” he stated drolly.

She didn’t hear his impatience or chose not to acknowledge it.

Returning to her seat, she pushed her coffee cup away, wrinkling her nose, and then reached for her purse.

“So what did my father ask you to pass along?” Kyran’s impatience grew.

Her eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement as she clapped her hands.

“Oh! It’s wonderful news.”

Panic hit him when he thought of what “wonderful new” could mean to Clara. She had been harping on about having a child for months now, and her happiness led him to assume she’d gotten her wish.

“It is?” Kyran felt his palms moisten.

“Yes. Your father had the most perfect idea.”

The panic started to ebb. “And that is?”

“The benefit? You know, the one for the children? Well, Jacob has decided to have it on the yacht this year,” Clara said in near-hysterics.

Kyran didn’t quite understand what the hysteria was about. His father hosted a charity benefit every year around the same time, and holding it on his yacht wasn’t all that groundbreaking. He dreaded the rest of her revelation because there had to be more.

“Anyway, I can see you don’t understand my excitement, so I’ll have to explain. Jacob and I have a special wedding anniversary on the twelfth.

We were going to book a cruise and celebrate it while traveling, but I told him I’d much rather spend the beautiful day with my family and friends. It was Jacob’s idea to mesh the two events together.”

“I’m sorry?” Kyran asked, trying to digest what she’d said. “You’re holding your anniversary party on the yacht? At the same time the benefit is being held?”

“Yes! Isn’t it the best idea ever?”

“Utterly,” he replied. Clara missed the sarcasm in his response as she continued to drone on about the plans for the night and the amalgamation of the two parties. She even explained the damn color scheme for the tables.

Why the fuck did he need to know that?

Covertly scrolling through his e-mails, Kyran remembered to add the odd
yes
and
wonderful
to Clara. That way she’d assume he was listening when he really couldn’t care less. It annoyed him that his father was using the benefit to celebrate his ridiculous nuptials to a woman almost the same age as his sons, but he knew his voice wouldn’t be heard if he protested.

He’d learned to keep quiet a long time ago.

A name popped onto the screen. Dale. She’d replied to his earlier e-mail, and for some reason he got excited by that. He opened the e-mail.

Kyran had to bite down on his lower lip to stop from smiling at her response.

Mr. Reese,

Your brother is currently having an intimate conversation with the
toilet bowl. It would be prudent to advise any visitors that he is indisposed.

Clearly, any medication he’s taken has been flushed away.

I will keep you informed should there be any change in his condition.

Also, it seems I will have to work late tonight. I do hope I’m not alone
in the office, as I would hate to have to use the stairwell late at night.

Dale

It was clear what her e-mail was implying, and he fought the temptation to respond. They had resolved to keep their relationship out of work, but Dale was making it very hard to keep that promise. To anyone reading her correspondence, it would appear to be a reasonable concern. Kyran knew better.

“Is there something wrong, Kyran?” Clara asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Not at all. I can’t wait for the joint celebration. Why?”

She pointed a long, elegant, pink nail at him. “You have a look.”

He sat up straight. “I beg your pardon? What
look
?”

“I saw the way you were staring at the screen. Someone’s sent you something amusing . . . no, not amusing. It’s something else . . . something more. Hmm?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I checked my e-mail, that’s all. Nothing of any interest there.”

Clara combed her hand through her hair. “Liar, but I’m sure your father and I will find out soon enough.” She checked her watch. “Is Taylor coming?”

“Doubtful. One of those e-mails was from his assistant. He’s still dealing with the conference call, and it doesn’t sound like it will end soon.”

“I guess I’ll go then.” Clare sighed.

Without sparing a moment, Kyran stood, collected her bags, and escorted her to reception whether she wanted to leave or not.

“You boys work so hard. Your father appreciates it, you know.”

Kyran hummed, not believing a word. His father didn’t give a shit how many hours he put in as long as the money continued to flow and he could pay for Clara’s little luxuries. Even before Clara, the man would rather stay in the office than be at home with his sons. He and Taylor had been raised by a procession of nannies. They had been the ones to pack the lunches, bathe them, and read bedtime stories. They had also been the ones to bring the tissues and give hugs when he and his brother cried because they missed their father.

“I’ll forward you the details of the benefit. That way you have plenty of time to get your tux ready.”

“Thank you, Clara. That’s very thoughtful of you.” The urge to eye roll was infinite with Clara. The woman was an irritation he didn’t need.

His father gave her the attention and care he should have given his sons, and it was difficult to see past that.

She air-kissed his cheeks again then wiggled her fingers in a silly little wave as she walked out of the office.

“Fuck!” Kyran hissed, causing Lucy to duck her head in case he needed someone to vent at. Little did she know he already had a person in mind.

His brother.

Rattled beyond reason, he stalked back down the corridor toward Taylor’s office. Dale’s desk was empty, along with Taylor’s office. He didn’t bother to knock on the bathroom door, but it didn’t matter, the room it was also vacant. His brother had disappeared, removing himself from Kyran’s wrath. Taylor was far more intelligent than he’d given him credit for.

Pulling his cell out of his pocket, he dialed his brother’s number, not surprised when his voice mail picked up.

“Taylor. I’m waiting.”

************

Dale tentatively knocked on the large wooden door that led to Kyran’s office. Her heart sped up, and she wondered how she was going to voice her thoughts. The day had been tiring, and the thought of curling up in her bed made her sigh.

Taylor had been useless. She’d given up trying to help him and had sent him home. Dale had known Kyran wouldn’t be pleased, but Taylor clearly wasn't doing any work slumped across his desk. His apartment was the best place for him, and keeping him out of his brother’s way would save everyone in the office getting their heads chewed off.

Dale had assumed Taylor had a hangover when she walked in to see him throwing up in the trash can. However, when he wasn’t any more coherent after coffee and pain medication, she started to wonder whether he’d been drinking all through the night. She was beginning to understand why Kyran thought of him as a liability.

“Come in!”

Dale’s pulse fluttered at the sound of his voice. She opened the door and stepped inside. Kyran had his chair turned toward the windows with his back to her as he looked out on the illuminated nighttime cityscape of Sea Pointe. He held his cell in one hand but wasn’t on a call, nor did he raise it to his ear to make one. With his other hand he stroked his shaved head. Her hands clenched at her sides; she wanted to touch him desperately.

This was just sex and should be kept out of the office.

Dale cleared her throat. Kyran spun his chair around to face her.

“Ms. Porter, what can I do for you?” he asked, his tone formal.

Moving farther into the office, she walked around his desk, aware that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “I came to talk to you. To discuss Mr.

Reese—the other Mr. Reese.”

“I see. Something else I should know about? Other than the state he was in this morning. Or the fact that the two of you were missing from the office later on.”

“Missing? You’re so dramatic. This morning I went out for coffee and bumped into my brother. I was gone longer then I should have been. Sorry, Mr. Reese.”