Come Moonrise (14 page)

He had women in his life, on a very
temporary basis, but he’d never found himself fantasizing about one
of them when he was on a case. Yet this photo found its way into
his conscious mind regularly. Had she been any other woman, he
would have made her acquaintance by now, dated her, bedded her and
gotten rid of this longing.

But she wasn’t another woman. She was John
Harrison’s daughter, not exactly Alex’s enemy, but a woman destined
to hate him when his plans for her father’s company came to
fruition. Using the evidence of what she did for a living, he’d
managed to convince himself the picture lied.

He had managed to stay away from her.

Until now. His options were limited in
gathering the information that he needed on this new development
and what he had avoided for two years seemed inevitable.

He would have to meet her because every
possible line of inquiry led back to the same source – Isabel
Harrison.

***

Isabel propped her feet on her desk and
admired her new Italian leather pumps. Dark mauve, they were the
perfect shade to compliment the tailored jacket of her pantsuit.
Sometimes size six feet had their advantages. She’d gotten her new
pumps for a song off the clearance rack at her favorite trendy shoe
store in Washington Square.

Smiling in remembered satisfaction, she
shifted her gaze to the clipboard lying across her legs and
wondered if she should put an appreciation for footwear on her
list, but decided against it. That might be pushing the male
chromosome just a bit too far. And it was definitely the male
chromosome she needed, or at least the result of it...a man.

A small sound had Isabel swinging her
attention from the clipboard in front of her to the doorway to her
office.

Her breath lodged in her throat.

A man stood there. Undoubtedly not her man,
but an impressive man just the same.

A nighthawk, she thought fancifully. There
was just something so dark about this guy, and not only his
appearance. Dark and intense. She could feel him standing less than
a dozen feet away. His probing, deep brown gaze momentarily froze
her in place and she stared back at him with helpless
fascination.

Black hair, cut just a little long, framed a
face that was not pretty-boy handsome, but drew a shocking response
from her just the same. Attraction, strong and undeniable slammed
into her like an express train. Sensual lips above an aggressively
square jaw line snagged her attention before she got hold of her
focus and sent it elsewhere.

He hadn’t even worn the customary white
shirt to relieve the dark charcoal gray of his suit. Instead he
wore a crisp black shirt with a Neru collar. At least eight inches
taller than her own five feet four inches, he dominated her office
and her breathing space.

The whimsical thought that this man probably
had no appreciation for footwear flitted through her brain before
she banished it. He was a potential client, not a potential date
and definitely not a potential mate. He was too overwhelming.

Summoning a smile, she scrambled to present
a more professional appearance and whipped her feet off of her
desk. In her haste, she forgot about the clipboard resting against
her legs and it went tumbling to the beige carpet.

"Excuse me. I’ll be right with you." She
bent down to retrieve it.

Heat crept up her neck and into her face as
she opened one of the drawers in her oak desk and shoved the
clipboard inside. He’d come further into the room while she’d been
busy dealing with the clipboard and now stood on the other side of
her desk.

Remembering her manners, she stood up and
extended her hand. "Isabel Harrison. What can I do for you?"

Nanny Number Four had drilled courtesy into
her. Courtesy is not merely a sign of good breeding, my dear, but
it is more importantly a mark of respect from one person to
another, she had repeatedly said. Isabel tried always to be
courteous and had put the trait down on her list, wondering all the
while if it would weed out too many potential candidates.

Not many men bothered with polite gestures
anymore.

The man towering over her desk took her hand
in his.

Heat transferred from his strong, masculine
fingers to her own and she hastily pulled her hand back before she
made a complete fool of herself over nothing more than a common
gesture of courtesy. Lots of people had warm hands. Hers were
probably uncommonly chilled for some reason and that is why his
skin had felt so hot against her own.

It was not some kind of primitive female
reaction thing.

Sliding an unobtrusive glance at the
calendar on her desk, she confirmed that she had no appointment
scheduled. She rarely did during the lunch hour, but it wasn’t
unusual to have a client drop in unannounced. It was very unusual,
however, for a client to have the affect on her senses that this
man was having. She didn’t even know his name.

She indicated a floral covered chair in
front of her desk. "Won’t you have a seat, Mr. ..."

Folding his body into the chair she had
offered, he said, "Alex Trahern and I think you know why I’m
here."

So this was Alex Trahern, owner of CIS and
boss to the man she had called to discuss career options this
morning. She barely stifled a sigh. She didn’t want one of those
confrontations this morning. She really didn’t. If employers would
just realize that she wasn’t the enemy. It wasn’t her fault that
they often underpaid and undervalued their employees, making her
job placing them with other companies that much easier. She
wouldn’t have a job if employees were all satisfied with their
positions.

However, her phone call to Marcus Danvers
earlier that morning had been a complete failure. He was one of the
rare employees that had absolutely no interest in moving on.
Perhaps if she told Mr. Trahern that, he would forego the whole
warning-her-off-of-his-employee routine.

She summoned her most convincing smile, the
one she used to encourage one of her clients to offer a higher
salary or better benefits. "Mr. Trahern—"

"I prefer Alex," he interrupted.

Nanny Number Four would be appalled, but
Isabel nodded. "Alex, then. Although I am not at liberty to discuss
my clients or potential clients, I can say that if I had contacted
one of your employees, you can rest assured that he or she showed
no interest in changing companies."

Instead of looking placated, he frowned. "I
don’t like games, Isabel. I know that you called my assistant,
Marcus Danvers, this morning with an offer to lure him away from my
company. I want to know why."

So Mr. Danvers had told Alex about her phone
call. She wasn’t surprised. Some employees found that mentioning
she had contacted them increased their leverage when negotiating
for employment benefits. Others merely felt that they owed
knowledge of the phone call to their employers as proof of their
loyalty. She didn’t disagree with either stand, but it sometimes
made her day less pleasant.

"Strictly speaking, I did not call Mr.
Danvers with an offer this morning." The conversation hadn’t gotten
that far.

"The fact that an offer was not extended is
unimportant. You called Marcus and I want to know who put you up to
it."

Oh dear. This was going to be worse than
usual. Being warned off from employees who had exhibited no
interest in changing companies could be handled relatively
smoothly. However, when an employer started asking questions about
her clients, she knew she had to tread very carefully.

"I’m sure you will understand," she said,
with more hope than certainty, "particularly considering the type
of business that you run, that I cannot breach the confidentiality
of my clients."

Alex leaned forward, his brown eyes intent.
"What exactly do you know about my business, Isabel?"

Squelching the ridiculous urge to back away
from her desk, she straightened her shoulders. "I make it a policy
to investigate the companies of the employees that I contact. It’s
good business practice. Naturally, when a employer expressed an
interest in hiring Mr. Danvers, I gathered what information I could
on CIS. I must admit that it wasn’t a great deal." She looked at
Alex, trying to gauge what he was thinking.

The tensing of his jaw indicated he wasn’t
satisfied with her answer. "What did you learn?"

There was no harm in telling him what she
had discovered. After all, it wasn’t anything he didn’t already
know. "I discovered that your company sells a service rather than a
product. You are apparently a purveyor of information."

He nodded, his expression still very intent
and somewhat forbidding and yet she had this strange compulsion to
reach out and touch him. She swallowed a groan at her own
stupidity. Touch him. Right.

"I also learned that you have very low
turnover in your company. I could not find anyone locally that had
worked for you in the past."

Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes
momentarily.

"This morning I discovered that your company
engenders fierce loyalty in its employees as well." She couldn’t
help smiling with her own satisfaction over that fact. "It’s always
a pleasure to come across someone truly content in his job."

Alex leaned back in his chair, and
considered her with an air of wry disbelief. "I can’t see a
headhunter finding pleasure in an employee’s job satisfaction.
Wouldn’t that make it a little challenging to lure the employee
away?"

Darn. Just when she thought things were
getting pleasant. "I don’t care for the term headhunter. I consider
myself more along the lines of a career guidance specialist and I
assure you, my primary goal is to see people content in their jobs.
Certainly, sometimes that requires helping them find positions with
new companies, but it is always in the best interest of the person
making the move."

"Is that how you justify stealing a
company’s most valuable asset?" He didn’t even blink when launching
that insult.

Irritation started to replace her desire for
diplomacy. "I do not steal anything. Employees are people, not
things. They have the right to fair compensation for their work,
competitive benefits and a comfortable work environment. If that
means moving to a different company, then the ones to blame are the
managers and owners of the companies responsible for a lack in any
of those three areas."

"Convenient philosophy for someone in your
line of work."

She’d had enough. "Okay. Let’s get this over
with. Tell me not to contact your assistant again. I’ll tell you
that he’s made it clear he isn’t interested in moving, so it’s not
an issue." She stood up and indicated the door with a wave of her
hand. "You can leave and I’ll get back to work."

Alex didn’t even shift in his chair. "Do you
get a lot?"

"A lot of what?" she asked with
exasperation.

"Employers warning you off of their
employees?"

She went to run her fingers through her hair
and remembered belatedly that she’d twisted it into a French knot
that morning. She felt strands of hair slip loose of the knot and
fall against her face. Things were just not going her way. She
immediately removed her hands, but the damage had been done.
Another lock of hair slid from the neat coil and she knew that
within seconds it was going to look like a rat’s nest. Darn it.

She yanked the clip from her hair, intending
to pull it back into the twist. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do.
It’s one of the hazards of the job. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve
had to put up with."

He paralyzed her with a lazy smile. "Try
me."

She stood there like a simpleton with her
hands stilled in their attempt to repair the damage she’d done to
her hairstyle. He had a dimple and Heaven only knew why, but that
fact had an astounding affect on her insides.

Giving up on trying to fix her hair without
a mirror and with hands that shook for no apparent reason, she
finger-combed the strands and let it fall in its customary blunt
cut to her shoulders. Obviously, he wasn’t going to leave
immediately, so she sat back down.

"I’ve had employers threaten me, call me
names and throw temper tantrums right here in my office. The worst
as far as I’m concerned, though, are the ones that come by and
offer me money to not have contact with their employees."

Alex brought his hands together in a loose
grip in front of him. "Why does that bother you? It seems like good
business sense. You still get what amounts to a commission and the
employer keeps his employee. It’s a win-win situation."

He didn’t get it. "Win-win for whom? The
employee is stuck with a boss who would rather pay what amounts to
protection money than improve their quality of life at work.
Believe it or not, I’m not interested in earning my commissions
that way. I’m a career guidance specialist, not the mafia, for
Heaven’s sake."

Surprise and something else flickered in his
dark brown eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought
it was desire. She must be mistaken. For goodness sake, she had
just met the man. Besides, he couldn’t be attracted to her. He
didn’t like her.

"So you only called Marcus this morning
because you wanted to provide him with a better job opportunity
than working for me? Your client’s needs had nothing to do with
it." The sarcastic disbelief in his voice grated against her
nerves.

She didn’t know why she’d given in to the
urge to try to convince this man to see her differently. It was
obviously a wasted effort.

"I called Mr. Danvers because my client
specifically asked me to. I had other potential candidates for the
job on my books with qualifications I thought were a better match,
but I always try to please my clients, whether employer or
employee. I had no personal desire to lure your assistant away from
a job he enjoys. Once I discovered that he wasn’t interested, I
congratulated him on finding a good position, told him to call if
he ever felt the need for a change and hung up."