Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (2 page)

She couldn’t help the shudder that shook her knees as his broad shoulders and strong chest covered in a crisp white shirt were revealed to her gaze. His neck, corded with muscle and as tan as his arms, delighted her. She’d love to lick—

He handed her the coat, looking pointedly at her chest again. His face was unreadable and when she didn’t move, he stepped up to her and wrapped the coat around her shoulders, taking extra attention to pull it together over her crossed arms. His fingers grazed her neck, and she swore she felt him inhale sharply. Her body quivered under the touch.

Despite the thrill, her mortification was complete. Her boss had covered her like a child. The tiny part of her that held hope he’d recognize her as a twenty-five-year-old woman crowed in delight as his decadent woodsy scent wrapped around her, the insane heat from his coat pouring into her skin and making her want to moan in appreciation. The insecure part of her that never went after anything she wanted cowered in shame. He wanted to cover her up when what she really wanted to do was take it all off for him.

Stop it, Hanson. Get a freaking grip already.

“So there then. I’ll see you in a few.” His gravelly voice rang dismissive as he nodded at her, picked up his briefcase, and strode away. Three men, also large and dressed in suits, followed him. One of them, Mr. Hayden Bent, lowered his sunglasses to take a peek at her before he winked and raised his glasses back up to cover obsidian eyes.

Hell
.

She needed a drink. And a new shirt.

Mortification complete? Now it damn sure was.

*

She was going to be the death of him. No woman had a right to that much sexiness. His hands had literally itched to stroke over the wet silk of her shirt, flick those deliciously stiff nipples playing hide-and-seek with him through the drenched fabric, and pull her close so his mouth could complete the journey his hands begged to take. His mouth watered to wet the silk even further, taste her skin, inhale her fragrance.

The problem was everyone else had been staring, privy to the same sight, and it had almost driven him to punch a few of the men striding by in the face. Or the kidney. Yeah, a good kidney punch would’ve stopped the staring. The woman drove him to distraction.

She was damn well interrupting every aspect of his life now, sleep included. He woke most nights with the phantom feel of her midnight hair across his chest, the moon-glow softness of her skin pressed against his. He didn’t even want to think about the constant woody he sported that he couldn’t relieve with his fist or a cold shower. Speaking of fists, his clenched as he remembered the feel of her neck under his finger just moments ago. Silk. Her skin was silk. She was temptation and he fucking
wanted
.

Built like his every dripping wet fantasy come to life, Sophie Hanson was a special kind of torture for a man like him. Add the fact that he was her boss, and it just complicated a situation he had no hope of resolving until this next job was completed. It was just too dangerous for him to involve her in his life for anything outside of work. She’d have a target painted on her back in no time, and that he could not allow. People had already made attempts to steal his work. He knew for a fact some seedy corporations would resort to any means to get at the technology.

“She’s pretty damn hot.”

Ryan turned, and in less than a second had the speaker’s throat under his hand as he shoved him against the elevator wall.

Stygian black eyes assessed him, and an equally black brow lifted in mocking amusement.

“Don’t fucking look at her,” Ryan bit out as he released the man’s throat and tried to gain control, flexing his hand and rolling his shoulders.

The other two men with them stepped forward but at a glance from him, immediately turned around and looked elsewhere.

“Yeah, you know that’s not gonna work, right, Rye? She’s already under your skin, and if you don’t get that shit worked out soon, it’ll muck up the works for sure,” Hayden said in a rough voice.

Ryan glared at him and ran a hand down his face before he glanced at Hayden again. They’d been best friends since grade school. They’d grown up in foster care together, never separated, brothers in everything but blood—and hell, maybe even that by now. They owned Applied Technologies & Communications jointly. He shook his head and wondered where the urge to kill the man who’d been through every hell on the planet with him had suddenly come from.

“Don’t fucking look at her. And don’t fucking talk about her.” It was all he could say, the words a pounding drumbeat of demand in his body. He bent to retrieve the report he’d dropped in his haste to choke the life from Hayden.

“Maybe instead of me talking about her, you should just fucking get her under you and out of your system.” Hayden could be a cold bastard, but Ryan couldn’t fault him his reasoning on the subject of one Sophie Hanson.

It didn’t mean he liked hearing him talk about her like that though. Sophie may look like sex on a stick, but she was the type of woman you settled down with. Home and hearth and all the shit Ryan’d never had but wanted like people in hell wanted ice water. She drew him as no other woman ever had. She could be his downfall for sure.

And she was off limits. Too many people were gunning for him and the technology he carried around in his head. He’d never involve her in that. At least not any more than he already had. She was his employee—efficient, intelligent, driven, and sexy as hell, but his employee just the same.

“Seriously, Rye. You’re in here early every morning trying to catch a glimpse of her coming in and you’re here late watching her leave. What is it about her?”

Hayden’s voice held a note of frustrated confusion. It rang in the elevator and settled like lead in Ryan’s gut.

“She’s off-limits. You don’t talk about her, and I don’t fuck her. Got it?” Venom dripped from his words, but Hayden shrugged and shook his head.

The elevator doors opened and all four men departed, entering an office that had elegance and determination in every nook and cranny. The floors were hardwood, the walls a deep mahogany and lined with pictures of clients and success stories from their field of expertise. Windows looked out over Midtown Atlanta, the cars multicolored insects tripping along Interstate 75. It was fall, and the leaves were turning. As a city full of trees, the backdrop of variegated golds, browns, and reds was more beautiful than any tapestry. The office was a testament to the power and success of the two men who’d built this company from the ground up. He and Hayden had spared no expense in creating the atmosphere they felt best portrayed them. Normally, it calmed Ryan. Today? Not so much.

“Mr. Locke, you have a conference call in twenty minutes with Mr. Wellesley of the Defence Council,” his secretary informed him.

“I’m aware. Set up the conference room for three people and bring in water, will you?” He’d damn well need it if he had to sit in the same room with Sophie for any length of time.

“Yes, sir,” she responded and moved to do just as he’d asked.

He walked into his office, set his briefcase on the desk, and rolled his shoulders. He reached to take off his coat and then realized he’d left it with
her
.

Hayden had followed him to his office and sat in one of his client chairs. “You gonna be okay?”

“I said no talking about it,” Ryan bit out as he turned to stare out at the city below them.

“No, you said, ‘don’t fucking talk about her.’ And I didn’t. I asked if you’d be okay. Difference there, my man, surely you see it?”

“Splitting hairs. Damn, Hayden, I’m good. She’s off-limits and I know this. And before you ask, no, I’m not apologizing to you.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair, turned, and sat in his office chair. If he could only convince himself, he’d be great, but the feel of her skin had him rubbing his fingers together, desperate to feel that softness again.
Concentrate on business
. “You realize this call could set us up for life, right?”

“I realize it. My end is ready. Yours?”

Ryan didn’t answer. Hayden knew him well enough to know his shit was together. Was always together. “We may have to take a trip over to ensure proper implementation and do some training, but it should go smooth.”

Applied Technologies & Communications, ATC, had begun as a security firm. After both he and Hayden had retired from active duty in the SEALs, they’d decided to go into business together. They were good at protection but it turned out they were even better at communications. He had an engineering degree from Georgia Tech, and Hayden had a business degree from Georgia State. With his engineering savvy and Hayden’s business acumen, they’d established a security firm that netted millions but had eventually spread into communications.

This meeting with Britain’s Defence Council would allow them to sell their newest gadget, a wireless communication device that gave users unlimited range—no matter the terrain and situation—and security, thanks to the satellite orbiting above earth. ATC had bought exclusive rights to the satellite from the US government, which was also negotiating to purchase their device. He and Hayden had dubbed their gadget WetComm because of its ability to be used underwater and on land. It was an implantation device that fit neatly into the ear canal and acted as both a receiver and transmitter.

It was brilliance, but they had to sell it first and count the hatched chickens later. No doubt, though, it would allow them to sell off their protective division to two of their buddies and let him and Hayden live well for the rest of their lives.

Ryan was ready to settle down a bit. At thirty-four, he’d been through hell and back and he was ready to live instead of just survive. He was pretty sure Hayden was ready for the same.

The phone on his desk beeped before his secretary’s strident voice called out, “Mr. Locke, Ms. Hanson is ready in the conference room and your call is waiting on the line.”

“Thank you. I’m on my way.”

He looked at Hayden, who arched a brow.

“Let it go, man, let it go.” Ryan steeled himself to see Sophie again and stood.

Hayden chuckled. “Consider it gone. You know, until I have to bring it up again.”

Ryan snorted and headed toward the conference room, fully aware that his hands still itched. He prayed as he walked down the hall. He prayed she’d changed her shirt.

Chapter 2

The air was thick with tension. This meeting wasn’t going like they’d anticipated. Bottom line, Britain’s Defence Ministry wanted trademark rights to WetComm and neither Mr. Locke nor Mr. Bent was going to give in to that demand. They owned the satellite, which allowed them exclusivity to their design as said design was dependent on the satellite. That was the trick. The technology was brand-new, but it was the symbiotic relationship the device had with the satellite that made it so desirable and effective. Not only were the patents ATC’s, the design was Mr. Locke’s and, as he’d said, they’d have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.

The men had been going back and forth with a Mr. Wellesley on the other end of the phone line for almost thirty minutes when silence descended. So thick it was jarring, the quiet drew Sophie’s gaze to the head of the table. She was skewered by her boss’ intense blue stare. Caught, like a deer in headlights, it wasn’t until his lips quirked that the breath she’d been unaware she was holding released.

His gaze strayed down and she was glad she’d had the white cashmere sweater hanging on her door. She’d not had time to go out and buy another shirt, so she’d settled for washing off the silk, which had probably destroyed it, and then putting the sweater on over it. At least it matched, though it was fitted. If the way his gaze passed over her form was any indication, he didn’t mind that so much.

She set her pad and pencil on the conference table and deliberately crossed her arms, amazed at the way his eyes flared and the flesh across his cheekbones tightened. He may be off-limits, but her body certainly responded to the heated looks he kept throwing her way.

“Ms. Hanson?” That secret blow to her midsection at the sound of his voice took her breath, threw her way off.

“Yes?” She glanced up but trained her gaze over his left shoulder, afraid if she looked him in the eye, she’d be lost again. He took her concentration and reduced it to ashes.

“What do you think?” he asked, lips still curved slightly. His bottom lip was delicious. She’d love to tug on it with her teeth, suck it into her mouth and—

“If you give them patent rights, you lose control of WetComm and any potential income from future sales. It’ll go global in the blink of an eye, and both the good guys and the terrorists will have access to your product. Giving up patent rights isn’t in the best interest of ATC. I’m also concerned because patent rights conversion was never spoken of in the original deal discussions. It seems a little late to bring this to the table.”

His gaze never left her, intent as it roamed over her face. She’d stepped into a parallel universe where her boss was giving her come-hither looks, but Sophie was ever a professional. He’d not hired her to fantasize about his bottom lip and all the naughty things she wanted to do to it.

Ryan spoke again, and it drew her attention away from her fantasies about his mouth. “Mr. Wellesley, I say we reconvene in about ten minutes. I need some time with my staff, and you need to decide to give in gracefully.” His voice hardened imperceptibly, and his gaze went blank as he stared at the phone.

She never, ever wanted him to look at her that way. Ever.

“Ten minutes, Locke, and I won’t be giving in, gracefully or otherwise. Shall you call me back?” The clipped British accent was frosty.

“I will.” Ryan disconnected and then looked at Hayden. “How about you go get us a drink to celebrate?”

Hayden gave him a limpid look. “Deal’s not done.”

“Will be in ten minutes.” Ryan shrugged and looked at his friend pointedly.

“I can take a hint, but uh, remember what we talked about.” Hayden left the conference room, careful to close the door as he went.