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  In his dove-gray suit, starched shirt, red tie and polished wingtip shoes, the man was impossibly handsome, made even more so by the slight shadow of stubble on his strong jaw. And his voice… It wasn’t just his words, but his deep, well-modulated tone that made her think of summer nights and hot, hot sex.

  His eyes, though, accentuated by the color of his clothing, were as chilly as she recalled.

  Slowly, slowly, he released her. She took two small steps back. Where he’d touched her, she throbbed.

  “I was sorry you didn’t let me give you a lift home a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

  “I always take time for the important things and people.”

  Was she ridiculous for thinking that he, too, felt the attraction between them? She shook her head. He was a powerful man, of course he had a strong sex drive. It didn’t mean anything.

  Under his scrutiny, she was hyperaware of her bare skin, the damp tendrils of hair curling against her nape, the way her silk shirt showed her silhouette. She wished she’d kept her blazer on.

  Lara mentally took hold of herself before his power consumed her. “I was having dinner with your sister. If I’d known you had business with BHI, I would have rescheduled.”

  Something dark ghosted across his eyes. “I had understood I’d be meeting with the board of directors. Or at least with you and Pernell.”

  She adjusted her grip on her bag to cover the shock that her father hadn’t said a word to her.

  “At any rate, my proposal is no longer on the table.”

  “What proposal?”

  “Regarding your communications division.”

  One that had been losing money, one she wanted to sell. Lara took in his pricey leather briefcase, no doubt containing a file folder with papers, or, more likely, a flash drive. “And you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Pernell made it clear he wasn’t open to discussion.”

  “I see.” Her knees went weak. Was this another instance of her father’s stubbornness? “I wish I had been there.”

  “I do, as well. Things might have worked out differently. Better.”

  She scrambled for time. Perhaps her father had been out of line. On the other hand, maybe Connor’s offer had been a bad one. And she needed time to sort it out, learn what was going on, and mostly, think it through. “Are you open to continuing the negotiation?”

  “Under my original terms? No.”

  Connor took another step closer to her, and she remained in place, waiting, wondering.

  He was close enough that she could once again inhale his scent…that of relentless determination spiced with masculine power.

  Her heart seemed to pause then raced when he reached for the elevator call button.

  “If you’re interested in hearing more, contact me.” He paused long enough to pull out a business card. “My personal cell number is on there.”

  She accepted the card.

  “Good evening,” he said when the doors slid open.

  Her voice suddenly constricted by the thundering of her pulse, she nodded and watched him enter the car.

  Within seconds, he disappeared from view.

  She exhaled, feeling simultaneously relieved and disappointed. What had she expected?

  Lara straightened her shoulders and headed down the hallway to her father’s office.

  Lara knocked sharply then pushed the door open without waiting for an invitation.

  Pernell raised his eyebrows as he glanced up. “Lara, darling.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect you back today.”

  “Obviously.” She took a seat across from him and dropped her bag onto the thick carpeting. The unyielding green leather, high-back chair squeaked as she sat. The rest of his office was just as uncomfortable. Dark mahogany bookshelves overflowed with civic awards, mementos and antique clocks. His gigantic desk had a huge phone, a blotter, a few fine pens and a cup of pencils. Begrudgingly, he’d allowed the IT team to install a computer, but it was behind him on a credenza. If he’d ever turned it on, she’d be astounded. His entire space reeked of old-world tradition or, in her opinion, an outdated way of doing business.

  In contrast, her work area was minimalistic, equipped with modern electronics. It was designed for focus as well as flexibility. Its small, sparse confines were accented only by a shocking arrangement of red flowers displayed in an artistically shaped alloy metal vase, all designed to encourage creativity.

  Their offices were only the beginning of the differences between Lara and her father.

  “I just ran into Connor Donovan.”

  “Oh?” He glanced away, as if to avoid her gaze.

  She gripped the chair arms. “He thought he had a meeting with both of us.”

  “Did he, now?”

  “Dad, please. Don’t patronize me.” She held on to the tendril of frustration that threatened to unravel inside her. “Why didn’t you mention we had an appointment with him?”

  “I thought I’d see if he had anything interesting to say first.”

  How long had it been this way, the thrust and parry as she tried to dig necessary information from him? When she’d been young, he’d doted on her. Lara would hurry to him every chance she had. He’d encouraged it. Every time he’d had to work on a weekend, he’d brought her along. He’d allowed her to work summers while she was in high school, and he’d been her greatest mentor. Even while she’d been in college, she’d looked forward to the opportunity to spend time with him.

  It wasn’t until after grad school that she’d realized he was attached to outdated ways of doing business, and she’d started to challenge his decisions.

  More and more, he’d begun to leave her out of conversations, and the wedge seemed as unbridgeable as it was wide. Now she understood the frustrations that had led her mother to divorce him five years ago. The man was stubborn.

  Opting for the direct route, Lara stated, “Connor said the offer is off the table.”

  “It was never on it,” her father replied, relaxing back in his seat, obviously once again feeling in control.

  “Meaning?”

  “He has some ideas on how we can work together on some projects. But essentially he’s arrogant enough to think we should sell the communications division to him.”

  “Did you look at his proposition?”

  “It was missing a comma and some zeroes. I never even looked at it.” He clapped his hands together and left them steepled. “I tossed him out on his ass. Told him to take his insulting offer with him.”

  “You did what?” Energy ripped through her, bringing her to her feet.

  “Sit down,” Pernell instructed. “I don’t like tipping my head back to see you.” For the first time in weeks, he smiled. It erased years from his face, banished the shadows from beneath his eyes. His eyes, dark like her own, all but twinkled.

  “You’re enjoying this.”

  “Lara, you should have seen his face.”

  Since BHI was a private firm, they didn’t answer to shareholders, just a seven-member board of directors. She and her father both held seats, along with her mother, Helene who had retained her position as part of her impressive divorce settlement. But because of her annoyances with Pernell, her mother hadn’t been to a meeting in at least a year. Occasionally she threatened to show up, mostly to irritate him, Lara assumed.

  The other four members had been appointed by Pernell over the years. They were colleagues and of a similar age and mindset.

  Lara believed the company’s financial problems could be solved with a steady, firm hand, a compelling five-year plan, some management shake-ups and, above all, getting rid of certain divisions.

  At the last board meeting, she’d presented the dismal financial report, for the third quarter in a row. They could not afford for this spiral to continue.

  Despite her passionate entreaty urging them to make changes, they’d voted to continue on the course they’d set.

  One of the boa
rd members had stated that they had weathered decades of market fluctuations. Things would come back. They always had. Pernell’s ever-steady philosophy had served the company in good stead.

  Now, her father’s stubbornness was damaging BHI’s valuation, and he refused to see the truth.

  For the past eighteen months, she’d been steadfast in her conviction that they needed to make changes immediately. The resulting tension coiled between them, gnawing away at their relationship. “Dad—”

  “Go home,” he interrupted. “Get some rest. You’ve earned it. Have a glass of wine.”

  From experience, she knew she’d get no further with him. He could be right that the offer had been an intentional lowball, but she didn’t know that.

  “Go home, Lara Marie,” he said softly.

  “Only if you will,” she countered.

  “Donald will be coming for me in half an hour.”

  His driver, confidant, butler. She nodded. “We are not finished with this conversation.”

  “Believe me, Lara. I know.” He sighed. Then, obviously realizing he’d revealed a weakness, he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She was being thrown out. Like Connor had been.

  Her father waited for her to pick up her bag before escorting her to the door.

  Once she was out, he snapped it shut.

  Frustration churned through her. Instead of cleaning up her desk, she exited the building and headed for the parking garage. She knew she should follow her original plan and hit the gym, but she wanted to go home, have some peace to think things through. It’d been a hell of an evening.

  Her fast pace didn’t alleviate any of her anxiety, and she was still simmering as she slid behind the wheel of her sedan.

  Her car was cool, and she took a moment to unpin her hair and roll her shoulders, trying to ease some of the knots there. Unfortunately they seemed to have become permanent.

  This evening there was no baseball game or concert, so traffic was as light as it ever was in Houston, and it took her less than twenty minutes to reach her historic bungalow in the Heights.

  All the way home, she turned over Erin’s words and the unexpected meeting with Connor.

  Before going inside, she stopped long enough to water the bougainvillea and the potted plants that looked as wilted as she felt.

  She headed straight for the bedroom to stow her bag, kick off her shoes, remove her thigh-high stockings then pull her shirt over her head. As usual, she left everything in a discarded heap. At times she was grateful she lived alone and wasn’t dating anyone. There were benefits.

  After she’d changed into a pair of shorts, a tank top and flip-flops, she went into the kitchen for that glass of wine her father had suggested. Since the day had been so frustrating, she added sparkling water to the glass to cut the alcohol in half. She had a feeling she’d be wanting at least one refill.

  Glass in hand, she grabbed her iPad from the counter and went into the backyard, her favorite retreat. The outdoor space was the feature that had convinced her to offer full price for the house. In addition to the covered deck, there was a small vegetable garden, numerous oleander trees, lush banana plants, several types of palms and a fishpond that she had to constantly replenish thanks to the hungry local bird population. It was a small oasis in a busy city.

  In cooler months, she had a heater on the deck, but today, she needed the overhead fan to churn through the humidity-laced air.

  Lara sat on the porch swing and took a long drink before putting down the glass. Then she powered up the tablet. While she waited for it to connect, she used her toes to push off and set the swing into motion.

  She became aware of children playing in the yard behind her. And soon after, the sounds of dogs running around. Mrs. Fuhrman, her next-door neighbor, must have let her five rescue animals outside.

  Their excited yips and barks soothed her.

  Without conscious thought, she did a search on Connor’s name.

  Not for the first time, she scrolled through a few articles about him. Most of it, she knew from Erin, so Lara only read the first couple of paragraphs before moving on.

  After their father’s death, Connor had been called home from his graduate school studies back east to take the helm of Donovan Worldwide. Though his grandfather, William, referred to as the Colonel, still served as CEO, Connor was president, and he was responsible for most of the decisions. According to unconfirmed reports, the Colonel had recently had a stroke, which meant that Connor had assumed even more obligations.

  Lara saw a couple of references to Erin’s role as a human resources guru, while Connor’s younger brother handled research. According to Erin, they had a step-brother, Cade, who was the eldest child. Though she seemed to adore him, he wasn’t around much, and there were only hints about the scandal of his birth. He ran a ranching operation—or, as it was referred to deeper in the story, the family’s agribusiness interests—in west Texas.

  As she’d mentioned to Erin, Lara had previously looked Connor up online, searching for any indication he had a girlfriend. She hadn’t seen recent pictures of him with any women, though he’d been photographed at a Boston event with Julien Bonds, the renowned technology genius. But there was frustratingly little to give her a glimpse of who he really was or what mattered to him.

  Without conscious thought, she pulled up the bookmarked images of him. All of them were mouth-watering. No matter what he was wearing, from khakis and a polo shirt with deck shoes, to a suit like he’d worn today, the man looked delicious. Tall and handsome, he had the lean frame of a runner or bicyclist. He was powerful and sexy. And he tripped all her physical responses.

  She glanced up from the screen and stared into the distance, replaying their unexpected meeting near the elevator.

  As a professional, she’d understood that Connor had been visiting on business, but the woman in her had pulsed with awareness.

  Unbidden, Erin’s words returned to tumble through Lara’s mind.

  Marry Connor?

  The idea was absurd.

  But for a moment, the idea of being with him tantalized. She wondered what it would be like to be with him, to surrender to his kiss. Would he be as bold in the bedroom as he was outside it? For a moment, she pictured him with his fingertips poised to open the top button on her favorite blouse. Would he skim her skin as he bared it, or would he move aggressively to the next button?

  How restrained was he?

  Would he tear the material in his haste to have her? That thought was followed by another, and she imagined him undressing, taking off his belt then looping it around his hand as he approached her.

  She shook her head.

  What was wrong with her? She wasn’t sure where the unbidden fantasy had come from. And, as she’d found out, men thought she was too kinky as it was. She’d do better to banish the thoughts.

  Adding Connor Donovan to her evening fantasies was a prescription for disaster.

  Determinedly, she shoved her musings away.

  She had real issues she needed to focus on, a family business that needed serious attention. And Connor had already indicated his willingness to help.

  The idea of approaching him made rockets of ice shoot up her spine to settle at the back of her neck.

  Lara reached for her glass and took a deep drink, contemplating. No doubt her father would see her action as disloyal. But her job as CFO was to advise and make recommendations, even if the owner didn’t want to hear them.

  Resolved, she went to shut down the tablet, but was once again riveted by a picture of Connor, this time adjusting one of his starched cuffs.

  Damn, everything he did radiated appeal.

  She headed inside and deposited her iPad and unfinished drink on the counter, telling herself she wasn’t going to use her shower massager to masturbate while she thought of Connor.

  But as she turned on the water in the bathroom, Lara admitted she was lying to herself. She was aroused—consumed by naughty thoughts of
him—and she needed relief.

  Chapter Two

  Lara Bertrand.

  Christ.

  Five minutes before his alarm clock was set to shatter the silence, Connor Donovan threw back the sheet and crawled from bed.

  Last night, he’d taken a long swim after he’d gotten home, hoping to get rid of the memory of her. It hadn’t worked. Instead, he’d been tormented by thoughts of her dark brown eyes, long hair that he wanted to pull and her beautiful sun-kissed skin that reflected her Cajun heritage. Her delectable fragrance—lemony and spicy—evoked magnolias and made him think of sultry, endless summer nights. He recalled the way she’d felt when he’d momentarily held her in his arms. Her softness, responsiveness, had scorched him, igniting physical hunger.

  Connor rarely spent any time thinking about women. Work obsessed him, and he’d discarded the idea of dating because relationships mattered to him. They demanded and deserved an investment of time and energy. It would be selfish to ask a woman out while knowing it wouldn’t progress beyond something casual.

  His subconscious obviously hadn’t been impressed by the decision of his rational mind, and thoughts of Lara had haunted him all night.

  He’d dreamed of her, imagining the sight of her in his bed, naked with her arms over her head, wrists secured to the headboard, not with silky ties, but with rope. Hemp would leave tiny marks that he could enjoy for hours. Her eyes would be closed, her back arched, legs spread as she begged for his touch, his domination.

  Now, he all but inhaled the scent of her on his pillow—spiced citrus and feminine seduction.

  Connor shook his head. What in the hell-fuck was he doing thinking about an opponent’s daughter? Picturing her in a submissive pose would lead to nothing other than a hard-on.

  Shoving thoughts of her aside and determined to keep his focus, Connor followed his typical predawn ritual by heading for the bathroom to take a one-minute cold shower.

  Wide-awake, invigorated, he dragged his fingers through his wet hair then dried off before pulling on a pair of compression workout skins.