Katie Reus - Targeted

“Good morning, Sophie.” Ronald gave her a tired smile as he looked up from his desk. Deep lines etched the grooves around his mouth.

There was no one in his office, so whoever they were meeting with must have stepped out. Which gave her the perfect opportunity to talk to her boss in private. “Ronald, we need to talk. Didn’t you get my calls last night?”

He shook his head, but the guilty flush spreading up his cheeks gave him away. Sophie reeled back as if slapped. He had been ignoring her. What the hell? She gritted her teeth, quickly moving past the hurt. “I discovered something . . . important.” She nearly snorted at that understatement.

His face paled. “Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t .” As she stared at the man in front of her, she tried to find the right words to just come out and say what she’d found. Something about his expression was just off. He looked almost haggard, so unlike the man she’d come to love and trust. She’d been twenty-two and right out of college when he’d given her a job. Not to mention that the company had paid for her master’s degree. She didn’t have any family and he’d always been a father figure to her. Anyone would have been better than the asshole foster fathers she’d endured over the years, but Ronald was truly kind. Even with the panic humming through her, seeing him this way pulled at her heartstrings.

Ronald sighed and his eyes flashed with something she couldn’t define. Pain? “We’ll talk, but not here. Just wait—”

He abruptly stopped talking and his gaze trailed over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. Sophie shifted in her seat and glanced behind her.

She blinked once as she made eye contact with the stranger entering the room. Staring into those eyes made her feel as if she’d been punched in the stomach. A raw sort of awareness stirred inside her, making her throat tighten and somewhere a lot lower heat up completely against her will. Mandy’s description of “yummy” was so very incorrect. A cupcake was yummy. This man was like a decadent triple-chocolate truffle cake with chocolate shavings sprinkled on top. Considering the crap she needed to deal with, noticing someone in such a sexual way—someone she clearly couldn’t trust—was beyond stupid. And definitely not like her. Only one man had ever had this raw effect on her. Though he hadn’t been quite a man. He’d been growing into a very handsome one and—damn it. She shook herself, trying to quash this strange sexual awareness that had erupted inside her.

Almost against her will, Sophie’s eyes trailed over him. The man seemed to make the room shrink just by stepping inside. It wasn’t that he was overly tall. He was maybe six feet, but he had a strong, domineering . . . presence. His shoulders almost appeared to strain against his suit, as if he’d be more comfortable chopping lumber or something else equally and ridiculously masculine. When the sudden—unexpected and definitely absurd—thought of what it might feel like to have those strong arms around her popped into her head, she felt herself blushing furiously. This visceral reaction was too weird and brought up too many unwanted memories. When she focused on his face once again, her heart skipped a beat. “Holy shit.”

The man jerked to a halt and she realized she’d said the words out loud. She cringed and ordered herself to get it together.

“Ah . . . sorry.” What else could she say, that she’d suddenly developed a mild case of Tourette’s?

“Sophie, this is Jack Baldwin. He’s been a silent partner with Keane Flight until recently.” Ronald’s words blew right past her as she continued to watch the stranger.

He had pale bluish gray eyes she’d never seen on anyone before except . . . Sam . Eyes with the seemingly endless depth of the unforgiving ocean. So deep she could drown in them. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t even pretend not to stare. And he was definitely looking back. Watching her with a mix of curiosity and something she couldn’t begin to define.

The harsh lines and angles of his face gave him a unique, almost statuesque quality. As if he’d been carved out of stone. He wasn’t handsome in the typical Hollywood sense, but any woman with a pulse would certainly do a double take. Maybe even a triple take. He even had the same dark hair as Sam. For a brief moment she could feel herself drowning as memories attacked her.

Sam carrying her books home from school. Protecting her from neighborhood bullies. Staying up late with her when she needed help studying. Sam kissing her, making love to her, going with her to the beach even though he hated it, holding her when she’d had a bad day.

Sam is dead. The jarring thought was the only thing that gave her the power to tear away from this stranger’s far-too-intimate gaze. Feeling an ache deep inside, she absently rubbed the middle of her chest until she realized what she was doing. She nervously cleared her throat and hoped her blush had started to recede as she found her voice. Right now Keane was at the top of her shit list. She wasn’t going to let a handsome face distract her. “Recently?”

“Yes . . . Please, have a seat.” Ronald half stood and motioned to the other man to sit. Sophie noticed his voice shook a little. Maybe he was intimidated by this man.

Not that she blamed him.

In a few long strides, Jack Baldwin was sitting on a burgundy high-backed chair identical to the one she sat on a mere foot away. The briefest whisper of a familiar scent tickled her nose. Something spicy, masculine, and earthy that made her toes curl in her sling-backs. Clearly it had been too long since she’d had sex if even the intoxicating scent of a possible arms dealer was affecting her. It was the only thing that explained her raw reaction.

The corners of his lips pulled up slightly as he nodded at her—as if he knew what she was thinking. The very thought was horrifying. “Pleased to meet you.”

Against her will, she found herself staring at his mouth. Instinctively she moistened her own dry lips. When she did, his jaw muscle flicked, drawing her attention back to those intoxicating eyes. Oh, crap. The blush was back. She could feel heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, and for a brief moment she thanked God for her Cuban heritage. She vainly hoped her darker skin would cover her embarrassment, but knew it was unlikely.

“Likewise, Mr. Baldwin.” She shifted in her seat, turning slightly away from him. God, she needed to get whatever this feeling was under control. Maybe if she didn’t look at him she could tune out all that raw, unwanted sexuality.

“Call me Jack.” His voice was low and sensual. It rolled over her with the subtlety of a tidal wave, sending unexpected shivers to all her nerve endings. Why was it so familiar? It reminded her slightly of Sam, but it was deeper, more masculine. Like what Sam would have sounded like if he’d been allowed to grow up fully. She shook herself at the depressing, and insane, thought.

Why did she have the urge to say Jack’s name out loud? Just to feel it on her tongue. Her nipples tightened at the thought of saying that name under very different circumstances. Right then and there, Sophie felt like a crazy person. This was so unlike her, this . . . sexual hunger. And there was no other word for what she was feeling.

Ronald’s voice grounded her, forcing her to look away again. “Like I was saying, Jack here will be filling in for Paul.”

She frowned at her boss, wishing she could tell him everything she’d found last night. “Why?”

The other man answered before Ronald could speak. “He was in a terrible car accident and is unable to handle the day-to-day dealings, so you’re stuck with me.” His lips pulled up again, this time self-deprecatingly.