Trish Wylie - The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction

‘Would hardly be the best way to start a working relationship, would it?’

What working relationship?

‘It’s really none of my business why you want to turn your back on billions of dollars. But, like I said, the responsibility isn’t going anywhere. The board’s hands are tied. You have controlling interest in the company—they can’t do anything without your say-so. It’s how your father wanted it.’

The woman didn’t know when to quit.

Her voice lowered. ‘I know you’re still grieving. The last thing you want right now is—’

‘Grieving?’ A burst of sarcastic laughter split the air as he set his bottle down with a slam and turned on her, frustration mixing with anger. ‘Lady, you don’t know anything about—’

‘Blake …’ Marty used a hand on his upper arm to hold him still and allow him time to take a breath; his voice was filled with the same rock-steady calmness he’d used in the old days when Blake had been prone to standing up to guys twice his size. It had been the curse of the new kid and since Blake had always been the new kid …

With a nod from Blake to indicate he was good, Marty stepped away. Blake looked at Olivia and saw she was staring at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Not fear, he noted. Part of him respected the hell out of her for that when guys much bigger than her had been known to baulk. It was enough to make him step towards her again; the fact she stood her ground increased his perception of her as a woman who could hold her own.

He shook his head when his libido buzzed with the numerous possibilities that came with the thought. Strong women who could take him on both in and out of the bedroom—preferably without needing emotional entanglement—did it for him. Always had, always would.

He took a short breath. ‘As much of a pain in the ass as you’re proving to be, you didn’t deserve that.’

She arched a brow. ‘Is that an apology?’

‘It’s as close as I ever get to giving one.’ A corner of his mouth tugged wryly. ‘I’d run with it if I were you.’

Considering him with a tilt of her head, she came back with, ‘Know what you could do to make it up to me?’

Wasn’t going to like this, was he?

‘You know what the Warren Foundation is?’

And now he was an idiot again.

‘They’re hosting a benefit a couple of weeks from now. If you showed up—even for an hour or two—you might encourage people to reach deeper into their pockets to impress the new owner of the company.’ She shrugged as if she didn’t care one way or another if he showed. ‘As well as helping a worthy cause, you can meet some of the people who work for you in a social environment.’

‘You’re one of those women who calls in the middle of the night to tell a guy his phone is ringing, aren’t you?’

When she continued calmly holding his gaze, Blake wondered if she ever cut loose. What would it take to get the real Olivia Brannigan to come on down and—the question immediately jumped to the front of his mind—just how far was she willing to go to get what she wanted?

He was tempted to find out.

‘It’s at the Empire hotel,’ she added with a nod as if he’d already agreed, her gaze lowering to travel over his body from the middle of his chest to the toes of his boots.

Digging in the pocket of his jeans as he turned away, Blake frowned at the immediate response the invisible touch had on him. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘It’s formal. You’ll need a tux.’

‘I said I’ll think about it.’ Tossing several bills on the bar, he turned to face her again. ‘While I do, I suggest you think about what you’re getting yourself into.’

‘Meaning?’

He stepped closer, forcing her to lift her chin. Searching her eyes, he noted the spark it took a blink of long lashes to conceal and smiled a slow smile. As aware of him as he was of her, wasn’t she? Unless he was mistaken—which he doubted—she’d known exactly what she was doing around the pool table. She thought she was in control of the situation and could use her sexuality to her advantage. He was fine with her attempting the latter, but if she wanted to take him on at more than a simple game of pool there were a few things she needed to understand.

‘Meaning you gamble, you best be prepared to ante-up, so think long and hard about what you’re bringing to the table, sweetheart.’ He closed the gap and moved his face closer to hers, his gaze lowering to her mouth, then shifting sharply to tangle with hers. ‘Because I’ll collect, and I think you know exactly what I mean by that.’

The almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes told him she’d got the message. Blake smiled lazily when the next thing he saw was a spark of light that said it was ‘game on’ as far as she was concerned.

It was enough, for now.

Walking across the crowded room without looking back, he swung open the door and stepped out into oppressively humid air, pacing up and down on the sidewalk while he waited for Marty. Maybe he should just get the hell on with it. The sooner he did something about offloading property, dumping stocks and signing things over to people who might want them, the sooner he could leave it behind and get on with his life. It was more constructive than waiting around for a hint of grief to make an appearance. Especially when the lack of it was starting to make him feel like a heartless son-of-a—

Shouldn’t he feel something ? When he looked inside at the dark corner where he’d tucked away his memories of the past, there was nothing: a big, black vacuum of nothing. That should have made him feel guilty; but nope, still nothing. Not a thing. As if part of him was missing.

When the door swung open again, he made a snap decision. ‘Think you can keep an eye on the crew?’

‘Sure.’ Marty’s shrug wouldn’t have inspired confidence if Blake hadn’t known him better. ‘Do what you gotta do, Anders .’

That was that, then. Another thought occurred to him and he began to smile as they walked towards the subway station. No reason he couldn’t have some fun along the way. Never let it be said he couldn’t multitask.

Olivia Brannigan’s life was about to get interesting.

‘NOW, remember, you can’t kill a client.’

Be prepared to ante-up? He would collect ? Who did he think he was? Inside her head, Olivia was laughing the derogatory laugh of a woman in serious self-denial. But who was she kidding? She hadn’t been able to resist a battle of wills since the second grade.

‘Potential client,’ she corrected, tucking her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear so she could reach into her briefcase. ‘And right now I’m not even sure I can work with this guy. He’s—’

‘Sexy as sin?’ Jo asked in a tone that suggested she was batting her eyelashes.

‘Not helping.’

Grimacing at the pain from a rapidly growing blister, Olivia checked the address on the folded piece of paper and lifted her gaze to the numbers above the doors in a neat row of brownstones. Being forced across the Brooklyn Bridge in searing midday temperatures to play messenger girl in the most inappropriate heels known to messenger-kind helped—as did the fact he’d demanded the files immediately .

Difficult clients she could handle. Raging sexual attraction to a man she might have to work with on a daily basis, not so much —and since a simple game of pool had felt a tad too much like foreplay …

Catching sight of a dumpster outside one of the houses, she checked for traffic and crossed the street.

‘You know what would help?’ Jo asked.

‘I’m not having sex with him,’ she answered firmly, wondering just who it was she was trying to convince. ‘He’s a client .’