Tori Carrington - Private Sessions

But how temporary? How many years had he been working with him?

She moved down the bookcase, squinting to read the script on a recognition-of-excellence plaque that had been propped against the books.

She looked around. There were no photographs, personal or professional. It seemed to her that everything was purposely displayed to reveal very little about the office’s inhabitant beyond his power and success.

She’d moved to where she could see behind his desk and now looked over her shoulder, eyeing the drawers there.

The door opened and she jumped.

Caleb seemed to take in the situation in one glance. He slowly closed the door even as Bryna walked to the visitor’s side of the desk.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Metaxas,” he said in that low, deep way he had of speaking.

She cleared her throat. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Payne.”

He stood looking at her for a moment, not long, but long enough to encourage that longing to wend through her veins anew.

“We’ll see,” he said, but whether it was a threat or a promise, she didn’t know.

He walked toward his chair.

Did he know what effect he had on her? She’d offer an unqualified yes. He gave the impression of being a man who was aware of everyone and everything in any room he inhabited. And likely commanded the gazes of every female within a half-mile radius, along with a majority of men if just from sheer envy.

“I was pleased when you called for this appointment,” she said. “Would you like to go over the proposals?”

He opened the right desk drawer, watching her face as he did so. “Only one of them has possibilities.”

“Oh? Which?”

“The second.”

She smiled.

“That’s the one you intended me to choose.”

“It’s the one I’d hoped you’d choose.”

Of the three, the proposal was the most solid and followed the basic tenets of the original, only scaled down. Instead of four production lines, they’d begin with one. Rather than go whole hog, she proposed starting with a limited offering. Troy’s plans were large, ambitious, much like her cousin himself. But as she’d tried without success to explain to him, perhaps it was better to start small with the potential to grow than big with the possibility of failure … if he succeeded in selling the grand idea at all….

Caleb walked to a polished table near the window that held four chairs. He put the proposal in question down. “There are a number of things we need to reconfigure.”

Bryna followed him and pulled out the chair next to the one he stood behind. But he didn’t sit. Instead, he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it on a hanger inside a door that she suspected led to a full bathroom, and then undid his cufflinks, sliding them into his pockets before rolling up his sleeves.

Her mouth went dry. Even though he was going for comfort, he still looked more elegant than any man she’d ever seen. And that was saying something because her cousins weren’t exactly slouches when it came to the man department.

He’d begun talking, presumably about the proposal, but Bryna couldn’t make a word out. Her ears had stopped accepting input as her heart rate sped up. She was too caught up watching him take off his tie and undo his top three buttons. His waist was narrow where his Egyptian broadcloth shirt was tucked into his slacks, the belt further emphasizing the difference from his wide chest and shoulders.

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