Burned Deep (10 page)

“Anyway, I'm seriously considering it.” How could I not? It was a castle in the sky job with the sort of office I'd longed for and knew I'd never be able to afford on my own.

Plus, there was a certain thrill that came with being a part of Dane's world. Being a part of something that meant so much to him. My dream meshing with his dream.

The only thing keeping me from accepting was Dane himself. I was tempted,
too
tempted, by him. How involved would I be in something that didn't just bump my boundaries but barreled right through them?

And then there was that not so tiny insecurity that I might fall flat on my face and ruin his launch. Lots of responsibility to shoulder there.

I went back to hitting balls and my father let me maintain the silence until our buckets were empty. No more discussion of 10,000 Lux or Dane Bax. I certainly didn't mention my other source of consternation—my mother's sudden communications. No need to stress my father out more, especially where she was concerned.

When we were done, we returned the drivers we'd demoed to the golf shop.

“So, let me know how this pans out,” he said as we stood in the entryway, removing our gloves. His office was upstairs and he was on duty in half an hour.

“I will. I think it'd be pretty incredible. It's just extremely overwhelming at the moment.”

“I'd sure enjoy the links out there.” He winked.

I laughed and said, “Had a feeling that would get your attention. We'll see.” I kissed him on the cheek and then left to run errands.

*   *   *

That night, I prowled my townhome, restless and torn. I knew what I wanted. It was the price to be paid that worried me. Given what was truly on the line for someone like me, it honestly did feel as though I'd be handing over my soul for a gorgeous office—and to an even more gorgeous man.

The latter was of great concern because, honestly, I couldn't begin to fathom what Dane saw in me. Why he wanted me. My fear was that his attraction was wrapped around the challenge I presented—my obvious need for physical distance and my low tolerance for romance. Though I wasn't even sure he wanted to romance me. Or if he'd just gotten into the thrill of the chase and was now ready for the kill.

What would happen if he broke through and I became one more notch on his bedpost?

Another huge red flag. I had no doubt sex with Dane would be like nothing I'd ever experienced, read, or fantasized about. And I wasn't exactly worldly in the bedroom, so how fast would it be before I bored him to tears? What sort of work environment would
that
create?

I shook my head as I paced the living room. As long as I didn't fall in love, I could accept when he was done with me and let it lie. Right?

Right.

I wasn't wired to fall in love, anyway. I'd never even been in deep like.

As always, this would just be sex. Well, okay, with Dane it'd likely be amazingly hot, singe me to the core of my being sex, but again …

Just sex.

Maybe.

I frowned.

The rain fell steady and straight, flooding my small patio. The flashes of light illuminated my dim living room. If I were a superstitious person, I'd add another element to my freak-out over Dane. I'd call all of this dark and ominous weather an omen. The fact that I didn't subscribe to signs didn't mean I dismissed them entirely—especially with this particular scenario. I still had warnings to heed. The most prevalent one being the foreboding that flickered in Dane's eyes when he looked at me.

I had a very strong sense of what that was all about. The man was a take-no-prisoners type.

He wanted me, and he'd already let me know it wouldn't be a casual fling.

My
right
that had morphed into a more tenuous
maybe
was now a solid
oh, shit
.

I spared a glance at the clock. Twenty after ten, and my mind was much too preoccupied for sleep. I went into the room that housed my desk and opened the Web browser on my computer. I pulled up the 10,000 Lux site that I'd viewed when I'd submitted my application. I sifted through the hyperlinks again, noting they'd added more photos and information.

I clicked on the “Careers” section, curious to know what positions were being advertised in the Events department that still needed to be filled. Those employees would be my staff, after all. Another concern to mull over. I'd never really managed anyone, other than subcontractors who already knew the business, knew exactly what they were doing.

I ran through the list anyway, happy to see there'd be a robust team of planners and support staff. I was about to move on when my gut twisted. It suddenly dawned on me that the Events Director position was no longer posted.

Had Dane pulled it? Was he
that
sure he'd snagged me?

I let out a hollow laugh. “Of course,” I mumbled.

I never enter negotiations without knowing exactly what I'm getting into and
exactly
what I want to get out of it.

Given his aggressive nature, I'd say the more appropriate sentiment was that he never entered negotiations without knowing exactly what he would—
for certain
—get out of it.

This wasn't even a negotiation. What was there to reconcile? He'd laid the world's most tempting cards on the table—and had thrown in the possibility of sizzling sex for good measure.

As I considered how easily I'd stood under his net and let it fall on me, the Web site turned a sinister onyx, with the words
Under Construction
suddenly flashing in the center in red, along with a sequence of numbers in the bottom right-hand corner. Moments later, the text and numbers turned to crimson splatters against the background, then dripped away. Leaving nothing but pitch-black.

Huh.

I reached for my phone and tried to pull the site up on that device. No dazzling Lux lights, just eerie darkness. That was strange and deeply disturbing. Dane was actively hiring now that he'd set the date for the opening. Why would he take the site offline now?

Finding that curious, I grabbed his business card, which I'd pinned to my corkboard. I tapped the cardstock against my palm for a second or two, debating whether I should alert him to what could be his latest glitch.

I hardly thought I'd wake him. A man of his caliber and grand success probably didn't sleep much.

What if he's with another woman?

Okay, that one stung. When I knew it shouldn't. We had no claim whatsoever on each other. Yet the mere idea of him tangled in the sheets with someone else made me absurdly and vehemently jealous. Ridiculously tormented.

Now
I knew I was in over my head.

I dialed before I could stop myself or think this through. He picked up on the second ring.

“You came around a bit faster than I'd expected.”

I cringed at how my call screamed
eager beaver
when it came at nearly eleven o'clock at night. On a Sunday.

Pushing that aside, I asked, “How'd you know it was me?”

“I've seen your number on your business card and application, remember?”

And what, had
memorized
it?

That sent a much too wicked thrill down my spine.

“Still with me, Ari?” His tone was low and sensual. The most seductive bedroom voice imaginable. My inner thighs flamed. My stomach quivered. And we were just on the phone!

Potent
was a mammoth understatement for this man.

“I'm still here,” I said, my own voice the soft, sultry one that seemed to be reserved specifically for him. Which was just one more intimate thing between us when intimacy was what I wanted to evade.

“So, you've made up your mind about the director position?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, let it out slowly. “Actually, that's not why I'm calling.” I still needed more time to wade through all the exciting yet conversely troubling nuances presented. “Are you alone?”

Whoa.
I winced inwardly. Where the hell had
that
come from?

Unfortunately, I knew precisely from where. I couldn't let go of the image of the Heidi Klum lookalike grazing her breasts against his chest, smiling beguilingly at him.

He was quiet for several seconds that felt more like an eternity, leaving me to grind over how possessive I'd sounded. That was his department, not mine.

Eventually, he asked, “What would make you think I was with someone?”

“I just—I—”
Oh, Jesus.
“I saw you with a woman at Tlaquepaque. I just assumed—”

Ugh!
I bounced the heel of my hand off my forehead a few times. I was a colossal idiot.

“So that's what that bizarre question about interviewing female executives was all about. You should have said something sooner.”

“I shouldn't be saying anything at all,” I lamented.

“Ari, she's a friend,” he explained. “Her name is Mikaela Madsen. She and her boyfriend, Fabrizio Catalano, are trying to open a shop in Old Town Scottsdale. They import gourmet olive oils, wines, meats, cheeses, and the like. All from Brizio's family village in Italy. They've run into a few snags with zoning and City Council and Mikaela asked for my help.”

I sighed despondently. What was worse than a colossal idiot? A monumental one?

“So … you're jealous?” he asked with interest in his tone, while I backpedaled in my mind. “Because, Ari,” he added, “that's sexy. But not warranted. I wouldn't have said what I did last night if I weren't serious about being with you.”

Being with you
 …

Those words caused apprehension and excitement to crash over me. I struggled for a way out of this conversation that
I'd
started. But my thoughts were all twisted and nonsensical.

I hastily said, “That's not at all what I meant. Not the reason I'm calling.” My heart thumped ridiculously fast.
Geez, just shoot me now.
“Do you know your Web site is down?”

“
That's
why you're calling?” He made a
tsking
sound, so cool and nonchalant. While I could barely breathe. “Now I'm disappointed. I was hoping you were tossing and turning in bed, thinking about me and wondering what I might be able to do about your restlessness.”

“I—” I shook my head. I
was
restless. How had he known? Was I really this transparent with him?

“If you're interested in a bedtime story, I'd be happy to make one up for you,” he taunted in his sexy voice. “But be forewarned: It's no sweet, innocent fairy tale.”

Of course not. Because you are the devil.

A hotter than hell one at that.

“I'll pass on the story,” I said.
Coward.
“Is your site scheduled for maintenance tonight?”

“Not that I'm aware of,” he told me, the discontent over my avoidance thick in his tone. I heard his fingers click on the keyboard, so he must be in his office. Or he could be working on a laptop at home. I almost asked but pressed my lips together to keep from sounding as though I were stalking him. “That's weird,” he muttered. “It's solid black.”

A crack of thunder made me jump. Rain pelted the windows. All I needed now was a terrifying flock of ravens perched on the tree limbs outside and I could call it a day.

I said, “There was an
Under Construction
tag with some digits at the bottom, but they only flashed a few times before trickling away.”

“Digits? Do you remember what they were?”

“Not really. Started with a five…”

He fell silent again. Tension arced between us. I could
feel
him brooding. Could picture the furrowed brow and the clenched jaw. Something definitely was not right with the problems at 10,000 Lux.

“One more complication?” I ventured.

“I'll get it fixed in the morning.” His tone was still low and sexy but decisive. “Now, about the job. Say,
Yes, it's everything I've ever wanted,
and then we can wrap up the business portion of this call.”

That spark only he could ignite made my clit tingle. The ache inside me sprang to life—an incessant need that consumed me. A demanding, erratic pulsing in my core that would only intensify if I stayed on the phone with him.

“Ari,” he said, his tone coaxing. “What's the point in stalling? What more can I offer to make you agree?”

“Nothing,” I told him. “Everything you've put on the table is … perfect. Yes, everything I've ever wanted.
The rest,
” as he'd termed it during dinner the night before, “is something entirely different.”

“I've explained about Mikaela. And I've been patient with you. You can't expect me to wait forever.”

“Dane, we've known each other for, like, two weeks.”

“Yes,” he said, the sound of his laptop snapping closed and him settling into a chair or sofa echoed his frustration. “And I haven't laid a hand on you. That's killing me, Ari.”

Exhilaration shot through me. The throbbing in my pussy had me squeezing my legs together.

“Dane,” I grumbled. God, he lit me up so easily.
Too easily.

“Tell me what you sleep in.”

My eyelids closed tightly as magma started to flow in place of blood.

“Ari,” he prompted, a hint of need edging his voice, tearing at me. “Give me something to work with here.”

My cheeks warmed. “Nothing provocative, sorry. I've got on a faded Edmonton Oilers T-shirt, ripped at the neck.”

“Mm.” He sounded a bit more satisfied. “Number?”

“Ninety-nine, of course.”

“The Great One. Wayne Gretzky. I wouldn't take you for a hockey fan.”