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Passion for living seldom survived an upbringing such as his. Though the orphanage had been a fair place—Duke had never been mistreated—he’d never known affection. It was obvious Cami Jones had been loved. Despite her nervousness, she showered her kindness on everyone in the room with her smiles and nervous giggles.
Duke leaned against the cherrywood paneling and listened to the woman in front of him. Her soft voice charmed him with quiet confidence though she concentrated on her notes as if they held the key to her composure. And maybe they did, he thought.
She exuded intelligence but not enough confidence. He thought about calling a time-out—the way he had when he was a boy to whisper a change of plans to his buddies—to tell her to never let the enemy see her weakness.
But his buddies had all deserted him long ago. An orphan’s life was subject to constant change, and his lifestyle had been very much the norm. Besides, time-outs didn’t work in “real” life. He thrust his hand deep into the pocket of his suit and fiddled through the change to the ring—the talisman of his “real” life.
“Organizing an event of this magnitude will take a lot of skill, but I’m confident we can top last year’s event easily with the right woman behind the scenes,” she said.
“Very well, Ms. Jones. You’ve convinced us you’re the woman for the job,” said Max.
Max was everything Duke wasn’t—suave, sophisticated, part of a loving family. Someone around the table snickered, and Duke wondered who would be so unkind to this lady. She seemed out of her element in a room of jaded executives who’d seen and done everything. She seemed almost…pure.
It was silly really, considering the way she moved as if she were about to spontaneously combust, but he had the strangest urge to protect her. To swoop down and cover her with his dark wings until the threat passed.
Max gave her a charming smile, and the blush of embarrassment faded from her cheeks. “Despite the way you started your presentation, Ms. Jones, I’m sure you’ll handle the Gala well. I’ve asked Duke Merchon, our head of security, to work with you on this event.”
“Are there security issues? I wasn’t aware the team was involved this early last year.”
“There are issues, and Mr. Merchon will brief you on them,” Max said.
Duke stepped forward to take her hand. As a rule he avoided handshakes. Having spent the past four years in Japan with the CEO of Pryce Enterprises, he preferred the Japanese custom of bowing. Being back in the U.S. meant practicing American customs.
As he grasped her hand, a tingle ran up his arm, proving their first touch hadn’t been a fluke. Such a small hand, he thought. Yet her fingers were long and for a moment he imagined them on his body, her long nails scraping against his flesh. He glanced again at the woman. What did his body sense that his mind missed? She wasn’t his type.
She was diminutive, delicate, fragile even. The kind of person who would be easily destroyed by the darkness inside him. Through the thin layer of glass he looked into her deep brown eyes and found…warmth.
She met his gaze but glanced quickly away. He had that effect on women. His deceased wife, Rebecca, used to say he could quiet a room of chattering women in .85 seconds flat. It seemed to still hold true.
“I look forward to working with you, Mr. Merchon,” she said.
He suspected she didn’t. She was the bookish kind of woman who preferred to work alone. But she had the potential to be the star at center stage.
He nodded. “Call me Duke.”
“And I’m Cami.”
He didn’t believe in idle chitchat as a rule and didn’t engage in small talk unless necessary. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be polite. It was just that he’d never led a soft life and the ability to be social when he didn’t want to be had long since burned out of him. “Let me help you carry your presentation to the elevator.”
She shoved her boards into a leather case then reached for her purse. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
She stepped toward the door as it opened toward her. Her leather attaché flew in one direction and she lost her balance, but Duke grabbed her and the case. Working with her was going to be a challenge; he liked to control his environment. Something about Cami Jones said she wasn’t predictable. Probably the biggest challenge he’d faced since he’d started working for Pryce. He was surprised she hadn’t done herself in before now.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on helping you.”
She aimed him a crooked smile. “Are you afraid Pryce doesn’t have enough liability coverage to cover my workers’ comp claim?”
Having been taught to always be kind, he shrugged. “Let’s just say it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“It’s okay,” she said as they walked through the doors and waited for the elevator. “I know what you’re afraid of.”
Duke knew then this woman was more than she seemed. How did she look at him and see fear when everyone else saw strength?
“Do tell,” he invited.
“The long empty shaft behind the elevator doors is just too much of a temptation for a klutz like me.”
She blinked at him and laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand and not meeting his gaze.
Cami had a sense of humor and, although his professional demeanor didn’t change, he wanted to laugh out loud.
She stepped into the elevator. “The world won’t end if you crack a smile.”
One hand on the open door, she reached for her presentation. “Thank you for your help, Duke.”
“You’re welcome, and it might.”
“Might?”
“The world could come crashing to a halt if I smile.”
“It hasn’t happened yet.”
“I haven’t smiled yet.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” she said quietly, and the doors closed before he could reply.
Two days later Duke found himself outside Cami’s office. The day, which had been going downhill all morning, took a drastic turn for the better when he knocked on her door and stepped inside her office for their ten-thirty appointment.
Endless slim legs were displayed and a veil of brown curly hair blocked the face of the woman as she leaned forward. Her hands skimmed a shapely thigh and fastened one silk hose to a garter. Feminine attributes were as out of place in a conservative office as an orphan at a family reunion.
Duke paused in the doorway to enjoy the show. It had been a long time since he’d seen silk-and-lace-clad legs and longer still since he’d been interested in seeing more. But something about those slim thighs encased in navy silk hose and lace garters got to him.
Arousal shot through his body, bringing awareness to his every pore. Blood pounded heavily through his veins, and he felt himself grow hard. He shifted his legs, easing the pressure against his inseam, and wondered if humans really could spontaneously combust.
He wanted to close the door and lift her to the desk. To rip through her panties and take her quickly. The impulse was strong, and he hated the weakness. No one got the upper hand on Duke’s control. Discipline was all he had left, and he wouldn’t surrender it easily. Certainly not to some research librarian turned event coordinator.
His abrupt knock hadn’t given her any warning but when he cleared his throat he got her attention. Cami gasped. She dropped her skirt without fastening the second garter. The thought of that unfastened garter hovered in his mind. This woman shouldn’t wear satin-and-lace undergarments.
The dress was baggy and understated. Her low-heeled shoes were maidenly and her hairstyle old-fashioned. She was the type of woman who should wear cotton underpants and support hose. Why wasn’t she?
Duke was uncomfortable. He knew enough about sexual harassment law to know he was in for a world of hurt if he said anything, yet he couldn’t keep quiet. The spectacular legs hidden under that ugly dress demanded mentioning. Was this what his body had sensed days earlier? That the ugly clothing was just camouflage for a spectacular woman?
The intensity of her blush could heat a small house in winter. She averted her gaze and refused to look at him. Her nervousness evoked a tenderness that was at odds with his arousal. Yet just as strong. She fiddled with her glasses, taking them off and wiping them clean and then putting them back on.
“I believe we have a ten-thirty meeting,” he said.
“You’re a few minutes early,” she snapped.
Duke realized she intended to ignore the fact that she’d just had her skirt hiked halfway up to her waist. He forced the tantalizing image from his mind, though the loose garter remained. He didn’t believe in emotional entanglements. Least of all with klutzy, average-looking women.
She held out her hand. He grasped it with the intent of releasing it as quickly as he had the other day. But her hand was soft—softer than any other he’d ever felt. Even his deceased wife’s hands had been callused from evenings spent playing volleyball.
He stroked her palm with his forefinger before he let his hand fall back to his side. He knew he shouldn’t have, but that damn unfastened garter lingered in his mind and the image of her on the desk, her sexy legs encircling his waist, remained in his mind.
“Please have a seat,” she said, motioning for him to use one of the two guest chairs. They were standard office issue and looked about as comfortable as wet shoes. Yet the rest of her office welcomed him in a way he’d never before experienced.
A four-shelf bookcase overflowed with books, every tabletop surface held picture frames of large family groupings and individual members. Candle-holders and potpourri also abounded. It was the sweetest-smelling office on the floor. She had soft music with some woman chanting playing in the background.
Her office—a reflection of the woman herself—was so feminine it bothered him. There was even a lace thing on the surface of her credenza crammed with myriad little dust-collecting knickknacks. He felt uncomfortable and out of place, like a warrior returning fresh from war to find his house had been taken over by aliens. The same way he felt when he walked by those damned lingerie stores in the mall. Hell, she probably spent a good deal of her time in those stores.
“Duke, I’ve done some preliminary work on security for the Gala, but would love to hear your ideas.”
He had some thoughts he’d love to share with her, too, but he had to keep his mind on business. Security for the Gala was crucial. With recent labor disputes, threats had been made. Since the strikers weren’t anywhere close to resolving their employment issues, Duke was personally going to monitor the security.
“I’ve booked the Seashore Mansion on Hilton Head for the event.”
Duke shook his head, he was familiar with the five-star luxury resort and knew the layout. With its balconies and beachfront access there was little chance of good security. The resort relied on the private beach to keep intruders at bay. That wouldn’t do. He’d have to do an on-site tour and then find a place that met his security needs.
“Don’t shake your head. I already signed a contract with them.”
“You may have to break it.”
“No, I won’t. Your job is to oversee security, not secure a location.”
“I can’t do my job if I don’t know what’s involved. I’ll call the hotel myself and see if they’ll meet our needs.”
“‘Our needs’?”
“For both the event and the security.”
“Is there a security risk?”
“Nothing my team can’t handle, but there have been a few threats made since the strike started.”
“I didn’t realize that. I’m very good at my job, Duke. Don’t let my outside packaging fool you.”
A vision of that unhooked garter wandered up from his memory. “Your undergarments are in no way average or mousy.”
She blushed. Against his will he was fascinated by the tide of peach sweeping up her cheeks. Did the color start at her breasts? He’d never met any woman who was as open in her emotions as this lady.
“You’re a cad to mention that.”
“Cad?”
“Cad,” she said, and gave him a tight smile.
“A bit Victorian in our language, are we?”
“In my lifestyle, too, not that it’s any of your business. I hope we don’t have to change locations. The grand ballroom overlooks the ocean, and the patio for the reception is simply the best I’ve seen up and down the coast. We really want to do things right this year.”
“I know, but security has to be a consideration.” It was the one thing he did really well. Protect strangers, he thought.
“Very well. I have a backup location.”
Duke didn’t say anything else. He admired her spunk and preplanning. She’d known her location might not work out and had a contingency plan. Despite what she’d said about being mousy and average, her personality said the opposite.
She was full of spirit, and though he admired grit, he didn’t want to admire her because she was also intelligent. Two qualities he’d always found attractive in a woman. Dammit. He wasn’t attracted to her. His racing blood and arousal said differently.
“Where’s the backup location?”
She told him and they discussed the other details of the event. The invited speaker was a renowned motivationalist who would also need a security detail. They even talked about checking out the workers before letting them into the ballroom the night of the Gala.
As the meeting progressed, one thing became very clear: Cami wanted to be in charge. He wondered if she had the confidence to pull off the event and the high-level meetings involved. He knew she had the skill. Her preplanning and poise in this meeting made that apparent.
He wondered what stimulation would work the best with her. He’d bet she couldn’t resist a dare.
“The work you’ve done is great. Send all the files up to my office and I’ll have my secretary book biweekly meetings for us. I’ll oversee the coordination of the security details while you do the grunt work.”
He knew he shouldn’t be pleased to have his theory proven but couldn’t help it. She was almost beautiful when her eyes sparkled with determination.
Tapping an unpainted fingernail against the surface of her desk, she said, “Duke, you seem to have misunderstood something.”
“What’s that, Cami?” he asked, deliberately using her first name to goad her.
“I’m the event coordinator. That means I’m in charge of the event—the entire event.”
He waited a beat to make sure she was focused on him. “Not anymore.”
Cami stared at the modern warrior sitting in her guest chair and felt her temper rise. Or at least she tried to tell herself that the tingling in her veins came from anger—and not any attraction she might be feeling.
The situation was delicate. She’d have to bring him around to her way of thinking. He obviously didn’t know a thing about event planning because he thought five months out they could break their contract and find a decent space elsewhere.
She knew her looks and the way she acted invited people to walk over her, especially after the meeting earlier this week when she’d done everything but come right out and say, “I’m incompetent.” But when she was in her element, as she was in this job, people usually discovered she had enough backbone to stand her ground.
She needed all the courage she could scrape together to work with Duke Merchon. He was a very overwhelming man. He exuded confidence and self-assurance the way her older sister did. Cami realized she was tired of playing second fiddle.
She’d started this meeting off all wrong. She wished she’d just lived with the stupid run up the middle of her leg instead of deciding to change her hose. Once a man saw a woman’s legs, he looked at her differently.
“If this is because I was changing my hose when you arrived—”
“It has nothing to do with your legs,” he cut her off. “I’m used to being in charge. I can handle any problem that arises. It makes sense to have one leader. Security touches all aspects of the event.”
“Ever heard of a little thing called the Equal Rights Amendment?”
He leaned forward, using all two hundred pounds and six foot two inches to intimidate her. “Ever hear ‘might makes right’?”
Cami smiled. It was so obvious this man was used to winning and being in control. But she couldn’t afford to give up her position as event coordinator. This was her chance to prove herself within Pryce Enterprises, and a promotion hinged on her success. Not just a promotion but a change of life. She wouldn’t be a research librarian anymore but Pryce’s special events coordinator if she pulled this off. Besides, she realized suddenly, she wanted Duke to acknowledge he was wrong.
