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“Mr. Gordon wants to speak to you privately.”
Tension stiffened her spine as the words reminded her of a similar conversation she’d had with her modeling agent. The woman had told her that Baron Randall wanted to meet her. Tara, naïve idiot that she had been four years ago, had been both flattered and impressed.
“Why alone?”
If her manager thought that an odd question, he didn’t let it show. “He’s impressed with your report on workplace effectiveness. He wants to discuss it with you.”
Relaxing, she smiled. Business. It was just about business, nothing like that other time when the introduction had been a prelude to seduction.
“That’s great, Tara,” Danette said, “I heard the guy is a genius. If he appreciates your brains already, I guess it’s true.”
“Does he want to see me right now?” she asked, feeling a little light-headed.
Sure, she’d daydreamed about the owner of the company being so impressed with her recommendations he wanted to talk to her. What junior executive didn’t? But that kind of stuff didn’t happen in the real world.
Her manager looked at his watch and frowned. “Five minutes ago, actually. I got waylaid by a phone call on my way to tell you.”
Tara Peters walked into Angelo’s temporary office with her back straight and a credible expression of confidence. The only giveaway to her nervousness at being summoned by the owner of the company was the tight clenching of her fingers into small fists at her sides.
Her bone structure was delicate for a woman of her height, which no doubt explained her success as a cat-walk model.
Yet, she looked very different from the still shots of her fashion shows that Hawk had included in the Tara Peters file. Nor did she resemble the pictures that had accompanied the tabloid articles after her breakup with Randall.
All the photos had shown a stunning woman who made the most of her beauty, but no one would accuse this Tara Peters of trading on her beauty to succeed in her job.
She had confined the glorious length of her signature chestnut hair in a tight French braid that fell down her back. She wore no makeup and the small ovals of her nails were unpolished, but buffed. The navy-blue slacks and blazer she wore disguised her figure very well.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but her current no-nonsense, almost androgynous attire fit Hawk’s report on her behavior since Baron Randall married another woman.
Tara didn’t date and appeared uninterested in attracting men. Was she still hung up on the monster? The thought did not sit well with Angelo and his usually impassive face creased in a frown before he realized it.
“Mr. Gordon?” The voice was questioning, but not hesitant and he liked that.
He admired strength because weakness…of any kind…cost far too much.
He looked up and met her faintly quizzical brown eyes. “Miss Peters. Please take a seat.”
She moved across the room and slid gracefully into a chair opposite his desk. His opinion changed on the suit. The jacket dipped in at her waist. Her movement had revealed curves that were neither pronounced nor were they so slight her blouse could disguise them completely. The way the clothes tried to hide, but could not help hinting at her femininity made him want to strip them off and see the beautiful body beneath.
It did not help that pictures from her file of her clad in bikinis and other almost-there outfits flashed in his mind’s eye.
Desire vibrated through him with shocking swiftness and urgency, making him glad for the concealment of his desk. He hadn’t responded with this level of physical intensity to the mere sight of a woman since puberty.
He forced his mind through the mental exercises he had learned in the Aikido training he had started as a young boy. He continued to train, using it as a way to keep his body fit and mind focused. Normally it worked without him even having to think about.
This time, he had to wait for the stunning response of his body to subside breath by breath before he could begin to concentrate on his agenda. “I’ve been reading your report on workplace effectiveness. You’ve drawn several interesting conclusions and made an equal number of suggestions that are worthy of note.”
Her eyes lit with pleasure and she smiled, her feminine fragrance teasing his nostrils as she leaned forward. “There’s a wealth of data to be analyzed and interpreted from recent studies on the subject, much of which has been ignored by current management theory.”
He nodded. Whatever else Miss Peters was, she had shown herself to be a natural in her chosen field. “I particularly found your suggestions regarding vacation time of interest.”
“Several studies have shown that employees who put in less overtime, take their vacation yearly and don’t consistently work through their lunch hours are actually more productive than their counterparts who work the longer hours and never take any time off.” She smiled. “Healthier, too. They have fewer heart attacks and are less likely to develop ulcers.”
“You’ve definitely done your homework.”
She blushed at the compliment and he filed the reaction away for future reference. From the way she presented herself, he had to assume her beauty was of much less significance to her than doing well at her job.
Interesting.
And unusual.
“Many of your suggestions fly in the face of corporate policies the world over.”
She leaned further forward in her chair, her oval face animated and flushed in a way he’d like to see somewhere besides the boardroom. “Those management styles are as outdated as the all-male executive staff. They don’t work in today’s dynamic workforce, particularly the organic environment found in the hi-tech industry.”
“Why did you go for a job in hi-tech? Your résumé shows a strong liberal arts background for your business degree.”
She looked disconcerted by his question and settled back in her chair, biting her lip uncertainly. “The job description did not include a requirement in technological education.”
“I’m aware of that, but you did not answer my question.”
She smiled slightly. “Sorry. You’re right.” Her smile grew and her demeanor relaxed. “I like the stimulating atmosphere. Things are always changing, not just the products, but the face of the workforce as well. The job is challenging. But most importantly, I wanted to work someplace I could make a difference.”
“And you thought Primo Tech would be it?”
“Yes.”
He lifted the report that would have caught his attention even if it hadn’t been the ideal conduit for their first meeting. “I would say you are well on your way to doing so.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She beamed and he found himself smiling in return, something he rarely did.
His phone buzzed at exactly the moment he had instructed his secretary to ring through.
He lifted the receiver. “Gordon here.”
“Mr. Gordon, I’m ringing as instructed.”
“Thank you. And my other arrangements?”
“The reservations are made. Dinner at seven-thirty in the restaurant of your hotel.”
“Hold on just a moment.” He pressed the hold button and schooled his face into an apologetic expression, another one he used infrequently. “I’m sorry, I have to take this call.”
Tara stood hurriedly. “Of course.”
She was halfway to the door when he said, “Miss Peters.”
She turned. “Yes?”
“I would like to discuss the report further. Can you meet me this evening for a business dinner at my hotel?”
Despite the fact he had specifically referred to it as business, her eyes filled with wariness. “Dinner?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” he asked, inflecting his voice with just the right amount of superiority and disapproval to remind her who he was.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her lips flattened in a determined line. “No. I’ll be there. What hotel and what time?”
He told her and then watched her walk out of his office, his attention on the way her slacks outlined her heart-shaped behind. This aspect of his plan for revenge was shaping up to be more pleasure than work.
Seducing Tara Peters would be no hardship at all.
Tara got ready for dinner, her nerves more on edge than they had been in two long years. Why? Because the minute another magnetic, sexy tycoon came on the scene, her body had started reacting. She couldn’t believe it and was thoroughly disgusted with herself.
Worse, she’d seen immediately the unexpected feelings of attraction were mutual. She might have very little practical experience with men, but she’d been on the receiving end often enough to identify when a man was attracted to her. She’d learned early in her modeling career to recognize and avoid it.
Her one failure being both spectacular and devastating.
She hadn’t spent the last two years avoiding men and entanglements just to fall for another Baron Randall. No way. She was smarter than that.
Even brief contemplation of a relationship with a man like Angelo Gordon would be stupidity itself.
Right. Remember that.
Only instincts that had nothing to do with intelligence and everything to do with emotion were sending all sorts of messages to her brain. They urged her to put on a little makeup, change into a more feminine dress and brush out her long hair for goodness sake! She’d done her best to sublimate such impulses for two years.
Her mind said now was not the time for a resurrection, but her heart and body said otherwise.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she muttered under her breath as she put the final pin in the sleek French roll on the back of her head and surveyed her appearance. She’d changed her slacks for a black skirt and her blouse and blazer for a matching jacket meant to be worn buttoned up as a top.
With her understated black heels and sheer stockings, she had a distinctly Jackie-O appearance without the feminine softening of lipstick and accent jewelry.
Perfect.
No way could her boss misinterpret her outfit as any sort of attempt to entice him on a personal level.
She didn’t care if Angelo Gordon affected her in ways she’d thought deadened by Baron’s betrayal. Wanting him scared her far more than it enticed her and she wasn’t giving into it.
Desire was an emotion that encouraged smart women to make dumb decisions.
Hadn’t she seen that enough growing up with her mom bouncing from one destructive relationship to the next? Her mom had never understood why none of the men stayed. She hadn’t comprehended that the type of powerful, charismatic male she was attracted to traded on those very traits to get what he wanted—sex with a beautiful woman.
However, they’d all been incapable of giving her mom what she needed…love.
Tara’s mom had only broken the cycle by default when miracle of miracles, a strong, sexy man also turned out to have a heart.
It was Darren Colby’s influence in Tara’s life that had led her to believe that kind of man wasn’t always bad news. She was no longer so naïve. Darren was an anomaly in the male species, an alpha male with a heart…but she didn’t figure anomalies like that came along more than maybe once a millennium.
She would stay focused on her job and not the way Angelo Gordon’s dark good looks affected her libido.
Tara walked into the posh downtown hotel, projecting an unshakable confidence that was only skin deep. Inside, she was as nervous as she’d been her first day on the job. More even, because then all she’d been fighting was a fear of the unknown. Tonight, she fought her fear of being weak.
Angelo waited for her at a table in a small private alcove of the hotel restaurant. A historic landmark, the hotel’s rich décor of carved wood paneling leading to cavernously high ceilings was original to its nineteenth century construction. Despite the distance to the ceilings, the rich detail of the da Vinci-like scenes painted there caught her attention.
But even the artwork’s beauty could not keep her focus when she could feel Angelo’s regard across the restaurant. He watched her with unreadable blue eyes as she made her way toward him between linen topped tables graced by well dressed diners. Even from this far away, he exerted an aura of masculine power that sent her heart tripping.
Just like Baron.
Only unlike Baron, she would not allow herself to be fooled into believing Angelo was more than what he appeared on the surface, a ruthless corporate shark.
He stood when she reached the table, his height startling at close quarters. At five foot nine, she was no shrimp, but the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. It was a very odd feeling. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”
He waited for the maître d’ to seat her before sitting down again. “Angelo, please. I prefer a more relaxed environment in my companies.”
“Your approach appears to be quite effective. You’ve never lost a company yet.”
Something swirled in his indigo gaze as he poured her a glass of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table. “Actually, I have lost one, but that was a long time ago.”
Sensing he had no desire to discuss it further, she took a sip of the fruity wine and then asked, “Angelo is an Italian name?”
Other than the blue eyes, which were not entirely uncommon in Italian men—with his dark hair and tanned good looks, he had a very Mediterranean appearance.
“My mother was Sicilian.”
That explained a lot, but remembering a fashion shoot she’d done outside of Palermo one summer, she said, “Most Sicilian men are a lot shorter than you.”
“My father was American.”
“And tall,” she guessed.
He smiled, making her breath catch. This man was beautiful.
“Yes. According to my mother, that was one of the first things she noticed about him. There was more than a foot disparity in their sizes, but I can never remember them seeming like they did not fit.”
“I’ve heard love can be a great equalizer,” she said with a tinge of mockery she wished she didn’t feel.
But after her childhood and one disastrous personal affair, she had little belief in the emotion so many touted as the panacea for all ills.
“So they say.” His tone was no less cynical than her own.
The waiter came to take their order and she made a point of selecting her own meal. This was not a date and even if it was, she didn’t go in for the old world custom of the male ordering for the female. She’d spent too many years taking care of herself.
“You wanted to discuss my report?” she asked after the waiter left.
“First, I think I should like to know a little more about you, Tara.”
“I’m sure all the pertinent information is in my employee record.”
