in a physical way. She didn’t suspect he had an abusive side. But there was a streak of animal magnetism to him that sent her over the moon. Maybe it was just a quirk in her own character. Maybe she had a natural weakness for men with midnight eyes and chiseled chins, like some women had a weakness for wine or chocolate. Whatever—she knew she was drawn to him, and she also knew giving in to that pull would be very bad for her.
“Then what do we do?” he asked at last. “Learn to tap dance to our company theme song?”
Her smile was tight. “We develop a business plan that will enhance the operations of our company in some way.”
His gaze became speculative. “You mean besides providing a product along with jobs and benefits for our employees and making a little profit off the top.”
“Yes.”
“Right.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink. Then he looked at them all with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”
That did it! How could she be so attracted to a man who made her so angry at the same time? The condescending tone did it for her. It conjured up too many memories of times in the past when he’d tormented her in one way or another. Reaching into one of her Quality in Performance and Leadership Conference folders, she pulled out the information sheet and put it in front of him so that he could see the setup for himself.
“Actually, I’ll be handling it,” she told him as calmly as she could manage. “And the first decision I’m making is to have a strategy meeting.”
He looked surprised. “What for?”
Oh, he was going to be tough. She could see it right now. He wasn’t going to give up the reins of power without a fight. There was no way he was going to submit peacefully. But he was going to have to.
“We need to get going on a project right away,” she said quickly. “Five o’clock. My room. Please let the others know, Rafe. The list of our group members is attached.” She smiled at him, trying to maintain a professional air despite the fact that she was furious with him. “Your first assignment.”
His eyes narrowed. Shelley had a sense of everyone else at the table holding their breath, waiting to see what was going to happen next. She had to make a move before he did.
Grabbing her purse, conference bag and papers, she rose from her chair.
“Oh, and Rafe?” she said, turning back, her heart beating hard in her chest. “For the next four days, why don’t you call me Miss Sinclair? That might help you keep our new positions straight.”
She smiled sweetly at everyone, noting the stunned faces all around, and then her gaze came back to meet Rafe’s. Was that anger she saw? Laughter? Mockery?
She couldn’t tell. But there was no time for analysis. If she delayed this dramatic leave-taking any longer, she would spoil the whole thing.
“See you at five,” she said, turning to go.
She didn’t hear what he said, but she recognized his low voice saying something, and the table erupted with laughter just as she reached the doorway. Had he been making fun of her? No doubt. Her face was suddenly very hot and she knew she must be glowing like a neon sign.
“Darn you, Rafe Allman,” she muttered to herself as she went quickly toward the elevator. “Darn you and the horse you rode in on!”
Five o’clock came and Shelley waited nervously, adjusting chairs, turning down the music. What if Rafe defied her and didn’t show up? What if he didn’t tell the others? What if he did show up and made fun of her all through the meeting?
Think it couldn’t happen? Hah!
The thing was, she and Rafe had a track record that went back over twenty years. There were times when her close friendship with his sister Jodie meant that she had practically lived at the Allman house. Growing up, her mother had been busy all the time with the coffee shop she ran, Millie’s Café. On hot summer days, Shelley usually found her way to Jodie’s and the two of them did all the things young girls frolicked in together.
Even back then she and Rafe had been adversaries. He was always finding some way to embarrass her or make her feel inadequate. He was, after all, the one who pointed out to everyone at the Allman dinner table when she was eleven and wore her first training bra to dinner at their house. Her face still burned when she thought of the looks on all their faces as they stared in surprise and amusement at her youthfully modest chest.
Too bad she didn’t find a way to murder him then.
Never mind. She was stuck with him for the weekend so she would just have to make the best of it. She knew he must hate her in the position of being his boss, even if temporarily. And she knew she was going to have to fight him all the way just to keep him from taking over.
If only Rafe’s older brother Matt had come instead of Rafe. Matt was older, wiser…nicer. She considered him the ideal big brother she never really had. She would do just about anything for him.
A knock sounded and she jumped. Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly to the door and opened it.
“Good evening, Miss Sinclair.” Rafe stood looking down at her, the mockery in his eyes echoing the mockery in his voice.
Behind him was the rest of the group. She did a quick inventory. Candy Yang, a paralegal, would make a great assistant. She’d dealt with her before. Jerry was head of finance, but she also knew he was a home carpenter who loved woodworking and could easily supervise building sets. Pretty little Dorie Berger was an entry-level office worker, a sweet young thing who would do pretty much as she was told. And the two others were people she didn’t really know very well, but they seemed agreeable.
“Here we are,” Rafe was saying, draping himself across her doorway. “Your loyal minions, awaiting your command.”
“Good,” she said, standing back. “Come on in. We need to get started right away.”
Her gaze met his as he sauntered into the room. Something hard and challenging lurked deep in his eyes, and her mouth went dry as she noted it. The weekend was going to be a rough one. Her challenge had only begun.
Chapter Two
Sometimes that whole damn sex thing just got in the way.
Rafe sat toying with the remains of a sumptuous dessert, moving curled pieces of bitter chocolate from one side of the plate to the other with his silver fork. But his mind was on the woman at the other end of the long table.
Shelley Sinclair. He’d known her just about all his life. And here she was, complicating things for him once again. It would certainly be easier if she didn’t have that long, silky hair that fell down into a sensual curl just over the swell of her left breast. If she didn’t have those doe-shaped eyes that seemed to hide a secret sorrow. If she didn’t have that soft, lush mouth that always made him think of long, hot kisses and the scent of gardenias.
Why gardenias? He had no idea.
And the entire thing disgusted him anyway. Just looking at her now, as she slowly put another forkful of whipped cream in that beautiful mouth, he felt a surge of desire that almost made him groan aloud. He was too old for this
