had been. He was studious, methodical, exacting and sometimes maddening. He wanted files in a certain order. He wanted letters done exactly as he said, even if they weren’t always polite. He wanted routine in everything. Emma found it exasperating.
“You’re making that sound again,” he said curtly from his desk. “Now what?”
“I feel like I need to ask permission to change my clothes,” she muttered. “Organization. Heavens! I’ve never been able to organize anything in my life. I’m too scatterbrained.”
“You’ll learn. You can pretend you’re in the military.”
“I’m not going on military time, and I’m not saluting you,” she shot back.
He chuckled. “Okay.”
“You’ve got two thousand unanswered emails,” she added.
“Go through them and delete the ads. That should get rid of ninety percent.”
“I need a program that does that automatically,” she murmured.
“Then go online and download one,” he said.
She almost sighed again, but he was looking surly this morning. “Yes, sir,” she said instead.
“How sweet that sounds,” he snarled.
“Sweet like vinegar, sir, the better to douse you with,” she muttered.
He chuckled.
The phone rang and she answered it.
It was a woman. She asked for Connor. Emma had no idea who the woman actually was; she just handed the phone to Connor and went back to work.
There was a terse conversation. It ended with a short curse and the phone being slammed down on the desk.
“Don’t ever put that woman through again, do you understand me, Emma?” he snapped.
“Yes, sir!” she said at once, reddening.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn women everywhere!” he cursed. “I gave her a mink and a Ferrari and a diamond the size of a hen egg, and she can’t understand that it was to get her out of my hair!”
“Poor man, stalked by women, not safe even in his own home,” Emma mused. “Perhaps we should build a fence.”
“Damn it!” he exploded. He stood up, his eyes blazing, furious. “Do you think I’m kidding?”
She drew in her breath. He looked formidable when he lost his temper. She sat quietly, waiting for the rest of the explosion.
“She wants to make up,” he snarled. “Which means she wants more presents from me, and she’s willing to do anything, absolutely anything, to get back into my life. I would rather feed myself to a shark!”
She wanted so badly to invite him to, but that way lay disaster. She just sat still, like a statue.
“I don’t want marriage. I don’t want a family. I’m happy with my life just the way it is. She said that I needed a son to inherit what I’ve got. A son.” He slammed his fist down on the desk and Emma jumped. “What she meant was that she wanted to get pregnant with my child and have me support her for the next eighteen years! No damned way!”
She didn’t say a word.
“I’ve always been careful,” he said through his teeth. “Always prepared. They said they were using birth control, but I never believed it. All my adult life, I’ve dodged women trying to trap me into marriage. All I wanted was brief affairs. They wanted forever. There is no forever!” he ground out. “Only damned fools believe there is!”
She was almost shivering now. The force of his rage was intimidating, even when he was sightless.
“And you put her through,” he added, looking toward where he thought she might be. “You put her right through to me without asking if I wanted to talk to her. By God, you do that again, and I’ll throw you out on the front lawn in your damned nightgown!”
She fought back tears.
“Do you understand? Talk to me!”
“I understand, Mr. Sinclair,” she said shakily.
“Good!”
She tried to type, but her hands were shaking too hard.
“Get me some coffee,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir.” She got up from her chair, still wobbly. Her voice had sounded shaky.
“Emma!”
She stopped. “Yes, s-sir?” she stammered.
He hesitated. Frowned. “Emma, come here,” he said in a tone like velvet, soft and gentle. “Come on.”
She went to him slowly, disturbed and shivering.
He felt for her shoulder and pulled her suddenly right into his arms, folding her close to that warm, magnificent strength. She laid her cheek against his chest and the tears stained the fabric.
“You’re crying,” he chided. “Come on, Emma, I’m not an ogre.”
“Yes, you are,” she said through tears. “You’re scary like one.”
“So people tell me.” He kissed her hair. She made him feel guilty. It had been ages since a woman had accomplished that. “Come on. Stop crying. I won’t yell anymore.”
“I didn’t know who she was,” she sobbed.
He held her closer, burying his face in her throat, petting the soft, long hair that ran down her shoulders. Then his big hands smoothed gently along her spine. “I didn’t realize that.” His mouth moved on her neck.
She gasped. Her heart raced. This close to him, she was feeling odd sensations, ripples of pleasure that she’d never experienced, not even with Steven. This man had a sensual magnetism that was uniquely his.
“You like this,” he teased.
“Mr. Sinclair...” she protested.
He laughed, deep in his throat.
“I have to go...”
His cheek slid against hers. “Do you?” he whispered as his mouth moved close to hers, hovered over it.
“I should...” she choked.
“Should you?” he whispered.
She didn’t know what to do. There had only been Steven in her life, and he’d barely touched her. Theirs had been a cerebral sort of relationship until he found out what her father did for a living and dumped her. She had no experience at all with the sort of flirting Connor was subjecting her to. She stiffened in his arms.
He drew back, his eyes narrowed.
