the pressed material of his dress shirt. His hair hung to his shoulders, his collar was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up. Her gaze traveled over him until she met his eyes. She shivered.
He looked totally relaxed, but his brown eyes were alert. She loved it when he acted so defiantly arrogant for her brother’s sake. It made him look sexy and sinful and her heart immediately picked up rhythm.
She forced her gaze to where her brother sat behind a massive desk. One concern was replaced with another.
“What’s he doing here, Cliff? Has there been some kind of trouble?” In the normal course of his job, Dillon didn’t have much call to hang around Cliff’s office.
Cliff glared at her—a look to which she was well accustomed to. “He’s my head of security. Why shouldn’t he be here?”
She strolled across the floor, trying not to react to the almost tactile sensation of Dillon’s eyes on her as he tracked her every step. Propping her hip on the edge of Cliff’s desk, she asked, “Are we considering making some kind of adjustment or improvement? Is that why he’s here?”
Cliff slammed down the pen he’d been doodling with. “Damn it, Virginia, don’t you have a diet class or something to go to?”
That hurt. Her weight had always been a problem, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss in front of Dillon. Usually the clothes she wore were loose enough so as not to accent the more obvious trouble spots. Today, her simple wool tunic over matching slacks worked wonders—or so she’d thought. Now she was uncomfortably aware of the width of her hips, the weight of her breasts, the roundness of her belly and thighs. She wanted to escape both men’s scrutiny.
She lifted her chin. Low blows were a specialty of Cliff’s. She should have become immune to them by now.
She didn’t dare glance at Dillon. She didn’t want to know what he thought of her brother’s comment or, at the moment, what he thought of her. “I’m a busy woman, Brother, but I think I can spare some time to see what you’re screwing up now.”
Cliff snarled, almost ready to explode. At the last second he pulled himself together and sent Dillon an exasperated look of shared male insight, as if to say, Women. Virginia stiffened. Fighting Cliff had become a way of life, both in business and in her personal pride. “You do remember, don’t you, Cliff, that any decisions have to go through me first?”
“How could I forget with you forever shoving it in my face?”
“So?” She waited, and finally he turned a sheath of papers toward her.
She studied the new property sheets for a moment before commenting. “The Eastland project.” She ignored Cliff’s surprise. He should know by now that there was no facet of the business she wasn’t fully aware of. The company was her life, the only thing she was truly good at. She wouldn’t let anything slip by her.
She approved the idea of expansion by purchasing the retail property in Eastland. Once the new expressway was built, the mall would flourish. Time and invested money were all they needed, and Johnson’s Sporting Goods had both. Their expansion would add new life to the floundering area, drawing in other retailers.
“Actually, it looks good. Send some copies to my office today and I’ll let you know later exactly what I think.”
Through gritted teeth, Cliff told her, “Everything has been worked out. The security upgrades have even been tested and approved. I planned to work out a deal today.”
“No. Not until I’ve had more time to study the cost sheets. There’s no rush. It takes time to—”
Cliff shoved back his chair and stood. Startled, Virginia glanced up. He was practically seething, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“There’ll come a point, Virginia, when you push me too far!” He turned to Dillon and barked, “Be upstairs in the conference room in ten minutes.”
He stormed out and Virginia was left there with her mouth hanging open and an uncomfortable silence disturbing the air. It wasn’t like Cliff to put on such a display in front of employees.
Without really wanting to, she looked over at Dillon. He hadn’t moved. He seemed unperturbed by Cliff’s overreaction, but his dark eyes were cryptic. She tried a shaky smile. For some stupid reason she felt defensive. Having the world know her own brother reviled her had the same effect as being nicknamed “Chubby” in grade school.
“Well, I certainly pushed the wrong buttons this morning, didn’t I?” she said, relying on flippancy to save her pride.
Dillon narrowed his eyes. “Or the right ones.”
“What does that mean?”
“Why do you deliberately provoke him, Virginia?”
She pushed away from the desk and started for the door. Discussing family business with employees—regardless of how gorgeous they might be—wasn’t done. Still, she couldn’t resist one righteous parting shot. “I have as much right to know what’s going on in this company as he does. Or more so!” When she turned, Dillon was right behind her. She gasped, took a step back and hit the door. She hadn’t even heard him move.
He took another step closer, looming over her. His fingers touched her chin; his dark gaze touched everywhere else. In a rumble, he whispered, “There are gentler ways for a woman to get what she wants. Especially from her own brother.”
For one instant she felt frozen by his touch. Her stomach curled and her nipples tightened into sensitive peaks. Then she shook her head. “So I should play meek and mild just to placate Cliff? I don’t have a meek or mild bone in my body. I thought you understood that, Dillon.”
He didn’t smile. “Are you going to make time for me this weekend, Virginia?”
“Are you being pushy?” she asked automatically, still stinging from her brother’s remarks.
To her disappointment, he backed down, both physically and mentally. For a single heartbeat, he looked frustrated, almost angry, but he took a safe step away from her and shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just…anxious.”
If he was really anxious, he’d insist she make a decision, she thought. But then, it wasn’t fair of her to try to force her own dominant spirit on him. She went on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “I need to be here Friday for a meeting, but I can take off Thursday.”
His gaze heated. “What time?”
“Whenever you like. You tell me.”
Without hesitation, he said, “Early. We could spend the entire day together. The waiting is just about killing me.”
After her brother’s crack about her weight, Dillon’s obvious desire was a welcome balm. She pressed closer to him for a kiss and felt his large hand cup her backside, gently squeezing. With her brother’s comment still lingering fresh in her mind, she was uncomfortable with the touch and stepped away. His gaze searched her face, questioning, and she tried not to blush.
Other men who had come on to her had been discreet with their touches, never venturing so boldly in broad daylight as Dillon seemed prepared to do. In thirty years, she’d had two lovers, and they’d both made it a practice to
