up most of their time.
Then he would put out feelers for the meeting he really wanted. Someone here would know what was being said in the UN about his country’s chances for recognition. Whatever he had to do to bestow legitimacy on his people, he would. They were his priority. It was Luiza’s dream. He owed it to all of them to stay focused on that.
Not on some easy piece he’d picked up for a few hours of distraction.
* * *
Until the accident, Tiffany had always been fashionably—some would say chronically or even rudely—late. Once she began working, she’d discovered how irritating it was to be on the other side of that. Nowadays she strove to be early, and to that end she followed the directions on her watch, only to come up against yet another set of sliding doors. Rolling her eyes, she watched the timepiece count down how long she’d have to wait until they opened.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, wanting this meeting over with.
She’d almost forgotten it completely and wished she had. Unfortunately, her watch had been returned to her with her breakfast. “It was left in the reception lounge last night,” Julio had said. “You have a message. That’s what the blue light means.”
“It was heavy and men kept coming up to me, saying my watch indicated I was open to being approached,” she complained.
“Excellent feedback on the weight. A woman’s perspective is so valuable for the manufacturers. But please let me show you how to set your Do Not Disturb.”
He’d also shown her how to follow the directions to her meeting.
“Can I wear my mask?” she’d asked, peering at him from behind her feathers while trying to keep them out of her orange juice.
“Of course. Members typically wear their masks the entire time they’re here.”
With her main argument for blowing off the meeting disintegrated, she’d managed only a quiet, “Thanks.”
Biting her thumbnail after Julio left, she’d debated whether to risk leaving her room. What if she saw him?
Heated tingles awakened, hinting at how exciting it could be to bump into him, but she tamped down on the wild feelings. Her behavior last night had been a crazy combination of being away from the stifling proximity of her family and, well, she had been a little drunk on rum, having almost finished her second drink by the time she’d begun dancing.
With a stranger.
Her lover.
A burble of near-hysterical laughter almost escaped her as she walked, thinking of their incredible encounter. Part of her reaction was delight that she had it in her to be that bold and daring. Before the accident she might have fantasized about something like that, but it would never be something she could imagine actually doing. There was no such thing as impulse in her family. The consequences to Daddy’s career always had to be considered.
The rest of her giddiness had a sharply disappointed edge. This was the sort of secret she might share with a close girlfriend, but she didn’t have any. Her friends, some closer than others, had all continued on with their lives during her recovery, living the life she was supposed to have. Hers had stalled and taken a sharp left turn. She would never have much in common with them now except the good old days. That topic just invited pitying stares.
Work was what she had now. A career. She had Paulie’s corporation and men in her life who loved her as a daughter and a sister. Last night had been exciting and fun, but she couldn’t repeat it. What was she going to do? Come to these events every quarter and sleep with a different stranger each time? The alternative, to expose her scars and hope a lover could overlook them, made her shudder in appalled dread.
No, she had to stay serious and focused and do what she’d been sent here to do. Last night was her personal secret, something to keep her glowing on the inside through the cold years to come. Today she represented Davis and Holbrook, one of the largest construction firms in the world, thanks to her marriage merging her father’s architecture firm with Davis Engineering. As the one person with claim to both those names, she supposed she could take ten minutes out of her life to hand over the letter of introduction her brother had prepared.
Even if she didn’t entirely approve of this man they wanted to court.
At least she could hide behind her mask. Kinky was her new normal, apparently, since she was becoming really fond of it, but it rejuvenated her confidence.
These gopher burrows under the building she was less sure of.
“Am I in an abattoir?” she asked a petite q when she found one.
“Absolutely not,” the perky young woman replied, obviously not paid to have a sense of humor. “To ensure complete privacy for our guests, the doors only open if the next hallway is empty. Several people are moving around at this time, causing minor delays. Your meeting room is at the end of this hall and will open to your thumbprint.”
As she stepped into the empty meeting room, however, she had to admit that this particular man’s world was astounding. Given the industrial decor she’d traversed to get here, she had expected more of the same with the conference rooms. Instead she was in an aquarium—a humanarium—in the bottom of the sea. Stingrays flew like sparrows across the blue water over the glass ceiling and a garden of tropical fish bobbled like flower heads in a breeze, poking from the living reef that fringed the glass walls.
Amazed, she set down her black leather folder on a table between two chairs in the center of the room and walked the curved wall, keeping one hand on it to maintain her equilibrium as the distorted image of swaying kelp made her dizzy. She reminded herself to breathe and oriented herself by turning back to the room to take in the pair of chairs on the white area rug. They faced the windows and were separated by the table that held a crystal decanter of ice water and two cut-crystal glasses.
As she leaned her back against the window, the door panel whispered open and he stepped in. Her stranger.
Shock ran through her in an electric current that held her fixed, stunned.
Yes, that was the mask from last night, and she recognized his powerful build even though he was dressed differently. His gray shirt was short-sleeved, tailored close to his muscled shoulders and accentuated his firm, tanned biceps. The narrow collar of his shirt was turned down in a sharply contrasting russet, drawing her eye to the base of his throat.
She watched him swallow and lifted her gaze to his green-gold eyes.
How had he found her?
Behind him, the door whispered closed. The noise seemed to prompt him into motion. He took a few laconic steps into the room, hands going into his pockets. He wasn’t taken aback by their incredible surroundings. His eyes never left their lock on hers as he paused next to the chairs, lifted a hand and removed his mask. He dropped it into one of the chairs, still staring at her.
Barefaced, he was beautiful. Not pretty, not vulnerable, but undeniably handsome with his narrow, hawkish face and sharply defined cheekbones. His blade of a nose accentuated the long planes of his cheeks to the rugged thrust of his jaw, making his mouth appear sensual by comparison, even though his lips weren’t particularly full.
They weren’t narrow, either, and neither were his eyes, but the keen way he watched her
