Billionaire's Contract Engagement(20)

When he stepped off, he was immediately impressed with the very modern,  "in touch" feel of Maddox Communications. There was a lot of attention  given to comfort, and it worked, because he felt relaxed.

Two large-screen plasma televisions were positioned on either side of  the large reception desk, and Maddox's latest ad campaigns were  predominately displayed in a series of commercials.

Behind the desk, a cheerful looking younger woman smiled a warm welcome as he approached.

"Good morning and welcome to Maddox Communications."

He returned her smile. "Can you tell Celia Taylor that Evan Reese is here to see her?"

The sudden awareness in the receptionist's eyes told him she knew well  who he was. She recovered quickly, though. With brisk efficiency, she  rounded the corner of her desk and gestured toward the set of couches in  the waiting area.

"If you'll have a seat, I'll get her at once. Would you care for some coffee?"

"No, thank you."

She turned to stride down the hallway, leaving Evan standing there. He  walked to the window to look down on the street instead of sitting. If  he had his way, he wouldn't be here for long anyway.

A few moments later, he heard the tap tap of heels and turned to see Celia approaching, a confused, wary look in her eyes.

"Evan," she greeted. "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were going back to Seattle. Is anything wrong?"

She'd put her impersonal business face on the moment he looked up. It  annoyed him that she was pushing him away, already distancing herself  from the weekend they'd shared. It should be him doing the pushing. He  should have gotten her out of his system after making love to her more  times than he could count.

But he hadn't, which was why he found himself standing here, trying to come up with an excuse to see her again.

"Nothing's wrong. My plans changed. I thought we could have lunch. If you're free, that is."

She checked her watch, a quick, nervous motion that told him she was  merely stalling-and trying to think of an excuse why she couldn't.

"I would very much like to have lunch with you, Celia."

Her forehead wrinkled in indecision. She nibbled at her bottom lip. He  took advantage of that moment to move closer until he crowded her.  Before she could take a step back, he grasped her arm.

Alarm flared in her eyes, and she broke the contact, stepping hastily away as she stared wildly in all directions.

"For God's sake, Evan, not here," she hissed.

Her hand trembled as she raised one to smooth her hair. Instead of  repairing the knot, she only managed to work more strands free. They  fell down her neck, calling attention to the slim column. He was  reminded of all the time he'd spent nibbling at that sweet flesh.

He raised an eyebrow at her vehemence but kept his distance.

"Lunch?"

"All right. Let me get my purse. I'll meet you downstairs."

Her dismissal rankled him. He was used to calling the shots when it came to women and relationships.

Hell, now he was thinking of her in terms of a relationship? The only  thing he should be thinking was how quickly he could get her back into  bed so that hopefully this time he'd get rid of the burning ache he felt  when she crossed his mind.

Crossed. What a funny word, one that denoted an occasional,  unintentional meeting. She lived in his mind. He didn't like it, didn't  particularly care for the implication, but he was powerless to rid  himself of her assault on his senses.

He stared at her for a long moment, and only because he was convinced she was ready to bolt, did he acquiesce.

"All right. I'll call my driver around. Oh, and Celia. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Celia spun around before she exploded. She wished she could blame it all  on her anger and his arrogance, but she'd been flabbergasted when  Shelby had rushed into her office to tell her Evan Reese was here and he  wanted to see her.         

     



 

The giddy thrill that sizzled down her spine annoyed her. And then his  arrogant presumption that she'd drop everything to have lunch with him.  He didn't like to be kept waiting. Who did he think he was?

She sighed as she collected her purse. Where to even begin? He was an  important client. The most important client of her career. And then  there was the fact she'd acted as his fake fiancée, and oh yeah, she'd  slept with him. Repeatedly.

A hot blush shot up her neck and nearly burned her cheeks off as she  remembered just how often they'd had sex. They'd re-enacted all his  fantasies and some of hers, too.

They'd been insatiable.

Hell and damnation but she'd expected several days to recover from the  weekend before she had to see him again. In her utter befuddlement and  not to mention being blown over by the sex, she hadn't even mentioned  the season opener to Evan.

It was as good an excuse as any to accompany him to lunch. At least then she could pretend it was all about business.

After a quick wave to Shelby, she rode the elevator down to the first  floor. She passed the busy American cuisine restaurant with the lunch  crowd lined up at the door and exited the building.

Evan was standing at the curb, one hand resting on the open door to the  backseat of his car, the other shoved into his pocket. He looked  positively arrogant. Like he not only belonged in the world but owned  it.

He nodded as she approached and motioned her inside the car. Then he slid in beside her and shut the door.

"I thought we could eat at this restaurant I know across town. It's  small and not so well-known, but the food is excellent and it affords  privacy."

He looked at her almost like the last was a challenge.

She tilted her chin up and stared coolly at him. She hoped that she looked as unruffled as she wanted to portray.

"Is this business, Evan? Why did you come to my office today?"

His mouth tightened briefly before he relaxed and eyed her with thinly veiled amusement.

"We slept together, Celia. I don't think lunch is that scandalous given that fact."

She curled her fingers into tight fists. She wanted to close her eyes  and moan her dismay. No, she doubted he'd understand why it was so  important to her that there be no hint of impropriety between them. He  was the type who'd never let what others thought rule his life. She  hated that evidently she was the type. Hated it but couldn't change it.

"Evan."

She stopped when her voice cracked. She felt like the worst sort of  idiot. Around others she had no problem being blunt-and forceful when  the occasion called for it. But with Evan, she was ridiculously  tongue-tied.

"Yes?" he prompted.

He wore a curious smile, almost as if he found her and the situation amusing. It made her angry.

"We can't do this. We simply can't. This weekend was a huge mistake. I  don't want to be one of these women who say no, no, no, and then yes,  yes, yes and then spend the next week castigating myself for my  weakness. I shouldn't have slept with you. I swear, I left my brain  behind when we went to Catalina. I knew what I was getting into. Don't  get me wrong. I don't blame you or think you manipulated me into having  sex with you. I'm a big girl and I knew full well what I was doing. It  doesn't make me any less stupid, mind you."

Evan simply hauled her into his arms and stifled her tirade with a kiss.  Not just any kiss. He devoured her whole. She melted-positively  melted-in his arms. She went limp against him.

Yep, she was one of those silly women at the mercy of her hormones.

She placed both hands on his chest and shoved until they sat apart, both  breathing raggedly. She probably looked demented sitting there, hair  askew, chest heaving up and down as if she'd run a marathon.

"Stop kissing me!"

He smiled again, a lazy, sensual smile of a lion standing over its prey. She was lunch apparently.

"But I like kissing you and I try never to deny myself life's little pleasures."

She rolled her eyes then caught herself before she laughed.

"Dammit, Evan. Be serious for one minute. I mean it. Stop kissing me and stop touching me."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I won't touch you."

She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and moved as far over  in the seat as she could. Why had she agreed to lunch with him? Why?

Because you're a masochist and you can't resist him.

There was that.

She's always thought it was a myth. The out-of-control hormones that  made an otherwise intelligent woman make waste of her brain cells every  time she came into contact with the one.

She was certainly proving the waste of brain cells to be true.         

     



 

The rest of the journey was spent in brooding silence. Evan was silent  and Celia brooded. When they finally pulled up to a restaurant that  boasted the best seafood on the west coast, she raised a skeptical  eyebrow.

"Try it first and then tell me if you disagree," Evan said in amusement.

He was becoming way too adept at reading her and it annoyed her to no  end, especially since she had no idea what went on in his head. She was  afraid to find out.

When she stepped out and glanced around, she had to hand it to him. For a  man who didn't seemingly care if they were seen together or not and  certainly didn't have the objections she had, he'd chosen a restaurant  where they weren't likely to be seen by anyone who knew them.