"You haven't answered my question. Did you take this position, work here all this time, taking Tarrant's money-just so you could gather evidence for a lawsuit?"
"I've performed my duties to the best of my ability."
"Apparently you've done a damn good job of it. Tarrant thinks the sun shines out of your ass."
She blinked at his crude expression. At least something rattled her. Her cold-blooded deception appalled him-and intrigued him.
She straightened her shoulders. "We've made a lot of progress."
"You are one cool customer. How can you sit in meetings with the man when you're planning to sue him?"
"It's not personal. It's a matter of business."
Indeed. He could hardly point the finger of accusation. He'd come here with his own agenda: to take back something that Tarrant stole-even though he technically bought it-from him.
He leaned in the doorway of the file room, crowding her. Looked down on her from his six-foot, two-inch vantage point. "Maybe we can make a deal?"
Bella's heart thumped so hard she could hear the blood pounding in her skull.
Was she an idiot?
She should have made something up. A little white lie to send him off course. Now that she'd told him the truth he could go back to his father and Tarrant could prepare his vast legal staff for warfare.
A "deal"?
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I agree not to rat you out, you agree to … " He tilted his head and narrowed those pitch-dark eyes.
Her nipples swelled against the smooth nylon of her sturdy, practical bra. She swallowed hard.
"What?" she choked out.
His low chuckle rumbled through the tension-heavy air. She became acutely conscious of how much taller than her he was. A good eight inches, especially with her standing here like an idiot in her stocking feet.
"I've noticed Tarrant only hires beautiful women. Why is that?"
"He's always concerned about the company's image."
Dominic crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Likes to have everyone around him fit the 'brand'?"
His penetrating gaze made her painfully conscious of her blunt-cut hair and well-upholstered body. "I'm not sure why he made an exception in my case."
"Trust me. No exception was made." A dimple appeared in his right cheek. "I guess he's only getting what he asks for when he hires staff because of their looks rather than their reputation." He frowned. "Where'd the name Andrews come from? Are you married?"
She saw his eyes flick to her left hand. "No! Do you think I'd have kissed you if I was married?"
"I have no idea what you'd do, sweetheart. Especially since we've established that you're here under false pretences."
She sucked in a breath. "Andrews is my mother's maiden name. My name is Bella Soros, almost exactly like my dad's. Tarrant wouldn't have hired me if he knew that."
"How do you know he wouldn't have been delighted to have you continue your dad's work?"
"My mom approached Tarrant when my father was sick. She asked him if my dad could come work here. She was so sure that being back amongst his tools and test tubes would give him the strength to recover. Tarrant told her to get lost."
"Sounds like my loving father all right."
Something in his expression lit a thin ray of hope in her heart. "So you understand?"
Dominic tipped his head back, studied her down the length of his proud nose. "Sure. I understand. I'm not saying I approve." He raised an eyebrow.
All she needed was another few days. Since the files had arrived she'd been combing through them every free moment when no one was around. She only had two more drawers to search. She'd xeroxed at least a thousand pages of her dad's decades-long research to prove the extent of the intellectual property Tarrant swindled him out of. All that remained was to find the amount he'd been paid. Her impractical father and flighty mother had kept few of their personal financial records.
"But you'll keep my secret." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Like I said, we can make a deal." His dark eyes drifted over her face. Grazed her lips and roamed over her neck. Her skin heated.
He wants to sleep with you.
She could read it in his face as clearly as if he'd said it.
Maybe he was one of those men who just had to conquer every woman that crossed his path? Tarrant Hardcastle was rumored to be such a man, though his terminal illness-not to mention his very young and beautiful third wife-had put a damper on his womanizing ways.
Bella had worked here for a solid year. Smiled in the face of the man who'd destroyed-who'd killed-her father. But she had her reasons. Surely she could go one extra step to safeguard everything her mother loved so dearly.
Her fingers and toes stung with panic. She'd come too far to lose it all now. If she could keep him quiet for a few days she'd be done.
Do it.
She took a step toward him and tilted her face upwards. Held her breath as she offered her mouth to him.
One dark brow lifted.
Had she read him wrong?
Her answer came when his lips crushed hotly over hers.
The breath evaporated from her lungs. His big hand settled crudely on her backside and he tugged her close enough for her breasts to wrinkle his starched shirtfront.
Dominic didn't smell like the expensive cologne they sold downstairs. His scent was raw-rough and feral-the aroma of undiluted lust.
His tongue grazed her teeth and sent a shiver of sensation to her toes. Bella found herself on tiptoe, reaching up to deepen the kiss as he craned his neck down to meet her. Her legs trembled from the strain and from the breathless wave of desire that washed over her.
He pulled back first. Simply lifted his head and left her standing there, lips angled toward the recessed light fixture in the ceiling.
She flushed and slammed her lips together.
Dominic's dimples were strangely absent. And something glittered in his near-black eyes.
"Gosh. I must go. My train." Her words trickled out like drips from a faucet. Her brain seemed to have seized up.
She lunged for her briefcase.
"Not so fast, princess. It's dark out. I'll get you a cab."
"I prefer to walk."
"Then I'll walk you."
Dominic guided her out of the lab with his palm. Her walk reflected her personality: prim, elegant, guarded. They didn't speak a word in the bright elevator. She held her head in profile to him, her kissed lips still red.
"Maybe we can make a deal?"
She'd thought he meant to bargain with sex.
He battled the smile that kept wanting to rip across his mouth. How far would she have gone-in that cramped file room-if he'd pressed the point?
She didn't seem like the kind of woman who'd trade her body for a simple promise. A promise he hadn't even offered.
And what a body.
She was slim, but not in the scrawny way of Tarrant's ex-supermodel cohorts. Her long legs were muscled and shapely, her waist an hourglass dip between full, feminine hips and high, rounded breasts.
He couldn't keep his eyes off her curvy rear, and the way the fabric of her fitted skirt shifted over it in rhythmic movements as she strode out of the elevator.
Down boy.
She murmured a polite goodbye to the security guard in the deserted lobby. Dominic took her arm, despite her momentary protest, as they exited to the dark street.
Muggy summer heat lingered in the air. "So you won't tell?" she whispered.
"I've made no promises." He tightened his arm around hers as she tried to pull away. "But I think we're on our way to an arrangement that will work for both of us."
If she'd turned to look at him, the reflected light from the street lamps might have picked out an evil gleam in his eye.
She marched with determined speed, her heels clicking over the pavement. "What time's your train?"
"Eleven-twenty." She didn't turn to look at him.
"You live in Westchester?"
"It's where my mom's house is."
"The house she's about to lose."
"It's a nice house, not big and fancy at all, but the way taxes are these days … " She sucked in a breath. "She has a lovely garden she's put two decades of work into. It would kill me to see her have to give it up."
Dominic glanced at her. Determination strengthened her elegant features. "I think it would take more than that to kill you."
"You don't know me." Her accusing stare made his five o'clock stubble prickle.
"True." He frowned. "Is Tarrant a tough boss to work for?"
"Not really. He leaves me alone to run the lab the way I want."
"He trusts you."
A tiny wrinkle marred her smooth forehead. "Yes. I suppose he does."