No Romance Required(17)
Cory shoved a thick folder at his brother. “We’ll go over the numbers later. I have business with Victoria.”
“Gotcha.” Dillon shot her a grin. “Don’t strain his brain too much, kid.”
She grinned back and noted Cory’s sudden glacial chill. It was kinda hot how he could turn it on at the drop of a dime. “I’ll be gentle with him, don’t worry.”
There was no missing Cory’s grim expression as Dillon shut the door behind him.
They spent the next ninety minutes going over photos from Simply Home’s interior layouts. Vicky helped design the basic page mock-ups, then the graphic designer executed the plan. Cory usually provided input that pissed them both off.
Today, however, he seemed to be in a conciliatory mood. Shockingly, they quickly reached a compromise and selected pictures from both Cory’s high-end design and her own country-chic choice. The accompanying article would explain how the same room could be taken from casual to sophisticated by using affordable materials and accessories found at Value Hardware.
“So I had an idea.”
He pretended to shudder, though she glimpsed the amusement in his eyes. “And the earth rejoiced.”
“The Helping Hands houses would be the perfect tie-in between the company and the magazine. It’d be easier to stage them than an empty set and probably more cost-effective, too.” She propped her sketch pad against her knee and waited for his objections. They never came.
“That’s Dillon’s area. I don’t have much to do with the charity, other than supporting it financially of course. There just aren’t enough hours.”
“So I’ll work with Dillon.”
His rapid head shake made her frown. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“Somehow I doubt it, since you hate all my ideas.” Vicky shoved the photos back into her portfolio. “My favorite was the problem you had with the window treatments.”
“I preferred the bamboo blinds,” he said evenly.
“I don’t tell you how to do your job,” she returned. “Stop haranguing me on how to do mine.”
He stroked his tie and her mind shot back to their conversation yesterday—when he’d briefly stroked something else. “I have never harangued you.”
“Says you.”
“Fine. Have it your way.” He spread his hands, palms up. He was well-endowed hand-wise. Even his wrist, outfitted with a gold Rolex, was thick enough that she’d wondered for years what exactly he had going on downstairs. In this case, knowledge was definitely not power, because she wanted to leap across the desk and straddle his lap. “This is your area of expertise. Do as you would like, though there is one detail you’ve neglected. Since the winter issue releases before the holiday season, you might add a few festive touches, at least on the cover. Assuming it doesn’t interfere with your vision.”
He was just baiting her, something he was superior at. But she wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. “You got a problem with my vision, Santangelo? Come over on to this side of the desk and we can discuss it.”
He gave her a slow, smug smile. “Retract the claws, kitten.”
“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like physical displays. Of any sort. Minus ones under the cover of darkness, of course.” Thoughtfully, she pursed her lips. “I have to admit, I’m really starting to wonder why you can’t get a girlfriend without setting up arrangements.”
Back to the jaw ticking. “You know how busy I am.”
“I do. But perhaps there’s another issue. Maybe you couldn’t satisfy a woman if she drew you a map. Maybe your idea of wax play is getting freaky with crayons.” She leaned forward, making sure he got an eyeful of her cleavage in her scoop-neck top. “Come on, Cory, you can tell me. Is the problem dead wood?”
She knew from the orgasm he’d given her the other night that it wasn’t, but taunting Cory was too much fun to miss.
He stared at her for a long, pulsing moment, not smiling. Barely breathing. Then he rose, unfolding his long frame one delicious inch at a time. “You go too far, Victoria.” His voice was low. Hot.
She tilted her head and batted her lashes. “So pull me back in line. If you can.”
He reached out and for a second, she actually thought he was about to grab her hair and yank her over the desk. For nefarious or sexual purposes, she couldn’t tell.
But she couldn’t wait to find out.
A knock sounded at the door. As Cory’s mother popped her head in, he clenched his hand and dropped it to his side. And swore under his breath. Colorfully.