Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(12)

"Sure." Jack led her down one of the two corridors that split off from  the reception area, turning on lights as he went. The floors were  hardwood, which seemed incongruent for an office, and the walls were  painted a pale sky-blue. It was all very elegant, but comfortably so.

"Huh," she mused as he led her into a kitchen that was tricked out with stainless steel appliances and a cappuccino machine.

"What?"

"It's not very … officey."

"Well, that's the point, I guess. We spend a lot of time here."

"We?" she prompted. The place was smaller than she'd imagined. But then,  she'd pretty much imagined the Bat Cave-cavernous, masculine, dark.  Maybe he saved that aesthetic for his house. She'd seen half a dozen  private offices on this side of the suite, and beyond the kitchen looked  to be an open area filled with a few dozen large cubicles, but since  the space was surrounded by windows on two sides, they lacked that  stifling feeling that usually came with cubicles.

"Yeah, the kitchen especially is the hangout spot. There are two other  companies on this floor-a software company and an advertising agency-and  everyone always seems to end up here."

"I can see why."

When they crossed back through reception to the other side, there were  fewer, larger offices. He pointed at the first one. "My EA."

"You have an executive assistant?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of  her voice. But of course he did. He was a scion of industry. What did  she think? He booked his own meetings? Made his own lunch reservations?  If her surprise was unreasonable, so was the irrational stab of jealousy  in her gut at the idea of some hot girl-for she would be hot-knowing  the ins and outs of Jack's life. "What's her name?" she asked casually.

He looked like he was trying not to smile. "Seth."

"Oh." She sped on to the next, slightly larger office.

"Carl," he said.

"Okay! Moving on." She stopped at the last office before the corridor made a turn.

"This is Amy. Her title is VP, but she's really my real estate person. She's in Mexico right now."

Oh, so this would be the hot girl. "Christmas getaway-nice," Cassie said, pointedly asking no further questions about Amy.

"Nope, work. We're working on our first project outside Canada and the  US. I'm in the early stages of construction of a resort near Tulum. An  eco sort of thing. Zip-lining, hiking-and of course the ocean. Hey! Why  are you wrinkling your nose?"

"I'm sure it will be great. I just don't get the idea of going on  vacation in order to like, exert yourself. If I ever went on vacation, I  would lie around reading trashy novels and napping all day."

He laughed. "It's for people who don't work as hard as we do. Personally, I'm with you."

It was her turn to giggle. The sight of him stretched out in a beach  cabana reading a bodice ripper was too funny-he looked like he should be  on the cover of one. "I thought the company would be bigger," she said,  running her fingers over the dark, polished wood of Amy's door.                       
       
           



       

"We're pretty lean, actually. We work hard. Most of my employees have  been with me for a long time, and they feel some ownership, I think.  They're loyal." She didn't miss the flash of hurt in his eyes before he  recovered. "Or so I thought. Anyway, the point is we get a lot done  pretty efficiently."

"And, wow, you get it done in style. These are some mighty fine digs,"  she said, wanting to take his mind off his troubles, even if only for a  moment.

"Thanks." He pointed around the corner. "And there's me."

She led the way. And then she stopped in her tracks, letting loose a low whistle as the door opened onto his office.

Two of the walls were windows, and he had a breathtaking view of the  towers of the financial district on one side and the blue expanse of  Lake Ontario on the other.

"It is kind of nice, isn't it?" He looked like a little kid showing her something he'd made.

Turning her attention to the office itself, she did a slow rotation,  taking in the massive antique mahogany desk, a sitting area furnished  with a decadent looking sofa and a pair of armchairs upholstered in a  lush, vibrant orange. It looked like a masculine version of her  apartment. Except for the fact that …  "My whole apartment would fit in  here two times over," she declared.

"Yep," he agreed cheerfully, but not unkindly. "And there's an elevator," he teased.

She sighed, walking toward one of the window-walls for a moment to  compose herself. It was like being Cinderella at the ball, she felt so  out of her element. Except no, she told herself. All Cinderella had  going for her was the prospect of hitching her wagon to some dude.  Cassie, on the other hand, had been hired to do a job. A fifty thousand  dollar job.

She turned. "Let's get to work."

 …

Jack watched Cassie take in the view. She was a brilliant blot of  scarlet against the gray buildings and white sky of the December  afternoon. Damn. Was he a complete idiot? Jack had rules, yes, but he  was not generally in the habit of rebuffing the advances of scorchingly  hot women.

She was right, technically. There was nothing inappropriate about the dress-she was covered from neck to toe. And yet …

In fact, he thought, trying to compose himself, it looked not unlike  something Amy would wear. The difference was the stylish vice-president  of Winter Enterprises would have worn the dress in black or gray. Not  this ridiculous blazing scarlet.

For the first time in a long time, Jack was facing a situation he  honestly didn't know how to play. Part of him-including the part of him  currently straining against the fly of his jeans-wanted nothing more  than to rewind, go back, and make good on his threat to bend her over  the reception desk. But he'd already been intimate with her, and he  tried to keep a cap on the number of encounters he had with any single  woman. He was serious about not doing relationships. Dead serious. They  distracted him from what was important-work. Limiting himself to  one-night stands was a defense mechanism he consciously and cheerfully  deployed. He had a lot to protect. Not a heart, no-at least not that  kind of heart-but a man didn't build a company from nothing into the  powerhouse that was Winter Enterprises without subjecting himself to a  little discipline.

So the fact that he was contemplating another round with Cassie was,  frankly, a little concerning. As his eyes slid over those wicked red  curves, a thought dawned. In one sense, he hadn't actually been with  Cassie at all. He'd left their first kiss with the worst case of blue  balls in the history of the universe, and at their second encounter,  he'd spent himself in the snow like an untried boy.

She turned from the window with a spark in her eyes that seemed to  simultaneously ignite in his chest. If he could just be inside her  once-bend the rules a little-then maybe he could get this all-consuming  lust under control enough to get some damned work done.

"Let's get to work," she said.

Well, so much for that idea.

The mischief was gone from her eyes, replaced with a look of pure  determination. If she had sleeves, she'd be rolling them up right now.  "I want to see your books. And please tell me everything isn't password  protected on Carl's computer."

"I may be an idiot when it comes to numbers, but I'm not that stupid.  Crossing to his desk, he powered up his MacBook, silently ordering  himself to get it together.

"You're not an idiot," she said.

Instead of answering, he picked up a remote control and aimed it at the  built-in cabinetry. A door retracted to reveal a flat screen TV.                       
       
           



       

"Fancy!" exclaimed Cassie.

"Where do you want to start?" he asked, opening some documents on his  computer. "How about the current quarter's balance sheet?" With a few  keystrokes he had the document up on the screen.

"Still fancy!" Cassie laughed.

He shrugged. "It's just Bluetooth."

She performed an exaggerated shrug in return. "I guess I'm a cheap  date." But then she crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and gazed up at  the screen. For a minute the only thing that moved in the room were her  eyeballs. He could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"Okay. What will Wexler expect me to know? I guess maybe the best thing  is to just keep going back in time, so I can get a sense of the  company's recent history?"

Silently, he projected another file onto the screen. Another jumble of  numbers. He was accustomed to not "getting" numbers. When he was alone  like this, or with someone he trusted-and somehow Cassie, whom he'd  known for all of four days, fell into that category-they didn't send him  into a panic. He didn't fully process what he saw, but since no one was  expecting him to, it didn't really matter.