Beck & Call (9 page)

In spite of her jangled pulse, she laughed. It must be a present from Damien Call. He’d certainly picked an attention-getting mode of delivery. Even as she worked the package open, a rich dark scent gave away the contents: coffee beans from a local specialty purveyor, so recently removed from the roaster the bag was warm. She pulled the coffee out to inhale and spotted a schmancy stovetop espresso pot. Extricating that revealed two more bubble-wrapped items.

“Oh my,” she breathed once she’d opened them.

They were bone china cups and saucers with alternating fuchsia and ivory stripes. Real gold highlighted their delicate rims and handles, which she stroked delightedly. Mia had never told anyone she had a fancy coffee cup obsession. She liked looking at them online, but the sort she favored didn’t fit her budget. These were very like a pair she’d drooled over the other day.

“Crap,” she said, her heart beating faster for a less pleased reason.

Damien Call knew her name. And her address. And had somehow gotten access to her browser history. Okay, probably this wasn’t surprising. He was a computer nerd as well as a carmaker. She felt uncomfortable being spied on but, to be fair, she’d perused a not entirely public file on him last night.

“So we’re even,” Mia murmured. Maybe. She shifted guiltily on the bed. She was actually planning to spy on him some more.

She looked at the delicate cups. They were so pretty! Heaps better than lingerie or jewelry. Giving in to temptation, she gathered up her treasures to carry to the kitchen. Guilt could wait until after she’d enjoyed her present.

She was savoring her second cup when her cell phone rang. “Hey, Jake! Did you get a special delivery too?”

She realized too late how cheery her voice sounded.

“I did.” His tone was amused. “Mine dropped a set of keys on the floor of my living room.”

“Keys to what?”

“Come to the front of your building and find out.”

“Crap. I’m not dressed. Or anything else. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

She took fifteen but trotted down the steps feeling more or less together. Her eyes went round when she saw the sleek silver sports car Jake waited in. For once, her heart jumped for different reasons than seeing him. Awed, she trailed her hand over the smooth as glass but not shiny aerodynamic hood.

“This is the W-22!” she breathed. “I hear there’s a waiting list six months long to get one of these puppies.”

“Seven.” Jake didn’t hide his grin. “Production at the factory in Detroit has been slower than expected.”

“Have you let it park itself? What about the four-wheel drive and the GPS nav system? Can it actually go from zero to seventy in under five seconds?”

Laughing, Jake leaned to open the passenger door, which was a slick gull wing. “I had no idea you were this into cars.”

Mia slid into the hand-stitched bucket seat with an undeniably sensual sigh. “Oh my god, new car smell!” She closed the door, caressed the soft glove leather, then craned around to see behind her. The compact rear electric engine left room for a good-sized second seat. “You’re a way more expensive date than me. I got coffee and a coffee pot.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a loaner. Call couldn’t have meant for me to keep it.”

Mia looked at him and smiled.

“He couldn’t have,” Jake protested, seeming taken aback. “This car costs six figures.”

“Did you check the glove compartment?”

“I’m not sure where the glove compartment is.”

The dash was minimalist compared to a normal car but Mia found the concealed recess. She pulled out the folded papers tucked inside. “Twenty bucks says your name is on the title.”

“No.” He shook his head disbelievingly.

“A hundred?”

He took the documents from her. When he opened them, his stunned expression told her they said exactly what she’d predicted. “Holy crap.”

“Told you. Me cheap date. You pricey.”

“This is crazy.”

“Call has a lot of money. I guess it’s no big deal to him.”

“You got a coffee pot?”

“The cups might have been expensive. I think they were made in France.” She was having trouble keeping a straight face.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Mia let out a snicker. Jake stared at her for a moment before sighing. “He sent a note along with the keys. You’re welcome to read it.”

He dug it from his coat’s inner pocket. The same bold printer font that marked her package was on it.

PLEASE CONSIDER THE ATTACHED A CONVENIENCE. IT OBLIGES YOU AND MISS BECK TO NOTHING, BUT IF YOU LIKE, I’D BE PLEASED TO MEET YOU BOTH FOR LUNCH TODAY AT WORLDWIDE TO DISCUSS MUTUAL INTERESTS. SINCERELY, DAMIEN CALL

“Ha!” Mia laughed. “He calls this car ‘the attached.’”

“He’s original,” Jake agreed. “By the way, I swept it for surveillance.”

Mia covered her mouth. “I didn’t think of that. Did you find any?”

Jake shook his head. “We should probably accept his invitation.”

“No more playing hard to get?”

“Not for now,” he conceded.

~

Jake tried not to let the gift of the car throw him off balance. His parents had been humble people, salt of the earth Montanans who knew how to stretch tight budgets. They’d passed their frugality onto him. While the CIA paid specialists like him well, he hadn’t spent the money on luxuries.

The only presents he’d received since his parents died consisted of his annual bottle of Christmas scotch from Curtis.

This doesn’t mean anything
, Jake told himself as he pulled into a reserved guest slot in WorldWide’s underground garage. Damien Call sneezed more money than most people made in a lifetime.

Except … Jake loved driving, and this vehicle was a dream. The torque alone was incredible. You touched the accelerator and, presto, off it went. Jake was careful about leaving digital footprints. Could Call have divined his preference from digging into his?

No. Lots of men enjoyed sports cars. Call would have sufficient ego to assume anyone would enjoy driving one of his. Anyway, Jake would return it as soon as the assignment was over.

He caught himself stroking the platinum finish as he opened Mia’s door for her.

“Bye, car,” she said, unashamedly giving the thing a pat. They’d spent the morning tooling around the city. He supposed she’d grown fond of it. He wondered why Call hadn’t given it to Mia. She certainly liked it.

Unless Call
had
given it to her. His step hitched as he steered Mia toward the elevator. Maybe Call had guessed she wouldn’t accept the gift directly. She’d been tickled by the idea of Call favoring Jake preferentially. That was classic Mia. How people she cared about were treated mattered more to her than the treatment she got herself. If Call had figured that out, he was even more perceptive than Jake had given him credit for.

They had a thoughtful elevator ride to WorldWide’s offices on the fifty-second floor.

Mia stiffened as soon as they entered the sun-filled silver and white lobby.

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m so not dressed for this.”

WorldWide’s dress code certainly wasn’t casual. Everyone who strode past looked like they’d stepped off the runway of a corporate fashion show. Though Jake wore a tailored suit, he wasn’t up to their standard. The disparity amused him, but he could tell Mia was upset.

“You look fine,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I’m in
jeans
.”

She was in jeans and a navy Ralph Lauren V-neck sweater she’d probably nabbed out of a sale bin. The tails of her white Oxford shirt stuck crookedly out the bottom, creased from lack of ironing and sitting in the car. To Jake, she looked cute, mussable, and ready for adventure. How Damien Call would view her outfit was unknown.

To Jake’s surprise, the man himself was coming down a shining marble corridor to meet them. As he walked, he removed his suit jacket, draping it over one arm as nonchalantly as if he’d suddenly found the air too warm. One hooked finger loosened his tie as well.

Now that,
Jake thought,
is considerate.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Call said, shaking their hands by turns. His grip was firm but not overpowering. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for lunch to be served in my office.”

Jake had a brief mental picture of the three of them chowing down on pizza around Call’s desk. He shook his head humorously. Loosened tie notwithstanding, he knew that wasn’t happening.

As they proceeded down the hall, a trophy secretary in a gorgeous cream-colored suit popped up from her watchdog desk. “Sir,” she said. “I could have—”

“No matter, Ms. DeWinter,” Call cut her off politely. “Mr. Reed and Miss Beck are friends. I wanted to greet them personally. Please hold my calls until I inform you otherwise.”

“You have a meeting with the section managers in an hour.”

“They can wait if they need to. No interruptions, Ms. DeWinter. No exceptions.”

Ms. DeWinter’s gaze drifted to Mia, her lips tightening briefly at her casual appearance. She subsided reluctantly behind her desk. “Yes, Mr. Call. I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

“Excellent.” Seeming to forget the woman as soon as she agreed, Call opened a glass door in the glass wall of his office. “Shall we?” he said, holding it for Mia.

Mia stepped cautiously inside. “Whoa. There’s a whole house in here.”

There was a good part of one. Apart from Call’s spacious desk area, there was a large living room, a small conference table, and a “coffee” kitchen three times the size of the one in Mia’s apartment. An intimate table draped in white sat by the best window view. Three chairs waited around it.

Call settled his suit jacket on a hanger and hook near his desk. His pale blue shirt was cut British style, conforming closely to his body. He wasn’t huge, but he was built powerfully, his muscles subtly shaping the smooth linen. No love handles spoiled the transition of the shirt into his dark trousers.

Jake recalled from his research that the billionaire liked to box. His sparring partner might actually deserve his astronomical salary. Apparently, he kept Call in fighting trim.

Mia might not have been aware she watched, but her eyes tracked every move the big man made. She jerked when he turned around.

“Which do you prefer?” Call asked her. “To eat first or talk business?”

“I think I’m too nervous to eat,” Mia said in her honest way.

Call smiled and a spark passed between them that made Jake uneasy. Mia was attracted to Damien Call. He realized he’d never seen her look at someone else the way she looked at him.

“Mr. Call,” she began.

“Damien,” he corrected.

“Damien, I—”

“May I call you Miss Beck?”

She laughed, which might have been what Call intended. His poker face made it hard to tell. “I prefer Mia. Perhaps you could, um, save ‘Miss Beck’ for special occasions.”

The glow of appreciation behind the CEO’s eyes increased. “I could do that.”

His slight suggestiveness made Mia press her palm to her stomach. “I want to apologize for showing up dressed like this. I wasn’t thinking when I got ready this morning.”

“I find no fault in your appearance. Did you enjoy your gift?”

“Yes, and Jake’s too. You didn’t have to give us anything.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Mia rolled her lips together. Jake knew she was going to blurt something she wasn’t sure she should. “Was it also your pleasure to invade our privacy?”

Call leaned back on his glass-topped desk, his hips propped against its edge. He didn’t seem at all put out. “That was simple caution. I know where you used to work. Surely you’re not suggesting you didn’t also dig into my history?”

“That was simple caution too,” Mia said. “I just think we ought to set limits on the spying.”

Call’s smile was smooth and agreeable. “That’s why we’re here. Would you like to read the contract I’ve drawn up?”

Mia blinked. “You drew up a contract?”

“They are customary for these sort of arrangements.”

Jake decided it was time to step in. He allowed his hand to fall lightly onto Mia’s back. “Mia is new to these ‘sort of arrangements.’ As I’m sure you’re aware.”

Call’s eyes met his and Jake experienced his own inner zing. This man certainly commanded a lot of amperage. Should he get the chance, Jake would enjoy putting him in his place—erotically speaking. Though the muscles of his pelvis tightened, he forced himself not to change expression.

“You and she are playing without a contract,” Call observed.

“I know what I will and won’t do.”

“And she trusts you.”

“She’s not wrong to.”

“Um,” Mia interrupted. “Maybe I could read the contract while you two have your stare-off?”

“One moment,” Call said. His wafer thin smartphone was lying on the desk. He pointed it at the wall of glass between his office suite and the corridor. A second after he pressed a button, the wall went opaque. “There. Now we’re private.”

“Cool,” Mia said.

“We’re soundproofed too?” Jake asked.

“We are,” Call confirmed.

Jake’s powers of deduction told him Ms. DeWinter wouldn’t be pleased by that. Focused on other topics, Mia sat on a boxy modern couch to go over Call’s contract. She didn’t pretend to read it at normal speed. Call watched her performance with interest but not surprise. Her slender brows arrowed up a couple times. When she finished, she passed the document to Jake.

The nondisclosure paragraphs were as he’d expected. In addition, all parties agreed not to surveil the others or to make recordings without explicit permission. The hiring party—Call—would supply any wardrobe or equipment not already owned by the hires. In return, hires would hear out Call’s suggestions regarding the interactions he wished to watch. If suggestions weren’t provided, they could improvise as they pleased. In no event were they to pressure Call to participate. Safe words were to be established and, if appropriate to the circumstances, prophylactics used. The hires would submit to examination for pertinent medical conditions. Salaries could be negotiated, but the following were proposed. Hires were to make themselves available to the hiring party around the clock, though personal time off requests would be respected.