Willing Sacrifice (Knights of the Board Room) (14 page)

Matt chuckled. “Those rims can come out of the exorbitant-but-worth-every-penny salary I pay you, but if she needs new tires, charge it through my expense account. And you’ll still get that Christmas bonus.” He moved toward the access door but paused with his hand on the latch. The look he gave her reminded Janet why very few crossed Matt Kensington.

“Don’t cut yourself down like that again, Janet. I won’t tolerate anyone treating you badly, and that includes yourself.”

* * * * *

Max took the overpass walkway from the parking deck to the main building, then hit the stairs. He was between tasks and figured he’d do a pass by Janet’s desk to see if she needed to go by her house before the dance class, so he could adjust his departure times accordingly. He’d be picking Dana up at the church at four, giving him plenty of time to get her home and swing back by, since Janet rarely left at five, due to projects Matt and the guys had had in process these past few months.

Since their night at the dock, he hadn’t seen much of the woman who’d been uppermost in his thoughts. When he left her at her car at the club, she’d pushed his dress shirt off his shoulders, tucked it into the Mustang without explanation. He’d had all sorts of fantasies about her wearing it, only those one or two remaining buttons holding it closed over her bare body. She’d felt superb under his exploration, firm and soft in all the right places, arching up into his touch.

Because the limo drivers often doubled up as security during slow times, he had the same access to K&A as Randall. As a result, Max had come by her desk early that next day, before anyone else arrived. Only the dim security light had illuminated her command central area, and Matt and the other guys’ offices were all locked up.

It felt right, leaving her a token. Nothing extraordinary, just a four-piece box of handmade truffles from a local chocolatier, and a handful of wildflowers from the dock area. He’d threaded them into the vase of white and yellow roses on her desk. The executive level always had fresh flowers, part of the ambiance, and he was pleased to see the ones he left complimented the roses. Would she notice? Thinking of how carefully she’d watched his every reaction the previous night, he expected she would.

That same day, she’d sent him a text.
Chocolate and flowers? Still angling for that second date?

Always. Name the time and place, baby.

He’d added the teasing endearment on purpose and was rewarded with an emoticon in return, the one with the tongue stuck out. It kept him grinning, but true to what he’d expect of a woman of her nature, that had been their last interaction that week. He’d deduced she was going to hold off taking it any further until after the ballet class, both to torture him and to keep things slow, in control. That was all right. Of all people, he understood the value of timing, planning, strategy. It gave him time to plan his own.

As he stepped off the elevator, he detected a hint of tension in the air and found the source of it quickly enough. Janet was standing behind her desk, her fingertips resting on top of a stack of folders, her steely gaze fixed on Ben O’Callahan, who was shrugging into his suit jacket with an impatient motion. Max recalled today’s schedule, the details mapped in his head like a desk calendar. Wade was dropping him at Jackson Square for a lunch meet with the lawyers from Bally, Winslow and Martin.

“This isn’t about that,” Ben said, a hard edge to his tone. “I need to change my five p.m. appointment today to a different date. Jenkins and I—”

“I already spoke to Mr. Jenkins about that. He said he can meet you in the morning, and I moved your nine a.m. with Ellen Watkins to ten a.m. She said that worked better for her anyway.”

“If we handle it tonight, it keeps the workload for tomorrow—”

“Exactly the same.” Janet’s jaw was set, though she didn’t emanate any temper. Simple inflexibility, like a brick wall. “The decisions you made tonight wouldn’t be typed up until tomorrow anyhow, and I’ll make sure the paralegals put it top priority so it’s all done before the end of the workday.” She held out a handful of slips to him. “Here are your messages, none of which interfere with your five o’clock.”

Ben approached her desk, eyes narrowed. Max wanted to take a few more steps into the area, be the knife to cut the tension, but he checked himself with effort. It would be foolish to defend Janet from a mere verbal assault, and one that came from a difficult man she handled regularly.

“I didn’t authorize you to do any of that.”

“No, you didn’t. Aren’t you glad I’m here to anticipate your needs?” Janet arched a brow.

“What if I decided I wanted my meet with Jenkins right back where the hell I wanted it?” Ben asked in a deceptively pleasant tone.

“I’d say he’s probably made other plans by now, being just as busy and important a person as you are.”

“Let me guess. You’ll tell Matt if I skip my bloody five o’clock?”

“No.” She held his gaze. “Are you asking me to do so?”

The lawyer pressed his lips together, the clash of wills going on for another ten seconds. Max reconsidered his idea of moving into the room, because for a moment Ben did in fact look like he might reach across and choke her. But Janet had that stapler close to hand. She’d brain him with it in a heartbeat.

“You,” Ben plucked the pink message slips from her hand, “are Satan’s Mistress.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She gave him that ice-cool look, but her hand closed on his, squeezed briefly. “Go to the five o’clock, Ben.”

That gesture evaporated the tension between them. The rueful twist of Ben’s lips said that, whatever had happened, he knew she was right. His Irish temper was hot, but brief, and he didn’t usually let himself off the hook for it, which he proved now. “Sorry, Janet.”

She shook her head, tapped his wrist. “Give Nancy Adams a call on your way. She’s the message on top. She just wants to know the projected filing date, and she’s not a talker. If you know the date, I could do it.”

“No, I’ll do it. I need to charm her a bit for what I’m going to want from her in the future.”

“Well, lesser miracles than you and charm have been known to happen.”

“Nice. Tell Satan to send up some demons to give you a hand, so you can get out of here on time.”

She gave him a suitably disdainful look in answer to that, and then he was headed to the elevators, shouldering his laptop bag as he went through the message notes.

Max noted the slight tension leave Janet’s shoulders as Ben left her area. Then she noticed him and her gaze cleared, a smile curving her lips that warmed him from head to toe.

He sidled into the room, leaned against the corner by her printer table. Ben didn’t take a limo to that five o’clock meeting, but his attitude toward it, and how regularly it occurred, made it pretty clear what it was, to a discreet staff that paid attention. It was a therapy session.

Ben was the most streetwise of the group, with a volatile Irish temper yet a fierce loyalty to all of them. Marcie, Cass’ little sister, had been in love with him since her teens and just this year had gone to great lengths to prove he and she were meant to be together. Her stubbornness had convinced him. However, earlier in the year, when Marcie had come back into Ben’s life, the man had been struggling with some nasty issues from his past, trying to drown them in alcohol.

Max had had a ringside seat when Ben’s past and present had collided, and had witnessed the collateral damage it had caused. But the result was Ben was now getting help and seemed to be doing better. Of course, Max had buddies who’d had to get treatment for PTSD, and knew no man enjoyed the serious mind probing needed to get back on track, let alone one used to being in authority. Ben was the most hardcore sexual Dominant of all of the executive team, with serious control issues. Max wondered if his therapist took Valium before their sessions.

He liked a lot of things about Ben and wished him well, but he couldn’t deny the knot of tension that had risen in his chest at the exchange between him and Janet. If Ben had reached across that desk in any way Max interpreted as a threat, he wouldn’t have hesitated to put him on the ground. Hard. He wasn’t going to let anyone touch her.

Okay, maybe he needed to step back, get his emotions under control. Anger and passion had their place, but not in executing a mission goal. He still hadn’t really decided what his mission goal was with Janet, but the strategy had to be carefully thought out, not driven by reckless emotion. Then he thought about how she’d climaxed, crying out to the stars. Maybe reckless emotion had its place as well.

When he approached the desk, he couldn’t help reaching out, touching the hand resting on the files. She had thin hands, elegant, but the knuckles were a little prominent due to the thinness. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Ben and I regularly lock horns.”

“That was a little less good-natured than I’ve seen in the past.”

“Yes. I think they’re hitting some particularly rough areas in his sessions right now.”

He appreciated that she didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know Ben was in therapy, even as he was impressed that she recognized how in tune he was with the comings and goings of his main charges. He supposed they shared that trait.

“I keep it marked on all their calendars,” she continued, “which he doesn’t know, but as a result, no one makes any meetings for him during that time, just like when Dana was doing physical therapy and Peter was going with her. They watch out for each other.”

“And you watch out for them.”

“It’s what Satan’s Mistress does,” she said.

When she sat down at the desk, smoothing her skirt beneath her hips, he realized it had flustered her a little. He knew Ben didn’t intimidate her, so that suggested something in Ben’s struggle had resonated with her. He didn’t comment on it, simply filed it away as he let her choose which way to go to regain her composure.

“Have you decided teenage girls terrify you and you’re here to back out of the class?”

“Yes, teenage girls terrify me, but no, I’m not here to back out.” He smiled at that. “I wanted to know if you need to go to your house beforehand.”

She considered him with a bemused look that instantly made him wary. “How early can you take me?”

“Five o’clock. I need to run Dana home. You’ve been pretty slammed here though. I don’t mind waiting around if you need to work later.”

“No, I told Matt I’d be leaving on time today. There’s something I want you to do beforehand, at my house. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

Okay, wary moved right into alarm, but he covered it with a shrug. “Whatever you need.”

She gave him that thoughtful look again. “Do you live here, Max? You never seem to leave.”

He made a vague grunt. “I go get food. I never miss a meal. And I expect you know my home address already.”

“I’ve got it on my stalker board at home. I’ll show it to you.”

“I’ll bet.” He let his gaze drift over her face, pause on her lips as he recalled their last kiss. “You’re wearing a different gloss today.” A different scent.

“Yes.” Her look challenged him to try to find out what it was in exactly the same way he had last time. Matt’s door was open. The man was sitting at his desk twenty feet away, on a call, but he had a clear shot of Janet’s desk.

Max thought about meeting her challenge anyway, but they both knew he wouldn’t take it further than that. That was part of the charge. But he better head back to the elevator, or his typical male reaction to such a challenge would become way too obvious.

“I’ll see you at five, ma’am. Looking forward to it.”

Her snort followed him to the elevator. When he stopped there and looked back, she was giving him a thorough appraisal. She didn’t look away when he noticed, not embarrassed to be caught looking. From the direction of her glance, the way it shifted upward at her own leisurely pace, he had a pretty good idea she’d been studying his ass. He was wearing slacks and the K&A dark embroidered placket shirt, no sports coat over it at the moment. When he lifted a brow, she shrugged.

“That’s sexual harassment,” he muttered.

Despite the distance, she offered a seductive smile and picked up her pen. “Report me,” she mouthed, and gave him a wink.

He grinned all the way back to the parking deck.

* * * * *

Matt decided to leave with Janet, as he was meeting Savannah in the French Quarter for an early dinner with Peter and Dana. They’d all been working long hours, so Max could tell Janet was pleased they were taking some time as couples. However, since Matt walked out with her when Max pulled the limo out to the front, there was no immediate one-on-one time.

Max kept an eye on her in the mirror, but she was still in full work mode, switching out papers with Matt for him to sign, their heads bent together as Matt showed her certain things he needed adjusted. He wanted them by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. With the dance class tonight, Max wondered when she would get any sleep. But she didn’t seem concerned at all, merely agreeing it would be done.

As Matt exited the limo at Jackson Square, he gave Max a nod. “Take care of her.” Those dark, hawklike eyes held his a moment, then Kensington turned and was striding across the street, a tall, powerful man who always drew attention. He crossed in front of one of the carriages, gave the dappled horse harnessed to it a fond pat on the nose before he cut through the park.