Wrapped Around My Heart Page 2

  “What do I need to do for you?” Our playful lunch had morphed back into a business meeting.

  “What are your plans for this week?”

  I knew my expression had to look like he’d grown a third eye. “It’s Christmas week. I’m heading to my parents’ house tomorrow night after work. You approved my vacation months ago.”

  “I need you, Jess.”

  I’d long dreamed of hearing those words, but not in this context. “I have a nonrefundable ticket.”

  “To where?” He pushed the boxes out of the way and opened a folder in front of him. “Where are your parents?”

  I set my chopsticks down and thought about what Christmas without my family would feel like. I could do without Bethany, but I’d miss my parents something fierce.

  “They’re in Colorado.”

  “How far from Aspen?” He shrugged off his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves, showing me the sun-kissed muscles of his forearms. When does he have time for sun?

  “Umm, they’re a couple of hours south of Aspen in a little town called Glory.” Seeing as neither of us was eating anymore, I closed up the boxes and packed everything in the delivery bag.

  “Perfect. How about you fly with me to Aspen, and I hire a driver to get you to your parents’ in time for cookie making or whatever you do before the holidays.”

  “Can’t this wait until after the new year?”

  “No, it’s a tax thing. I get the write-off, and he gets the income to show his investors. It’s a win for everyone.”

  I shook my head. “Not for me if I have to give up vacation days and time with my family.”

  “What if I made it worth your while?” He did that damn eyebrow lift that made me weak in the knees. “What if I offered a bonus and promised to get you home for the holidays?”

  “How much of a bonus?”

  “Are you negotiating with the master?”

  “I read The Art of the Deal.” I pulled myself up a few inches because looking confident would get me a better offer. Show no sign of weakness, I told myself.

  “Oh, please. That’s a bunch of drivel.”

  We both looked at the empty space on his desk like there was some invisible chess game and the next move would put one of us in checkmate.

  “Entertain me.”

  His lips turned up at the corners. “I’ll double your profit-sharing bonus.” He unfurled his fingers like flames would shoot from the tips any second.

  I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “That’s a no-win for me since I didn’t qualify for a bonus. Two times zero is still zero. Try again, Mr. Cantwell.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t get a bonus? You’ve been with me forever.” He picked up his phone, but I reached over and took it from him and hung up.

  “I’ve been with you nine months. I’m not qualified for—” I made finger quotes. “—profit sharing.”

  “Who made up that rule?” He pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. The man towered over me when we were both standing, but he downright dwarfed me when I sat.

  “Apparently you did in order to encourage retention.”

  “That’s a stupid rule.” He paced in front of the window. His hand swiped through his dark hair, leaving it deliciously messy.

  “I agree.”

  “How about a performance bonus? I’ve been known to give them from time to time for those that go above and beyond the call of duty.” He leaned against the window and crossed one leg in front of the other.

  “I’m listening.” A bonus was the answer to my most pressing problem: how to pay Bethany back for the trip she’d saddled me with. At this point, anything would help even if it were a few hundred dollars.

  His eyes focused on mine for a minute, then focused on a paper clip on the floor. “How much is a day worth to you, Jess?”

  “I’m not very good at valuing myself.”

  He chuckled and walked forward to rest a hand on my shoulder. “You’re priceless. You told me you would be when I hired you, and you were right.” He let go and made his way back to his chair. “But we’ll have to put a price on your time and inconvenience. It means spending time with me outside of normal work hours.”

  “That’s a real hardship.” My pulse raced at the thought. Maybe I should offer to pay him. That would certainly satisfy my desire to spend more time with Mark, but it wouldn’t solve my financial problems.

  He gripped the desk. He leaned toward me, with his blue eyes pinning me in place. “This is my offer. Two thousand a day, first-class travel, and the nicest hotel you can book.”

  “Why would you pay me that much?” Two thousand a day was insane. I was thinking he’d come up with five hundred dollars maximum.

  “Because you’re worth it.”

  Warmth flushed my skin.

  “We have to stay the night?”

  “You know I like to be prepared for my meetings, and I don’t want to take any chances on canceled flights, so getting there a day early is important. We can go over what I need on the plane and then have a relaxing evening. You can pick any place for dinner.”

  “You’re taking me to dinner?” A couple days with Mark, dinner, a hotel, first-class flight, and badly needed cash … could it get any better?

  “Of course I’ll feed you. I don’t like my wom—er, my employees to starve.”

  “Deal.” I offered my hand to shake.

  He pulled it between his warm palms. “You failed at negotiations, Jess. You’re not supposed to take the first deal that comes your way. I would have paid you more.”

  My hand was completely covered by his. “I would have taken less.” Feeling a band of heat travel from his body to mine, I pulled my hand back like it was on fire and regretted the move when the loss of his touch was felt so profoundly throughout my body.

  “I guess you’ll be busy the rest of the day. I’d like an early morning flight out of Los Angeles. That should get us to Denver by noon, and we can catch the puddle jumper to Aspen.” He walked to the door and opened it for me. “You are amazing, Jess. Never let anyone tell you different.”

  It was like he was in my head and knew exactly what I needed to hear. “Thanks, I appreciate your generosity, especially around the holiday. The bonus will really help.”

  “I appreciate your flexibility. Email me the details, and I’ll meet you at the airport. Tell your family I’m sorry for interrupting their holiday, but this deal is huge.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand.” They wouldn’t right away, but he didn’t need to know that. Christmas was the only time my family got together. Cheating them of two days would be like asking them to give up a kidney for a pet. They’d grump and complain, but in the end, they would sacrifice the time because they loved me. The same wasn’t true for Bethany; she’d use this as a weapon for years to come. But when I handed her the check for thirty-five hundred dollars, it would be well worth tolerating her attitude for me.

  I was late getting out of work because there were so many arrangements that had to be made, but that’s where I excelled. If he asked me to find water in hell, I’d do it—or I’d die trying.

  With our offices a few blocks from Rodeo Drive, I took a detour to Tiffany’s. I knew it was stupid to reward my sister’s appalling behavior, but sometimes it was less painful to give in—and now that I would be arriving late, I’d need something extra special to smooth her already sandpapered edges.

  With little time to spare and the need to replace the stationery for Bethany, I breezed past the guards to the glass case in the back, the one where they hid the almost affordable gifts. I picked out a single charm, one that should remind her of our cherished tradition of cutting down the tree on Christmas Eve. I tucked the small package into my purse and left. It was a gift I wasn’t sure she’d appreciate, but she would like the blue box it came in and the fact it was purchased on Rodeo Drive (confirmed by the gift receipt tucked inside).

  Chapter 3

  Jess

  When I walked in
to Los Angeles International Airport, I found Mark pacing the floor in front of the United Airlines counter.

  “There you are,” he said. “I’m starving, and I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

  I let out a laugh. “You could have eaten without me, and there’s at least a dozen coffee shops on the way to the airport.”

  His lips fell into a frown. “But I always have my coffee and breakfast with you on weekdays.”

  “Come on.” I threaded my hand through his arm and tugged him toward the first-class check-in. “What would you do without me?”

  “I shudder to think what life would be like without you. It would certainly be coffee-less.” He disengaged my hold on him and dropped his arm to rest his hand on the small of my back. It was just like at the office, only there was no coffee pot sputtering in the background.

  “Oh, please. You survived before I came along.” We approached the counter. “Mark Cantwell and Jessica Stone,” I told the woman who ignored me and stared only at my boss.

  I pulled out my driver’s license and waved it in front of her face. She blinked twice and finally looked at me briefly.

  Her eyes went back to Mark. “I’ll need your ID too, sir.”

  “Sorry.” Rather than move the hand he had on my back, he set his briefcase on the counter and clumsily reached for his wallet with his other hand. “Here you go.” He flipped his wallet open to show his driver’s license.

  “Can you pull it out?”

  His rough exhale made the woman’s bangs move. He dropped his hand from my body and fished his driver’s license out of the soft leather wallet, then laid it on the counter.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, and then fell silent for a moment as she typed away. “It looks like your flight is delayed due to weather, Mr. Cantwell. Do you have club access?”

  “Yes, I do. How long is the delay?” The low timbre of his voice was like a soft caress across my skin; looking at the way the attendant closed her eyes briefly and smiled, I knew she’d been rubbed the right way too.

  She sighed like a teenager in love. “Right now, just an hour, but check in with the club concierge and she’ll keep you updated.”

  “Thank you,” I told her, but her eyes stayed on Mark.

  “Checking any bags?” She looked briefly in my direction, and I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to our luggage or me.

  Mark looked from his single bag to mine, and then those crystal clear blue eyes lit on me. “Carry-on? It’ll be faster on the other end.”

  “That works.”

  I snatched our tickets from the love-struck clerk.

  With our boarding passes in hand, we made our way to the club.

  “I swear the woman was going to faint when you showed up to her counter.” I pulled my carry-on stuffed full of presents and clothes behind me.

  He looked at me like I needed medical attention. “What are you talking about?”

  “The woman checking us in at the counter. I wanted to place a cup under her chin to catch her drool.”

  “You’re crazy. She was just doing her job.” He looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

  “You can’t be blind to how women look at you.” I dashed in front of him and handed our tickets and IDs to the TSA agent at the podium.

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Remind me to get you an eye exam scheduled when we return to work after the holidays.”

  Mark laughed, and the sound warmed my heart. He was such a serious man, so any glimpse of humor was charming. Yesterday he had been a downright comedian with his innuendos about sharing and playing.

  He walked into the club like he owned the place. Of course, Mark would be a member. I was pretty positive he had Grand Poobah status at all the airlines.

  We located two side-by-side chairs. “You stay here. I’ll get your coffee and breakfast,” I told him. After all, it was what I did every day.

  He gave me a heart-halting smile. “That’s why I need you. You take such good care of me.”

  I gave him an eye roll and an exaggerated smile. “That’s my job.”

  When I turned away, I saw the women around us looking at him like they were the warm chocolate in a fondue pot, and he was the dipping fruit. I couldn’t blame them, really. It had taken me a month to stop tripping over myself each time I walked into his office—another month to stop stuttering when we talked. Over time things had settled into a routine. I still lusted after him, but I did it quietly in my head. I was a realist. Men like Mark Cantwell didn’t date their assistants. They kept work and pleasure tightly contained into two different zones. Two different hemispheres, if I were to be honest, because not once had Mark uttered a word about his private life. No mention of family or friends or weekend dates.

  When Mark was at work, it was all business except for yesterday. There had been a tiny bit of playfulness in his words—or maybe it had just been me looking for something more, for a glimpse at the man inside the custom suit.

  When I returned, there was a stunning redhead in my chair, leaning toward Mark like she was hanging on his every word.

  “Your coffee,” I said and handed him the double-shot espresso. It was the closest thing to the black sludge he drank in the office every day.

  His expression to me was one of gratitude. “Jess, this is Caroline Butler. She runs a brokerage firm in Los Angeles.”

  I pasted on a smile. The kind of smile I used when someone was annoying me, but I couldn’t let it show. “Nice to meet you.” She was exactly the type of woman I expected Mark to date: beautiful, sophisticated, dressed in designer labels.

  Next, I sat the plate of mini muffins on the arm of his chair. “They didn’t have your favorite, but they had blueberry and buttermilk.” I picked up my carry-on bag and started to walk away, but Mark reached out and grasped my wrist.

  “Caroline was just leaving.” He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the same type of smile I’d just given her moments ago. If possible, I fell a little harder for the man I’d never have. “Jess and I have business to talk over.”

  A flush rose to the woman’s face. I was pretty sure she wasn’t used to being dismissed. She dug into her bag and pulled out a business card. When she handed it to Mark, she said, “Let’s get together for a drink or something.” There was an inflection at the end of the word something that told me exactly what her version of something was. It included his light blue shirt and slate blue tie lying on the floor next to her bed.

  Mark passed her card on to me without a glance.

  Caroline Butler rose and walked away, but before she got too far, I said, “I’ll try to fit you into his calendar.” I could almost feel the daggers slide into my chest.

  “You’re a bad girl, Jessica Stone.”

  “Me? Look at you giving her my seat as soon as I leave to get you coffee.” I slid into the chair next to him and reached over his body to snatch a tiny blueberry muffin.

  “Those are mine,” he said.

  “Not this one. This is mine.” I popped the whole thing into my mouth and chewed. Mark didn’t take his eyes off my lips.

  He picked up the plate and sat it between us. “Jess,” he said in a warm, honeyed voice, “I’d share everything with you.” He grabbed another blueberry muffin and pressed it to my lips. I swallowed the one I’d pilfered and took a bite of the one he offered. To my surprise, he placed the other half into his mouth. “Delicious.”

  “Now who’s being bad?”

  “Me?” he said and then gave me an uncharacteristic wink.

  I shook my head. “What happened to my boss? Who kidnapped him and put in a funny doppelgänger?” The minute the words were out of my mouth, I felt bad because Mark did have a sense of humor, but it was almost always buried under his serious, focused-on-business demeanor.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Shall we go over the contract?”

  I’d totally blown it. Here he was, acting playful and pleasant for the second time in as many days, and I’d kill
ed the mood without thought to my words.

  “Of course.” I pulled the folder and a pen from the bag. Stiff-backed and heavy-hearted, I went over the contract bullet point by bullet point.

  “There’s a typo here.” He pointed to the place where fifty percent was typed. “Make it fifty-one. I never enter a deal where I don’t have the control. You should know that.”

  In the margin, I wrote fifty-one and control. That much I did know about the man. He seemed to exercise control over everything. What would an out-of-control Mark Cantwell look like? Something told me it wouldn’t be pretty, but something else told me it could be fun too.

  We went through the rest of the contract, and I tucked it back into the folder. “Another coffee?”

  He had already moved on to something else and simply shook his head no. I tucked myself into the seat and watched the planes take off and land.

  “Mark Cantwell and Jessica Stone, please come to the concierge desk,” a voice piped in over Bing Crosby’s White Christmas.

  He pushed himself into a standing position. “Looks like our flight is ready. I’ll meet you up front.”

  While his long legs took him to the concierge desk, I packed up my things and followed a few minutes later. When I arrived, I found that my first assumption about Mark was correct: Out of control wasn’t a good look on him.

  “What do you mean our flight is canceled?” His booming voice echoed through the cavernous entryway.

  Chapter 4

  Jess

  I placed myself between the concierge and my boss. Bailing him out of jail once he got kicked out of the airport would only put us behind schedule. “Did you say our flight was canceled?”

  The pug-nosed woman nodded her head. “Yes, I’m sorry. There is a bad storm moving through the flight path from New Mexico and Colorado.”

  “Perfect,” Mark dropped his briefcase to the floor next to his suitcase. “Just perfect. The biggest deal of my career and Mother Nature decides to slap me upside the damn head.”