They glared at each other before he eased back and narrowed his eyes, and, for just a second, a reluctant smile tipped his lips.
"You have teeth," he finally grunted.
"A full set." She flashed them at him.
"Dammit. I busted my ass on those accounts." He finally threw himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "You're kicking the hell out of my pride."
She shook her head. "Fresh eyes, remember? Those accounts are your babies, not mine. I can look at them with greater detachment and that's what I've done. Now, would you like to discuss how we can solve the problems?"
He narrowed his eyes back at her. "Would it do any good? If I disagree, your father's just going to make sure you get your way."
At that Kia breathed out roughly. "Five years ago you called me an arrogant upstart over another account. Told me I didn't know my ass from a hole in the ground. Do you remember that, Marion?"
He winced.
"You showed me where I was wrong, and I listened, and I learned. I'm willing to do so again. If I'm wrong, prove it."
He watched her for long, silent moments. "You know, Kia, it's getting damned hard to imagine you letting Rebecca do what she did to you two years ago when I see you here." He waved his hand around the room. "Would you like to explain how she survived it?"
Kia tapped the table with her fingernails. "She might not have been my friend, but it wasn't entirely her fault." She shrugged. "It was mine as well. And I refuse to discuss it further. We can discuss these accounts, though."
He shook his head and rubbed his neck wearily. "Okay. Fine. Show me what you found and I'll show you where you're wrong."
Four hours later he walked out of the office, disgruntled. He wasn't exactly right, but there had been places where Kia hadn't been entirely right either. They had ended up with four other associates in the office, a pot of coffee, and, at times, loud arguments.
They both had work to do over the next few days, but Marion swore it was the most productive meeting the department had had since she quit five years earlier.
Kia stacked her files before she checked her watch, grabbed her cell phone from her purse, and rushed from the office.
"Where are you?" her father barked as he answered the call.
"I'm running late. I'll meet you at the dinner club in a few hours."
"We were going for drinks first," her father grunted. "You'll miss that."
"Can't be helped, Dad." She waved a cab down as she exited the office and gave him her address quickly. "The meeting ran over and now I'm rushing."
"The dinner club then. We're meeting Cameron Falladay and his fiancée as well as the Sinclairs to discuss the sale of that warehouse Sinclair owns. I was hoping to pick Cameron Falladay's brain on a security issue as well. I want you there."
"I'll be there. I promise." She prayed Chase wouldn't be. "Two hours. I promise."
"Two hours," he snapped. "If you're late, I'm docking your pay."
The call disconnected before she could argue. She should be late just for the hell of it after that comment, she thought. Minutes later, the cab pulled up to her apartment building.
She rushed inside, calculated the time, and figured she'd be at least a few minutes early.
The good thing about working for her father again was that she didn't have time to miss Chase as she would have had otherwise. The bad thing about it? She didn't have time to. miss Chase as she knew she would have.
She almost laughed at that thought as the elevator doors opened and she moved to her apartment.
At least it was a dinner club, she thought as she let herself into the apartment and rushed for the shower. Because she was starved. And she missed Chase more than she thought it possible to miss anyone.
He hadn't realized she was a pawn of such value. Of course, there had been talk, two years before, when Drew and Kia Stanton divorced. Talk that Chase Falladay was too interested in the girl's welfare, talk that something could have been brewing.
He had been watching Chase, seen the girl with him and Khalid, but he thought she had better sense. He had thought she wasn't so easy for Falladay to manipulate. He should have known better.
The other night, when he had followed them, watched her spread for him on the hood of that car and take him, he had known she was a pawn, not a child.
He'd been waiting. Waiting so patiently to find a way to hurt Falladay. To destroy him. Waiting was often the hardest part. Forcing himself to patience, forcing himself to wait, not to strike. He didn't want Chase dead. Oh no, killing him was much too simple.
He wanted to destroy him. And this girl. She was the first in many years that Chase Falladay had been known to take alone. It was obvious she meant something to him.
He watched her dash into her apartment and made his plans. He would have to be careful, very careful. He would have to arrange things just right. And when the opportunity came, he would destroy Chase Falladay through this beautiful, vibrant young woman.
It was such a shame that she would have to pay the price for her lover's sins. But wasn't that the way of the world? Justice must be served, and he would serve it through her.
She was right on time.
Kia approached her father's table, ignoring his shocked look as he caught sight of her clothes. The dinner club was trendy, new wave, and filled, as she had known it would be, with the best and the brightest of the happening business crowd.
After work it was time to relax and time to have fun. Jordain's was becoming the place for a little business mixed with a little fun, and Kia dressed the part.
The black leather skirt was short enough to be flirty without being indecent. The bronze silk blouse was stylish and undecorated. But it was the boots that got the looks. Black leather, snug, over the knee, and with killer three-inch heels that made her legs look miles longer than they actually were.
The club was warm, filled with laughter and chatter, and nearly every person she knew in Alexandria was there, she was certain.
"I'm three minutes early, I should get a bonus," she told her father as he stood and held her chair for her, glaring down at her balefully.
"I should dock you for your attire alone," he growled.
"Timothy, leave her alone. She's gorgeous," her mother said, laughing. "I love the skirt."
Her father's expression was one of complete male frustration at that point as he turned to a grinning Ian and Cameron. "Boys, have sons, not daughters."
Kia laughed back at them. "Yes, do. And make certain they're complete workaholics so they don't endanger any more female hearts than necessary. We'd hate for them to follow in their father's footsteps, of course. We enjoy boring lives."
Courtney Sinclair swallowed her wine with a little cough and an astounded expression before she burst out laughing.
"Kia, warn me before you make comments like that, please," she ordered her fiercely. "Spewing my wine across the table would have been humiliating."
"Not to mention messy." Jaci laughed as she turned to Kia. "You bought the boots when we went shopping, didn't you?" The amusement in her eyes was wicked.
"And a few other things." Kia smiled.
Jaci looked at the silk blouse, then pursed her lips to hide a smile. "You're wearing all the bronze?" she asked, leaning close so the men wouldn't hear.
"Every thread." Kia wrinkled her nose playfully. "Was that one of the pictures Courtney sent him?"
Jaci's eyes widened. "You knew about the pictures?"
Kia rolled her eyes. "I caught her taking them. I'm not completely dense."
"It's too bad he isn't here." Jaci looked around. "You're driving him insane, you know."
Kia leaned back and crossed her legs negligently at the comment. "Actually, I'm not. I haven't seen him in days."
"Don't count on it to last." Jaci snorted.
Kia was counting on exactly that. She shook her head and leaned forward, following her father's conversation with Ian and Cameron as they discussed the property Ian Sinclair wanted to sell and a security issue in another area.
She listened to the sociable negotiations disguised as polite conversation and, as always, her father's business world both fascinated and amused her. She had never been able to keep up in a social setting. Her mother had taught her one thing: talking business required the appropriate locale.
Besides, the dance floor was filling up, and the quarter glass of wine she had allowed herself to consume had her foot tapping as Cameron and Jaci moved onto the floor.
"Kia, remember to pull up the projections of that warehouse when you get to the office in the morning," her father stated. "I want a full account of projected profits versus the outrageous price Ian wants." He cast Ian a mock fierce glare.
"The property is worth every penny I'm asking for it," Ian argued with a grin. "You're just as tightfisted as you ever were."
"Can you believe him?" Timothy waved his hand toward Ian with playful fierceness. "Tightfisted, greedy kid. I can't believe I'm attempting to do business with him."
"And you're loving every minute of it." Kia laughed.
A forced laugh. She was sitting here, watching, listening, and she was remembering Chase. Which was worse? Knowing he didn't want to be seen in public with her or being in public without him?
"Seňorita Rutherford, I fear I must demand a dance."
She turned, staring up at Sebastian de Laurents, the Spaniard Ian had hired as his club manager.
Sebastian was from one of the elite families in Spain, a rogue, a renegade, and a black sheep. She'd liked him the moment she met him more than a year before.
"One dance." She rose to her feet, the fast beat of the music racing through her blood, joined with the wine, making her brave.
Sebastian was dark blond, so unlike Chase. His eyes were brown rather than green, his body broader, his features less defined. But the club was dark, and she was desperate. Two days, two sleepless nights. She wanted to pretend, just for a few moments, nothing more.
He pulled her onto the dance floor, graceful and adept as they moved together to the quick beat. He touched her waist, her wrist, her fingers. He smiled down at her, and she wondered if his gaze was as knowing as it appeared. If he knew as much as he seemed to when he looked down at her.
"As graceful as the breeze itself," he complimented her as the music ended. "One more, and then I will have mercy on you."
One more. Another fast beat and they were moving within the crowd. Kia felt the energy of the dance fill her. She had always loved dancing, but Drew hadn't. He refused to even slow dance or to hear of her dancing with friends. This was like a balm to her femininity even as she ached.
Turning, twisting. Her eyes swept over the tables—and locked with light green eyes.
The music faded. She felt the rhythm of her body, she was aware of Sebastian behind her, but in that, moment she saw only Chase.
Unblinking. Hunger filled her, gnawed at her. Sleepless nights and aching need swirling through her. She forced herself to turn her eyes away. Hearing the end of the tune, she thanked Sebastian for the dance and began to move back to the table.
"Not yet."
She turned. Chase's arm wrapped around her waist as a heavy Latin beat fired up, and she stared into his eyes.
She felt his body move to the dance, and she followed. Her hips twisted into his, swayed. One hand gripped her hip, the other clasped her hand. Sensuality washed between them with tidal force, locking them together as she felt him around her, moving her.
The hard beat of the music flowed between them like sex, like the hunger raging between them. They were hip to hip, then she was turning, twirling him, his arm going around her waist, bringing her back to his chest as his other hand gripped her just beneath her breast, and they swayed. Hips rolled and rubbed and against the sensitive tip of her nipple she caught the quick flick of his thumb.