Chapter Two

Rule for success number two:

Instinct isn’t synonymous with impulse.

DAMN it,” Jolie muttered as she watched Heath and a young blonde disappear up the stairs.

Not surprising that under his seemingly refined British demeanor lay a seasoned skirt-chaser.

For the past few minutes, she’d watched the two from just inside the doorway, blending with a group of revelers celebrating someone’s birthday. Almost instantly, she’d spotted her security contractor. She wasn’t at all shocked the woman looked willing to spread her legs for Heath after exchanging barely a hundred words.

But the casual ease with which he’d picked up a stranger just reinforced all the reasons Heath Powell would be bad for her naive sister. Jolie intended to stay right here until she made it perfectly clear that Karis was off limits.

In her pocket, her phone rang. Probably work, and whatever she didn’t take care of tonight would only be waiting for her in the morning.

Sighing, she plucked the device from her pocket, glanced at the display, then winced.

“Hi, Mom,” she shouted over the music as she made her way to the door, then out into the breezy October night. “I’m sorry I haven’t called back.”

“I’m glad I finally caught you. I’ve been trying for days.”

Yeah, the three missed calls in the last forty-eight hours kind of spelled that out. “Work has been a zoo. I don’t have much longer to persuade this investor to come on board.”

“You’ll manage. You’re the smartest, hardest working woman I know.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “By the time I was your age, I hadn’t accomplished much except a handful of disastrous relationships and having you three kids.”

Her mom had never been the ambitious sort, and Jolie wondered if she ever regretted that. “How are you?”

“Not very good, baby.”

Jolie froze. She knew that voice. Diana Quinn-Michaels-Weston-Gale had marital problems—again.

“Are you and Charlie getting divorced?”

“How did you know?” Her mother sounded surprised by her insight.

Jolie couldn’t imagine why. Mom had been married to Charlie Gale for nearly six years, which was as long as any of her mother’s marriages lasted. Jolie had suspected from the beginning that husband number four was a philandering bastard. After all, he’d hopped into bed with her mom while she was still licking her wounds from a previous breakup—and he’d still been married to someone else.

“You sound sad, so I guessed what might be upsetting you. Did Charlie find another woman?”

Her mom sniffled over the line. “I should have known when he started eating at that diner every day that it wasn’t the mashed potatoes he liked. Apparently, her name is Destiny. She sounds like a stripper.” Her mom huffed. “She’s definitely a husband thief.”

“I’m sorry.” And Jolie was because her mom was clearly hurting. Still, she kept hoping Diana would learn that she couldn’t count on men. “When are you going move out and find a place of your own? Do you need anything?”

“I already moved out. Charlie’s brother, Wayne, helped me get back on my feet. He’s been a great . . . comfort.”

Jolie groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with your soon-to-be ex-husband’s brother.”

“I—um . . .” She sounded as if she didn’t know how to work around saying yes. “He’s really wonderful. You’ll like him.”

If he was anything like his brother, she wouldn’t. “Isn’t he married?”

“To a terrible cow who doesn’t appreciate him. She’s a doctor. She’s high and mighty, if you ask me. Wayne is a man with needs, and she isn’t meeting them.”

Apparently her mother was and didn’t realize that Wayne was no better than Charlie or see the irony of calling Destiny a husband thief.

Jolie sighed. Berating her mother wouldn’t do any good. Nor would pointing out that she was making the same mistakes she’d already made. Jolie had tried to reason with her during the last torrid ending. She’d have had better luck talking to cement. She loved her mother, but Diana was a grown woman and inclined to do whatever she thought would make her happy, whether or not it made sense.

“Did you get the money I sent?” Jolie asked instead. “I mailed it to Charlie’s address—”

“Yes. I waited to leave until I received it. Thank you for understanding I had to quit my job. Working for the florist sounded lovely but it was a lot of long hours and grouchy people. I promise I’m looking for a new job and I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Doubtful. Mom always needed a little more time to get her feet back under her again, then she inevitably met a new man and had a few unexpected expenses before she decided it wasn’t working out and had to keep the money she’d tucked away—and borrow a bit more—to look for happiness elsewhere. But the woman had given Jolie life and a lot of love. She’d done her best by her kids in difficult circumstances. Jolie didn’t understand her mom but she also didn’t begrudge her a few hundred bucks here and there.

“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.” Jolie smiled to herself.

“Thanks. I paid off one of my doctor bills with the money. They were getting insistent.”

“And you moved out with the rest?”

“No, Wayne helped me with that, so I lent him what was left to buy a new hunting rifle.” She laughed nervously. “He’s a manly man but such a sweetheart. He had an empty rental and he’s letting me stay here for free until he and his wife separate. He’s going to leave her soon. And before you say I’ve heard that line before, Wayne really means it.”

Jolie shook her head and didn’t say a word. How could a nearly fifty-year-old woman who’d been disappointed over and over still be so blindly optimistic? Granted, people often accused Jolie of being too cynical but she didn’t let anyone take advantage of her. She worked her ass off, kept her eyes open, and always expected the worst. That way, if something better happened, she was pleasantly surprised.

“For your sake, I hope he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Oh, I think he is, baby.” Her mom sounded giddy.

“That’s great. Hey, can we talk later?” Jolie glanced up to make sure Heath hadn’t already finished with his conquest and headed out the door. But other than a few suits returning home to their wives after an evening of booze and bimbos, no one entered or exited the building.

“Sure. Call me next week?” Diana asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Will do.”

“Where are you?” her mom asked, concern lacing her voice.

“At a bar. I’m hunting down a lothario I intend to keep far away from Karis.”

“Please watch out for her. She’s still so young and doesn’t understand men.”

Karis wasn’t the only one. Her sister had definitely inherited their mother’s dreamy disposition, often choosing to overlook the probable shittiness of a relationship in favor of embracing all its wonderful possibilities if the stars aligned, hell froze over, and gold rained from the sky.

“I will,” Jolie assured. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. Bye.”

They rang off, and she shoved her phone back in her pocket, heading for the door. As soon as she ducked inside, the music thumped so loudly, she swore it made her organs vibrate. Having given up the club scene after college, she was a little disgusted that she had to pull a grown-ass man out of a meat market she’d heard he scored in almost nightly.

The bartender nodded at her, and she ordered a Grey Goose and cranberry, more so she wouldn’t stick out rather than from any desire for alcohol. And vodka would help combat her boredom while she waited for her British Romeo to finish his business upstairs because he was either too impatient or impersonal to find a bed.

Yeah, she probably shouldn’t have tracked him down at his favorite hook-up joint. But what she had to say to him had nothing to do with business and didn’t belong in the office. She wanted Heath Powell to know that she understood exactly who he was so there’d be no misunderstanding about why Karis was off limits.

The bartender set her drink down. Jolie paid him and took a sip, glancing around. God, she did not miss this, the sizing up potential bedmates for the night over the rim of her drink and wondering if he was taken, terrible in bed, a mama’s boy, or in some other way lacking. She’d been so much happier giving up on “romance” and focusing on work. Diana Gale wasn’t going to grow up, but Jolie still had hope for her sister.

After witnessing a lot of bumping and grinding on the dance floor, she turned her back on a wannabe Casanova who’d stared her way when she saw Heath’s bimbo finally stumbling and giggling down the stairs. One of the spaghetti straps of the woman’s dress hung off her shoulder. Even across the room in the dim light, the blonde’s hair looked mussed and her face incredibly flushed. She was still breathing hard. And she wore a loopy smile.

A pang of annoyance settled in the middle of Jolie’s chest. She didn’t want Heath. Scratch that. Some impractical part of her craved him. She refused to lie to herself. He would probably be fantastic in bed. Powell was blisteringly hot. And clearly he’d had lots of practice. Being near him made her heart rate ramp up and her palms damp. When he looked at her, she remembered that he was male, that she was female, and that chemistry could be a powerful force. No man had interested her for more than an hour in the last few years, so she gave him credit. But her attraction didn’t go any further.

A few paces behind the blonde in the micro skirt, Heath emerged. With a satisfied swagger, he descended the stairs, finger-combing his dark hair laced with silver and zipping his slacks.

Jolie told herself to remain calm against the rise of irrational anger.

Unfortunately, that ship had sailed.

She tossed back the last of her drink and made a beeline for him, pushing her way through the crowd. When she reached them, Jolie looked past the midtwenties twit and over at Heath. “I want to talk to you. Now.”

He met her hostility with a shrug. “About what?”

His dismissive attitude annoyed her more.

“Who are you?” The blonde glanced between them, blinking as she thought through the situation. “Is she your girlfriend?” She gasped. “Your wife?”

Neither of them answered, Jolie because she didn’t owe his “date” anything. She could only assume Heath remained mute because now that he’d nailed her, he no longer cared what she thought.

“You son of a bitch!” Short Skirt screeched. “You took advantage of me when I was vulnerable.”

He cocked a brow at her. “You failed to mention feeling vulnerable during any of your three orgasms.”

“You’re an asshole.” The woman’s face flushed red as she stormed away and left the bar.

Though he’d been nothing but professional to her, Jolie had suspected he had a ruthless side. She felt somewhat sorry for the blonde but took an odd comfort in the fact that she’d been right in her assessment of Heath Powell.

“Do we have a problem, Ms. Quinn? I can’t imagine another reason you followed me here for the obvious purpose of delivering a dressing down that apparently couldn’t wait until morning.”

A ragtag band took the small stage then, and he had to shout so she could hear over the music. A couple of people lingering near the stairs nursed their beers and watched intently. “Come outside with me.”

She turned and headed for the door. Her sixth sense told her that Heath wasn’t following. When she whirled back, sure enough, he leaned against the banister, watching her with a dissecting stare.

Jolie marched back in his direction and tossed her hands in the air. “I know you speak English.”

“The Queen’s English, thank you.”

His condescension about being British and obviously better annoyed her, too. She tried to put a lid on her temper and focus on Karis. In her head, she kept hearing him remind his temporary honey about her three orgasms and wondering how good he must be in order to get that reaction from a stranger in fifteen minutes.

Totally not important. “Will you please follow me outside so we can have a civilized discussion that doesn’t require shouting at one another?”

“Of course. But I suspect, given your agitation, there will be shouting, regardless.” With an acerbic smile, he gestured her toward the door.

Jolie resisted the urge to huff and threaded her way through the crowd. He would not get the better of her.

Once outside, she headed away from the parking lot, putting a few dozen feet between them and anyone loitering outside. Heath followed, watching their surroundings as she paused at the opening of an alley.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I hope you’re here about a security issue.”

“Stay away from my sister,” she warned.

He frowned, looking genuinely perplexed. “Your sister?”

“Karis.”

Heath barely responded. His brows gathered, but he gave no other reaction. “I’m aware of your sister’s name. I’m merely expressing surprise that you think I’m . . . what? Sexually interested in her?”

“That’s exactly what I think. I watched you work over the young blonde in the bar. It didn’t take you long. A glass of wine, a few well-placed words, a soft caress, and she was yours.”

“Why does that bother you, Ms. Quinn?”

“You’re targeting Karis because you pick the doe-eyed girls too naive to know why they shouldn’t spread their legs for a playboy like you.” She scoffed. “You didn’t even challenge yourself with tonight’s conquest.”

“I’m fascinated by your unsolicited opinion of my character,” he drawled, letting her know he was anything but. “What’s prompted this charming discourse? Do you always tell those in your employ what you think of their personal lives or are you making a special exception for me because you think I intend to debauch your sister?”

“Leave Karis alone. It’s against Betti’s policy to date another member of the staff.”

“I did read the guidelines you provided. But I’m guessing your rationale for this conversation is more personal.”

“Fine. She’s got some breathless adoration for you. Karis is looking for a grand romance, and she’s likely to pin her foolish hopes on the first man who makes her feel protected and treasured. I doubt you want that.”

“Her attitude bothers you,” he observed, studying her like a bug he’d pinned to a corkboard.

She bristled. “Women shouldn’t be looking for someone to ‘complete’ them; they should be a complete person by themselves. And you prey on women with those misguided fantasies, don’t you?”

“I provide single women with mutual, if temporary, companionship and pleasure.”

“That’s as misleading as calling tooth extraction without Novocain ‘natural dental care.’”

He cocked his head at her. “You have some unsubstantiated notion that I’m mad for your sister, so you followed me after hours and saw me find a woman with whom I chose to spend a few pleasurable moments. Therefore, you’ve branded me a sociopathic predator. That’s quite a leap.”

Jolie had watched men behave this way her whole life. “I merely understand you, Mr. Powell. I see past the gentlemanly facade to the manwhore beneath. You must have loved your last position, guarding the pretty body of that world-famous director’s daughter. How fabulous for you that she paid for everything in your life while you enjoyed the fringe benefit of taking her to bed.”

That finally riled him.

“I never touched Mystery Mullins once.” His eyes narrowed in furious warning. “Don’t speak when you know absolutely nothing about either of us or the situation.”

As much as Jolie hated to believe him, Heath’s biting reply convinced her he’d told the truth. Fine, she’d drop that accusation. But she refused to let up about Karis until Heath agreed to leave the girl alone.

“All right. But I won’t have you targeting my sister. I expect you to tell her tomorrow that those flowers you sent to soften her up were a token of your . . . professional esteem. Pick a reason. I don’t care what you say as long as you gently discourage her.”

Nothing overt gave away a change in Heath’s demeanor but Jolie felt his surprise. “I did not send your sister flowers.”

“Red tulips. I saw them on her desk earlier. She told me you left them for her. And now she likes you. Stop romancing her.”

He leaned in, and she saw the faint hint of a scar bisecting his stubbled cheek. “You just witnessed my version of romance. If I want a woman, I don’t bother with flowers, merely a condom. Your sister is utterly, one-hundred-percent safe from my attentions. You have my word.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“I’ve given you no reason to doubt me, Ms. Quinn.” He studied her with a cynical gaze. “This is about you. Why are you hostile? Did a former flame tell you he would fulfill your little-girl dreams, then leave you broken hearted?”

“I don’t believe in love, especially in it lasting. Karis is another story, and I’m intensely protective.”

“Clearly. But I genuinely have no interest in your sister.”

He said the words with all sincerity. Jolie weighed them. Maybe . . . Karis had misunderstood who had given her the flowers or why. Or she had wanted to believe they were from Heath so she’d convinced herself of that. It was even possible that, somewhere in Karis’s offbeat brain, she’d wanted to see how her older sister would react to the idea of her in a relationship with the man Jolie had the hots for.

Heath Powell might be experienced, calculating, and totally male, but he’d come highly recommended as a security consultant from people she trusted. Her gut told her that—at least in this instance—he wasn’t a liar.

“Excuse me for a second.” She whipped out her phone and texted Karis.

Are you sure Heath gave you the flowers? Did he leave a card?

Her sister replied almost immediately. The card wasn’t signed, just said that he thinks about me day and night, and he doesn’t care who disapproves. Who else could it be?

So you don’t know for sure that Heath sent them? She wrote back.

No.

Jolie tucked her phone away with a sigh. Mortification rolled through her in a hot flush. She’d have to apologize, damn it. “Apparently my sister isn’t sure now who sent the flowers. I’m sorry that I accused you and disturbed your evening. Good night.”

She whirled around and headed for her car. God, she’d all but jumped down his throat, and Jolie felt ridiculous for not asking Karis more questions before she confronted Heath. She never went to any meeting unprepared, damn it.

“Wait.” Heath grabbed her arm.

Something electric arced between them, and she gritted her teeth against the sizzle.

The reaction made her even more prickly. “What?”

“Since we’re off the clock and we’ve clearly set aside our working relationship for the moment, I think it’s only right that I have the chance to say what I think of you.”

She swallowed. If he was this hip to give her his opinion after she’d hurled a bunch of insults at him, she couldn’t expect anything but ugly. Jolie sighed. It sucked but she’d earned it. “I’m listening.”

“Excellent.” He released her, his fingers curling into a fist as he began walking around her, studying her, drawing conclusions. “You don’t trust men and that runs deep. It colors your decisions and prejudices everything you say to me. If you’ve never been in love, then your deep-seeded distrust must come from the lack of any stable father figure in your childhood.”

“Thanks, Freud,” she snapped.

Heath jerked back to face her and leaned in so close their noses nearly touched. “Am I wrong?”

She refused to stroll down that memory lane. “Does it matter?”

“I daresay it does. But we’ll come back to that. If you were merely mistrustful of men, you would have waited until tomorrow and delivered a well-placed warning to keep me away from your sister. Instead, you came after me. And when you found me with another woman, your temper flared. If I merely lived up to your expectations of being a womanizing prick, that shouldn’t make you angry at all, simply smug at being right. But you were livid. I doubt all that displeasure is on your sister’s behalf. In fact, I suspect, Ms. Quinn, that you have more than a passing interest in me. You were jealous.”

Apprehension raced through her veins. He was uncomfortably close to the truth. “You’re egotistical.”

“But I’m right.” He gave her a tight smile. “For the record, if I intended to disregard policy and pursue a woman in the office, I wouldn’t bother with your sister. As you say, she’s naive and provides no challenge. But you . . . You would be far more interesting. Pretty, strong, smart, not easily bendable. Color me intrigued.”

She tensed. “I’m your boss.”

“Temporarily. We’re both adults. Surely neither of us are prone to torrid emotional attachments. We could keep business separate from personal, couldn’t we?”

Normally, she’d say yes. But working with him constantly buzzing around her, asking questions, and watching her every move had already dented her focus. “I have no intention of becoming your next conquest.”

“I never planned to pursue you.”

Jolie wondered why, then dismissed the question as she buttoned her red coat. “Perfect. There’s nothing left to say except I’m sorry for intruding on your evening. I hope we can forget this by morning.”

She had to get out of here. She’d overplayed her hand and needed to regroup, to think about how to treat him tomorrow. The last thing she wanted was for Heath Powell to decide she was a challenge he should convert into his next bed partner after all. Normally, the sexual urges of a man wouldn’t concern her unless she was interested. If so, she found a way to have him for a night or two, then ended it.

Something told her that nothing with Heath would ever be that simple.

But when Jolie turned her back on him and headed for the parking lot, he snaked an arm around her middle and pulled her against his big, steely body. “I never planned to pursue you . . . but I’ve changed my mind.”

Those soft words against her neck rolled a shiver through her. “Get your hand off me.”

“I’ll bet the bitch act has scared off a man or two in your past.”

She jerked away and cocked her hand on her hip. “Why is it that when a man is assertive, he’s hailed as alpha and take-charge. But when a woman is equally assertive, she’s a bitch?”

“Oh, let’s be clear. I don’t believe you’re a bitch at all. I think that under your steely exterior is a woman with a soft heart. You take in stray employees the way other people foster animals. Their former employers have all cast them off. They aren’t perfect but under your leadership, they’re productive again. You make them work hard—as they should—but you’re fair. You don’t wheedle effectiveness out of them by pretending to be their friend. You tell them exactly what you expect. But you’re chilly with me because you fear that if you don’t guard against what I make you feel, I’ll slip under your defenses and bruise that untried heart of yours.”

God, he’d seen way too much of her. “Don’t touch me again. If I want to be psychoanalyzed, I’ll hire a shrink. Other than that, I expect you to be professional and do your job. You have my promise that I won’t contact you after hours unless there’s an emergency. Now we’re done. Don’t forget we have a staff meeting tomorrow morning at eight.”

She pulled her keys free from her purse and walked away as quickly as her high heels could take her.

“I felt you trembling against me,” he called after her.

Jolie clamped her lips shut. No sense in acknowledging that. The best way to handle a man like Heath Powell was to ignore him.

It took every bit of her will to follow her own advice. Why did he have to be right?

As she marched to her car, she fought to catch her breath. Once inside the vehicle, she shut the doors, locked them, then glanced out the window to see the man still standing where she’d left him. He watched her every move. Swallowing down a shiver, she gripped the wheel and dragged in a breath, unable to dodge the suspicion that she had poked a sleeping bear.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Another text from her sister. She ignored it and launched her e-mail instead. A dozen new messages poured into her inbox but she sought the one Karis had sent a few hours ago. The one she’d sworn she had no interest in. The one she’d never intended to open.

The report Karis had compiled on Heath Powell.

Her finger trembled as she tapped the screen. The attachment took its sweet time downloading before it finally opened. She scanned the document because she needed to know her potential adversary on a personal level. Well, in part. She also felt a dangerous fascination she couldn’t shake.

Jolie let out a breath. That admission had been tough but necessary. Lying to herself served no purpose. Heath’s words had been like a crowbar, prying past her defenses and uncovering troubling facts she hadn’t wanted to face.

Her business needed him. Tomorrow morning, he would tell her all the vulnerabilities in her physical and cyber security after observing her office and its habits. She had no doubt he’d found many, and she would address them all. If that was the extent of their interaction, Jolie would be relieved. But the unspoken attraction shimmering between them was like a genie. Now that it was out, she couldn’t force it back in the bottle.

Damn it.

The words of the report swam before her eyes. Born outside of Liverpool. Upper-middle-class upbringing, lucky him. Decent student with a penchant for ferreting out information better kept hidden and working the system when it suited him. Jolie hadn’t known that but she could picture it. After some time in university, he served for a few years in the military, including a tour in Afghanistan, before he suddenly appeared on MI5’s payroll, just as he’d said during their interview.

But he’d failed to mention the bit about his wife being gunned down in broad daylight in the middle of an open-air market in London seven years ago. Jolie gasped. The case remained unsolved but the government suspected home-grown extremists. Based on what Karis had tracked down, Heath hadn’t been involved in any lasting relationship since. There was more but she didn’t need it.

Against her will, empathy softened her resolve. Were those women Callie said he frequently picked up a balm for his grieving heart? A way to pass the time? His attempt to forget the pain of his wife’s loss?

The sound of Jolie’s breaths echoing in her head mingled with the loud thump of her heart. She wished she could take back every word she’d said to him tonight. She had no excuse except the one he’d already discerned. Her reluctant personal interest had clouded her brain, and when he’d given another woman his attention, she’d handled it badly.

Jolie stared out the windshield, then turned to glance back at the alley.

Heath still stood there, unflinching, unmoving.

She owed him a genuine apology.

With a sigh, she pushed her car door open and stood, shoving her phone in her coat pocket along the way. When she reached him, he didn’t say a word, just raised a brow, his dark eyes dissecting and undressing her at once.

“I’m sorry. Really.” She didn’t dare tell him that Karis had dug into his background. Jolie doubted he’d appreciate knowing she’d read about his tragic past. “You didn’t do anything to deserve my outburst. I’ve had a bad day. I meant to protect my sister. You pushed some of my buttons.”

“Still telling me I’m wrong about why?”

Of all the things that had passed between them tonight, he zeroed in on that. “Why are you fishing to hear that I want you?”

He drilled her with those dark eyes. “Because I want you, too.”

With a silent gasp, she stared, the moment still and sharp. “Forget it. I’ve given you reasons for my earlier behavior. I promise it won’t happen again. Can we be two professional adults and move forward?”

“In the office? Certainly. I never bring my personal life to my job.”

“Good. That makes two of us.”

“But I’m not letting this go. Girls like the one in the bar tonight are a way to get through an evening, but they don’t actually interest me. You reminded me that I haven’t challenged myself in far too long.”

She’d walked right into that trap. Unless she wanted to suddenly declare that she was unable to separate the personal from the professional, she had to figure out some other way to combat him.

“Take your challenge elsewhere. I have too much going on now to handle a fling. I don’t do friends with benefits. I’m even less interested in anything lasting.”

He sent her a faint smile. “We’re on the same page.”

“Perfect.”

“But it doesn’t matter. Consider this fair warning: I’m coming after you and I intend to have you underneath me. I won’t rest until I do. So shore up your defenses and work yourself up tightly. That way when I seduce you, it will be even sweeter.”

“It’s not a competition,” she grated out.

“It’s not.”

Then why bother? Because he needed another conquest to make himself feel big? Because he wanted to use her so he didn’t have to think about his late wife’s murder? “Fixate on something else. Try yoga.”

Heath opened his mouth to hit her with some witty rejoinder, she was sure. Instead her phone buzzed insistently. She glanced at the display. Her sister. As ticked off as she was with Karis right now, Jolie might have declined the call but it gave her an excuse to pause this conversation with Heath until she got her head together.

She pressed the button and lifted the cell to her ear. “What?”

“Did you get my text?” she whispered. “I was hearing noises just outside the building but now I hear footsteps in the office. Heading down the hall. They’re coming toward me.”