I blink but there’s no mistaking it.
The stormy blue eyes and full mouth are unmistakable, although his suit today is a light grey.
There is no mistake.
He’s the man I slammed into at the gym last night. The gorgeous man I couldn’t stop ogling and ended up dreaming about all night.
“You’ve gone pale,” he says, looking concerned, “Can I have my assistant bring you something? A glass of water?”
“No, I’m fine. I think I sat down a bit too fast.”
“You were looking at me as though you’d seen a ghost.”
His eyes study me with the kind of shrewd awareness that comes from years of dealing with people and multitudes of business deals and negotiations.
I feel like he’s not simply taking in my appearance but trying to look into my soul. Once again, I have to fight not to fidget.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Claire,” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “May I call you Claire or would you prefer Miss Snow?”
“Claire is fine.”
He doesn’t remember me.
It’s a good thing after all one only gets a single change to make a first impression.
Still, it irks me.
The meeting wasn’t memorable, in fact it bordered on humiliating but while I remember everything about him right down to the tilt of his head and the slightly amused twist of his lips, he remembered nothing about me.
He’d swept me from his mind like one might flick a piece of lint from an expensive black coat.
“I hope you didn’t mind that I sent my own personal driver,” he says, “I detest lateness.”
My brain kicks back into place along with my ire.
Why would I be anything but punctual to such an important meeting?
Is a million dollar investment so unimportant to him that he expected me to simply rock up when I felt like it?
His eyes narrow towards me, “You’re mad at me.”
What?
I panic.
“Of course not,” I say lightly, “Why would I be mad at you?”
He taps a finger against his lips.
“Perhaps you saw my sending a driver to insure you were on time to this meeting as a vote of no confidence in your ability to be punctual.”
“I was simply – confused – as to why you would go to such lengths to ensure my punctuality only to have me wait outside for twenty minutes.”
The words are coming out and I have no control.
His expression is impassive for almost a full minute while he studies me.
Did I just ruin my chances?
Just as I’m wondering if I should simply stand up and walk out with whatever scraps of dignity I have left, his face suddenly shifts into am wide smile.
“You are completely right,” he says, “I like to… I need to be in control and it can make me appear rude, sometimes. Will you forgive me?”
My voice is stuck in my throat so I simply nod and smile.
“To business?” he suggests.
“Please.”
He smiles but his eyes glimmer with amusement.
He turns his attention to his laptop and with a couple a clicks, the second monitor, this one facing me, glows to life and I can see my proposal.
It takes me a second to recognize the work as my own but at once my mind snaps into mode.
This is not personal.
I’m not here to discuss my personal feelings or dwell on my sudden fluctuating libido.
This is a business deal and I know that my idea is solid.
“I’ve read through your proposal and inspected the prototype of the app you’ve been developing,” he says, tapping the screen to bring up various interface images, “And James’s recommendation was very impressive.”
James?
Oh! Dr. Henderson.
“I have a lot to thank Dr. Henderson for. I feel that I’ve become a much stronger professional under his guidance,” I state.
His eyes flick to me and narrow, “I hear that a great deal. Tell me, how well did you get to know Dr. Henderson?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“It’s a simple enough question. How well do you know James Henderson?”
That’s not what he’d asked but I let it drop, “As well as any student can know their lecturer, I suppose.”
“You don’t think it’s odd for a student to seek out her college lecturer outside the boundaries of the student-teacher relationship?”
He was starting sound very familiar and Trent’s voice whispered nastily, I told you so.
“I don’t think so, no,” I reply, unable to keep the sharp edge out of my voice, “While in his class he took a particular interest in my projects and ideas and helped me to hone my talents. When I started designing the Gifting Elf app, it simply made sense to me to seek out his advice.”
“I’ve heard some interesting rumors over the years regarding the young women James takes particular interest in.”
“Of course you have,” I mutter.
Why did he agree to see me if he just planned to accuse me of sleeping my way to the top?
Had he planned all along to humiliate me?
If that was his plan all along then there’s no reason to hold back.
I meet his gaze feeling suddenly very calm, “You seem to be implying that I achieved my final score and in fact gained James Henderson’s recommendation on my back.”
His eyes widen at my frankness.
I stand up and walk around his desk.
“May I,” I ask, indicating his laptop.
At his bemused nod, I quickly and deftly type in the URL for my personal page and bring up the full page of apps, games, and interfaces I’d made since and during college.
“This is what I do,” I say, highlighting app after app along with the glowing testimonials from users, “I believe that everyone has a natural ability and I am lucky enough that mine can earn me a living. I love what I do and I am very good at it but I have also worked hard to gain the knowledge and skills necessary.”
I bring up the Gifting Elf app.
“My app is deceptively simple but I honestly believe it will make life easier for busy people from all walks of life.”
I bring up another page.
Bending to tap his screen is sort of awkward with him sitting so close but I’m in the zone and won’t be distracted.
“Through the interface you can type in the names and birthdays or other special days of friends and family,” I click to the next page, “Then you simply pick gifts at your leisure. Then even if you forget the app will order and have the gift wrapped and delivered for you – of course sending you a useful text so you know why you’re being thanked.”
I look at him and almost gasp when I realize how close we are.
We’re almost nose-to-nose and he’s looking right back at me.
“Impressive,” he murmurs.
My gaze drops to his lips just in time to watch him lick them, slow, inviting.
I stand up straight and move back to my seat, feeling suddenly deflated.
He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, adjusting something below the desk.
“James would never have recommended you to me if he didn’t believe you were worth my time and investment.”
“No he wouldn’t have,” I breathe out a sigh, “I’ve heard the rumors too. But I’ve never been the kind of girl men seek out for illicit affairs.”
He blinks at me and looks like he might have something to add but instead he focuses again on the laptop.
For the next hour he fires questions at me regarding the app and my preparation for heading up such an ambitious project.
I planned for this and handle it comfortably. I answer his questions by drawing on my years of study and personal passion, and by the end he looks satisfied.
He checks his watch and smiles at me, “Would you join me for lunch? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little better in a less formal environment.”
“That sounds very nice,” I say, “But I should get back home. I have another app I’m about to submit to…”
Damn!
Will he remember me if I say the name of the gym?
“Oh yes,” he clicks and brings up the page of my workout and fitness apps, “Joey tells me that your apps have nearly tripled business.”
He looks at me and smiles.
It’s a slow, mischievous smile that looks at once completely out of place and sexy as hell.
“I met a rather interesting young woman when I paid him a visit yesterday afternoon.”
I look at him squarely.
Fine.
If he wants to talk about it I won’t hold back. Yes, I work out and like other humans I sweat – and sometimes trip over my own feet.
“Really?” I reply, taking control back, “Did you accuse her or having an illicit affair with her college lecturer too?”
He meets my gaze then licks his finger and marks a point on an invisible chalkboard.
The gesture is so human and familiar I can’t help smiling.
“What would you say if I offered you a job? Put you in charge of a team to create apps like these, and others.”
The question catches me off guard but almost immediately I know the answer.
“I would thank you for your kind offer, and be honestly complimented and honored, but I would turn it down,” I say, “If I wanted to simply create software and apps for someone else I could be doing that by now. I don’t want to work for someone else, at least not entirely in a boss employee relationship.”
“You want to be free. You want to forge your own way in the world.”
His words are so attuned to my own thoughts that for a second, looking into his eyes I feel like something sparks, a connection deeper than the usual.
“I – did one of those – personality thingies a while ago,” I say, not even sure why I’m telling him something I’d never told anyone else, “It said that I had a complicated relationship with authority.”
He tips his head to the side and I wish I knew what he was thinking.
He has one of those faces that shows nothing unless he wants the other person to see.
“Then I have another offer, but I should tell you that it is my only offer,” he says and I nod for him to continue, “I want to be your partner in this particular app, not merely an investor. I see potential in it and you. I think that you are a remarkable woman but I don’t feel like you’re quite ready to run with a project like this on your own.”
I open my mouth to argue but he holds up a hand and I shut my mouth.
The least I can do is hear him out.
“I will give you the funding you’ve asked for, and you will still be a free agent and have complete creative and technological control over the app.”
He pauses and when I don’t argue he continues, “But I would like to be your partner in this venture and as such would like to offer you my personally picked specialist team. Marketing, design, programming, PR. I think that working together we can create something – special.”
It actually sounds like an amazing offer but I keep my face neutral. He’s not the only one who can hide behind a wall.
“And in exchange you would expect a fifty percent cut of the profits,” I say.
“Naturally.”
He suddenly jumps to his feet and looks at his watch, “Damn, I have another meeting.”
He strides over to a small square mirror on a far wall and straightens his tie.
“I wish I had more time. I think we could do some pretty interesting things together.”
He shoots me a look in his reflection but I look away before he can see my cheeks flush at his clear double meaning, “Think about my offer and we can iron out the details tomorrow night. I’ll cook you dinner. My assistant will give you the address.”
He pauses by my chair and holds out his hand. I take it and his grip is tight, firm, but not painful, and he smiles warmly into my eyes.
“I’m very glad we met, regardless of your decision, please come to dinner.”
And just like that he’s gone.