Chapter 11

His plan was beginning to backfire immediately upon its execution. Should he backtrack? He’d planned to bring on the charm the best way he knew how. Smile, be nice, lower his voice, and try not to frown, that was the way to charm a woman. He’d listen to her when she spoke and respond by nodding and offering his own two cents when necessary. That’s what women liked.

The moment she came down to breakfast, his heart did that darn thing it did before. Not only did it skip one beat, it freaking well flipped all over the place like a fish needing water. For the life of him, he could not remember it ever doing such a thing.

Breakfast, that was a disaster to his plans. Their thighs kept touching, and there wasn’t a fracking thing he could do to prevent it. The table was too small for them all, but his father insisted on keeping tradition and eating breakfast at the kitchen table.

Each time their thighs brushed, heat traveled up to his limbs and settled in his belly bottom. By the middle of the meal, his balls were all tingly and his cock swollen. The icing on the cake had been when she turned with that smile of hers, and their eyes connected. His breath had stopped.

“What the hell?” he asked himself after he saw his father and Marla through the front door. The unexpected kindling between himself and the Unicorn unnerved him.

“Take care of your friend, son. We’ll be back later,” his father said, patting his shoulder as he zipped his winter jacket, after putting on his boots.

Curious about how he would get through all that snow, he waited at the door until David went to the carport. He raised his brows and widened his eyes as his father brought out a couple of snowmobiles as their ride to their destination. He thought they’d probably walk the couple of miles since the road was covered in the snow from the night before.

As they rode off, he’d closed the door and leaned back against it, rethinking his strategy of dealing with the girl. The need to know about her was definitely different from the curiosity before. He wanted to know her, the woman beneath the rainbow hair and the skinny jeans. He didn’t care about her name or where she was from. Whether they’d met before. All he wanted was to know her … really know her.

A few minutes ran off, and she hadn’t come back down. Had he scared her? Taking the stairs two at a time, he found himself knocking on her door.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but no answer returned. “Are you in there?”

“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute,” she replied in a sugary tone.

“Okay, the cell service is back on in case you need to call home,” he informed her.

The service had slowed to a snail’s pace due to high volumes of traffic. He was also certain that the power had gone out a few times, and that was why they were unable to reach anyone while at the airport.

He returned to the living room with the intention of trying to reach the outside world. After a few tries, he was finally able to reach Beth. Apparently, the signal was still weak due to the high traffic, which usually happens during snowy weather as more people resorted to using the cellular service. The landlines being down only left the cellular networks for communication.

“Hello?” Beth answered after a few rings.

“Beth?”

“Mr. Matheson, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Did that woman call you about the girl?”

“No,” she said. “Do you think she left because something happened?”

“What do you mean? Like one of the other girls said something? I doubt that. I heard she was a class above the rest.”

“I think she might have changed her mind,” she told him. “I confirmed that she did arrive, signing her signature at the front desk like all the others.”

Then she must have decided that this job wasn’t suited to her, he surmised. “That so?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

A small pain sliced through him at that. He had been hoping the girl would be the right fit, what with her credentials and all. She had come and not shown herself. So she did have some superiority issues. He’d been right; however, she should have had the guts to at least tell him to his face she didn’t like the job.

“Try convincing them,” he found himself saying. “When you get the chance, call Miss Anderson. Convince her to let that girl contact me.”

“Yes, sir.”

At that moment, his unicorn walked into the room wearing a sweater, jeans, and her hair … different. For a while, he lost his train of thought as he stared at her dark brown hair without the piece hiding half her face. The colors were gone, and her short hair was brushed back away from her face.

“Sir?” Beth’s voice brought him back to the moment.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes on her as she sat on the sofa. She watched him as he continued his conversation. “Yes. Make sure you convince Miss Anderson, and if you can’t, let me know so I can go meet her in person before I get back to Santa Cruz.”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”

“Yes.”

“Enjoy your Christmas sir,” she replied cheerfully.

He’d all but forgotten that it was Christmas. Since he left home at the age of fifteen, he hadn’t really celebrated any kind of holiday. Therefore, it took some effort to keep in mind that it was actually Christmas.

“You too,” he returned. “See you in a few days,” he added before signing off.

“Is everything okay?” he heard her ask.

His eyes cruised her new look. He must admit he liked this better, but he couldn’t very well call her unicorn now, could he? Though she looked somewhat normal now, he missed the rainbow hair. It had given him something to tease her about. Now, there was nothing.

“What happened to your hair?”

She shrugged. “I washed it. You didn’t really think I’d walk around with a permanent rainbow on my head?” she replied.

“Who knows? You seemed like the kind,” he replied, amusement in his voice.

Taking the armchair opposite her, he could not help noticing how mature she now looked without all that hair color.

“This is much better.” The words easily rolled off his tongue.

Her eyes flew to his, widening. “You can cut out the Mr. Nice Guy routine. I promise not to bother you. I’ll just sit here and wait for your father to return. Carry on whatever you were doing.”

“I was serious about you looking better,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” she snickered.

“I was also serious about us getting along,” he added, his tone a low drawl.

They eyed each other for a few seconds before she conceded. “Okay, I’ll keep my promise of a truce.”

“Now, don’t you think it’s time you tell me your name?”

She chortled. “Are you still wondering if and where we met?”

“Not at all. I don’t think we met; I would have remembered. I’m not that far gone to forget a pretty face.”

The moment he said it, he felt heat crawl all over his chest and neck. He was never a bashful fellow; otherwise, he’d be blushing right about then.

Throwing her head back against the cushions, she laughed. Holding her tummy, she let out a joyous sound that crackled through the silence. Her laugh was as silken as her voice.

“Pretty face?”

The heat now burned his cheek, and he knew he was actually blushing. He never blushed, and now he knew what embarrassment felt like. He shifted in the seat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to reign in her amusement. “I was just surprised you even thought I was a woman.”

“Can we stop this constant bickering and start over?” He stood and walked over to her, holding his hand out. “Hello, I’m Gael Matheson.”

Zoe laughed not only because she was amused but to hide the fact that her heart had paused for a second before it took off like a runaway train. Now he wanted to start over, and she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Starting over would mean she’d have to give him a second chance.

Earlier, it was her plan to do that, but on her terms. She knew he was playing Mr. Charming to get to her. Now the game had changed, and she needed to regroup. What if he remembered her name as the girl he rejected? Chances were he didn’t, but she needed to be certain.

Then there was the telephone conversation she walked in on. He was still hoping she’d changed her mind. A light bulb went off. What if she showed him what a real spokesperson would do for his company?

She stood, placing her hand in his. “Zoe Archer, pleased to meet you.”

“Zoe,” he said her name easily. She studied his face for any signs of recognition. Nothing happened. “I like it.”

His large hand enveloped hers warmly, sending some of his body heat sprinting up her arm. She allowed the hand to remain, liking the sensations from his touch.

“Well, Zoe, what do you do?”

The question froze her in place. For want of breathing space to think of something, she pulled her hand from his and moved to the mantle to absorb some of the warmth from the fire.

“I’m between jobs at the moment,” she replied, biting her bottom lip. It wasn’t a complete lie; she was between jobs, though by profession she was a model. “Tell me about your company.”

Haltingly, he began telling her he was in NY to acquire a small business, but the more he spoke about the company, the more relaxed he became. She waited patiently for him to tell her that he was seeking a spokes-model, but he didn’t. He did say he was looking to take his company international.

Based on her research, she knew it was doing well for a company that never did much advertising. Now that he was thinking of going international, a spokesperson would be the ideal representation.

“You know what you need?” she asked.

“Tell me,” he said, coming to stand by her near the fireplace.

“You need someone who is able to market your business in a way that will crush your competitors. What you need is someone to travel to the countries you want to set up office and represent your business to their public.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he agreed, now animated.

“What do they call it … a public relations officer?”

“Spokesperson?” he added.

Snapping her fingers, she replied gleefully, “Yes. That’s what you need. He or she would learn the ins and outs of the company so that they can represent you accordingly. You need someone, perhaps a man who just graduated college and is eager for work.”

Zoe mentally patted herself on that last statement. Suggesting a man was genius as she knew Gael would never buy it. It also suggested to him that she was not doing this as a way to get him to hire her.

“Why a male?” he asked.

Good question, she thought. “Well, men are strong, and actually,” she paused, a deliberate ploy for her answer. “This is a secret, but … women are so much more expensive. Guys don’t need much to travel you know.”

His interest was piqued, or he was amused. Either way, she had him where she wanted him, interested in what she had to say.

“Women need to carry cosmetics, several pairs of shoes, several outfits to change, and perhaps an entourage, who knows. They can be such divas. Hiring a man could save you some money.”

“You don’t seem like a diva to me,” he suggested.

Bingo! “Well, I‘m no typical woman. I’m different, self-sufficient and know how to survive in a minimalist way.”

He smiled, a glint appearing in his eyes. “You keep surprising me, Zoe Archer.” His voice dropped as he studied her face.

She tried not to look into those eyes, but there it was again. They trapped her, and for about thirty seconds, she was unable to look away. Somehow, during the conversation, they’d moved closer together, causing an energy field to open up. When he reached up his hand and touched his fingers to her cheek, she could do nothing but intake a sharp breath.

Her mind went blank as her skin sizzled from his touch. His eyes deepened in shade, and then he dropped his hand. As if realizing that something was happening, Gael strolled to a draped window that would have overlooked a garden. The thick wine red drapes obscured the view, but he stood with his back to her nonetheless.

Absently, her hand caressed the spot on her cheek that still burned while the pulse at her throat gyrated to its own rhythm. Though they were in the midst of one of the coldest winters, her skin flushed with heat that she felt a trickle of sweat run down her back. She shuddered as it meandered down her spine.

This wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be affected by him. She was supposed to wow him with her intelligence and show him she was more than a tomboy, more than a chick with rainbow hair. She wanted him to see what he’d missed out on when she finally told him the truth.

How was she to do that when he was beginning to get under her skin? His nearness, his smile, and even the darn way he was standing at the window with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. That damn ass of his was so perfectly round and tight against the thick fabric of the denim.

Zoe closed her eyes, willing her mind to focus on what was important, and that was taking down the arrogant bastard a notch or three. Even the thought didn’t have as much gusto as it did before. He was no longer a bastard but still arrogant. Yes, she would take down the arrogant Gael Matheson a few notches.

“I want a female,” he said, startling her.

He turned and strode back to the mantle, but she moved to the sofa before he got there.

“I need the perfect balance between beauty and brains to represent Blue Atlantic Shipping.”

“Ah, so that’s the name of your company. Where have I heard that name before?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t done much advertising. Most of my business has been through referrals.”

Zoe kept her eyes on him, though she fought to avoid contact with his eyes. This was risky business, this game of cat and mouse. Somehow, she knew that Gael was the cat and felt that eventually, she’d be the one squealing for help.