BAD BOYS ON BOARD Read online

  She spent the next five floors wondering if she should say something, perhaps verify his lunch appointment with Stephanie. She knew the urge had more to do with hearing him speak again, than any professional courtesy. But before she could open her mouth, the car suddenly lurched to a stop, throwing her back against the wall … and Dominic up against her.

  A second later, the lights went out.

  Chapter Two

  Hard. That was the first thing that registered in Callie's mind. And the second.

  It might have been the third as well, but then his hands were on her arms and he was gently, but firmly pushing himself away. She might have whimpered. Thankfully he misunderstood.

  "I'm terribly sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

  Callie wondered how a man could sound so incredibly gentlemanly … and sexually carnivorous at the same time. Probably the latter element was just wishful thinking on her part.

  "No, no I'm fine." My nipples are permanently rigid and my panties are damp, but otherwise, totally fine. She let out a little sigh.

  "Don't care for the dark?"

  Callie hadn't even given that part a thought yet. She was still dealing with how the full length of his body had felt pressed against the full length of hers. "No," she managed. "I mean, it doesn't bother me. It just, the whole thing took me by surprise."

  She felt his hand at her elbow. How he knew exactly where she was in the pitch dark she had no idea. Panther sight, most likely. She tried not to shiver at the feel of his fingers brushing her skin, but it was almost impossible. Afraid of the dark? Ha! Not as long as he kept touching her, she wasn't. "Hand me your keys."

  "I beg your pardon?" she said, rattled from her thoughts.

  "Your elevator keys," he repeated. "I think I can get us up and running again, but I need your set of keys."

  She was glad for the dark for other reasons now. He couldn't see her hot blush. Here she was fantasizing about steamy elevator sex and he was calmly trying to get the hell out of here. And away from her, no doubt.

  "Here," she said, pressing them into his hand. Broad palm, warm skin. She noticed every little detail. The dark did that to a person, enhanced other senses. At least that was what she told herself.

  She shifted to the opposite wall as he stepped in front of her. She could hear the sound of the panel door being opened, but that was it. Unlike other men in crisis situations, he didn't breathe more heavily or swear. In fact, she was tempted to reach out and touch him to make sure he hadn't vaporized or something.

  "No luck," he said after another minute passed. "No lights, no power. I pressed the emergency button, but if the main lifts are shut down, it isn't likely there is anyone left in the building to help us out."

  She heard the jangling of the keys and reached her hand out. He dropped them in her palm without otherwise touching her. "You have excellent night vision," she uttered, impressed.

  "So I've been told." There might have been the smallest hint of a smile in his words. "We should make ourselves comfortable. We're likely to be in here for a passing bit."

  "Comfortable?" Like taking all our clothes off and having hot, sweaty sex? That would definitely pass the time. She managed not to suggest that to him. She definitely needed new batteries for her vibrator. And, perhaps, a social life might not be a bad idea either. A shame she wouldn't have time for one anytime soon.

  Callie heard the rustle of expensive fabric. Funny how his clothes rustled far more sensuously than her Dress Shack mark-down did.

  Callie tucked her dress between her knees and carefully slid to the floor. Then rolled her eyes at her precautions. Like he could look up her skirt in pitch blackness. Still, she crossed her ankles.

  They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes. What did a person say to a embarrassingly wealthy, global magnate? A drop-dead sexy, embarrassingly wealthy, global magnate hunk, to be more specific.

  Several more minutes elapsed and the combination of the silence, the darkness, and knowing he was mere inches away from her and yet she couldn't even hear him breathe, finally undid her.

  "I set up your lunch—"

  "How long have you—"

  Both of them spoke, then broke off at the same time. She chuckled. He did not. Even silent and invisible the man was intense.

  "You go first," she said. "Please, you."

  You most definitely could, she thought with a private smile. Then realized he couldn't see her anyway and let the grin surface. If she had to be stuck in this airless box for who knew how many hours, the least she could do was enjoy her fantasies. "I was just going to say that I'd made a reservation for you tomorrow, at Basil, for lunch with Ms. Weaver."

  "Ah."

  His voice gave her shivers. So cultured and smooth, and yet somehow even a simple syllable carried an innate sexual inflection.

  When he didn't say anything else, she prodded him. "Is that what you'd been about to ask? About your lunch meeting?"

  There was a pause; then she swore she heard the slightest of sighs. What did that mean? Had she bored him to tears already? She readily admitted she didn't have the dulcet tones or smooth dialect he did, but—

  "I was going to inquire how long you'd been in Ms. Weaver's employ," he asked.

  Now it was her turn. "Ah." Somehow she doubted her voice gave him shivers. "Six weeks. Although I've put in so many hours, I probably qualify for major medical already."

  "Yes, there is much to be done, I suppose."

  He'd said it more to himself than to her. Again, they drifted into silence. Unable to see his face, or anything else for that matter, Callie found she had a bit more nerve. She'd never been particularly self-conscious before her marriage and subsequent divorce. Peter had done a bigger number on her than she liked to admit, but she'd been working at regaining her former sense of self. No sense in backing away from that goal now. Megamogul or not, she wasn't going to sit here in the dark in total silence. Not when listening to him talk was so very entertaining.

  "Have you known Stephanie—I mean, Ms. Weaver—a long time?"

  "Our paths have crossed from time to time."

  Callie stifled a sigh. What did she have to say to get more than a handful of words out of him? Several things came to mind. None of which she actually dared to utter, not if she wanted to keep her job.

  The air grew as stifled as the conversation. That was when it occurred to her that the power must have gone out in the whole building, not just the elevator. "I wonder why the generator hasn't kicked on," she mused. "I know we haven't officially taken full occupancy yet, but doesn't some kind of building code require that kind of backup system be in place?"

  He didn't respond right away, and Callie felt her frustration level rise. "Listen," she said, a bit more forcefully than she'd intended, belatedly realizing that she was perhaps a teensy bit more claustrophobic than she'd ever realized. But it was easier to blame the little swell of panic on Dominic's refusal to be decent and talk to her, than to another possible weakness on her part. She had a long enough list to conquer as it was. Speak your mind, Stephanie had told her. Well, why the hell not? Being subservient certainly wasn't getting her anywhere.

  "I know I'm a nobody, and you and I have less than zero in common, but if we're going to be stuck with one another, maybe we can at least chat to pass the time. I mean, there's nothing else to do in this stifling heat, in complete and total darkness."

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Callie swore she could feel a spike of tension arc between them. And it wasn't businesslike tension, either.

  "It's been my experience that there are a number of things one can do in the heat … and in the dark."

  "I bet," she muttered, then snapped her mouth shut. Speaking her mind to Stephanie was one thing. Jeopardizing her entire career by pissing off the man Stephanie was hoping to finance a good deal of her new company was another.

  "So," he said into the sudden stillness.

  Callie's breath caught
and held as she waited for him to tell her he'd see she was out of a job by sunrise.

  "The cat has claws," he finished.

  "Cat?" she spluttered, too surprised by the comment to reign it in. "And the panther has teeth, I see," she shot back. Idiot! What do you think you're doing? But, job security notwithstanding, a part of her took pride that she'd stood up for herself. Maybe if she'd done more of that during her marriage she wouldn't be in her current situation.

  "So I've been told," he said, definite amusement in his tone now. "Although not quite as colorfully as you did, I'll admit."

  This time it was Callie who let the silence spin out. She should have never provoked him.

  "I can see why Stephanie has placed such a high level of trust in you," he added, at length.

  "She hired me from a temporary agency a little over a month ago, sight unseen," she retorted, apparently unable to regain her common sense now that she'd tossed caution to the wind. "I don't know how much trust I've earned."

  "You lack confidence in your worth to the company?"

  "You're putting words in my mouth." And why don't we just stop this verbal sparring and put other, more pleasurable things in our mouths, eh? her little voice nudged. Right. Like she still wanted him, Mr. Obviously Misogynistic.

  Well, okay, she still lusted. A little. But only after his body. And his voice. But he could keep his acerbic little comments to himself. "I'm not afraid of hard work and long hours," she told him. "I expect Ms. Weaver respects that. She definitely compensates me well for my time." Or will, now that I've been hired full time, Callie thought. "Trust, however, is another issue entirely."

  "Indeed it is. However, Stephanie doesn't do anything without a great deal of forethought. Most especially when it comes to hiring people, even temporarily. I imagine she knows a great deal more about you than you realize."

  That sat her back. Both what he'd said, and that he'd actually spoken more than one complete sentence at a time. But it was what he said that stuck in her mind. She'd hoped to present herself as confident, capable, and reliable. She knew it was silly, particularly in this day and age, to feel any sense of guilt or shame over being divorced. After all, there were myriad reasons that marriages came to an end, and it certainly didn't automatically point fingers in her direction. And yet, she couldn't honestly say she didn't point a few of those fingers at herself.

  Apparently she had a bit further to go with this self-reclamation thing than she'd thought. She sighed, but curiosity got the better of her. "Did she say anything? Personally, I mean, about me?" She broke off with a little laugh. "What am I saying? Like the two of you were discussing anything having to do with me."

  "We discussed a great many things," he said, as enigmatically as ever. "What sort of personal information is it you don't wish Stephanie to have?"

  Callie hung her head. She'd been stuck a half an hour with the guy and somehow she'd managed to wedge her foot firmly in her mouth, along with most of the rest of her anatomy. If only he'd just ravished her instead. Now there was some guilt and shame she could have lived with. "Nothing," she said. "At least, nothing that would be important to her."

  "Such as?"

  Callie squinted in the dark, trying unsuccessfully to see even a hint of his face. She'd asked—demanded actually—that he talk to her. And, so he was making an honest effort, actually sounding interested in her responses, if not offering much of himself to the conversation. He didn't sound angry with her … actually, she couldn't quite tell what he was feeling. His words were smooth, dulcet and deep, but ultimately emotionless.

  "Such as?" he prodded again, surprising her.

  Enough that she simply answered him.

  "Such as my entire life got turned upside down about a year and a half ago when I came home and found my husband on the dining room table with our dog sitter. Needless to say that while there was much panting and drooling involved, none of it had anything to do with our dog."

  "How unpleasant."

  She laughed. "Unpleasant. How British of you. Yes, it was. Bloody unpleasant actually."

  He didn't laugh along with her. Instead, he asked, quite seriously, "And I take it this … discovery, left you feeling less than confident about your value in the relationship?"

  "Can you blame me?"

  "I think your husband's actions speak far more to his worth in the relationship than yours."

  Callie paused, thinking that was an interesting way to look at it. One she rather liked. "Have you ever been married?"

  "No."

  If she stopped and thought about the fact that she was asking Dominic Colbourne such personal questions, she'd have never done it. So she didn't think about it. In the dark, they were simply two strangers, passing time. "Have you ever found your significant other in bed with another man?"

  There was a pause. "No."

  Callie folded her arms. "Then how can you know what it would make you feel like?" She half-laughed. "Never mind. I imagine women are so available to someone like you that you exchange them like some men change ties."

  "Rather harsh."

  "But true?"

  Another pause. "At times, perhaps."

  She nodded, satisfied. "Exactly. I don't think people like you, or Stephanie, for that matter, can understand what it's like for someone who doesn't wield much power. Not just financially, but emotionally, mentally. So sure of yourself, of your abilities, that you don't know what it's like to have your confidence seriously rattled. Or if you did, it was so long ago you've forgotten."

  He didn't say anything and she compulsively filled the silence. Otherwise she'd have to realize just how insane it was to be saying this stuff to him.

  "It wasn't like I was some meek, mild thing, living for her husband's approval. But at some point along the way, Peter's little comment here, well-meaning criticism there, began to add up and I allowed them to slowly erode my sense of self. It wasn't until I was no longer in the relationship that I saw how neatly he'd manipulated me into questioning myself, my value, my worth as a person. But knowing that doesn't automatically bring with it an instant reversal. It takes time to rebuild the strength and integrity you let someone else so neatly tear down. And there are all sorts of nasty little emotions that go with that, number one being guilt for letting the bastard do such a number on you in the first place, and shame for being such a stupid twit that you didn't realize it sooner."

  She slowed, took a breath, shook her head, laughed a little. "Obviously, I still have some issues. All I was getting at was that some of us don't rebound swiftly from being passed over for a twenty-something blond with big boobs and the sex drive of a mink. Yes, it showed Peter to be the louse he was … is. But then you factor in his ever-so-rational explanation of why he was forced into it—yes, forced, as if my supposed inability to fulfill all of his needs was an engraved invitation to have sex on our dining room table with someone who wasn't as … I think the phrase he used was 'sexually limited.' Someone who, unlike me, didn't mind swinging from chandeliers, or flaunting her body in public, or … or any of the other 'sexually limiting' things I refused to do."

  There was a pause, just long enough for Callie to groan inwardly at her rapid-fire speech.

  "Did it occur to you that he only went on the offensive as a way to deflect his guilt back onto you?" Dominic asked into the sudden quiet. "Shifting blame is a highly effective tool, but only if the opposition allows their vulnerabilities to be manipulated."

  Callie's bravado left her in a silent whoosh. "Yes, well, some vulnerabilities might exist for a reason."

  "But rather than deal directly with them, with you, he took the cheap tour, fixing his problem, but not caring whether he fixed yours. I'd say he was the limited one, unable to meet your needs."

  She smiled. "I hadn't thought about it exactly like that, but yes, you might have a point."

  Dominic fell silent again. Callie sighed and leaned back against the paneled wall, thinking about what he'd said. If only the therapist she'd sough
t out when she'd separated had made half as much sense, she might have continued to see her.

  "I think you underestimate yourself."

  Dominic's words startled her.

  "I know I did," she said honestly. "Do, still, sometimes. Like I said, it takes a while to climb out of the rut you allowed someone else to dig for you. I didn't tell you the kicker. Peter didn't even want the divorce. He honestly thought I'd be understanding, happy even, that he'd found a solution for his needs and so wouldn't have to bug me about fulfilling them anymore. As if he'd banged Jennifer on our dining room table, and God knows where else, as a favor to me." She shook her head. "And I actually wasted more than five minutes wondering if he might have a point. Pretty pathetic, don't you think?"

  "Pathetic would have been giving in. You didn't, I assume, since a divorce did take place." There was an urgency to his tone that startled Callie. Surely he really couldn't care less about her personal life. He had nothing invested in her beyond knowing she worked for the woman he was working a deal with.

  "You don't even know me, how do you know what—"

  "I know what you've done with your life since then. You're strong. Focused. Driven."

  "Ah, finally an area you do know a little something about."

  "Precisely."

  She smiled at the hint of amusement in his tone.

  "You didn't wail and thrash about after the ugliness was over, you got on with the business of living."

  Yeah, Callie thought, but not with the business of loving. That was an obstacle she had yet to deal with. In fact, with all the time she'd spent working for Stephanie, she'd mercifully been too tired to even think about it. And now, with her promotion, she supposed she wouldn't have to worry about it for some time to come. The idea of a further reprieve should have been a relief. Instead she felt that little nick of doubt. But she hadn't given up on love, not really, she'd simply chosen not to focus on it for a while. No one could blame her for taking a path that was more imminently rewarding, could they?

  And the last person she wanted to discuss any of this with was a man like Dominic Colbourne. And yet she heard the words come out of her mouth anyway.