Caroselli's Baby Chase Page 3

  “And as for skulking off in the middle of the night?”

  “It was not the middle of the night. It was early morning and I didn’t want to wake you. You were so drunk I’m not sure I could have if I tried. And I did not skulk. I got dressed and left, end of story.”

  “First off, I wasn’t that drunk. And didn’t it occur to you to at least leave a note?”

  “Why would I? We agreed it would never be more than one night. It was over.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know nothing about women do you? You could have said goodbye, told me that you had a good time.”

  “I assumed, in our case, actions spoke louder than words.”

  She didn’t seem to have a snarky reply for that one. She couldn’t deny it had been damned good for her, too.

  “What I don’t understand is why we’re in here,” Rob told her, “when you should be in the conference room telling them you can’t work here.”

  Her brows rose. “Why would I do that?”

  “Well, first, despite what my family believes, your services are not required or desired by anyone on my staff. And considering the circumstances, I don’t think your presence here would be appropriate.”

  “What circumstances are those?”

  Was she kidding? “The ones we’ve been discussing since we stepped in here. It’s unlikely either of us could be objective in light of what happened the other night.”

  “I don’t know about you, but now that I know what a macho jerk you are, it isn’t going to be an issue for me. In fact, I think I’m going to enjoy it.”

  He had been accused of being inattentive, arrogant and at times insufferable, but macho jerk was a new one. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You can remain completely objective?”

  “Yep.”

  Rob was not the type of man to behave rashly. He never made a move before he’d had time to completely think through a situation, weigh the pros and cons. So maybe it was pride that propelled him forward, or the satisfaction of proving her wrong, or just compromised judgment that motivated him to take her by the arms, pull her to him and crush his mouth down on hers.

  Carrie made an indignant sound and pushed at his chest. She resisted for all of three seconds, then her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket and her lips parted beneath his.

  Having made his point, he should have let go. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer. It had been just like this on New Year’s, his brain shutting down the second he kissed her, his body reacting on pure instinct, a carnal need to overpower and dominate. One that he’d never felt with a woman before her. Because despite her claim, he was not a macho jerk. Of all his cousins and uncles, he was probably the least chauvinistic man in the family. Her gender had no bearing whatsoever on his professional opinion.

  Carrie slid her hands up his chest, tunneled them through his hair, taking two fistfuls and jerking his head back so she could kiss—ow—make that bite his neck. Growling, he backed her against his office door, cringing as her head hit the surface with a thunk, cushioned only by the ugly bun in her hair, but it only seemed to fuel her desire.

  “I want you right here, against this door,” she said, her eyes locking on his as she slid her hand between their bodies, gripping his erection through his slacks.

  Sucking in a breath, he grabbed the hem of her skirt and shoved his hand underneath, sliding it up her leg, and—damn—she was wearing a garter. He had just reached the top of her bare inner thigh, his fingers brushing the crotch of her panties, when his cell phone started to ring.

  Damn it. Talk about lousy timing.

  Carrie grumbled unhappily as he pulled his hand from under her skirt and backed away from the hand that had been busy unzipping his fly. “Yeah,” he answered.

  “We’re ready for you,” his father said.

  “Be right there.” He hung up without saying goodbye, so his dad wouldn’t hear his labored breathing, and told Carrie, “They’re ready for you.”

  She nodded, her cheeks rosy, pupils dilated. “I just need a minute to catch my breath.”

  He shoved his phone back in his pocket and zipped his pants. “Now do you see what I mean?”

  “That you have pitiful lack of self-control?” Carrie said, straightening her jacket and smoothing the wrinkles from a skirt six inches too long for her height. “I definitely noticed that.”

  “I didn’t see you trying to stop me.”

  She looked up at him, her lipstick kissed away, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “You enjoy being right, don’t you?”

  “Not always.” Not this time. They had chemistry, but that was about it. With fifteen million dollars riding on his choice, she was the exact opposite of what he was looking for in a woman. Not only did he consider her the enemy, but she’d said herself that she had intimacy issues, and she had never been in a serious relationship. Rob needed a woman with baby fever, someone to marry and pop out a male heir. She wasn’t it, and having her around to tempt him would only make a difficult situation that much more tense.

  “So, have I made my point?” he asked Carrie.

  “You certainly have,” she said. “We should get back to the conference room.”

  They walked side by side down the corridor, an uncomfortable silence building a wedge between them. There was nothing left to say. It had been fun, and now it was over. She would go back to California, and he and his team would work out a plan to beef up sales. And hopefully, sooner rather than later, he would find a woman to give him a son, and everyone would be happy.

  The conference room was silent as they stepped inside. Carrie took her seat, and Rob returned to his.

  “Sorry to make you wait,” his dad told her.

  “I completely understand,” she said.

  Rob waited for her to break the bad news, but she just sat there.

  “After going over the final numbers,” his uncle Leo said, “we’re pleased to tell you that we agree to your terms and we would like you to start first thing next Monday morning.”

  Rob waited for the big letdown, wondered how everyone would take her turning down their offer.

  “I don’t come cheap,” she said, then looked directly at Rob. “But I don’t disappoint.”

  She may as well have drawn her sword and challenged him to a duel. And clearly she had only been humoring him. She had never intended to turn down the assignment.

  If that was really the way she wanted to play this, fine.

  You want a fight, sweetheart? Well, now you’ve got one.

  Three

  After the contracts were signed, everyone filed out of the conference room, shaking Carrie’s hand, congratulating her and welcoming her to the company. Rob watched, gathering the binders—a task typically left for an assistant—growing increasingly impatient as Elana stopped to admire Carrie’s briefcase of all things, and they launched into a conversation about women’s purses and accessories. When he’d run out of ways to stall, he flat-out asked Elana, “Could I have a minute with Ms. Taylor?”

  Flashing him a knowing look and a wry smile, Elana said, “Sure, Robby. See you Monday, Carrie.”

  Elana knew that there was no faster way to irritate him than to address him by his childhood nickname. The first half of it anyway. It had been years since anyone dare uttered the phrase that had been the bane of his existence from kindergarten to his first year of college.

  She left, closing the door behind her, and Rob turned to Carrie, who was sliding papers into her briefcase.

  “Well?” he said.

  She closed the case and smiled up at him. “Something wrong…Robby?”

  That was it—Elana was dead meat. “Why did you lie to me?”

  She smiled, the picture of innocence. “When did I lie to you?”

  “We agreed that in light of what happened, working together would be a bad idea.”

  “No, you said working together would be bad, and I commented on how you enjoy bei
ng right. I never said you were right.”

  “So you were just screwing with me?”

  She propped her hands on the conference table, leaning in. “Not unlike the way you were screwing with me.”

  She definitely had him there. And he had best be going, before he told her what he really thought of her. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  She smiled brightly. “Sure thing, Robby. Oh, and by the way, the first step will be analyzing your marketing data. I’ll need a few things from you.”

  Gathering his patience, he said, “All right.”

  “I’ll need all the data you have for the past twenty years.”

  He blinked. “Twenty years?”

  “That’s right.”

  He wondered if she really needed to go that far back, or if she was trying to make his life a living hell. Probably the latter, and could he blame her if she was? But that, she should realize, was a two-way street.

  “It could take some time to compile everything. We’ve been in the process of digitizing our older files. Some of it might still be in hard copy.”

  “That’s fine. Just have it on my desk Monday morning.”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s no one here. Everyone is on holiday vacation until Monday.”

  “Well,” she said, the sweet smile not wavering a fraction. “Who better to do it than the director himself. Which reminds me, I’ll need you available, and at my disposal at all times in case I have any questions.”

  Gritting his teeth, he nodded, then turned and walked to the door.

  “Hey, Robby?”

  Jaw tense, he turned back to her.

  “I’m not the enemy. This will be as productive or as difficult as you make it. I think you’ll find that I can be very pleasant to work with.”

  “So I noticed,” he said, his eyes raking over her. “Will we be meeting for a quickie in my office daily, or just once or twice a week?” He didn’t even like her, but his libido didn’t seem to notice or care. It was telling him to rip that shapeless, ugly suit from her body, to pluck the pins from her granny hairstyle so he could watch her silky blond curls cascade down her shoulders.

  She sighed and shook her head, as if she felt sorry for him. “Robby, is that the best you can do? You think I haven’t heard worse? During the course of my career I’ve been called sweetie and sugar and pumpkin. I’ve been groped and fondled, objectified and demoralized. I’ve seen it all, and in the end I always get the job done, and I manage to do it with dignity.”

  She slung her case strap over her shoulder and said, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you think you’d like to take me on, by all means give it your best shot. But I should warn you, I always get what I want, and I’m not above fighting dirty.”

  He should have anticipated that. No one got as far as she had in the business world without being tough as nails. And shame on him for underestimating her.

  She walked out, the heels of her shoes clicking as she marched down the hall. He had no plan to demoralize or objectify her, or to call her condescending names. And the only physical contact they might have would be totally at her discretion. He had every intention of treating her with the utmost respect, because he didn’t doubt that she had earned it. His cooperation, however, was another matter altogether.

  Rob walked to his office and sat down at his computer to send his staff and his secretary an email dictating what Carrie would need—one they would see Monday when they returned to work. He refused to make his people work a weekend they had been promised as vacation.

  There was a knock on his door, and he looked up to see Tony and Nick standing there.

  “Hey.” He motioned them in, and Nick shut the door.

  “So what was that all about?” Tony asked him.

  “Yeah,” Nick said, “what the heck did you say to her when you two left the conference room?”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Rob could barely believe it himself. “Do you think my dad noticed?”

  “Dude, everyone noticed,” Nick said. “You looked as if either you wanted to kill each other, or tear each other’s clothes off.”

  It was a little bit of both. “Remember the woman I told you about? The blonde from the bar?”

  Tony nodded. “What about her?”

  Nick being Nick, he was way ahead of Tony. He started to laugh. “No way. No one’s luck could be that bad.”

  “Apparently it can.”

  Tony looked from Nick to Rob, and then he laughed. “Are you saying that Caroline Taylor is Carrie from the bar?”

  He glared at them both. “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

  “More ironic than amusing,” Tony said.

  “Yeah,” Nick agreed. “But still funny as hell.”

  If it were happening to anyone but him, Rob probably would have thought so, too.

  “So what are you going to do?” Tony asked.

  “What can I do? I already asked her to leave, said it would be a conflict of interest for her to stay, and you can see how well that went.”

  “Did you see how much we’re paying her?” Tony said. “Can you blame her for not walking away?”

  “Well, I’m going to make sure that she earns every penny.”

  Tony shook his head, like he thought that was a bad idea. “You know that if you screw with her, your dad will be pissed.”

  “Not if he doesn’t find out.”

  “You don’t think she’ll rat you out?” Nick asked.

  “Only if she wants the entire family to know how she and I first met. If it gets around that she picks up men in bars for one-night stands, her credibility will be in the toilet. Every potential future client will believe that a bedroom romp is included in the contract.”

  “You don’t think that’s a little harsh?” Nick said.

  If she could play dirty, so could he. “I’m not the one who declared war in front of the entire family. And you can damn well bet she plans to discredit me and my team every opportunity she gets.”

  “Are you sure? She comes off as smart and savvy but not vindictive.”

  If Nick had just heard her in the conference room, he might feel differently. And if she could be ruthless, so could Rob. She was on his turf now, and she would play by his rules.

  “Nick and I are getting a late breakfast at the diner,” Tony said. “Are you going to hang around and work, or do you want to come?”

  He thought of all the work Carrie expected him to complete before Monday and smiled. “Breakfast sounds good.”

  He was getting ready to stand when his office phone rang. It was his sister Megan. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you by the elevator.”

  “We’ll get our coats,” Tony said.

  “Hey, Meggie,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I just heard from the real estate agent,” she said, her voice squeaky with excitement. “They accepted my offer! The apartment is mine!”

  “Congratulations,” Rob said. His younger sister had spent the past nine months looking for exactly the right place, and had been outbid on the first two. “And you’re sure it’s within your budget?”

  “That’s my other good news! You know Rose Goldwyn?”

  Rob had met her briefly at work, then a few times at family gatherings. She was a recent hire. The daughter of the woman who had been Nonno’s secretary for the better part of his career.

  Rose seemed nice enough, but there was something about her, something just a little…off. “What about her?” Rob said.

  “She’s going to be my roommate.”

  “But you hardly know her.”

  “Actually we’ve been talking a lot lately. We have a lot in common.”

  “Isn’t she like twenty years older than you?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “I don’t know, Meg. Something about her…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t trust her.”

  “Robby, I’m twenty-five”
was her plucky response. “It’s not your job to protect me anymore.”

  It would always be his job to protect her. She was an infant when his parents adopted her, and although he was six years older, they had always been close. He’d set her classmates straight when they made fun of her for looking “different” than the rest of her family. “Do me a favor and at least have legal do a background check on her. Just in case.”

  Her sigh of exasperation meant she was giving in. “Fine, if it makes you happy.”

  “It does.” From the hallway he heard a door slam, then after a two- or three-second pause, raised voices. One of them definitely belonged to their father.

  What the hell?

  “Meggie, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Love you, Robby!”

  “Love you, too, Megs.”

  He got up and walked past his secretary’s desk into the hall. At one end, near the conference room stood his dad and his uncle Tony, and his dad looked furious.

  “I was never given a choice,” his dad was saying, to which his uncle Tony answered, “You gave that up when you left her.”

  Whatever that meant, his dad’s face flushed deep red and he gave his brother a firm, two-handed shove that sent him stumbling backward several feet into the conference room door.

  Rob had seen his dad and uncles argue, and at times it could get heated, but he had never seen them come to blows. Uncle Tony was stocky and muscular, but Demitrio, Rob’s dad, was taller, younger and trained by the military to fight. That apparently wasn’t going to stop Uncle Tony because he looked as if he were about to lunge.

  From behind him, Rob heard his cousin Tony yell, “What the hell is going on?” and turned to see Nick and him running down the hall toward the older men. Rob followed them.

  Both older men, red-faced and out of breath, jaws and fists clenched, stopped and turned to him.

  “What the hell, Dad?” Tony said. “What is with the two of you lately?”

  Demitrio turned to Tony Sr. “Why don’t you tell him, Tony.”

  “I’d like to know, too,” Rob said. The last time Uncle Tony had been to their house, Rob showed up to find his mom in tears. He wanted to know why.