Triiiiing!
Charlotte jumped, the book slamming shut as she stared at her cell phone with red-hot cheeks and a guiltily thudding heart. No one called her this late except for Molly, and that was after her friend texted to see if she was awake. Fear sent a chill trickle down her spine, but Charlotte grabbed the phone to look at the screen. She’d long ago decided she wouldn’t allow the memory of evil to terrorize her inside her home.
The caller ID showed Gabriel’s name.
12
IN WHICH MS. BAIRD HAS A GUILTY CONSCIENCE
FLUSHING EVEN HOTTER, HER breasts heavy and aching, Charlotte tapped the Answer icon. “Mr. Bishop?”
“Sorry to call so late.”
“That’s all right,” she said, telling the giggly teenage girl inside her to shush. She didn’t know why that girl had awoken after so many years, but her hopes were ridiculous. This wasn’t a romantic call. It was a business one. “I’m usually awake now.”
“Night owl?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.” It sounded like he was smiling. “What are you doing?”
Fantasizing about watching you strip. After which I would’ve fantasized about kissing and licking my way over every inch of your hot, hard, magnificent body.
“READING A HISTORICAL NOVEL.”
Intrigued by the husky tone of Charlotte’s reply, her voice breathy, Gabriel wondered if she really was reading a historical novel. “Sure it’s not an erotic romance?”
“No!” A high, sharp denial that sounded so guilty he grinned.
“Why, Ms. Baird, I’m shocked.”
Her breathing was rough. “Are you working?” she asked, changing the subject so abruptly that he made himself a promise that one day, he’d find out exactly what she’d been reading tonight—and then he’d make her read it aloud to him while he did naughty, debauched things to her.
“I am,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair where he sat, having spread documents across the dining room table. He liked working there when at home, the vista in front of him a sparkling cityscape.
“You should take time off.” A soft admonition. “You work all the time.”
“I date, as you pointed out,” he said, just to see what she’d say.
“I don’t think what you do is considered dating.”
He grinned at the coolly snippy reply, though his body wasn’t impressed by his continued self-inflicted torture. The fact was, he hadn’t been with a woman since the day he’d realized his PA pushed all his buttons when she wasn’t terrified out of her skin.
Why go for any woman but the one he wanted?
And Gabriel always got what he wanted. “I couldn’t find that memo HR sent yesterday.”
“Check under this file extension.” She rattled it off.
Gabriel touched the memo where it sat right in front of him. “Got it.” He’d called her to make sure she was okay, that her demons weren’t hounding her. “Do you watch that show with the gourmet food and the race?”
A small pause. “Oh, I know the one. I used to, but I have a very demanding boss these days, so I’m never home in time.” When he laughed, she said, “Do you watch it?”
“No, but we’ve had an approach from them to sponsor the next season in return for advertising and in-show placement of Saxon & Archer goods. What do you think?” He knew she loved cooking. Not only had she once come back from lunch having bought a bunch of spices he hadn’t even known existed, she’d refused to work last Saturday morning because she’d had a class to attend.
Something to do with fondant icing and cake sculpture.
Now she gave him her thoughts, and he leaned back and listened. Yes, smart women were his catnip—and Charlotte Baird was very, very, smart.
THE DRIVE THE NEXT morning wasn’t as stressful as Charlotte had worried it might be; the fact she knew and trusted Gabriel didn’t always equal control over her emotional responses, and she’d been terrified her claustrophobia would make an unwanted return. As it was, they ended up working most of the drive, thanks to the fact the company’s CFO was down with food poisoning and Gabriel needed to sign off on things she’d normally handle.
The hiccup wasn’t, however, that big in the grand scheme of things, and Charlotte and Gabriel stuck to their plan to head to Rotorua. Once there, the meeting with the art collective went off without a hitch. The artists were all very protective of their work, but Gabriel’s personal visit and his willingness to work with them in relation to special arrangements for some pieces eased their concerns. The end result was a signed agreement and enthusiasm all around.
“Lunch?” Gabriel asked as they pulled away from the marae, the traditional meeting house set amongst velvety grass that gleamed bright green under the crisp winter sunlight.
“You’ll have to return a call first,” she said, having fielded everything during the meeting. “It’s Brent—he just needs two minutes.”
Gabriel took care of the matter using the car’s hands-free phone system, then turned to Charlotte. “Trust me, Ms. Baird?”
“Not when you smile like that.”
GABRIEL LAUGHED AT THE prim response that didn’t quite manage to hide the twitch of her lips. It made him want to kiss her. “You know me too well.” When her eyes sparkled, he said, “You have a cooking class or anything else you have to be back for tonight?”