One
By the time Gage Branson’s tires hit the Dallas city limits, Arwen had started howling along with the radio. Not for the first time since leaving Austin, Gage questioned the wisdom of bringing his dog on a business trip.
Of course, it wasn’t a normal business trip—unless showing up at your ex-girlfriend’s office building unannounced and uninvited counted as customary. And Arwen wasn’t a normal dog. She was his best buddy, and the one and only time he’d left her at one of those pet hotels, she’d refused to speak to him for a week.
Arwen shared Gage’s love of the open road and honestly, he didn’t mind the company as he drove to Dallas to collect a long overdue debt from the CEO of Fyra Cosmetics.
GB Skin for Men, the company he’d just pushed into the billion-dollar-a-year category, had enjoyed a good run as the top skin-care line of choice for the discerning guy who spends time in the elements: professional athletes, outdoorsmen, even the occasional lumberjack.
Gage had spent millions designing a new product to heal scars. The product’s launch a month ago had outperformed his carefully executed publicity strategy. GB Skin instantly cornered the market. But now his former lover’s company was poised to steal his success out from under him with a product of their own. That wasn’t going to happen.
A Black Keys song blasted through the speakers and the howling grew unbearable.
“Arwen! Really. Shut up.”
She cocked her ginger-colored head and eyed Gage.
“Yeah, never mind,” Gage grumbled good-naturedly and flicked off the music.
The exit for Central Expressway loomed and Gage steered the Hummer north. He drove a few miles and before long, he rolled into the parking lot at the headquarters for Fyra Cosmetics.
Nice. Of course, he’d done an internet search for pictures before driving up from Austin. Just to check out the company Cassandra Claremont had built alongside her business partners–slash–friends after graduating from the University of Texas. But the internet hadn’t done justice to the sharply modern, glass and steel, five-story building. Cass’s multimillion-dollar cosmetics company lived and breathed inside these walls, and the deep purple Fyra logo dominated the landscape.
“Stay here and keep your paws off the gearshift,” he muttered to Arwen and got the trademark vizsla smile for his trouble. It was a cool day, so he parked in the shade and left her in the car with the windows cracked.
Cass had done very well for herself thanks to him. Gage had been her mentor for eight months and turnabout was fair play. She owed him. And he’d help her see that by reminding her of how he’d guided her at a time when she had no idea how to navigate the shark-infested waters of the cosmetics industry.
With any luck, Cass would be curious enough to see him on short notice. Gage couldn’t call ahead and lose the advantage of surprise. Not when he was here to get his hands on Cass’s secret formula.
So secret, he shouldn’t even know about it since it wasn’t on the market yet. His sources had whispered in his ear about a miracle formula developed in Fyra’s labs that worked with a body’s natural healing properties to eliminate wrinkles and scars. His intel adamantly insisted it was better than his. And he wanted it.
You didn’t spring that kind of request on anyone over the phone, not even a former girlfriend. They hadn’t even spoken in eight or nine years. Nine. Maybe it was closer to ten.
“Gage Branson. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The husky feminine voice raked over Gage from behind before he’d managed to get ten feet from the Hummer.
He spun to face the speaker and did a double take. “Cass?”
“Last time I checked.” High-end sunglasses covered her eyes, but her tone conveyed a hint of cool amusement just fine. “Did I leave my face in my other purse again?”
“No, your face is right where I left it.” Gorgeous and attached to a hell of a woman.
But this überchic version in five-inch heels and a sexy suit with cutaway panels at her hips did not resemble the Cassandra Claremont who lived in his memories. Her voice wasn’t even the same. But something about the way she held herself was very familiar. Confidence and the ever-present “look but don’t you dare touch” vibe had always been a huge part of her attractiveness.
Obviously he hadn’t changed much since graduate school if she’d recognized him from behind.
“Moving into the dog transportation business, are you?” she asked blithely.
He glanced at the Hummer. “You mean Arwen? Nah. She’s just company for the drive. I came up from Austin to see you, actually. Surprise.”