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“Happy Monday, baby.” I stroll in. “Miss me?”
She glances up, and her face tightens, like she’s girding her loins against me and reminding herself that our attraction is irrelevant.
Good luck with that…
“No, and don’t call me baby.” She gestures to the chair at the opposite end of the table. “Sit, and I’ll cover some ground rules.”
Does she think banishing me across the room will keep me—and temptation—far away enough to resist?
With a smile, I drop into the chair beside her. “You twisted my arm into being here, but I never promised to behave.”
Her blue eyes turn positively icy. “Clearly, this is a game to you. Everything seems to be. But this is life-or-death for me. I can’t fail, so I won’t tolerate your BS. I dragged you here to help me because I hear you’re a financial whiz and I need one. If it weren’t for that fact, I’d be happy never to set eyes on you again.”
Nice speech…but I don’t believe half of it, not with the way her pulse races at her neck and she licks her lips nervously. She might think that. She clearly wants to believe it. But somewhere deep down, she knows we have unfinished business.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” I wink. “Baby.”
Sloan scoffs. “Stop it. This isn’t a personal interaction.”
The hell it isn’t. “It’s not strictly business, either. That ship sailed.”
“Then cruise it back to the shore and anchor it at the dock. That’s rule number one. We will have zero conversation that isn’t related to Reservoir or the industry.”
“So I can’t ask you how you’ve been?”
“No. And I don’t care how you’ve been. We’re colleagues on a joint project now, period.”
Bullshit. I don’t know the feel of any colleague’s tits in my hands or the taste of her pussy on my tongue. But I’m guessing Sloan won’t be able to focus on that until I’ve addressed Reservoir’s financial woes. Then…
Game on.
I lean across the table. “I’m here to help you. I’ll do exactly what I promised. But let’s be clear: you aren’t simply a colleague to me, and you can’t tell me how to think or feel.”
“Then keep it to yourself. Rule number two, everything I give you is proprietary information. You can’t share it with anyone unless I agree.”
Sloan sounds either insane or naive, and I know she’s neither. I’m sure she hopes I won’t spill Reservoir’s tea to Evan, but she must know better.
I don’t agree, merely cross my arms over my chest. “What else?”
“You’re here when I tell you. You stay as late as I want. You do what I say.”
“Trust me. You have my full attention.” But I won’t have hers until I switch gears and get down to business. “Let me see your first-quarter financials. To start, I need year-to-date revenue figures, expenses broken down by both department and initiative, and second-quarter projections. Once I have the big picture, we’ll touch base and compare notes.”
“I already compiled that information into a zip file. I’ll email it to you.”
I reach for the laptop in my briefcase. “Send it to—”
“Your Stratus email address? No. You’ll use the laptop I brought you. The one that’s not going home with you. It’s loaded with all the software you should need, but if you find anything missing, let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
I shouldn’t be surprised she’s thinking ahead.
With a tight smile, I settle my machine back into the case as she slides a shiny new laptop across the table at me. “I assume I’m allowed to drink coffee?”
She sends me a withering stare. “Make yourself a cup. Out the door, alcove on the right.”
“Want any?” I ask as I get to my feet.
“That stuff is like tar mixed with battery acid. I’ll stick with water.”
