Kiss Me Twice

She collected her briefcase from behind the passenger seat and one more item that she’d remembered to bring along—the college annual of her junior year. If she had any doubts before who Bastien was, they were erased the moment her eyes landed on his pictures in the annual. He was that boy. She’d looked up each reference to his name, marking every page. Phaedra also double-checked that there were no pictures of her in that slinky leopard costume. For this meeting, she wanted him to take her seriously. He wasn’t going to do it if he was too distracted by thinking of her as she was back then. Since he didn’t seem to remember her, she would continue with the meeting as if they’d just met for the first time today. First impression, fresh impression.

She climbed out of the car and slipped the keys into her jacket pocket. One last time check. Perfect timing! She’d made it with one minute to spare. As Phaedra pushed open one side of the double doors, a rush of cool air and music playing softly over the public address system greeted her.

Directly in front of her was a large, curved reception desk. The desk was black and sleek with a genuine gray-and-brown speckled marble counter. She approached the desk, smiling at the receptionist. A woman with blond hair pulled back into a cascading ponytail sat, elbows planted on the desk, face propped up on her fists. She licked her thumb and turned the page of a fashion magazine.

“Good afternoon.” Phaedra greeted and pulled the sign-in book toward her. “I’m here to see Bastien Thibeadaux.” In neat, block letters, she printed her name, the time of arrival and the person she’d come to meet. Her eyes scanned down the page, noting the number of other visitors, their arrival and departure times.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you. Can I see your ID please?”

The receptionist took and scanned the ID. Seconds later, Phaedra’s information appeared on the computer monitor. A printer whined and spat out a label with Phaedra’s image and name on it. Visitor and Escort Required was stamped across the bottom.

“Here you go, Ms. Burke-Carter. Just attach it to your jacket.”

Phaedra affixed the label below her right shoulder.

“If you’ll just have a seat, Mr. Thibeadaux will be right with you. Can I offer you something while you wait? Coffee? Soda? Help yourself. It’s right over there.” The receptionist pointed with her pen at a small glass table across the room holding a coffee bar and baskets of assorted snacks.

“No thank you.” Phaedra always refused the initial offer of a beverage. Fumbling around with coffee cups or soda cans could get awkward during first meetings. Bypassing the snack bar, she took a seat.

The seats in the reception room were made of chrome and gray vinyl, matching the gray flecks in the reception desk countertop. They were deeply padded and comfortable, with high round backs and curved arms. After she sat down, she expected Bastien to come through another set of double doors to the right of the reception desk. Two minutes ticked by. Three. She was on time. He was now the one officially late.

Phaedra’s eyes drifted to the selection of magazines on the table beside her. She selected one, not really interested in reading any of the articles, but wanting to find something to do with her hands while she waited.

Ten more minutes passed before she loudly shuffled the magazine, a not-so-subtle hint that she was still waiting.

“I just paged Mr. Thibeadaux,” the receptionist assured her. “He’s on his way.”

Just as Phaedra was glancing at her watch and comparing it to the decorative row of wall clocks indicating the time in various cities, the side doors swung open and Bastien Thibeadaux walked through the door.

No, not walked through, he stormed through like a force of nature. When Bastien Thibeadaux shoved open the double doors, it made Phaedra jump. The resounding echo as the doors flung open reminded her of thunder.

Phaedra looked up from the magazine, meeting Bastien’s gaze from across the room. It took her less than a second to collect herself. In that time, she took him in from the top of his closely cropped, but wavy hair all the way down to his steel-toed work boots. Lightning flashed in her mind, and when it faded, left a single, smoking word burned into her brain. Trouble. This man was trouble. He spelled trouble all those years ago for her in school, and he was going to be trouble for her now. She knew that as assuredly as she knew his name. Thibeadaux. Trouble. The two were inextricably linked.

The dark blue coverall he wore was not meant for fashion but function. The long sleeves were rolled up, showing off the fraternity tattoo in the shape of the Greek alphabet symbol omega. The tattoo did its job. It showed off his pride and commitment to his fraternity and had the added bonus of accenting well-muscled arms.

He hadn’t exaggerated when he said the work was physical. You couldn’t get cut biceps and triceps like that just managing workers. Bastien stood around six foot two or six foot three. Yet, he seemed taller to Phaedra because she hadn’t stood up yet to greet him. She was afraid to.

She’d read in novels or seen romantic comedies of people going weak in the knees, but she’d always thought that was a ridiculous exaggeration. It didn’t happen in real life. Certainly not to her. She wasn’t the type of woman who was swayed by physical appearances. She wasn’t that shallow. Not anymore. Since graduating from college—and her one lapse of judgment at that homecoming party—she’d learned a valuable lesson: forming emotional attachments based purely on physical appearances didn’t work out. At least, not for her.

Yet, there she was, sitting in that chair, staring up at the man with skin like sweet golden honey, looking into wide hazel eyes and seriously wondering what it would take to get him to remember her. What would she have to do to get him thinking about her, looking at her the way he did back then—with deliberate attention and single-mindedness of purpose?

Get a grip on yourself, Phaedra! This man is a client.

This man was big trouble. It only took him a moment to cross the room with his long-legged strides before Phaedra came to another snap decision. This was one potential client she was going to drop like a hot rock. Forget all the time she’d already sunk into preparing for this meeting. If she had any real sense, she should end the meeting right here, right now. What made her believe she could face him after all this time and not let it affect her reason?

Phaedra’s mind scrambled to find a reasonable excuse for why she’d suddenly have to leave. A mix-up in her schedule. An emergency call from the office. Yes, that sounded plausible. Anything sounded better than telling him that she had serious doubts about her ability to keep business on her mind while he was around. She’d just have to apologize for wasting his time. But she’d only do it from the relative safety of her car, call him from her cell phone as she was burning rubber out of the parking lot.

“Ms. Burke-Carter.” Bastien approached her, holding out his hand in greeting. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

His voice had the same sexy Southern quality as she remembered from their phone conversation. Same, yet different, if she could at all explain it. There was no distraction of coffee shop chatter this time or the rumble of railcars passing by her to mute the effects of Bastien’s speech. Now she had the full effect of his voice directed at her.

Unprotected, unshielded, Phaedra felt caught in a maelstrom as vivid memories and raw emotions that she thought she’d long buried swirled inside her. Fifteen years was a long time to forget. Not long enough, apparently. It was unsettling, this uncontrollable urge to run for cover. Phaedra wasn’t used to feeling this way. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. At the same time, she found herself wishing that she could indulge in it more. She had to do something to get her wits about her. What could she do to stall for time?

Chapter 6

B astien sensed that Phaedra was agitated. He could tell from across the room by the look on her face and in the slow, deliberate way she set her magazine down on the table. She didn’t say a word from her chair but stood up to face him first. He’d extended his hand to her, yet she’d left him hanging out there just long enough for him to start to feel foolish. Before he could draw it back, she slipped her hand into his, pressing her warm palm against his palm.

Phaedra’s hand was slender with neatly manicured natural nails. No colored polish, her nails were highly buffed until they shone as if lacquered. Her grip was firm and filled with confidence as she pumped his hand several times and looked him squarely in the eyes. When he looked into hers, he experienced a powerful moment of déjà vu. Something about those expressive eyes seemed so familiar. Dark, serious and shining with intelligence and intensity. Chas had been right. This woman meant business.

Maybe staring at her picture in their school annual and clicking through her Web site convinced him that he knew her. Coupled with the fact that Solly had said they’d gone to some of the same parties, all of that registered with him. That had to be the explanation for his feeling of instantaneous recognition and connection. All of the anxiety that Bastien had felt about asking her to meet with him dispersed into the air of confidence that surrounded her. Everything was going to be all right. Somehow, he knew that before she spoke a single word.

“Mr. Thibeadaux, thank you for taking the time out of your day to meet with me.”

She greeted him politely, with an undertone of a gentle rebuke for keeping her waiting. Bastien smiled at her, letting her know that he understood exactly what she was telling him. He admired the fact that she could do it with a smile and not put him on the defensive. This Phaedra Burke-Carter was well put together. Perfect makeup. Not a hair out of place. Tailored suit. She spoke in clipped, clearly enunciated sentences. A woman like that didn’t run late. She would always be as punctual, and as tightly wound, as the proverbial Swiss clock.

He had every intention of being there in the reception area to greet her before she got here. First impressions were crucial ones. He’d been gearing up for this meeting since they’d spoken on Tuesday. He’d worked on his attitude, as Solly reminded him. The fact that Chas found some extra money to put back into his budget gave him another lift.

Back in his office, Bastien had all the information she’d asked for neatly boxed and labeled, waiting for her to go through them. A full hour before she was expected to arrive, he kept stepping into the office where all the security camera monitors fed into. As soon as he saw her pull up to the guard shack, he headed straight for the reception area.

Despite his best intentions, when he left his office, three employees came at him at once, each one with a different problem for him to address. Two of them Bastien easily put off; the third required immediate attention. By the time he sorted it out with Alonzo, the receptionist was paging him again.

“Did you have any trouble finding us?” Bastien made polite conversation.

“No, not really. I’m accustomed to navigating around the city.”

“This isn’t exactly downtown Houston. We’re a little out of the way.”

“But I made it,” she insisted.

“On time, too.” Bastien couldn’t resist teasing her.

“I don’t like keeping my clients waiting. I know how valuable their time is.”

“But since this first consult is pro bono, we can splurge a little on the time expenditure, eh, Ms. Burke-Carter.”

“Did I happen to mention in our conversation that only the first hour is free, Mr. Thibeadaux?”

“Ready to get started then?” Bastien said briskly. Chas had been right; those Burke-Carters didn’t mess around.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Right this way.” Bastien gestured toward the doors leading back to the offices. “Through those doors and down the hall. My office is the fourth door on the left.”

Phaedra inclined her head in a silent, regal way to say thank you, scooped up her briefcase and started to move ahead of him. As she walked ahead, Bastien hung back, admiring the view. Everything about the deep, cherry red-and-black houndstooth suit she wore boasted success to Bastien. It was a refreshing change from the jeans, khakis and coveralls that were made a necessity around CT Inspectorate by the nature of their work. Phaedra’s two-button jacket accentuated her slender waist and flared out slightly over her hips. Hips that had just the barest hint of a roll when she walked. Her skirt was of a sensible length, hugging her curves without straining fabric across her bottom and stopping just at her knees. The silky underlining of her skirt made a soft swish-whoosh as she walked. Barely noticeable, yet loud enough for a man whose senses were suddenly made hyperalert by her presence to hear. The heels of her black leather shoes echoed softly on the tile floor. There was just enough lift in those open-toed, three-inch heels to draw attention to her calves.

There was an awkward moment while they were swapping lead positions. He was torn between watching her or moving ahead to push open the door for her. Decisions. Decisions. It was hard to switch between derriere watching to being debonair.

Phaedra stopped abruptly, allowing him room to pass. “Fourth door on the left, did you say, Mr. Thibeadaux?”

Bastien wasn’t anticipating the question. He didn’t expect her to turn around and catch him watching her, either. He lifted his eyes quickly, clearing his throat in a kind of nonverbal apology. Second time within the past five minutes that he had to apologize to her. He wondered what kind of impression that made.

“Maybe I’d better lead the way,” Bastien suggested.

She made a small “go-ahead” gesture with her hand.

Bastien opened the door to his office and allowed her to move ahead of him. When she did so, her scent wafted after her. It was light, sweet and floral with an undertone of spice. The delicate scent contrasted with the dark severity of the power suit and her no-nonsense demeanor. Bastien tried not to draw in a deep breath as she walked by. After being caught admiring her body, she wasn’t going to catch him sniffing after her, too. Though, there was an exposed spot on the back of her neck that he imagined he could—

Focus, Bastien. Focus! Don’t get distracted.

She walked in, not taking a seat, but pausing to look around his office. Bastien made no apologies for it. It wasn’t much to look at. He didn’t spend much time personalizing it. No artwork on the walls other than posters of the different types of grain the company inspected. A few interoffice memos and phone lists that he’d tacked up for quick reference. No plants or statuettes to clutter the room. No photos of family or friends. Why bother making it a cozy second home when he spent most of his time out in the field?

There was one large antique leather and mahogany desk that he’d managed to bring from his office in New Orleans. In front of the desk were two matching leather and mahogany guest chairs. One of the chairs had a three-inch gash in the back support and stuffing was starting to poke through. He always promised he would get it repaired. He’d been making that promise for four years.

Jacie, the resident style and decor guru, tried covering the gash with a throw pillow, but the damned thing kept getting in the way when folks sat down in it. To keep from hurting her feelings, Bastien kept it in the office and tossed it on the couch that she’d also purchased.

Jacie had meant for the couch to go in the reception area, but G-Paw didn’t want to give anyone the impression that his employees had enough time to indulge in lounging around. Since the couch was a custom job, the manufacturer wouldn’t take it back. It was black leather. Leather that was butter soft and felt good to crash on after pulling a double shift. That’s where Bastien made best use of those frilly, decorative pillows.

“Here you go.” Bastien pulled out a chair for Phaedra. He kept his tone light and conversational as he circled around to his chair behind the desk. “So, tell me, Ms. Burke-Carter, during your initial research what dirty little secrets did you find out about us?”

“I’m not interested in secrets at the moment, Mr. Thibeadaux,” she replied. She pulled out a manila folder, neatly labeled with the company name on it, and laid it on his desk. “I’m interested in facts. Only the things that I can observe and help you correct.”

Man, she was good. She wasn’t going to be baited. Not that he wanted to get under her skin. He did want to crack through that icy exterior, though. She had an excellent poker face. He’d hate to be sitting across the table from her, betting his last dime. But in effect, wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? He was betting his reputation and his livelihood on the fact that she could help turn his employees around.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.