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“Did you see the news about the Scatter bid going to Murdoch?”
Rowan nodded, frowning. Scatter had been one of the larger deals in the works when Rowan had first taken over, and she’d spent a good part of her first week working with Tom Masters finessing that bid. It grated that they’d lost out, especially to Murdoch.
“Yep. You saw. That’s the second one this quarter we’ve lost to our biggest competition.”
She’d read about the other one. Not as big as this, but it still stung. This one did too. Bidding was one of her strengths, and the bid she and her team put together had been spot on perfect. How had Murdoch managed to undermine Barrett? Some underhanded way if her instincts were at all accurate, and they generally were.
“Whose proposal was the first one?”
“Tom Masters.”
Was it coincidence that both bids had been his? One of the disgruntled, as Rowan had taken to calling them in her head. There were still a few oldies who didn’t like working for a woman. Never mind that a woman co-owned Barrett Investment Group. Rowan shook her head. “Good thing we have more bids to work on.”
“Yes. But not tonight. I’m heading out.”
“Go home. Forget about this place and enjoy your Fourth tomorrow.”
“I will if you will.”
Rowan laughed. That wasn’t likely. She lived and breathed her job. With a smile, she waved goodbye. Michael had great instincts and knew how to read a room or situation well. When he asked her out for drinks after the first week, she’d declined, explaining that she didn’t socialize with men she worked with. Plus, there was that no fraternization rule. That still galled her. Not regarding Michael Wentworth but because her boss had thought it important to mention. The only item in the employee handbook he’d brought up.
“I like that you have principles,” Michael had said.
That response, along with the fact that he’d graciously stepped back, had cemented the beginnings of their friendship, and she’d soon promoted him to the guy who answered questions in her absence.
The newness of finally getting an executive position had worn off over the past month. She was about as tired as she’d ever been. Proud, but tired. Rowan leaned back in her chair, head back, stretching her arms as far as she could.
“You’re working later than usual.”
The deep voice startled her. As she tried to right herself, she managed to take the chair beyond its axis and toppled over backward. Her head missed the credenza behind her desk. Barely. She hit the ground hard, shock reverberating through her body as everything stopped moving.
Rowan did a quick mental check of her body just as Gerard raced around her desk, alarm in his eyes. This was more emotion than she’d ever seen from the man. That he reacted now was absolutely hilarious. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. Still in the chair, sprawled on the floor, she couldn’t stop. Mirth born of both humor and embarrassment rolled over her in waves, and she held her stomach, which had started to hurt from the hard laughter. All she could think about was the look on Gerard’s face and the fact that she was glad she’d worn slacks today.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against her desk, scowling, until her laughter subsided to giggles. With one final hiccup, Rowan wiped at her eyes, more than likely smearing her makeup, and let out a long, slow breath.
“Done now?” Gerard asked.
“I think so.”
He held out a hand, which she grasped, grateful for the help, though the zing up her arm startled her. Was that from the fall or from touching the great Gerard Barrett? He lifted her too curvy body like she weighed nothing, which her scale belied on a regular basis.
Upright, Rowan pulled her hand from his with more speed than decorum dictated. Gerard cocked his head for a moment, then leaned down to right her chair. As he straightened, the tight confines behind her desk became even tighter. Rowan had forgotten just how tall the man was…and how imposing. Power emanated from him as he looked down at her, his eyes deep, unreadable, mahogany pools. His hair, even with the rush to help her, remained perfect.
Her gaze dipped to his lips. How long had it been since she’d been kissed? Way too long. His mouth opened slightly as his gaze drifted down her face, a hunger in his eyes that stole all the breath from her. Desire flared, deep and strong. When he lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back on one side, tucking it behind her ear, Rowan almost leaned into him, wanting the moment to go on forever. She must have moved toward him because he shifted backward, the look of confusion vanishing so fast, Rowan wondered if she’d imagined it.
The man who ran Barrett Investment Group was never confused and always seemed to know the where, when, why, and how of any situation. Now, he retreated to the other side of her desk, closing his mouth as if surprised he’d left it open. In moments, his features returned to the somber strength that most people saw. He cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”
Unable to make the change back to reality so quickly, Rowan didn’t answer right away.
One perfect, dark brown eyebrow rose as he waited for her to respond.
“Yes,” she said. “Sorry, but I’m fine.” She rotated her head and neck, then stretched her arms toward the ceiling, surprised when his gaze dipped to her chest before he caught himself.
Self-conscious, Rowan crossed her arms protectively.
“Are you sure?” he said, staring at her for a long moment. “You’re flushed.”
“Just the excitement of—the fall. Nothing broken except my ego.”
