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He watched her for a moment longer, then nodded as if making a decision. “Well, then, if you’re all right, I’ll be on my way.” With a frown at her desk—its usual mess—he turned toward the door.
“Was there something you needed?”
Gerard stopped, glancing back at her. “Since you were still here, I thought I’d go over the productivity report you sent. But it can wait until Wednesday.”
Now that their interlude was over, the man seemed more than ready to get as far away from her as he could.
“I have time if you want to go over it.” Rowan was nervous about how her first report would be received. Emersyn had granted Rowan autonomy to make whatever changes she wanted. She’d instituted flex time and offered a work-from-home day each week. The “no personal belongings” mantra had been turned into a “decorate your desk” contest. The winner got an extra day of paid vacation and over half the floor had participated. No one grumbled when Vivian Larson won with her tiki bar motif.
Now, Barrett Investment’s ninth floor looked festive and happy. Happy workers made for good workers, something she knew for a fact. Not all bosses remembered that. Another fact she knew from personal experience.
After three days of scrutinizing the productivity of her analysts over the past month, she’d found a decent bump in productivity, but being down three people meant the overall numbers were below the median line. Still, she’d stand by her numbers and her people. Burying her nerves, she raised her head and looked him in the eye, showing a bravado she didn’t quite feel.
“The division is more productive now, so I’d love to go over the specifics.”
He shook his head. “After the holiday is fine. Have a good Fourth, Ms. McCarthy.” Without waiting for her answer, he disappeared around the corner. Offices on this floor weren’t made of glass walls, and he quickly disappeared from her view.
Rowan sank into her chair, wondering what the hell had just happened. Had they had a moment? Almost positive she’d seen desire, then confusion in the strength of his gaze, she could not for the life of her figure out why. He ran toward lithe, blonde beauties. Not round, curvy, big-chested women like her. She’d seen the tabloid pictures.
Besides, he’d been very adamant about that no fraternization thing. Rowan shook her head, convincing herself that any emotion from the ice man had been her imagination, not reality.
She shut down her computer and glanced at the piles of paperwork. She’d been trying to figure out the cause for some minor negative shifts in their two biggest funds, but it would have to wait. Right now, she needed sleep. No more fantasizing things that weren’t there. She could take the work home, but she’d left her car at home and taken transit today. She’d attack her piles of paperwork tomorrow. She always got more done on holidays and weekends anyhow, and it wasn’t like she had a life outside of work. Holidays were for catching up, at least right now. Once she got more settled here, she’d find a life. Hopefully.
Pulling her light coat on against the June gloom that had descended—in July—on San Francisco, Rowan locked up and headed for the elevators. In the lobby, she said goodnight to the security guards and stepped out into the gray fog. She tried hard to be home before dark, but today’s sunshine had given way to dusk, making things seem more ominous than usual.
Walking to the BART train station, she had to hustle to catch the train out to Haight-Ashbury where her wonderfully eclectic condo was. Of course, the train was full of holiday revelers, and she had to stand. Her second leg of the trip home, on a bus, wasn’t as full, and the walk from her stop to the condo wasn’t far. Rowan was a lot less stressed taking public transportation than trying to drive, especially so near a holiday when parking was at a premium.
Still, exhaustion had taken over by the time she let herself in the building. She trudged up the stairs and opened her door by rote. Tossing her purse and keys on a nearby table, she dropped her bag in the middle of the floor, kicked off her shoes, and flopped down on the couch, not even turning lights on. She pulled up a blanket and let exhaustion win tonight’s battle.
Wednesday morning, riding up in the private elevator with Emersyn, Gerard tried to work through the problem he faced. After that overturned chair fiasco Monday night, he hadn’t been able to get Rowan out of his thoughts. Everything about her made his dick pay attention. Plus, she’d turned out to be competent at the job so far. More than competent, if he was honest with himself. It was a deadly combination, damn it, and he wasn’t hiding it well.
“You ready for the monthly meeting?” Gerard asked. It still galled him that his father had required monthly board meetings as a condition of handing over the reins to Emersyn and him. If the man’s health hadn’t forced him out, he’d still be leading this company. Thankfully, his health had stabilized. By that time, Gerard’s mother had decided she liked having her husband at home and put her foot down about him returning.
One more year and they’d finally get back to quarterly meet-ups. And less hands-on discussions. Which grated, too, that the board was involved in almost all major decisions. That his father didn’t trust him and had even required that there be no board changes during this time for consistency’s sake.
One more year of parent-induced probation. He could make it that long.
“Yep. I’m ready. Got my reports right here.” She patted her oversized pink designer bag. “And I’ve even got a little surprise.”
“What?”
She waggled her finger at him. “Not until the meeting.”
“You know I don’t tolerate surprises.”
Emersyn’s smile widened. The sparkle in her eyes always meant trouble for him. Younger sisters were such a pain in the ass.
The elevator door opened, and Emersyn pecked him on the cheek before stepping out. “You’ll just have to wait, brother dear.”
Gerard followed more slowly, musing over what kind of surprise would make his sister so giddy. This did not bode well for him. Not at all.
An hour later, at eight sharp, Gerard Barrett strode into the conference room, working very hard to keep his eyes off his newest employee. One he’d thought about—hell, he’d taken cold showers because of those visuals—the last two nights. The joy in her face as laughter bubbled out, the way her chest heaved, everything about the woman called to him.
Focusing on the meeting, Gerard dove right in so he wouldn’t think about what he’d rather be doing. “First order of business is the report from the Global MegaCorp Division. Ms. McCarthy?”
His gaze scraped her, his fucking heart quickening as their gazes locked, hers full of fire even as her eyes reminded him of deep, dark pools of coffee-colored lava.
“Yes, Mr. Barrett?”
