Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,7

with Eloise and another on the way. If he discovered his eldest had gone behind his back like this, he'd view it as a betrayal. Guthrie wouldn't disown a son, but he might kick Cole out of Hunter Enterprises for good.

Considering the options, Cole rapped his fingers on the desk before he drove down a breath and confirmed, "I'll take that chance."

He didn't want a rift to develop between two more members of the Hunter clan but, dammit, his father's safety came first.

After settling some details, he and Brandon caught up briefly. Brandon was still enjoying his bachelorhood and was looking forward to a Navy Cadets reunion; they'd served in a unit together for three years rising up through the ranks from "dolphins" to petty officers. Brandon said he hoped to see Cole there, but he'd be in touch before then.

They signed off and, feeling worn out, Cole set his bristled jaw in the cup of his hand at the same time his empty stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. There was still more he could do here tonight, but his brain needed fuel. Time to knock off.

While Cole shut down his laptop, a knickknack perched on his desk caught his eye. The winding steel-tube-and-rope puzzle had been a gift from Dex and was based on the Gordian Knot legend. Thousands of years ago, Alexander the Great had been asked to unravel that intricate knot, which everyone knew couldn't be done. But Alexander had thought outside of the box and found a simple solution. He sliced through the rope with his sword and, hey presto! With this gift, Dex was telling Cole to lighten up...life's problems didn't need to be so intense and all-consuming.

Cole would rather ignore advice from a playboy producer who was overdue a Hollywood hit. There were no shortcuts to success. No easy paths to victory. Cole kept the toy on his desk not as a reminder to take the low road as Dex was wont to do, but as a prompt to stay on course, even when he might rather say to hell with it all.

After shrugging into his jacket, Cole locked up his office, spun around and near jumped out of his skin. In the muted light, he'd almost run into something. Or rather, someone.

Taryn Quinn stood not a foot away, her scent still fresh, her eyes still bright. With her blond mane gleaming and plump lips bare of gloss, she looked like a vision. A drop-dead sexy vision, at that.

She inspected his briefcase, peered around his frame to the closed door and her eyes widened in alarm.

"You're leaving?"

He frowned. "Didn't realize I had to sign out."

"I thought that someone in your position would be here till all hours."

When Taryn lifted the open laptop she held, the penny dropped. She'd worked out a plan to spice up her proposal already?

"I was serious," he warned. "I don't want a Band-Aid. You need a highly polished knock-'em-dead new angle that I can't refuse."

"I've been at it all day. Didn't even stop to eat."

That made two of them. She must be as hungry as he was, and he was starved. After a day alternating between meetings and being glued to his desk, he felt restless, too. Itchy. Hot. When his gaze dropped to her lips again, he ran a finger inside his steamy collar. He ought to go.

Cole eased around her. "Now isn't a good time."

"Now is a great time."

"I'm late."

"What for this time?"

He rotated back. "I'm sure I don't have to answer that," he said. But when he saw the disappointment shining in her eyes, his gut kicked and, against his better judgment, he found himself giving in to this infernal woman for a second time that day.

"But, if you're that keen," he muttered, heading back, "I'll give you five minutes."

"Five minutes isn't nearly enough - "

"Five minutes." He set his case on his personal assistant's desk and flicked on the desk lamp. "Starting now."

Taryn froze for three beats before setting her laptop down. When she thumbed a button, an impressive spread - complete with feature banner - flashed on to the screen. Setting his hands on his hips, Cole slanted his head. Nice effect. Although he wasn't sold on the title.

"Hot Spots?"

"We thought it had more bite than the original name."

"We?"

"Roman and me. I know it sounds kind of provocative - "

"If you want to tape an endless stream of topless bars and nudist beaches," he cut in, "sorry, it ain't gonna fly."

The airwaves were