I inhaled sharply. "Why is that any business of yours?"
He looked at me and I saw what I'd seen the first time we'd met - tremendous power and steely control. Both of which had me taking an involuntary step back. Again. At least I didn't fall this time; I was making progress.
"Because I want to f**k you, Eva. I need to know what's standing in my way, if anything."
The sudden ache between my thighs had me reaching for the wall to maintain my balance. He reached out to steady me, but I held him at bay with an uplifted hand. "Maybe I'm just not interested, Mr. Cross."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips and made him impossibly more handsome. Dear God...
The ding that signaled the approaching elevator made me jump, I was strung so tight. I'd never been so aroused. Never been so scorchingly attracted to another human being. Never been so offended by a person I lusted after.
I stepped into the elevator and faced him.
He smiled. "Until next time, Eva."
The doors closed and I sagged into the brass handrail, trying to regain my bearings. I'd barely pulled myself together when the doors opened and revealed Mark pacing in the waiting area on our floor.
"Jesus, Eva," Mark muttered, coming to an abrupt halt. "What the hell was that?"
"I have no freakin' clue." I exhaled in a rush, wishing I could share the confusing, irritating exchange I'd had with Cross, but well aware that my boss wasn't the appropriate outlet. "Who cares? You know he's going to give you the account."
A grin chased away his frown. "I'm thinking he might."
"As my roommate always says, you should celebrate. Should I make dinner reservations for you and Steven?"
"Why not? Pure Food and Wine at seven, if they can squeeze us in. If not, surprise us."
We'd barely returned to Mark's office when he was pounced on by the executives - Michael Waters, the CEO and president, and Christine Field and Walter Leaman, the executive chairman and vice chairman.
I skirted the four of them as quietly as possible and slid into my cubicle.
I called Pure Food and Wine and begged for a table for two. After some serious groveling and pleading, the hostess finally caved.
I left a message on Mark's voice mail, "It's definitely your lucky day. You're booked for dinner at seven. Have fun!"
Then I clocked out, eager to get home.
"He said what?" Cary sat on the opposite end of our white sectional sofa and shook his head.
"I know, right?" I enjoyed another sip of my wine. It was a crisp and nicely chilled sauvignon blanc I'd picked up on the walk home. "That was my reaction, too. I'm still not sure I didn't hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones."
"So?"
I tucked my legs beneath me on the couch and leaned into the corner. "So what?"
"You know what, Eva." Grabbing his netbook off the coffee table, Cary propped it on his crossed legs. "Are you going to tap that or what?"
"I don't even know him. I don't even know his first name and he threw that curveball at me."
"He knew yours." He started typing on his keyboard. "And what about the thing with the vodka? Asking for your boss in particular?"
The hand I was running through my loose hair stilled. "Mark is very talented. If Cross has any sort of business sense at all, he'd pick up on that and exploit it."
"I'd say he knows business." Cary spun his netbook around and showed me the home page of Cross Industries, which boasted an awesome photo of the Crossfire. "That's his building, Eva. Gideon Cross owns it."
Damn it. My eyes closed. Gideon Cross. I thought the name suited him. It was as sexy and elegantly masculine as the man himself.
"He has people to handle marketing for his subsidiaries. Probably dozens of people to handle it."