"While you're working for me," he continued smoothly, "I want my mother's party to be your first and only priority."
Every muscle in my body stiffened. I should have realized this the moment I stepped inside the office, but it just now hit me. The man is a Triple C. Corporate. Controlling. And a total Commando. "I'm sure, as a businessman, you understand my unwillingness to allow someone to take my business decisions away from me."
"Yes," he conceded, but didn't rescind his request.
Make that Triple C slash Single B. Bastard. "I promise you, I'm quite capable of handling several functions at once."
"I didn't say you weren't."
"Never have I allowed one event to overshadow another." Not that I'd ever had enough events at one time to worry about it.
"I don't doubt your ability."
I nearly stomped my foot in vexation as he waited patiently for my agreement. "If you're going to insist on this-"
"I am."
"-then I suppose I'm forced to accept." I truly hoped one day soon someone would put Royce Powell in his place. Under a woman's three-inch spiked heel!
As if he read my thoughts, he flashed me a not-in-this-lifetime grin.
My blood instinct must have finally kicked in because my palm itched to slap it right off him. Jonathan, my stepdad, would have told me this rare bout of violence was because my teenage need to rebel was resurfacing, or something equally stupid.
"So we have a deal?" Royce asked.
"First, I have a stipulation of my own," I said. "I expect dou-triple my normal fee because I'll be turning clients away. It's only fair."
"Of course."
He wasn't balking? Why wasn't he balking? His easy acquiescence shocked me and nearly toppled me out of my chair. Maybe I should have asked for more. "So I'm officially hired, without having faxed an estimate and at triple my normal fee?"
"Yes. Don't forget, I have your first invoice." He waved the paper I'd given him. "Shall we triple it now or later?"
"Later is fine." I almost hugged him. Almost. "Whenever you're free, give me a call. There are certain details we'll need to go over before I can begin preparations." With nothing left to say, I stood.
He ran a finger over the calendar on his desk and frowned. "Well, damn. For the next two weeks, I'm booked. I'll be in Arizona acquiring a Piper Dakota-an airplane," he explained, "and I can't reschedule. How about Tuesday, the sixteenth? Twelve o'clock?"
When I nodded, he added, "Well have lunch at Mykal's."
"That's fine," I said, not the least surprised he could get a reservation at the famous Italian restaurant on such short notice. It usually took two months for the little people, if they got in at all. I should know.
He rose and stepped around the desk, holding out his hand, intending to shake.
Forgetting I now wore flats, I attempted to take the steps that brought us together. Only, the heel of one shoe knocked the toe of the other. Without warning, I stumbled straight into him.
Not again! My momentum pushed him back against his desk. I landed with both hands clutching the hard muscles of his thighs, my head perilously close to his crotch.
His arms wrapped around my waist to steady me. I should have jumped away, but I didn't. I lingered... and lingered. My gaze remained glued on the center of his pants, widening as he-no, surely not. He was not getting an erection. His slacks were not inching toward my face.
With a gentle tug, he forced me to stand, though he didn't completely release me. His hands tarried on my arms, warm and callused and oh, so delicious. The scent of unadulterated sin enveloped me. His eyebrows furrowed together and I could tell he didn't know quite what to do with me.
As reality settled in, I jolted away from him. Holy Mother of God, what was wrong with me? I'd come so close to making this man-this ultra-rich, ultra-sexy man with lots of influential friends-a eunuch. And I'd enjoyed it. I needed to be committed.
"I'm so sorry." When I noticed the papers that had been neatly stacked upon his desk were now scattered across the floor, my mortification increased. Only me. This would only happen to me.
I placed my briefcase aside and crouched down, gathering the papers and photos. All of the pictures were of women, and strangely, every woman wore green-or nothing at all.