Sleeping With Her Rival. Sheri WhiteFeather

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СКАЧАТЬ glared at Nicholas and smoothed her hair. These days she tamed her curls in a professional chignon. “So you’re taking Flint’s side?”

      He leaned forward, trapping her gaze. “His side? You’re not turning this into a gender war, are you?”

      She thought about the apple, the forbidden fruit, she’d tossed at Flint this afternoon. “He bosses me around.”

      “Probably because you’re fighting him every step of the way. You’ve got to curb your temper, Gina.”

      She stretched the rubber band, wishing she had the courage to let it fly.

      “We brought Flint in as a consultant.” Nicholas went on. “The idea is for the two of you to work together.”

      “Fine.” She could see this was going nowhere. Coming to her feet, she blew a frustrated breath. Rain still pounded against the windows, reminding her that Flint controlled the weather, too.

      Would she ever get that image out of her mind? That long, lean, water-slicked body?

      “And don’t go running to Dad about this,” Nicholas warned.

      “I don’t intend to,” she responded, trying to sound more grown-up than she felt. “I’ll work with Flint if I have to. But I won’t let him call all the shots.”

      Nicholas grinned. “Spoken like a true woman.”

      “And don’t you forget it.” She turned to march out of his office, her feminine armor—the tailored suit and high-heeled pumps—securely in place.

      “I love you, noodle head,” he said before she reached the door.

      She stopped and smiled. She loved Nicholas Barone, too. Even if he was her big, brawny, know-it-all brother.

      Hours later Gina drove home, her windshield wipers clapping to the rhythm of the rain. She lived in a brownstone in the North End, a family-owned, renovated building she shared with two of her sisters. They each had their own sprawling apartment, but they often gathered in the community living room on the first floor to curl up with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn and talk.

      She parked her car and walked to the front of the brownstone, only to find Flint sitting on the stoop, his overcoat flapping in the wind.

      She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. He looked up, his face speckled with rain, his waterlogged hair slick and shiny.

      “It didn’t work, did it?” he said.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Your brother wouldn’t fire me, would he?”

      She moved forward, taking shelter from the storm. How did he know that she’d complained to Nicholas? Was she that predictable?

      He rose, attacking her with that insufferable smile. “I want you to have dinner with me tonight.”

      Her heart pole-vaulted its way to her throat. “What? Why?”

      “So we can get used to each other. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. And there’s no point in wasting time.”

      She snuggled deeper into her coat. “But it’s raining.”

      He gave her an odd look. “You don’t eat when it rains?”

      Of course, she did. She just didn’t relish the idea of spending time in his company, particularly with water falling from the sky.

      Then again, maybe a business dinner would take the edge off. Maybe it would help her forget that other image. “Fine. I’ll have a meal with you.” But he’d better not steal food from her plate, she thought.

      “Meet me at the Beef and Bull around seven,” he said. It’s a steak house on—”

      “I know where it is,” she interrupted. “And I’ll be there at eight.”

      “Seven-thirty,” he challenged.

      “Eight,” she countered in a firm tone. She needed time to bathe, to change, to fix her rain-drizzled hair.

      “All right,” he said, giving in with a grumble. “But don’t be late.”

      Gina reached for her keys and sent him a triumphant smile. She’d finally gotten her way. On a small scale, maybe, but it was a start.

      At precisely eight o’clock, Flint arrived at the Beef and Bull, a quiet, dimly lit steak house decorated with knotty-pine walls and Western antiques.

      He approached the hostess and gave her his name. “I’m expecting a companion,” he said. “Has she arrived yet?”

      The young woman shook her head. “No, Mr. Kingman, she hasn’t.”

      He gestured to a shadowy corner in the waiting room. “I’ll just kick back over there until she gets here.”

      The hostess nodded and smiled. He returned her polite smile and moved out of the way, giving the people behind him a chance to check their reservation.

      Settling onto a leather cushion, he stretched his legs out in front of him.

      Impatient, he checked his watch, and suddenly the diamond-and-gold timepiece glinted like a superficial jewel, a reminder of who he was and where he’d come from.

      Damn it, he thought. Why couldn’t he accept the way things were? The way he’d been raised?

      Because his charmed life had changed. Flint Kingman wasn’t the same man anymore. The truth about his mother had altered his heart, his soul, the very core of his existence.

      Gina entered the restaurant, and he steadied his emotions.

      No matter how troubled he was, he wouldn’t let it affect his career. The Barones had hired him to defuse the crisis in their company. And come hell or high water, that was what he intended to do.

      He remained seated and assessed Gina for a moment. After he’d left her office this afternoon, he’d come up with a plan. A damn good one. But it meant getting close to Gina, not close enough to infringe on the confused order of his life, but close enough to fool the public.

      And with that in mind, he’d invited her to dinner. He needed to see her in a romantic setting, to explore the energy between them.

      The sexual energy, he thought. The unexpected heat.

      Gina Barone couldn’t stand his dominating personality, and her high-and-mighty attitude annoyed the hell out of him. But that didn’t matter. This was strictly business, a teeth-gnashing, tough-to-temper attraction that could work in their favor.

      Besides, he’d already fantasized about her. Earlier this evening, when he’d taken a stress-relieving shower, she’d slipped right into the steam.

      He hadn’t meant to think about her and certainly not in a state of undress, but he’d lost the battle. With a sizzling, soap-scented mirage of her in his mind, he couldn’t seem to control the yearning, the СКАЧАТЬ