Climbing High (8 page)

Siree wriggled her fingers. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the ache of the knot in her right shoulder. She rotated her arm, smiling at Janice. “I’m aiming for seven”—she dropped her arms—“so I’ll see you here rather than at the house. Goodnight.”

She barely registered the soft tapping of Janice’s shoes traversing the long hallway or Ben’s muffled voice calling goodnight before the numbers captured her attention. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Two hours later, she closed down her laptop with a sense of accomplishment. Finally she had something to report. A piece of the whole had shown itself. With a soft moan, she rotated her right shoulder and kneaded the muscles from shoulder to neck, trying to ease the knots, but couldn’t reach the source deep under her shoulder blade.

“Here, let me.”

She yelped, grabbed her mouse and threw it with all her might in the direction of the voice.

Jake fielded the mouse before it hit his chest and set it back on the desk. “The last time I offered to rub a woman’s neck I got a much better response.”

“You scared the heck out of me.” She glared at him. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on a woman working alone in an empty high-rise at…” She lifted her hand to check the time on her watch, but black spots danced before her eyes, and she seemed to lose the ability to stand upright for a second.

“Just short of midnight,” he offered, stepping in to catch her swaying body and seal it to his own.

She registered his strength and warmth and for a second of weakness sank against him. “I stood up too fast,” she said. “Head rush. I’ll be fine in a second.”

“Just possibly you’ll be fine after some food and eight hours of sleep.” His caring tone stroked her nerve endings, setting even more of her aquiver.

“I decided to go home just before your Houdini act.” She pulled herself free, stepped back and tried to get her body under control. It whimpered silently, wanting to go back into his arms. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d gone to New York for a few days.”

Jake had limited his travel while Siree went after corporate criminals on his behest, but remaining in the Vancouver offices for any length of time would arouse suspicion amongst the staff and raise questions in the press.

“Got back this afternoon and came in to clear my desk. Security told me you were still in the building and I came to read you the riot act.” His eyes lasered her. “More to the point, what are you doing here at this ridiculous hour?”

She went on the defensive. “Working for you,” she snapped.

“I’ve never asked anyone to work this hard for me.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out just enough to draw his attention. His eyes gleamed with secret thoughts before he banked the glow.

Siree watched, fascinated by his control. Like water over flame, he dowsed the gold flecks firing his eyes, cooling them to an azure blue. He spoke with a firm authority tinged with affection.

“While I appreciate your devotion to the cause, you need to put a little balance in your life. You haven’t taken a moment of personal time since you got here, and you’re stretching your hours at work way past any of my expectations. I’m sure Tyrus wouldn’t be happy to know I have you slaving away in the wee hours.” While he had her distracted by the words, he gently turned her and massaged the cord along the side of her neck.

Her knees went soft. She bowed her shoulders and stood acquiescent while his warm hands pressed in all the right places to bring relief. She moaned. His hands stilled then dropped away.

“Better?” He moved to the door. “Grab your stuff. I’m taking you with me.” He pulled a two-way radio off a clip on his belt and spoke. “Gribbs, we’re coming down. Is it clear?”

“It’s about as clear as fog,” Gribbs snarled, “but come down anyway. Ben’s guarding your rear. What’s the use of me assigning Siree security if she orders them to take a break in the lunchroom?” he growled. “You better talk to her.”

“Gee, thanks, over and out.” Jake glared at the radio before thrusting it back on his belt. “Sometimes I wonder who works for whom,” he muttered as he turned to her. He took in her ramrod posture and blazing eyes and forestalled her refusal to accompany him. “Time to report, lady. It’s been a long day so don’t give me any grief. That job belongs to Gribbs and Finchley.”

Her lips twitched. “They sound like a law firm. Okay, boss, and what broom closet in what corner of Vancouver do I report in this time?”

His eyes brightened, sharing the joke. His smile could have supplied the energy to light the building. “Now don’t freak out when I tell you it’s my place. I don’t think even the most committed journalist will be lurking about at this time of night. And, regardless, I have all sorts of ploys in place to protect you.”

Too light-headed to battle against the part of her that wanted to be with him, she walked beside him in silence. He offered up an effervescent flow of silliness to amuse her.

“So, my paparazzi anathema, the security guards have been sent to other parts of the building, the security cameras on the route we’re taking are being jammed, and you have the privilege of going to the parking garage in my personal elevator. No one knows you are here and no one knows we’re moving. The same precautions will be taken at my building until you are safe inside my lair.” He gave her a good evil villain impression then lost it when his leer turned to a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t you think I’m clever to figure all these precautions out?”

She laughed despite herself. “You poor man, do you really need a pat on the back that badly? Here then.” She reached up to pat him several times between the shoulder blades. He rubbed against her hand like a sinuous panther. She became too aware of the rippling muscle beneath her fingers, of the heat coming through his suit jacket, of the stillness that took both of them from playful to sexually aware. She patted him one more time, just so he wouldn’t think she ran scared.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you came to appreciate me.” He kept his tone light, yet a husky note underplayed the words. “Ah, here is the stalwart Gribbs.” He ushered her from the elevator into the echoing depths of the underground garage.

A dark limo with tinted windows idled a few feet away. Gribbs escorted them too it, then settled into the front seat beside another muscular driver.

“Home, James,” Jake ordered, then smiled with satisfaction when Gribbs scowled. “He’s so easy,” he whispered to her in tones loud enough for Gribbs to hear. He settled himself in a seat across from her and pressed the button that raised the glass partition.

Siree’s exhalation sighed out in harmony with the swish of the rising shield. She slanted her ankles to the side, pressed her knees together and laid her hands lightly in her lap.
Mom would be so proud of me
. She groaned inwardly at her prissy attitude.

He seemed to delight in it. His wicked gaze swept from her slender ankles up to the place on her thighs where her short skirt left a tiny gap. She moved her hands to take weight off the skirt and discovered it only made it worse. Under pressure, the gap rose higher, hinting at the skin of her inner thighs. Horrified, she looked over to see if Jake had seen, only to find his eyes brimming with a wicked appreciation of her unwitting show.

“Oh, give it a rest,” she snapped.

His eyes widened, his breath caught in his windpipe and he laughed and coughed himself hoarse. “Only you”—he shook his head at her when he could finally speak again—“only you.”

She never had a chance to ask, “Only me what?” because the limo drove into the underground garage beneath Jake’s condo. He marched her into another elevator and up to his penthouse apartment on the sixty-second floor of the Saigon Princess, one of the tallest buildings in Vancouver. Her study of JDI’s financials showed JDI owned a big piece of the building.

Jake peeled off his suit jacket and pulled off his tie just inside the door. Throwing them onto the back of a curving sofa, he hit a series of buttons on a panel that triggered security and lowered power-driven privacy screens across the huge windows on three sides of the room. “Make yourself at home,” he suggested. “There’s a powder room at the end of that hall, where you can wash up.”

“I just want to tell you where I am in the search and go home to bed.” She sank onto the contoured sofa with a weary exhalation.

“Oh, no.” He strode across to her, closed his hand around her wrist and lifted her to her feet again. “I leave you here while I make you something to eat and you’ll be asleep when I get back. You need some food, and I need my update.” He pulled her to her feet and herded her into a huge kitchen. She sank onto a chrome and leather swivel chair at the counter, pulled her mobile from her blazer pocket and texted her mother.
I’m with the boss.

“Don’t want Mom to worry about me,” she responded to his raised brows.

Jake leaned over a wine cooler, his long fingers tapping across bottles before seizing one by the neck. He cursed himself for setting up the meeting without checking Siree’s condition. Now he had to ram it through despite her exhaustion. But at least he could look after her for a little while before Gribbs saw her home. Caring for her felt strangely satisfying.

“This should give you enough of a buzz to get you through the next hour.” He turned in time to watch her hair tumble loose and fall in gleaming strands halfway to the floor.

She dropped a handful of pins on the counter.

Jesus. Talk about letting down your hair. And she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. That’s some level of trust. Hell, how am I supposed to hold myself back?

Unaware of his rapt attention, she threaded her fingers into her hair at the temples and fluffed it out. She arched to get it to fall over the back of the chair. Her breasts rose as she lightly massaged her scalp.

He bit back a groan, turning away to hide his instant response. Semi-hard seemed to be his default position these days. Either he reacted to Siree directly, thought about her or dreamed about her, steamy erotica that left him restless and tired through the day. If she noticed, he hoped she put it down to his worry for the company.

“Ah, that feels better.” Her long exhalation sent him rushing to open the fridge door. He pulled out the makings for Spanish omelets, one of his go-to late night snacks and set them by the range. Within minutes he had onions, peppers and chorizo sautéing in a pan and eggs beat into a creamy mix with chopped cilantro and a sprinkle of hot sauce added. By focusing on his cooking, he’d managed to get his body under control, but now realized he hadn’t asked Siree her preference.

“That smells delicious. I love spicy food.” She took a sip of the fruity merlot he’d set before her. “And a good red.” She smiled at him. About to pour the eggs into the pan, he fumbled and slopped some on the counter. “Can I help?” She swept her hand to the side. “Set the places perhaps?” Her laugh came close to a giggle.

It seemed wine went a long way to relaxing her. Jake accepted her teasing with a deprecating smile at his own clumsiness. He pulled placemats, napkins and cutlery from several drawers and dropped them onto the counter in front of her. “Be my guest.”

He popped pieces of dark rye bread covered with slices of Swiss raclette cheese under the broiler. Pulling the plates from the warming drawer of the oven, he divided the omelet onto them. He tucked the bread and a small dish of salsa on the side. “Soup’s on.”

Jake set the plates on the counter and walked around it, aiming for the stool at her side. Siree’s hair stopped him in his tracks. It fell golden and heavy in luxuriant waves and curls ten inches past her bottom. He wanted to touch it so badly his hand shook and he fisted his fingers. Something like that came damn close to sexual harassment. It frustrated him to have to deal with her as an employee when they’d forged a more personal link on the top of that mountain. The magnetic pull hovered like a specter in the air between them, seen, but not touchable. She rejected the magnetic pull because of his notoriety. He had to push against it in order to give her the respect an employee deserved. And if those reasons didn’t dial back the heat, he still had a stalker whose latest letters showed she was watching his every move, yet Gribbs and his team hadn’t once got a fix on her. She wasn’t just crazy. She was cunning.

He sat down at the high counter and dug into his supper. They ate in silence for a few minutes. She seemed in a partial trance, so he left her alone, hoping she’d get some food into her. She’d definitely lost weight since arriving in Vancouver and he didn’t like seeing her so fragile. After a few mouthfuls, she perked up and started eating in earnest. Again, he experienced a warm sense of satisfaction associated with taking care of her.

When they’d cleared their plates, she swiveled to look back down the hallway. “I will take you up on your offer to tidy up.” She scooped the handful of hairpins off the counter and slid off the stool, jerking to a halt with a soft imprecation.

Jake saw that strands of her hair twined around the arm of the stool, holding her fast. He moved to unwind it. Silken, alive, it curled around his fingers like it sought his touch. He imagined making love with her, her hair trailing across his body. “There, you’re free,” he growled, moving away before he gathered up handfuls and buried his face in her scent.

She disappeared down the hall and Jake turned to clear away the dishes. When he made it into the living room ten minutes later, he found her curled up in the corner of his sofa, fast asleep. She’d braided her hair in the thick, loose braid he’d first seen her wear. He ran his hand down the golden length, stealing the silken feel. He didn’t have the heart to wake her, but pulled a cashmere shawl from a chair and draped it over her. He punched in Gribbs’ number. “Stand down,” he said in a low voice. “Looks like we won’t be going anywhere for a few hours. The alarms are set. Everything is tight here. I’ll send Siree down to the garage at 0600 hours and Ben can get her home ahead of the newshounds.”

He disconnected and stood over her, soaking in her sleep blushed face, the supple curves of her body and the delicate perfume of her skin. Her breathing, heavy with exhaustion, hung in the air. That more than anything kept him from picking her up and carrying her down the hall. She needed sleep. He turned off the overhead lights and, picking up his laptop, settled himself in the curve of the sofa where he saw her every time he looked up. Somehow it felt right.