Code of Control (3 page)

He was beyond
interested in her at this point, even proved it last night. Nolan closed his
eyes.
Christ!
I’ll be glad when this is over.
He then tried
everything in his power to get the blood to stop flowing so quickly from his
heart, her eyes glued to his suit pants, as his vision reopened, back for
business.

“My interest is
in who is the best person for the team, Ms. Raven,” he said roughly.

“You keep
telling yourself that, Mr. Morgan, and I’ll keep telling myself what we did to
and with each other last night was not the biggest mistake of my life,” she
said primly, leaving no room for doubt. “Nor a mistake I made, in which the career
of a lifetime is about to be ruined.” She stood, gathered her envelope, and
turned to leave. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’ll see myself out.”

Nolan was at her
side within seconds, his hand set to her elbow. “You haven’t wasted my time,
and unless I am losing my mind, which is highly probable at this point, this interview
is not over.”

“Yes, it is. And
please unhand me.” She glanced at her sudden capture. “I’m afraid it was over the
moment I let you take my….”

She paused so
long he half-expected her to run out of breath.

Their eyes met
and would not budge. There was something different about her, a huge change in
her demeanor from last night—even from this morning. Combative, yet subtle;
disagreeable, yet clutching hope; he could not put his finger on which bothered
him more—the hope part he did not want to deal with or the disagreeable part of
her that would make for a shitty partner.

“When you let me
take your clothes off with my teeth?” he taunted.

Her eyes whipped
to his, ping ponging across his face. She seemed chagrined over this fact.

“Hell, I don’t
know what I expected, but it was not to meet or be interviewed by the man I
fucked repeatedly last night. Nor, the only man in this world who openly thought
I was a hooker, saying so to my face.”

Her saying
fuck
broke the dam to their interview, the point of it continuing on any sort of professional
level dwindling before their eyes.

“I’m sorry about
that,” he said, clearing his throat. “Knee jerk reaction. You did not act like
a readied field agent last night.”

“Oh, and how is
a readied agent supposed to act? All civil and proper, with no love life? I’d
say you’d did what you had to do…um, lying about your name, and then what you
said to me this morning. All of it borders on the lines of you being a total jerk
than any knee jerk reaction you may have suffered.”

For a long
moment he studied her—head to toe. Unfortunately, he had to admit, “That too.” He
let go of her arm, obviously losing control of this meeting. “Let’s start over,
shall we?”

Intent to walk
back to his desk chair, sit down, and pretend she did not affect him, this
pretense fell to his knees when she replied, “Not possible, Mr. Morgan.”

He turned and
stared. “Why?”

She leaned
forward, her soft whisper so unexpected. “I know where all your moles are. It
would be impossible to start over with you.”

This did not
faze him in the least. “So? I know where all your freckles are, Ms. Raven, and
I do mean all of them. What’s your point?” he answered thickly.

“See what I
mean?” she said.

He didn’t,
saying so. “No.” He could tell Ms. Raven was putting on a brave face over a
scared shitless body. She was not fooling him by the false bravado.

“I can’t even
have an adult conversation with you, without it getting weird or sexual.” She
closed her eyes, adding. “This sucks.”

The mirth inside
Nolan went out of his control, rising exponentially. “Yes, it does suck, and
you should know,” he laughed, in spite of the fact her eyes reopened.

“Again with the
sex jokes? Really? I was told during my initial interviews that you were a seeded
professional.”

“It was no joke,
I can assure you. I meant it literally. This does suck…because I want you on my
team, and I am afraid once you are on it my face will be your first target and
not a possible enemy’s.”

She drew in a
breath, smiling brightly. “Does this mean…?”

Nolan looked
away while his sigh busted apart his chest. If he did not hire her, he was
looking at a huge delay to any new assignment. If he did hire her, he was
looking at a one-way ticket to Hell. Either way, he was screwed and not in a
good way—a likeable way for a man of his caliber. “Yes, it means you’re on my
team, even if my conscience says otherwise.” He turned just in time to see her
frown. “Jesus! Why the glum look now? I just hired you. It thought you would be
ecstatic.” Frown lines had formed, her sexy lips protruding, eyes wide.

“You’re only
accepting me because of last night, aren’t you?”

Dear Lord!
Unbalanced, laced with female hormones, and so early in the morning? Nolan’s
kickass hangover was not going to allow for the stall tactic. “No.” He removed
the envelope in her hand, holding it up in her face. “I’m accepting you for
what is inside here, nothing more.”

“Good, because
last night won’t happen again, I can assure you.”

Calling her
bluff, he leaned closer, grabbing her wrist and laying the manila envelope on
her open palm, Charlotte’s eyes wider than he had ever seen a woman’s get.

“Never threaten
something you won’t follow through with. As a member on my team, I must warn
you, we do like to stay close to each other. I’m going to be breathing down
your neck at all hours of the day. Think you can handle that?”

“I can handle
anything, Mr. Morgan…even you.”

“Yes you can,
can’t you?” he said softly, reaching behind him for the intercom button. The
eyes that stared at him dared him to continue on this golden path to
destruction.

“Beth?” he said
out of the side of his mouth, narrowing his gaze on Charlotte’s face.

“Yes, Sir?” came
through the airwaves.

“Consider me not
here for the rest of the week, perhaps two.”

“Sir?”

“An efficient
secretary never questions her boss, Beth,” he supplied hurriedly, grinning at his
new recruit.

“Yes, Sir. Not
here the rest of the week, maybe two. Understood,” Beth agreed over the
intercom. “Shall I make the necessary arrangements?”

“Not this time,
Beth.”

“Sir?”

He released the
button, moving forward, stalking his latest victim. And this was what she was—a
victim of a man’s horniness, and at the worst possible moment both caught up in
the same trap.

“Can you truly handle
me, Charlotte Raven?” She’d retreated closer to the window, supposedly protecting
her virtue. Knowing it was a little too late for any con to come his way he
moved in for the kill. “You’re coming with me today. No complaints.”

“Where?”

He was close
enough to toy with the collar on her too-prim shirt, watching her pulse
increase. A delicate, even beat that mesmerized him.

Mildly surprised
by the demure outfit she’d put on to show up for an interview—not at all what
he had seen on her last night, and consequently had taken off of her the second
the hotel room door closed, most her type would have made certain the cleavage
showed, the assets readily available. Hell, the job she wanted was in the big
leagues, bases loaded. Most would have made every effort to impress the future
boss. Perhaps he was dealing with an unknown entity today—a wolf in sheep’s
clothing.

He shook this possibility
out of his head.

“Maneuvers,” he
said, making it sound obvious.

“Maneuvers?” she
squeaked out, when his head bent closer to hers and it was all she could do to
swallow silently.

“I want to see
what makes you tick,” he whispered, trying his damnedest to unsettle her. If
able to crack her hardened exterior, he might be able to see what made her into
who she was, without sex involved—the only way he could trust her to be on his
team.

She boldly placed
her mouth just inches from his. “I don’t tick, Mr. Morgan, I purr. If you’re
actually willing to take me on, then I would say let the games begin.”

All he had to do
was close the gap to get another kiss from a delectable woman he could not seem
to shake. Nolan stepped back, swallowing the rough sensation of suffocation, severing
the possibility. “You do purr, don’t you?” he whispered, hardly able to find
voice.

Charlotte’s
cheeks inflamed, she met his eyes, remaining mute to this truth. They both knew
she could purr like a well-tuned Ferrari.

Chapter Three

Insane? No
doubt, certifiably insane was her newest calling.

Charlotte was
riding shotgun with Nolan Morgan in a black Hummer, headed to an unknown
destination—supposedly maneuvers. She had on a prim black pantsuit and sensible
heels. Maneuvers dressed like this would be non-accomplishable. She needed
jeans, a T-shirt, combat boots, and an I-pad.

He must have
read her mind about the poor choice of attire because he said, “When we get
there, you can change.”

She gave him a
toothy grin. “This is not proper attire for where we are going?” Since leaving his
office, the man’s sour resolve checked any mirth about their oddly done
interview.

“No, it isn’t.
Not where we are going.”

“Any hints?” She
was tired, cranky, still sore, and sitting next to him in close proximity was
driving her libido insane. Yes, horny had a way of creeping into one’s daily
life when least expected.

She glanced at
his profile.

“I forgot to
water my plants, if this is going to take a while,” she added, expecting he
would give in sooner or later and just tell her where they were going and for
how long.

“Sweetheart,
where we are going…your plants will be dead by the time you getting back to quench
their thirst.”

Charlotte
groaned, never figuring he would say this to her. She just bought the bromeliad,
paid an arm and leg or it—named it Fred. She did not want Fred to die because Nolan
Morgan had a vendetta against her—a sex vendetta he could not seem to get over
without causing one or both harm.

“Just sit back,
relax, and watch the passing scenery….”

Charlotte dropped
her gaze from his brooding profile and glanced out the windshield. “We are in
Iowa, Mr. Morgan. The only scenery is empty cornfields.” Since it was the end
of April, this would change, but they were empty now.

“Then count fucking
sheep, for all I care.”

“There are no
sheep in Iowa. And I would not dream of watching them screwing each other, even
if there were any.”

He rolled his
jaw, his brows tipping up. “Every state has sheep, Charlotte.”

“Not Iowa. And
if it does, they’re Republican sheep.”

“Republ—Damn, woman,
are you going to be this way the entire trip?”

“That would depend,”
she challenged him.

He turned and met
this false courageousness head on. “On what?”

“How far this
trip is,” she said sweetly, watching his jaw muscle twitch, his lips press
tight. She was definitely getting his goat, still sore about the man calling
her a hooker and simply doing her best to rectify the terrible mistake.

“Another hour,
at least,” he grumbled.

Charlotte reined
in her reaction to this, turning to face the highway. “Then yes, I’m going to
be this way.”

Nolan turned the
Hummer off the highway and onto a country road, groaning. He did not comment or
elaborate.

“Is this the way
to maneuvers?” Finally, an answer to the mystery of the man.

He slowed the
Hummer, coming to halt on the side of the road. Self-righteous indignation
flashed from his eyes. “I’m starting to reconsider my value to hiring you all
of a sudden.”

Oh, really?

“You can’t
change your mind now. You’re stuck with me. Our signed contract says so.” Surely,
he would not fire her on the same day he hired her. She would never be able to
live that down, never mind the fact she was a little behind in bill paying.
Okay, a lot behind in bill paying.

“I can kill you,
dump your body in sheep-less Iowa, hit the freeway again, and never look back,”
he said glumly. “Firing you would be too vanilla at this point.”

“My goodness. Did
you eat sour potatoes for breakfast, Mr. Morgan?”

“I did not have any
breakfast. I was a little busy with, um, other things taking up most of my morning.”

Charlotte shook
off the mental image of Nolan nude, as quickly as possible. She knew what he
meant so the head to toe assessment of her was so unnecessary. Sex was very
time consuming if with the right partner.

 “Well, there
you go. You’re a man working on an empty stomach. You should have eaten
breakfast,” she ruled.

“No. I am a man working
on thin patience, not an empty stomach,” he countered.

She scoffed at
this. “I would say you’re cranky because you’re tired, but what do I know.”

His mouth opened
and closed. His eyes grew wide.

She waited for
the explosion.

“I would not be
tired if someone hadn’t needed a body to buy her drinks all of last night, and then
take her to a cheap hotel to fuck her brains out.”

Her gasp easily
heard, she turned fully on her seat.

“Down to the
real problem, are we? I’m a big girl. I can take it. I know you could not say
anything in your office without your employees hearing, so tell me exactly how
you feel. Then, when we get to wherever it is we are supposedly going, I never
want to hear another word about what happened between us. Understood?”

“Oh, I’m gonna
get it out of my system, believe me.” He paused with calculated undertones,
drawing out the strangling silence inside the vehicle.

“Well?”

“Give me a sec,
would ya?” he smarted.

“Why?”

“Because I have
a hard-on that won’t quit, I fucking can’t use it, and you’re driving me
insane!”

“Well, if that’s
all,” she supplied rudely.

Without warning,
he grabbed the back of her head, pressed his mouth against hers, kissed her, and
not a tiny kiss, but a soul melting, toe tingling, get-ready-for-sex kind of kiss
before she could react. He then drew back, glaring at her face.

“Would you stop
glaring at me?” she said. “It’s getting a little old.”

“I can’t help
it,” he muttered. “You’re the kind of woman to piss off a man just because she
can get away with it.”

“How romantic,”
she said, licking her lips. “Tell all your victims this?”

“Nope, only one,
and if you wanted romance, sweetheart, you would not have allowed what happened
last night to happen with me.”

“Why not? Double
standards because I’m a woman?”

“Hell yes!”

She took a deep
breath, held it, and uttered, “Get off your high horse, Mr. Morgan. We had sex.
I told you it wasn’t going to happen again, and I do believe we are going to be
late for maneuvers if you do not get this vehicle back onto the freeway, pronto.”

“I will get this
vehicle back on the freeway when I am damn well good and ready to get this
vehicle back on the freeway.”

Glare for glare,
neither backed down. They remained this way for agonizing minutes.

“Are you sure
you want to play this game?” he suddenly asked her.

“Oh? And what
game is that?” She plucked imaginary lint from her sleeve, a stall tactic she’d
worked to perfection over the years.

“The game that
says you don’t care what happened between us last night.”

Even if his tone
glum, she felt thoroughly scolded, her actions of last night not the norm for
her.

“I do care, for
what it’s worth.” She’d had a hell of a day, and desperate for any fuel to
cause reckless behavior she would not have to remember had urged her toward making
enormous mistakes.

“And?”

“I can’t care
too much about it, or it’ll eat me alive. You and I are going to be working
together—as you said, close quarters. This is going to be awkward enough. Don’t
make it excruciatingly complicated, to boot,” she said.

“It’s already
excruciatingly complicated.” His eyes lowered to the obvious bulge in his
pants.

Charlotte looked
that way, too. “What am I supposed to do about that? Make it less complicated
for you?”

Nolan turned in
his seat, slamming his fist onto the steering wheel. Charlotte jumped out of
her skin.

“God help me if
you tried.” He quickly calmed, but not enough to settle her nerves, adding, “No,
dammit!”

“Then please, let’s
get this vehicle back on the freeway and pretend we don’t know each other in that
way.”

“I can’t do that,”
he said, lowering his tone.

“Why not?’

His eyes reached
hers, locking on. “I don’t want to pretend I don’t know you in that way. I
enjoyed every minute of last night. I’d love to do it again, but I can’t. Happy
now?”

Charlotte’s eyes
went saucer wide the moment he added a glare.

“No, I am not
happy.” Her tone shaky, she blinked back the tears.

“Good, because
I’m not happy either.”

“Your happiness
is not my problem, Mr. Morgan.”

“Didn’t think it
was, Ms. Raven.”