A beastly boss is tamed in this Secrets of Eden book from Andrea Laurence…

CEO Brody Eden is a loner. The brooding billionaire has secrets that he refuses to unveil to anyone…until he meets his new assistant, Samantha Davis. She’s temptation personified, and she’s sitting right outside his door.

Samantha’s never met a man as guarded—and gorgeous—as Brody. She doesn’t want to fall for her boss, but there’s something about Brody…. Beneath his gruff manner, Sam senses tenderness—and an intense passion waiting to be unleashed. And she’ll make it her mission to enter his lair…and his bed.

Brody turned on his heel, ready to return to his office.

“Mr Eden?”

“Yes?” He stopped.

Samantha rounded her desk and approached him. His body tensed involuntarily as she came closer. She reached up to the scarred side of his face, causing his lungs to seize in his chest. What was she doing?

“Your shirt…” Her voice drifted to a stop.

He felt her fingertips gently brush the puckered skin along his neck before straightening his shirt collar. The innocent touch sent a jolt of heat through his body. It was so simple, so unplanned, and yet it was the first time a woman had touched his scars.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to grasp hers. Sam gasped softly at his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away when his fingers wrapped around her own. He was glad. He wasn’t ready to let go.

His every nerve lit up with awareness, and he was pretty certain she felt it, too. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked at him, her moist lips parted seductively and begging for his kiss.

Dear Reader,

While I was writing this book, the unthinkable happened. Nearly thirty people, mostly small children, were gunned down by a disturbed and dangerous man in Connecticut. Senseless violence happens more often than I would like to believe and I find myself at a loss about what to say or do when it does. This time, I was in the midst of writing a story about a man who’d survived his own brush with violence at the hands of his own father. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to ignore that Brody also grew up in Connecticut, less than fifty miles away from the site of the tragedy. So I decided to do something different this time.

At this point in the letter, I’m supposed to tell you all about how much you’ll love this book and the characters. And I hope you will. Brody’s story was the one I was the most excited to write and Sam is the perfect woman to draw him out of his self-imposed prison. But with everything that has happened, I’d like to tell you that this book is also about survival and perseverance. Brody lived through some terrible things in his childhood. Sam lost her mother suddenly and at a young age. I am sure that there would’ve been times when both characters thought the world was over and considered giving up. Life isn’t always easy, but you have to hang on. Things will get better. Brody and Sam didn’t give up, and in the end, they get their happy ending.

When this book comes out, it will be nearly a year after the Sandy Hook shooting. My thoughts are with the families as they face this grim anniversary and the holiday season without their loved ones. Things will never be the way they were. They will never get their children or wives or mothers back. I wish I could write a happy ending for them, too, but I can’t. I can only hope that, in time, things will get better for them.

Please take the time to hug the important people in your life and tell them how much you love them. Also, consider making a donation to a charity that helps abused or abandoned children. Your kindness may be the very thing that gives a child the hope they need to make it through another day.

If you enjoy Brody and Sam’s story, tell me by visiting my website at www.andrealaurence.com, like my fan page on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.

Enjoy,

Andrea

A Beauty Uncovered

Andrea Laurence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning contemporary romance author who has been a lover of books and writing stories since she learned to read. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to be able to share her books with the world. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she’s working on her own “happily ever after” with her boyfriend and five fur-babies. You can contact Andrea at her website: www.andrealaurence.com.

To the Victims

of the Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting—

This book is dedicated to the children who were lost,

the teachers and faculty who died to protect them,

and the families and students who will live with

this senseless tragedy for their whole lives.

My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Excerpt

One

“Confidentiality agreement?”

Samantha Davis frowned at her godmother. Agnes had been there for Sam her entire life. She trusted the older woman, who had stepped in as a mother figure when Sam was still in elementary school. And she was helping her get a job when Sam needed it the most. But even then, she didn’t like the sound of this.

Getting up to Agnes’s office had been a feat of its own. Sam was pretty certain there were fewer security measures at CIA headquarters.

What was she getting herself into?

Agnes shook her head and pushed the form across the desk to her. “It’s nothing to really worry about, honey. Mr. Eden is very particular about his privacy. That’s why there are so many restrictive measures to get up to this floor. No one in the building has access except me, Mr. Eden and the head of security. I’m the only one at the company that ever has any personal interaction with him. If you’re going to fill in while I’m on vacation, you will interact with him as well, so you’ll have to sign the agreement.”

An uneasy prickle ran up the length of Sam’s neck. Although she and Agnes were the only people in the room, she felt like she was being watched. Looking curiously around the modern, yet comfortably decorated office, she spied a tiny video camera watching her from the corner. There was a second camera on the opposite wall to capture another angle of the room. Who needed surveillance equipment to monitor their secretary?

If it was anyone but her godmother telling her to take this job, she’d walk right out the door. But Agnes wouldn’t rope her into a bad situation just so she could go on vacation for her fortieth anniversary. It must seem worse than it was.

And yet, she couldn’t put her finger on what was really going on here. She scanned over the confidentiality paperwork with distrust. Brody Eden owned Eden Software Systems. Office solutions and communications. Nothing classified. Nothing that might threaten national security if it was leaked. And yet if she failed to follow the terms of the agreement, she would be obligated to pay a five-million-dollar settlement.

“I don’t know about this. Five million dollars? I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You think I do?” Agnes laughed. “It’s deliberately high to ensure no one breaks the agreement, that’s all. As long as you do your job and don’t talk about Mr. Eden to anyone but me, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t understand. Talk about what?” As far as Sam knew, Brody Eden was some kind of wizard behind the curtain. He was like Bill Gates without a face. Reporters had tried and failed to find information on him, raising even more questions, mystery and interest. He simply didn’t exist before launching his software empire. If people found out she had access to him, she supposed they might come to her for details, but what was so important that she couldn’t tell? How he liked his coffee?

Sam didn’t understand all the mystery. She’d always assumed it was only to stir up buzz about the company, but the cameras and the contract made her wonder if there wasn’t more to it.

Agnes sighed. “Sign the agreement and I’ll tell you. It’s not a big deal. Definitely not worth blowing this opportunity and this salary while I’m gone. You need the money. Sign.” She pushed a pen to her and nodded. “Do it.”

Sam did need the money. And the pay was very good. Too good. Suspiciously good. There had to be a reason why, but apparently she wouldn’t know until she’d already signed her deal with the devil. Well, in the end, it really didn’t matter. Her rent was due and she had fifteen dollars in her checking account. She picked up the pen, signing and dating the agreement at the bottom of the page.

“Excellent,” Agnes said with a smile. “Mediterranean cruise, here I come.” She got up from the chair and slipped all the paperwork in a folder. She carried it over to a small, silver door mounted in the wall that turned out to be some kind of drawer. Agnes placed the file inside and then slid it shut.

“What is that?”

“I was giving Mr. Eden your paperwork.”

“You don’t just walk into his office and hand it to him?”

Agnes chuckled. “No. I very rarely go in there.”

Sam turned to look at the massive oak doors that separated them from the secret lair of Brody Eden. They looked like they would hold up to a battering ram and were likely wired with sophisticated locks and security like every other door she’d gone through. They were intimidating. Damn near unapproachable. And she was itching to find out what was on the other side.

“And he won’t come out here to get it?”

“He does, but only when he feels like it. He communicates mostly through the speakerphone or the computer. He tends to email and instant message a lot throughout the day. The drawer works best for anything else. That’s how you’ll give him his mail and exchange paperwork with him. When he’s done with something, he’ll slide the drawer back to you.”

“Like Hannibal Lecter?”

“Something like that,” Agnes said. She sat back down at her desk, where Sam would be working for the next month, and folded her hands. “Okay, now that the legalities are handled, we have to have a chat.”

Sam took a deep breath. The last half hour’s discussion had built up a nervous tension that drew all her muscles tight. Now that she’d signed on the dotted line, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know what was so closely guarded. And yet her curiosity was burning at her. “What have you gotten me into, Agnes?”

“Do you think I would’ve worked here for as long as I have if the job was terrible? I have had horrible bosses and he isn’t one of them. I adore Brody like he’s my own son. You’ve just got to learn how to handle him. He’ll be less...prickly...if you do.”

Prickly. Sam didn’t like that word. She preferred her bosses to be without sharp, biting barbs. Of course, having a sexy, charismatic boss had only led her to heartache and unemployment. Maybe a prickly, distant one would be better. If she was rarely in the same room with him, she couldn’t possibly have an affair and get fired.

Sam turned to one of the video cameras. She was uncomfortable having this discussion knowing he might be listening in. “Is he watching us on those?”

Agnes looked at the camera and shrugged. “Probably, but there’s no sound. He can only hear us on the speakerphone unless you yell through the door. Right now, we’re able to speak candidly, so I’ll tell you the big secret. Mr. Eden was disfigured in an accident a long time ago. Part of his face was damaged very badly. He’s very self-conscious about it and doesn’t like anyone to see him. He also doesn’t want anyone to know about his injury. That’s the main reason for all the mystery. No one can know he’s scarred like he is. When and if you do see him face-to-face, it’s best if you go on like you don’t even notice it. Keep the surprise, the disgust, the pity inside. It might be hard at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

She wasn’t supposed to, but Sam couldn’t help the pang of sympathy she felt for her new boss. How lonely it must be to live like that. It sounded horrible. It made her want to help him somehow. It was just her nature.

Her father had always called her “Daddy’s Little Fixer.” Sam’s mother had died when she was in second grade, but being only seven hadn’t stopped Sam from stepping up to be the lady of the house. She was never much of a nurturer, but she got things done. Socks with holes? Mended. No money for groceries? Macaroni Surprise for dinner.

If someone had a problem, going to Sam would guarantee it would get dealt with quickly and efficiently. Even if they didn’t think they had a problem, she would fix it. That’s why her two younger brothers referred to her as “The Meddler,” instead.

But how could she help Mr. Eden if he kept himself hidden away? “Will I even see him? It sounds like he doesn’t come out.”

“Eventually, he will. Grumpy, like a hibernating bear. But his bark is worse than his bite. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly.”

Sam could only nod while she tried to absorb all of this. Agnes continued on, telling her about the various tasks she was responsible for. Aside from the basic secretarial stuff, she was also expected to run errands for him.

“I pick up his dry cleaning? Doesn’t he have a wife or something to do that?” she asked as she looked over the list Agnes had typed up for her.

“No. He’s single. When I say you and I are the only ones to see him, I mean it. You’ll pick up coffee for him in the morning. Sometimes I get his lunch, but most times he will bring his own or have something delivered to the lobby, which you’ll have to go get.”

The man really didn’t go out in public. It was mind-boggling. “How can someone live their life without going outside? Without going to the store or the movies or to dinner with friends?”

“Mr. Eden lives his life through his computer. Whatever he can do from there, he will. What he can’t do, you do for him. You’re more of a personal assistant than a secretary. He doesn’t pay a premium salary for you to sit around filing your nails and answering the phone.”

Apparently not. But Sam could deal with this. Now that all the secrets were out in the open, the nervous butterflies had faded. This might not be so bad. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. You’ll shadow me tomorrow and Friday, and then you’ll be on your own for the next four weeks.”

“Okay. Any particular office dress?”

Agnes shrugged. “Most of the employees here are fairly casual dressers. Mr. Eden wears suits every day, although I’ve never been able to figure out why given no one sees him but me. You have such a flair for fashion, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Sam tried not to laugh at her godmother’s mention of her “flair for fashion.” That was one way to put it. Another way was that she was obsessed with clothes and shoes. The more girly and feminine the better. She loved sparkles and glitter, pinks and purples. The right pair of platform heels or leather handbag could nearly send her into a climax.

Sadly, her past two months of unemployment had been devastating for her wardrobe. She’d gotten so discouraged from how everything ended at her last job that she’d slipped into wearing sweats and T-shirts all the time. Heels seemed like overkill for watching Lifetime movie marathons.

But that was in the past. She had a job, she was out in the world and her fashionable ways would reign once again. So yes, Mr. Eden would be getting a trendsetting eyeful from his little video cameras.

“Let’s go get your badge and codes setup. They’ll scan your fingerprint to get you access to this floor while we’re there, too.”

Sam got up from her seat and started following her godmother to the exit. Feeling brave, she stopped for a moment and looked back up at the video camera that was tracking her movements across the room.

Looking directly into the lens, she flipped her long blond curls over her shoulder and straightened her posture defiantly. “If you’re going to spend the next month watching me from that little lens,” she said, knowing he couldn’t hear her, “I hope you like what you see.”

* * *

“Like” was an understatement. Samantha Davis was distracting.

Brody had watched his new assistant train with Agnes for the past two days as though he were watching a fascinating new film. The two large screens that were connected to the surveillance cameras had captured his attention the moment Samantha came up for her interview. He’d ignored most of his work. Missed a conference call. He was just intrigued by her and the way she would turn to the cameras as though she were watching him as he was watching her.

He supposed it might be because he wasn’t exposed to many people—women in particular—but even if he were, he couldn’t help but think that Samantha would catch his eye. He liked the thick golden-blond curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her skin had a kiss of sun like she enjoyed jogging or swimming outside. He was drawn to her large brown eyes and bright smile. She wasn’t particularly tall, but she made up for it with sky-high heels that made her legs look fantastic when she paired them with short pencil skirts.

She was really quite striking. Certainly a change of scenery from fifty-nine-year-old Agnes.

He loved Agnes like a mother. She was hardworking, efficient, if not a touch crotchety, but he liked her that way. Agnes was an office dynamo. It made Brody wonder how he was going to get through the next month without her.

Agnes had mentioned this anniversary trip months ago. He had had plenty of time to prepare. And yet, he still wasn’t ready to deal with the actuality of her leaving for that long.

When Agnes suggested hiring her goddaughter to fill in while she was away, it seemed like a sensible suggestion. But he hadn’t thought to ask if her goddaughter was attractive. He supposed most people wouldn’t think that mattered either way, but it did to him. Brody avoided most people, but he avoided beautiful women the most diligently.

It didn’t make much sense to anyone, especially his foster brothers, who were constantly riding him to get out and date. But they didn’t understand what it was like. When they approached a beautiful girl, they only had to worry about rejection. And considering his three foster brothers were all handsome, successful and rich, they didn’t get rejected very often.

When Brody approached a beautiful woman, he knew rejection was a given. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was the look on a woman’s face when she saw him. That first reaction. That flicker of fear and disgust that even the most sensitive and polite person couldn’t suppress. In Brody’s world, that always came first, even if followed by a quick recovery and an attempt at indifference.

But what was even worse than that was the expression of pity that inevitably came. Brody knew there were people with worse injuries than his. Soldiers came home from the Middle East every day with burns that covered over half their bodies. They didn’t hide away. Some were even outspoken advocates, role models for other victims. People were inspired by their strength to look beyond their scars.

That was a noble choice, but it didn’t suit Brody. He hadn’t been injured serving his country, and he wasn’t interested in being the public face for acid burn victims. Being pitied one person at a time was bad enough. He couldn’t take the massive public wave of sympathy all at once. He supposed that was why he’d gained a reputation of being not just a recluse, but a real bastard. He didn’t like being that way, but it was a necessity. People didn’t pity the villain, even if he was disfigured. They just figured he got what he deserved.

Turning back to the monitor that showed Samantha and Agnes going over some files, Brody sighed.

Looking at a beautiful woman, then having her look at you like you’re some kind of sideshow freak... Brody didn’t want to deal with that any more than he absolutely had to. And that was why he’d opted not to go out and introduce himself yet. Let her think he was rude. Everyone else did.

He was enjoying watching her from afar and not knowing what she looked like when she was horrified by his twisted and scarred face. She would be here for nearly a month, so Brody would probably go out eventually. But no matter how long he waited, she would still be beautiful and he would still be...what he was.

A loud ping from one of his computers distracted him from his dark thoughts. Spinning in his chair, he rolled over to one of the six machines that surrounded his desk.

The alert chimed after his web crawler software finished running one of its queries. He’d designed a system that scoured the internet daily for any searches or mentions of several things, including his given name, Brody Butler. The results were filtered to exclude any duplicates or mentions of the various Brody Butlers that he’d established as someone else.

From there, he’d review the results for anything questionable. Anything that might cause him or his foster family any grief. If someone, somewhere, was looking for him, Brody would be the first to know. He was a very private man, and he didn’t want his past interfering with his present. It was the reason he’d taken his foster parents’ name after high school. He wanted to put his childhood behind him. He wanted to start fresh and be a success because he was smart and savvy, not because people felt bad for him.

And for some reason, he worried that if someone connected Brody Butler and Brody Eden, it would lead to more questions about the past than he wanted to answer.

Blame it on his childhood, but Brody never let his guard down. If something could go wrong, he was fairly certain it would. His brothers accused him of being pessimistic, but he preferred to be prepared for the worst. He hadn’t been able to stop his biological father from beating him, but he had always been mentally and physically ready when it came.

So, like he had as a child, he slept with one eye open, so to speak. His eye was on the internet. If someone was looking for him, the internet was the smartest place to start. And he would be watching and waiting for them.

“So what have we here?” Brody scanned over the report and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone named Brody Butler had driven his truck through a convenience store window in Wisconsin. False alarm. No one was looking for him today. Or yesterday. Or the past five years Brody had been watching. Perhaps no one ever would.

His former identity had vanished after he’d graduated from high school. He was simply another kid lost in the foster system. Not even his real parents had looked for him. His father had limited access in prison, but his mother had never tried to contact him, either. Given that she had chosen to side with her abusive husband over her scarred son, that was just as well.

Brody wasn’t sure he would ever understand women. He was smart, caring and successful, but most women didn’t see anything but the scars. And at the same time, his mother was attending every parole hearing, waiting for the day his abusive father was released from jail and they could be together again.

It was better he stay in seclusion, he decided. Women, beautiful or otherwise, meant nothing but trouble and pain. He was certain that his new assistant was no different. She was a novelty, a shiny new toy. It wouldn’t take long before the shine would wear off and he could put his focus back on his work.

Dating the secretary was not only passé, it was a bad idea. Even fantasizing about it was certain to cause problems down the road. He’d be wise to keep his distance until Agnes returned.

Brody turned back to the surveillance monitors and found Samantha sitting alone at the desk. She looked so lovely with a blond curl falling across her forehead. It made him want to go out there, introduce himself and brush the hair from her face. It was a stupidly unproductive thought. He needed to stay as far from Samantha as he could. That meant working hard to put a sturdy barrier between them.

He pressed the button on the speakerphone. “Where is Agnes?” he asked.

His tone was a little sharp, and he’d deliberately skipped the pleasantries. He could tell she took offense to it by the way she straightened up at the desk and frowned at the phone. She brushed her curls over her shoulder with a sharp flick of her wrist and leaned in. “Good afternoon, Mr. Eden,” she said in a pleasant voice, pointedly ignoring his question and emphasizing his lack of manners.

Interesting. Molly, his foster mother, would have his hide for being this rude, but he depended on his unpleasant reputation. It kept people away. Hopefully it would keep Samantha away, too. “Where is Agnes?” he repeated.

“She went downstairs to take a file to accounting and to pick up your lunch from the lobby. She left me here to watch the phones.”

Lunch. He’d almost forgotten he’d ordered food from his favorite Thai restaurant. “When she comes back, tell her to bring my lunch in. I want to ask her something.”

He watched her on the monitor as she considered her words for a moment before pressing the intercom button again. “You know, she’s going to be gone for a month and you’re pretty much stuck with me. Might as well start now. How about I bring in your lunch, introduce myself and you can ask me your question? I’m sure if I don’t know the answer, I can find it out.”

She was certainly a feisty one. Her second day on the job and she was already trying to push her way into his office. He was going to put off speaking to her face-to-face for as long as possible. Maybe even entirely, if he could.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Davis. Just send in Agnes when she returns.”

There was very nearly steam coming out of her ears as she leaned in with a chipper “Yes, sir.”

Brody watched for a few minutes as she angrily straightened up all the items on her desk. When that was done, she looked up at the camera. The breath caught in his lungs for a moment as he was pinned by her dark glare. He knew she couldn’t see him, but it felt as though she really were looking right at him.

Looking at him without fear or pity or revulsion. She was irritated, yes, but he’d take that in a heartbeat to have a beautiful woman look him in the eye and not flinch.

Too bad it wouldn’t be the same once there were no cameras between them.

Two

“I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.”

Sam pressed into her temples and repeated the mantra to herself every time Mr. Eden buzzed her desk, but it didn’t do much to improve her mood. Frankly, it had given her a miserably pounding headache. It had only been three days without Agnes, but her godmother couldn’t come back soon enough. She had the touch for dealing with the beast, but Sam obviously did not.

Agnes had warned her he was “prickly,” and there couldn’t be a more accurate description of him. He just rubbed her the wrong way. Okay, he was busy. He had an empire to run. But would it kill the guy to be friendly or at the very least, polite? To ask how her day was or to tell her good morning? But no, he only barked commands at her. “Get me this.” “Go do that.” “Pick up my lunch.”

She’d already come to terms with the fact that she was never getting into his office. He had shut down any suggestion she made that involved that, so the mystery would have to remain buried. But he hadn’t come out of his office, either. He was there when she arrived and still working when she left. Why force her to sign a confidentiality agreement when the only gossip she could spread was that he was a jerk? From what she’d heard around the building from other ESS employees, that wasn’t exactly a secret.

“I need this job.”

Sam glanced at a few new emails and started typing up a letter. As the day wore on, it was getting harder to concentrate on her work. The headache was getting worse and she was starting to feel queasy. She hadn’t had a full-blown migraine in a while, but if stress set one off, that’s probably where she was headed. Her monitor was too bright. Every sound shot a sharp pain through her skull. She needed to go home, pop one of her migraine pills and take a nap to cut off the worst of it.

“Mr. Eden?” Sam pressed the speakerphone button, as much as she didn’t want to.

“Yes?” His response, as usual, was impatient and short.

“I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if I go home?”

“Is it terminal?”

His blunt question startled her. “I don’t think so.”

“Is it contagious?”

Her new boss certainly had high standards for sick days. If she wasn’t on her deathbed or in quarantine, he didn’t seem to care. “No, sir. It’s a migraine. My pain medicine is at home.”

He didn’t respond, but a moment later, the silver drawer shot out. Sam rose slowly from her chair and walked over. There was a lone bottle of ibuprofen in it. That wasn’t quite going to cut it. Apparently Mr. Eden was not afflicted with migraines. But his answer was clear. No, she couldn’t go home. She took the pills out and swallowed a couple. It was better than nothing. Maybe if she caught it before it was full-blown, she could keep it from getting too bad.

“I ordered Italian delivery for lunch,” he said as though they hadn’t had the previous discussion and the issue was resolved. “They should be in the lobby in about fifteen minutes.”

It took everything she had not to reply, “And?” He didn’t care that she didn’t feel well. He didn’t even bother to ask her to go get it for him, much less say “please” or “thank you.” It was just implied. He never asked her if she wanted to order, either. If she felt better, she might want to smother her irritation with a layer of mozzarella cheese, but she was never given the option.

Sam couldn’t quite figure out if he was some kind of genius who was thoughtless of others or if he just didn’t consider her worthy of his attention.

“Put it through the drawer when it arrives,” he added as though there were another option. He wasn’t going to let her bring it to him, so in the drawer it had to go.

Without responding, Sam reached for her purse, pulled out a couple dollars and picked up the laundry bag he’d left by her desk that morning. If she wasn’t going home, she might as well carry on as best she could. While she was downstairs, she’d drop off his dry cleaning and grab a turkey wrap from the deli next door. Maybe some caffeine would help. If she left now, she’d have enough time to run over and get back before the deliveryman arrived.

Her timing was perfect. As she strolled back into the lobby, she saw the delivery guy at the desk with a sack of food. Sam grabbed it from him and headed through the ridiculous layers of security to get back to her desk. She set both sacks on the desk and then walked over to the minibar where Agnes stored supplies to get a cup for her drink. She was about halfway there when she heard his growling voice over the intercom.

“Uh...my lunch, Miss Davis?”

“One damn second,” she said as she snatched a cup and slammed the cabinet door. She hadn’t spoken through the speakerphone, but unless the walls of his office were made of soundproof material, he certainly heard her. She didn’t care. Her head hurt, she was cranky and she’d reached her personal breaking point. There was no reason for him to be this rude.

Back at her desk, she clutched the paper sack with his food in her fist, ready to sling it in the drawer. Then she stopped. This whole thing had gotten old, quickly. He wasn’t concerned about her headache, so she wasn’t going to be concerned about his empty stomach. If he wanted food on his own timetable, maybe he should come get it. She brought it upstairs. He could come the last ten feet.

Sam slid the sack to the edge of her desk and looked up at the camera with an expectant arch of her brow. A moment later the metal drawer slid out to her. Nope, she thought.

She unplugged the cord from her phone, switched off her monitor and slipped out of her black Michael Kors cardigan. Walking to the closest camera, she whipped the sweater over her head, covering the lens. The other camera couldn’t see her desk from its angle, so she returned to her seat and pulled her lunch out of the bag.

She needed this job, but he also needed her. If he wanted his lunch, he was going to come out and get it. If he wanted her to do something, he was going to ask nicely. Sam wasn’t working here to be abused. If he didn’t like it, he could fire her, but she was pretty certain he wouldn’t.

He had no one to interview a replacement.

Five minutes passed. She could hear instant messages chiming on her computer, but with the monitor off she couldn’t see them. Another five minutes.

Then she heard it. The click of a lock and the turning of a doorknob. She’d roused the beast from its den. She was getting what she wanted.

And suddenly, she was nervous. She tried to go through everything in her mind that Agnes had told her. Scarred...don’t react...ignore it... She braced herself for his appearance and her non-response.

The door flung open, and her stomach tightened into a knot. She expected him to charge angrily at her, but instead, she only saw his profile as he walked over to the surveillance camera and tugged down her sweater.

It must be the other side of him that was damaged because what she could see was...nice. Really nice. He was tall and strongly built, which was surprising for a computer geek. His expertly tailored navy suit stretched across wide shoulders. He had dark brown, almost black hair that was short but a little shaggy and curling at the collar. And his strong jawline, high cheekbones and sharp nose gave him quite a regal and aristocratic air.

He was actually quite an attractive man. He almost had a movie star quality about him. Sam preferred her men tall, dark and handsome, and he seemed to fit the bill. She didn’t understand what he was...

Then he turned to face her. Sam struggled to hold a neutral expression as he walked to her, but it was hard. The whole left side of his face was horribly scarred. The skin was puckered and twisted from his temple to his jaw and down his neck. It extended back to his ear, warping the cartilage and pushing his hairline back about an inch from where it was on the other side of his face. His eye, nose and mouth were unscathed, but as he reached out to hand her back her sweater, she saw why.

His left hand was scarred, as well. You could almost see the outline on his face where he had reached up to protect himself from something. She didn’t know what, but it must have been horrible.

She swallowed hard and accepted her sweater, refusing to break eye contact. That part was easier because he had the most amazing blue eyes. They were dark blue like the most expensive sapphires, and they glittered just as brightly, fringed by thick black lashes. Sam could easily lose herself in those eyes and forget about everything else.

Only the loud click of the phone cord being plugged back in pulled her away. She looked down in time to see him snatch up his lunch. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her with a mix of irritation and confusion.

Unsure of what else to do, Sam smiled widely. She knew she was probably in trouble, but she’d used her brilliant smile on more than one occasion to smooth over her mistakes.

He didn’t smile back. Instead, he turned and stomped back into his office without speaking. He slammed his office door so forcefully that Sam leaped in her seat.

And then...silence.

She kept waiting for a scolding from the speakerphone. An email telling her to pack up her things. Certainly she was due for a tongue-lashing via instant messaging at the very least. But it was silent in the office.

Maybe she did know how to handle him. Agnes certainly wasn’t the kind of woman to take orders barked at her. Perhaps he needed to know what his boundaries were with her. His boundaries were abundantly clear and she’d respect them. For now.

Finally she was able to relax and eat her own lunch. Or at least she tried. A few bites into her wrap, the headache and nausea from earlier had faded, but something else seemed to be gnawing at her.

Her mind kept straying back to those beautiful, deep blue eyes.

Given the stern warning from Agnes about his face, Sam had expected him to be...ruined, somehow. But he wasn’t. Yes, he was scarred terribly. It made her sick to her stomach to think of what he must’ve gone through to have scars like that. But that was only a part of him. The other side of his face was strikingly handsome. He was tall and muscular. She could easily imagine running her hands down the hard muscles of his arms and pressing her body against the wall of his chest.

And those eyes...

The tingle of anxiety from earlier had now become a tingle of another variety. Sam twitched uneasily in her seat and took a deep breath to wish away her misplaced desire.

“Enough of that,” she said aloud. “We are not doing this again.” Picking up her wrap, she took another bite and tried to force her mind onto her lunch and off of her boss.

If the fiasco of her last job taught her nothing else, it was that work relationships were bad. Relationships with your boss were catastrophic. Especially when they were married and conveniently left that fact out of every conversation they’d ever had.

Sam was naive when she had let herself fall for her boss, Luke. She’d let her guard down for the handsome, charming liar. But she’d learned a hard lesson she wasn’t about to repeat. Given the circumstances of this job, she never thought it would be a problem. Brody was a grumpy, scarred recluse. Not exactly sexual fantasy material. But now she had seen him and things had changed. Which was frustratingly pointless. Agnes said Brody wasn’t married, but he was as off-limits as any other employer.

Disgusted, Sam flopped her lunch back onto its wrapper. She needed to start focusing on work and maybe she’d forget about the whiff of his cologne and the full curve of his lips. Or not.

Maybe she should’ve just let him stay in his office.

* * *

Brody shouldn’t have gone out there. He knew it, and yet he did it anyway.

Now he sat at his desk, silently brooding. He hadn’t been able to touch his container of baked spaghetti for the past hour. It was his favorite, but he’d lost his appetite the minute he came face-to-face with Samantha Davis.

The surveillance cameras hadn’t done her justice. She was absolutely breathtaking in person. She had a glow of confidence—a radiance—that didn’t translate through the lens. Neither did her scent. Her sweater had left the smell of her floral perfume on his hands. When he got closer to her, he also picked up a hint of what he assumed was her cherry lip gloss. It had made her full pink lips shiny and alluring.

Brody was suddenly very warm. He kept his office cool to offset the heat produced by all his computer equipment, but it wasn’t enough. He leaned forward and shrugged out of his suit coat, tossing it aside. It barely helped.

He wanted to kiss her and taste those lips more than he had wanted to kiss another woman in his life. His body had quickly reacted to being so close to her. His pulse raced, his groin tightened and his grasp of the English language vanished. It was an instantaneous reaction. One that forced him back into his office before he made a fool of himself.

Samantha would never kiss him. At least not because she thought he was attractive and wanted to kiss him. On the one occasion in the past where a woman had appeared interested, it was his bank account, not his body that drew her in. Once she got what she came for, she was gone.

Truthfully, Brody had enough money for women to overlook the scars. He’d known women to put up with worse for access to the black American Express card. Every billionaire in Forbes magazine had some busty blonde twenty years younger than him clinging affectionately to his arm in photographs. It didn’t matter how old or ugly or unpleasant the men were because they were rich. But that’s not what Brody wanted.

He wanted more than arm candy or a trophy wife. He wanted more out of a relationship than what he could buy. He might get sex in a dark room. He might get companionship in exchange for expensive gifts. But Brody would never have love and he knew it. It only took one time getting burned to learn that lesson.

But Samantha gave him hope. She hadn’t reacted the way he expected her to. There was the initial draw of air into her lungs, but there the reaction stopped. Or changed, he should say. Instead of her gaze running over his scars, it had found its focus in his eyes. There had been a softness there, a comfortable warmth in her dark brown eyes. And then...she had smiled.

No disgust. No pity. No irritation. If he didn’t know better, he might think it was actually attraction. He’d seen the same look in a girl’s eyes as she admired one of his brothers in high school. Or the way his foster mother, Molly, looked at Ken. But it had never been directed at him.

The problem now was figuring out what to do next. He was tempted to drop the rude act and actually try talking to her. Maybe from there he could consider asking her out. His gut warned him to stay away while his body urged him closer.

Turning back to the monitor, Brody lamented his inexperience with the fairer sex. The past few years with Agnes hadn’t helped much. What if he was wrong about Samantha’s reaction? He’d feel like a fool when she rejected him. And she would. The work relationship would be even more strained then. So he would keep his mouth shut on the subject.

But at least the worst was over. Samantha had seen him. The veil had been lifted and the awkward moment was behind them.

The chime of his email program turned his attention back to his computer. He had a teleconference with his executive staff in fifteen minutes. Not even his most trusted and senior employees ever spoke to Brody in person or saw his face. Typically his employees spent the entire time talking to a red curtain backdrop while he sat to the side. He could’ve just called a conference call, but he liked to see their faces during meetings. He could get so much more from their expressions than just their voices.

Before the meeting started, he needed the agenda and financial reports he’s asked Samantha to pull together earlier.

Brody reached out to press the speaker button and hesitated. There was absolutely no reason to go out to Samantha’s desk aside from the fact that he wanted to see her again. He almost wished she had recoiled in horror so he could return to focusing on his work instead of the sway of her hips as she walked.

Perhaps he’d read her reaction wrong. She might just have a good poker face. If he went out there and she avoided looking at him...if she shied away from his scarred hand...then he could return to his life in progress and know all was right with the world again. Yes, that was why he was going out there.

He pushed away from his desk and walked past the vintage pinball machine to the door. His hand rested on the knob for a few moments before he worked up the nerve to turn it. Earlier, he’d been angry and hadn’t thought before he reacted. Now he couldn’t shut his brain off long enough to make his wrist rotate. What if he was wrong? He didn’t want to be wrong, but what would he do if she was attracted to him?

“Coward,” he cursed at himself and forced his way into the reception area.

Samantha immediately shot to attention at her desk. She looked at him with wide-eyed surprise as he came out and approached her desk. Under the initial shock was a bit of apprehension. Her delicate brow furrowed as she fought a concerned frown. Was she afraid of him? She wouldn’t be the first, although he hated to think so.

“Is s-something wrong, Mr. Eden?” Samantha leaped up from her chair, nervously straightening her blouse and fidgeting with a ring on her right hand. “I apologize for earlier, sir. That was unprofessional of me. You’ll come out of your office when you want to.”

That explained it. She thought he was mad over her little stunt. She had probably been stewing at her desk, worrying she was about to get fired while he was thinking of kissing her. That only proved how far off base he was. He hadn’t been thrilled at the time, but it was just as well that they got over that first hurdle. She wasn’t about to be fired. Nor, sadly, was she about to be kissed. Brody shook his head dismissively. “No apology is necessary, Miss Davis.”

She breathed a soft sigh of relief and every tense muscle in her body seemed to uncoil at his words. He couldn’t help but notice every detail of her body from the slight movement of her full breasts as she breathed to the curve of her throat.

“Sam, please,” she said, distracting him from surveying her body.

Sam. He liked that. There was something sassy and decidedly feminine about the nickname despite its traditionally masculine use. “I should’ve come out sooner. I’m very busy.”

Sam nodded with understanding, but his excuse sounded lame to his own ears, so he figured it had to seem hollow to her, as well. “Of course.” She reached down to a file on her desk and handed it to him with a wide smile. “Here’s the report for your one o’clock meeting.”

Brody froze in place, momentarily entranced by the stunning beauty of her smile. Full, pink lips. Dazzling white teeth. It seemed so sincere, begging him to trust her. It lit up her face, making her even more attractive. His foster mother had always insisted that he was so handsome when he smiled. He never believed Molly—moms had to say things like that—but it was never a truer statement than with Sam.

He reached out and took the file from her, tucking it under his arm. At this point, he knew he should return to his office, but something kept him anchored to the spot. He wanted to stay. His mind raced for an excuse.

Brody sucked at small talk, so he wouldn’t even try. Instead, he thrust his hand into his pants pocket and found his USB flash drive there. The tiny memory stick held most of his important files, and he carried it with him everywhere he went. It was perfect, he realized. Just the thing he needed to help him figure out if his new secretary was sincere or a really good actress.

Grasping the flash drive in his scarred hand, he reached out to her. “I need you to print a file off this drive while I’m in my meeting.”

He watched as Sam looked down at the small device on the open palm of his hand. She hesitated for a moment and then reached out for it. Using her shapely, pink glittery fingernails, she plucked it from his hand without touching his skin. He might not have noticed how deliberate the movement was if he hadn’t been watching for just such a thing.

Brody tried to swallow his disappointment. She didn’t mind looking at him, but she didn’t want to touch him. It wasn’t surprising, but it was a letdown. She was polite and friendly to him because he was her boss. Nothing more. He should’ve known better than to let his mind wander to places it didn’t need to be. “There’s a white paper I’ve written on there about our latest database management innovations. Please print it out so I can redline changes later this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brody turned on his heel, ready to return to his office and lick his wounds, when he heard her voice call out to him again.

“Mr. Eden?” she asked.

“Yes?” He stopped and turned back to her.

Sam rounded her desk and approached him. His body tensed involuntarily as she came closer. She reached up to the scarred side of his face, causing his lungs to seize in his chest. What was she doing?

“Your shirt...” Her voice drifted off.

He felt her fingertips gently brush the puckered skin along his neck before straightening his shirt collar. It must’ve flipped up when he took his suit coat off earlier. The innocent touch sent a jolt of heat through his body. It was so simple, so unplanned, and yet it was the first time a woman had touched his scars.

His foster mother had often kissed and patted his cheek, and nurses had applied medicine and bandages after various reconstructive procedures, but this was different. As a shiver ran down his spine, it felt different, as well.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to grasp hers. Sam gasped softly at his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away when his scarred fingers wrapped around her own. He was glad. He wasn’t ready to let go. The pleasurable surge that ran up his arm from her touch was electric. His every nerve lit up with awareness, and he was pretty certain she felt it, too. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked at him, her moist lips parted seductively and begging for his kiss.

He slowly drew her hand down, his eyes locked on hers. Sam swallowed hard and let her arm fall to her side when he finally let her go. “Much better,” she said, gesturing to his collar with a nervous smile. She held up the flash drive in her other hand. “I’ll get this printed for you, sir.”

“Call me Brody,” he said, finding his voice when the air finally moved in his lungs again. He might still be her boss, but suddenly he didn’t want any formalities between them. He wanted her to say his name. He wanted to reach out and touch her again. But he wouldn’t.

Sam looked away to glance down at the pink and crystal watch on her delicate wrist. Brody couldn’t help but notice how every detail about her was so...sparkly. Her watch was simply the latest piece. The large cocktail ring on her right hand made her earrings look demure. The stitching on her silk blouse reflected the light as did the glitter that seemed to be embedded in her pink eye shadow. Her heels had a pattern of sequins and stones across the toe shaped like a daisy. Even the buttons on her sweater looked like dime-sized diamonds.

He wasn’t used to that. His sister, Julianne, was feminine, but she was also raised in a house full of boys. She could hold her own and very rarely, if ever, sparkled. Most of the time, she was actually covered in sculpting mud from her pottery.

“You’re going to be late for your executive meeting, Brody.”

His name coming from her lips sounded wonderful to his ears, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He looked down at his own watch, which was expensive, painstakingly accurate, but not at all flashy. She was right. He reluctantly took the file out from under his arm and held it up as he backed away. “Thanks.”

Returning to the safety of his office, he closed the door and flopped his back against the solid wood. He took his first deep breath in five minutes, the scent of her perfume in his lungs. It made his head swim, the blood rushing from his extremities to fuel his desire with a restless ache he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

No woman, sparkly or otherwise, had ever deliberately touched his scars like that. With every fiber of his being, he wanted her to do it again.

Three

The house was empty. It always was when Brody came home. At least as far as people were concerned. He hung his overcoat on the hook by the garage entrance, tossed his laptop bag onto the kitchen table and whistled loudly.

His answer came in the form of excited clicks of toenails on the hardwood floor and thumps down the stairs. A few moments later, a large golden retriever rounded the corner and bounded straight for him. Brody braced himself as the dog stood up onto her hind legs and placed her paws on his chest. Normally she met him at the door, so she must’ve been sound asleep on her giant beanbag pillow upstairs.

He leaned down to let her lick him and scratched gently behind her ears. “Hey there, Chris. Did you have a good day with Peggy?”

The dog jumped down and danced around his feet, her tail wagging enthusiastically. Chris was a very happy dog and a great companion for Brody. It was impossible for him to sulk with her around. His foster sister, Julianne, had gotten the puppy for him as a birthday present three years ago. She decided that he needed a hot blonde in his life, so he named her after sexy pop singer Christina Aguilera as a joke.

Admittedly, she had been a great gift. She kept Brody company in his big empty house. His housekeeper, Peggy, walked and cared for her during the day, and the dog occasionally stayed with Agnes if Brody had to travel. It wasn’t much of a burden. Everyone loved Chris.

“Did Peggy feed you dinner yet?”

Chris darted over to her empty bowl and stared up expectantly. Brody looked down into the dog’s big brown eyes and knew she’d never admit it, even if she’d already eaten. She was a canine garbage disposal. “Here you go,” he said, filling her bowl with her favorite kibble. “I wonder what Peggy left for me to eat?”

He had a good guess. Tonight, the air was filled with the spicy scent of Mexican food.

Peggy arrived after he left for work and was gone before he came home. She kept his place tidy, took care of Chris, handled the laundry that didn’t go to the cleaners and did all his grocery shopping and cooking. Peggy was an excellent cook. She made a pot roast so good it could make you cry. It was even better than Molly’s, although he wouldn’t admit to that even if one of his brothers had him in a headlock.

Peggy had worked for him for five years, but Brody wasn’t entirely sure what she looked like. There was a copy of her driver’s license photo in her file from her background check, but few people actually looked like their pictures. Agnes had interviewed her, so he’d never met Peggy in person. All he knew was that she could deal with his idiosyncrasies, and that made her perfect.

Brody tossed his suit coat over the stool at the kitchen bar and looked for the note Peggy left him every night. He’d bought her nice stationery with an embossed “P” on the front and she’d opted to use it for her daily communications with him.

He found it sitting beside a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen island. He popped one in his mouth and groaned. That woman deserved a raise. He chewed as he flipped open the card.

There’s enchilada casserole in the oven. Picked up your favorite beer at the store today. It’s in the fridge. New sheets on the bed. Mail on your desk. Chris has eaten dinner, don’t let her fool you. You also got a package from your brother.—Peggy

A package from his brother? Frowning, Brody set down the card, went to the fridge for a bottle of microbrew and snatched up another cookie. He carried both of them down the hallway into his study with Chris quick on his heels. On his desk was a stack of various bills, junk mail and a large brown box. The label said it was from his foster brother Xander.

Brody had gone to live with Ken and Molly Eden when he was eleven, only a few months after his father had attacked him. He grew up on their Christmas tree farm in Connecticut with their daughter, Julianne, and a list of other foster children. He considered the Edens and the three other boys that remained on the farm—Wade, Xander and Heath—his true family. Xander and his younger brother, Heath, had come to the farm after their parents were both killed in a car accident. Xander was in the same grade as Brody, just a few months younger. He was currently a Connecticut congressman living in D.C.

He ignored the mail and went straight to the package. It wasn’t his birthday. It was October and far too early for a Christmas present. There was no reason he should be getting a box from Xander, so it was a mystery. Until he ripped the brown paper away to reveal a picture of an inflatable woman.

The torture of brothers never ended. Neither miles nor years would get them off his back about his love life. He knew it would be even worse if they ever learned the truth of it. Brody dropped the box onto his desk and went for his phone.

“This is Langston,” Xander answered.

“You know,” Brody began, skipping the small talk. “I expect this kind of crap from Heath, but not you. You’re supposed to be the sensible, non-controversial one.”

“At the office, absolutely. But the rest of the time, I’m your brother and it is fully within my rights to give you grief about your love life, or lack thereof.”

“You have no room to talk, Xander. When was the last time you actually went on a date?”

“I took Annabelle Hamilton to a reception last week.”

Brody chuckled and sat back on the edge of his desk. “A political fund-raiser?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Doesn’t count. When was the last time you went on a date where you didn’t talk about politics, attend a political event or leave your date stranded alone while you talked to some lobbyist that came up to your table?”

There was a long silence before his brother spoke. “I reject the unreasonable boundaries you’ve placed on my love life. The life of a single congressman is complicated.” Xander said the words with his official man-in-power voice, as though he were addressing a congressional committee.

“That’s what I thought. You should’ve kept that doll for yourself.”

Xander laughed, turning from his phone to say something to someone else. Despite the late hour, he was still at the office. Xander was always at the office.

“Got someone with you?” Brody asked.

“One of my congressional interns. He’s leaving for the night and reminding me about my early appointment tomorrow. I have to give some VIPs from my district a tour of the Capitol building.”

Brody settled into the brown leather loveseat in his office. Chris immediately jumped up beside him, curling up to lie down with her head in his lap. His free hand went to rub her ears. “It’s awfully late to still be at the office. I’d hate to work for you. You’re a mean boss.”

“Not as mean as you are. At least I speak face-to-face with my employees instead of barking at them over an intercom.”

“I pay them well for the inconvenience of dealing with me,” Brody argued.

“That’s fair, I suppose. Mine don’t get paid. It’s the beauty of government internships. I can work their idealistic hearts to death for free so when they graduate college, they will be jaded and fully prepared for a job in public service.”

“You sound run down, Xander. Are you sure you’re up for a campaign and another term?”

“I’ve just had a long day. I don’t have much free time. And I know that both of us aren’t the best at making time to date. Which is why I sent that lovely plastic woman to you. It’s secretly an invitation to a fund-raiser my party is having next week. If I sent you a card, I knew you’d ignore it, but that doll got you on the phone.”

Of course. There was always something behind it. He would’ve ignored an invitation. And he’d ignore this one, too, after he hid it away where Peggy wouldn’t find it and faint. “I’ll mail a check.”

“I don’t want you to mail a check, Brody. I want you to come.”

Oh, yeah, because socializing at a cocktail party with a bunch of strangers was his idea of a good time. He’d jump right on the next train from Boston. Xander knew it, too, so there had to be more to the story than he was telling. “What’s her name?”

“Why would you—?”

“You’re as transparent as Mom.”

Xander sighed heavily into the phone receiver. “Her name is Briana Jessup. Dr. Briana Jessup. I met her a few weeks ago. She’s a plastic surgeon that specializes in reconstructive surgery. She spends several weeks a year in third world countries helping disfigured children.”

Brody listened to his brother talk, but the more words that came out of his mouth, the more irritated he got. “I don’t know which is worse. Thinking you’re fixing me up on a date again or trying to lure me to another doctor.”

“It’s just social,” Xander corrected. “I thought you might be more comfortable with a woman if you knew she had...” His voice trailed away as though he weren’t quite sure how to say it. Xander was always on a mission to find the right way to say things. It made him a great politician. But dealing with him as a brother could be frustrating when everything he said was polished to a point of near insincerity.

“Seen worse?” Brody suggested.

“You know what I mean, man. Don’t get offended.”

Brody took a sip of his beer. He understood what his brother was doing. It wasn’t a bad idea. A woman who had experience with severe injuries like his might not react so negatively to it. She might even touch him, although it might be more for professional curiosity than attraction. It was certainly a better choice than the last woman Xander tried to set him up with. “I’m not offended. I’m just not interested in starting up something with this doctor of yours.”

And he wasn’t. Maybe if Xander had asked him a week ago. But now, his mind was overrun with thoughts of one particular woman touching him. A sunny blonde with luscious curves and an affinity for pink.

“Then are you still upset about the thing with Laura? It’s been three years.”

Brody chuckled into the phone. “Why would I still be upset about Laura? Just because you set me up with a woman that pretended to like me long enough to steal my personal information and charge a hundred-thousand dollars on my credit cards...? I mean, after three years that would be petty of me.”

Xander sighed. “You know I’m sorry about that. She seemed like she really liked you, and I hate that she stole from you. But this other lady is different. I think you’d really like her.”

“I’m too preoccupied for something like that right now. I have my mind on...other things.”

“Are you seeing someone?” Xander asked, his voice laced with an edge of incredulity.

“No,” Brody said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you’re interested in someone, aren’t you?”

That, Brody couldn’t argue with. He was interested. He didn’t know if that would make any difference in the end, but he was. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and what it would feel like to touch her.

“I suppose you could say that....”

* * *

Sam slammed back another shot of espresso from the coffee shop in the lobby, but she wasn’t sure it would help. The first four hadn’t. She was still exhausted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Her mind kept spinning with the previous day’s developments.

She had started Wednesday irritated with her boss. Brody was demanding, rude and thoughtless of others. By the time she went home, she was intrigued by him. More than that—aroused by him. When she wasn’t lying in bed fantasizing about touching him again, she was plagued with questions.

What happened to him? How long had he been like that? How could he live his life separated from other people? Wasn’t he lonely? Why was he so unpleasant?

The “fix-it gene” in Sam was alight with the need to get her hands on Brody’s life and put it right. It seemed a shame to her that he was hiding. He was a smart, successful and handsome man. He shouldn’t let his accident keep him from living a full life.

Sam eyed the door to his office. She wanted to march in there, grab him by the hand and drag him out into the sunlight. It would be good for him, she was certain.

Then she saw it. The door was ever so slightly ajar. It hadn’t quite latched earlier. That was odd. Brody was always very meticulous about shutting and locking the door. His mind must be on other things.

Or maybe it was a subtle invitation. A subconscious slip. Sam wasn’t a big believer in accidents. Everything happened for a reason. What if Brody wanted a fuller, more open life, but didn’t know where to start? She could help him. Maybe he knew that. Could this be his way of reaching out?

“Sam, could you get me that new distribution proposal?” Brody’s voice crackled over the speakerphone.

“Yes, sir.”

Sam grabbed the file out of her inbox and let her gaze wander between the silver drawer and the unlatched door. She wasn’t sure if Brody left it open on purpose, but she decided to take the opportunity fate, or Brody, had provided.

She quickly reached down for her purse and pulled out her compact. Her makeup was good. Her blond curls were swept back into a messy bun today. Her lip gloss was still shiny. She looked great.

Getting up from her seat, she tucked the file under her arm and gently tugged down at the hem of her sweater dress. She smoothed over her wide, patent leather belt before reaching out and grasping the doorknob. She didn’t have to turn it. The light pressure was enough to unlatch it completely and the door swung open.

Sam poked her head into the dark room, expecting Brody to start yelling at her at any moment, but there was nothing. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a pinball machine to her left. Beside it was a Track and Field arcade game. Both of them flashed and blinked, lighting the corner of the dim room. Beyond that, she spied a seating area with plush, leather couches. A small kitchenette with a sink and a refrigerator.

In the corner were a universal weights machine and a treadmill. That explained those arms. She half expected to see a bed, but that was the only thing missing. He had his own little world behind these doors.

Taking a step inside, she found his desk to the right. It was a large U-shaped configuration with multiple monitors and computers. The first two screens she looked at displayed the feed from the lobby surveillance cameras. He had a good view of her at her desk, despite the grainy black-and-white feed. He was currently facing the other direction or he would’ve seen her approach his door and come into his office space.

Sam took a deep breath and closed the gap between them in a few steps. The hum of the multiple computers and the constantly running air-conditioning unit disguised the click of her heels across the marble floor.

When she was about a foot behind him, Sam paused, looking down at a large bowl of multicolored jelly beans on his desk, giving a bright pop to an otherwise monochromatic space. Her bravery was waning. But it was too late to turn back. He’d likely notice her making a quick escape. Instead, she decided to wait a moment and see if he finally turned around. Saying his name would probably send him three feet out of his chair.

Sam’s gaze drifted past his shoulder to the screen he was staring so intently at. At the top was the name “Tommy Wilder” with a long series of links and descriptions that were too small for her to read. She’d never heard of Tommy Wilder. Then she spied the screen beside it, where her own name was shown just as prominently. Was he doing some kind of background check on her?

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. She was close enough to Brody now that the small sound caused him to immediately spin in his chair to face her.

His initial look of surprise quickly morphed into anger as his jaw locked and his eyes narrowed at her. He stood up in one fluid movement and Sam took an instinctive step backward.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “How did you get in here?”

Sam clutched the file to her chest and took another step back as he charged forward. “I brought the file you w-wanted. The door was open and I—”

“What? You thought I left it open for you?” he interrupted her shaky explanation.

Apparently her ideas about Brody subconsciously reaching out to her were woefully incorrect. “No, I...” She didn’t have a better explanation. She took another two steps back, pausing when she felt the press of cold metal on her back. A quick glance showed her she’d backed herself against the pinball machine. With Brody moving closer, she was pretty much trapped there to take her punishment.

“What did you see?” he asked, pointing to his computers. “Tell me,” Brody demanded, his booming voice amplified by the acoustics of the dark room.

Sam was wide-eyed with confusion. He was mad that she was in there, but somehow he seemed more concerned that she was spying on him. What did she see? Nothing important. What did it matter, anyway? She had a confidentiality agreement in place. She could’ve seen the truth about the Roswell crash site and the JFK assassination and she couldn’t tell anyone. “Just some names. My name. Nothing else.”

Brody crowded into her space, placing his hands on each side of the pinball machine as though he were playing to prevent her escape. His blue eyes were nearly black in the dim lighting as he leaned into her.

Even with the file between them, Sam could feel the heat of his body penetrating her clothes. The scent of his cologne crowded her, filling her lungs as she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Goodness, but he was tall. In her four-inch heels, she was almost looking him in the eye, their bodies aligning perfectly. Her heart started racing as she thought about reaching out and touching him. Her touch before had been fleeting, innocent, yet powerful. She craved that connection again. It was a ridiculously counterproductive thought, given the man was in a big enough rage to fire her, not kiss her.

Sam licked her lips, noting his gaze dropped down to watch, then came back up to look into her eyes. She had her share of experience with men, and she knew when a man wanted her. Sam was surprised, given all the barriers Brody had deliberately put between them, but it was clear. He wanted her. Yet he was holding back.

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