Foolish Notions Page 15

  As she wiped down the counters and stored the cutting board, the doorbell rang. She cleaned her hands on a dishtowel and raked her fingers through her hair as she walked through the house.

  When she opened the door, a gentleman wearing a black suit, carrying a briefcase to match, greeted her. His expression was serious, and then slowly transformed into one of surprised pleasure when his eyes fell on her.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Taylor.”

  Samantha moved to the side to allow him in. “I’m not Mrs. Taylor.”

  He tensed only for a moment before ducking his head bashfully as he stepped in and closed the door. “I apologize.” He titled his head thoughtfully as a sheepish grin moved his lips.

  “What’s that saying about never assume?” He gave a guilty shrug. “I guess this is a perfect example isn’t it?”

  Samantha’s eyes warmed as she smiled. “An apology isn’t necessary.” She offered her hand. “I’m Samantha.”

  “I’m a fool.” He took her hand in his as she laughed openly at him. “Does that mean the awkward moment is over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then might I suggest we start again?”

  Samantha played along and swiftly hid her amusement under a straight face. “By all means.”

  Lowering his voice, he changed his expression to that of a first-time meeting. “Hello, I’m Jerry Hancock.”

  “Jerry, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Samantha, James’s mom’s nurse.”

  He turned sincere. “Yes, I heard she was sick. I hope she’s doing well.”

  Samantha smiled gently and nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “I have to be honest with you. My nerves were at their limit when I arrived. I’ve never met Mr. Taylor before and when I was told he wanted me to come to his home, well, let’s just say I was very anxious. You have completely broken the tension.”

  “Glad to be of help. You know, he’s not that bad.”

  “That’s not how his reputation precedes him.”

  “No, I suppose not.” She gestured over her shoulder. “He’s in his office. Would you like me to show you?”

  “Please.”

  “Here you are.” She opened the door for him and gave him a reassuring smile.

  James looked up from his desk when the door opened. He paused momentarily before he spoke, for the way his guest was looking at Samantha caught him off guard. He stood. “Mr. Hancock, come in.”

  Hancock acknowledged James with a nod of his head and then moved quickly across the room to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor. Please call me Jerry.”

  Leaning over the desk, James took Jerry’s hand even though he had the urge to reject it.

  “I’ve made another pot of coffee,” Samantha said as she looked from Jerry to James. “Would either of you like some?”

  “I’d love a cup,” Jerry said.

  “You don’t need to bring us coffee.” James glared at Jerry.

  She wasn’t his goddamn gopher. “We can get it ourselves if we want some.” The last thing he wanted was to have Samantha come back into his office. If she did, that would mean he was going to have to witness the pathetic way Jerry was looking at her again. If that were to happen he would surely hit the man.

  “I don’t mind, really.” She turned. “Jerry, cream and sugar?”

  “Please.” His features turned soft when he looked at her.

  “Thank you.”

  James wanted Jerry Hancock out of his house, preferably as fast as possible. If it weren’t for Jerry’s extensive experience in evaluating, researching, and developing, James would fire him right on the spot. Jerry was an asset to the company, so James tried to keep his anger in check. He took a seat and gestured for Jerry to do the same. “Thank you for coming, considering the short notice in the change of location.”

  Jerry was still looking out the door at the backside of Samantha as she walked away. “Of course.”

  James watched him with irritation. The man’s tongue was all but lying on the floor. He would move this along quickly. “I’m very busy today, so I’d like to jump right in. Do you have a list of the different types of charities that my company can get involved in?”

  Jerry pulled out several folders. “Yes, I have both volunteer and donation services.”

  “I’d prefer it to be volunteer.”

  “I would agree.” He passed two folders. “A hands-on company always receives more recognition. Do you want local, in the US, or around the world?”

  “Let’s start with local,” James said, glancing up to take the documents. “I’d also like a list of charities that need corporate backing in order to get themselves known.”

  “Great idea. There are a lot of hidden benefits when choosing a lesser-known charity.” He paused. “Personally, I think it reflects a business that’s not afraid to take chances and isn’t there purely for the publicity.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” James said dryly as he wrote a few notes and flipped through the papers. “I understand that your firm makes all the necessary arrangements, but I’d like to know how my staff will be notified when it’s their turn to volunteer.”

  “We’ll send a monthly schedule, which your employees will have previously signed up for.” Jerry passed another sheet to James. “Here’s an example.”

  “That will allow people to contribute when they want to.”

  “Yes, we’ve noticed that employees are more apt to commit when they get to decide what and when they are to do something.”

  Samantha walked in carrying a tray, and Jerry’s attention immediately shifted to her.

  “Here you are,” she said, handing him a cup. “Sugar and cream are on the tray.”

  James thought Jerry’s thank-you was much too effusive and his stare was much too probing. He had the urge to shove him back into the chair when he stood as she came in. He looked up quickly and smiled at Samantha when he caught her eye. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  She nodded and then left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “Where were we?” James asked.

  “Mr. Taylor, I’m not really sure,” Jerry said, shaking his head. “How do you do it?”

  “What’s that?” James looked back down at the folder in his hand, reading over the notes he had taken.

  Jerry looked back over his shoulder, almost in disbelief, and then looked back to James. “How do you wake up every morning and leave the house?”

  For this he looked up. His nostrils flared when he spoke. “Pardon?”

  “She’s amazing.”

  James’s hand hit the desk. “Out.”

  Jerry’s eyebrows merged together, openly surprised.

  “What?”

  His expression of shock only irritated James further. “Get out of my house.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m sorry—”

  “Jerry, you’re a smart man who, at this moment, still happens to have a job. If you want to keep it that way”—James’s expression didn’t waver—“get out now.” James shoved the file to the side of his desk as he made a mental note that he wouldn’t have any more home meetings again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  James glanced around idly at the crowded lobby, not recognizing any of the faces that passed by them. “What do you have for me?”

  “ISAC hired a spy—who happens to be an email-tracking pro,” Al said just loud enough for James to hear.

  James leaned in. “Are you sure it’s ISAC?”

  “Yep.” Al smiled slyly. “I’m not sure what you’re working on but it must be good.”

  “The sons-of-bitches,” James bit out. “What do you mean an email-tracking pro?”

  “He can pretty much hack into any type of system. Including your company’s. And that’s how he managed to steal the data.

  “Our computer security is state-of-the-art.”

  “So are his hacking capabilities.” Al’s voice turned to irritation.
“I’ll tell you what, he’s a little worm who covers his tracks well. It took me seventeen hours to pinpoint the little bastard.”

  James raised a brow. “How did you find him?”

  “Don’t inquire about how I get my information.”

  “Public records?”

  “Sure, if it makes you feel better,” Al said flatly. “It will take me a few days to actually pin his location down. I would recommend stopping all email communication and only using verbal communication until we catch this guy.”

  James nodded curtly.

  “After this we’re going to have to move quickly. Once the emails stop he’ll know we’re on to him. Your company has a conference and expo coming up, right?”

  “Yes. I’m going to speak.”

  “That’s good. It’s very likely that our little worm will be there. Can you get me a pass for the event?”

  “Yes, I’ll have it sent to your office by the end of the day.”

  James offered his hand. “Thank you for getting this done so quickly. I appreciate it.”

  Al nodded. “Unless something comes up I’ll meet you at the conference.”

  * * * * *

  James placed the chilled bottle of wine and three glasses on the table. His mouth watered as he eyed the plume of savory smoke that poured from the closed lid of the grill. He could only imagine what was inside. Samantha had forbidden him to look, and wasn’t giving a hint as to what she had been marinating in the refrigerator all day.

  Samantha had been planning the meal from the moment his mom had woken and said she was starved. It had been almost a week since Marie had been so violently ill that both he and Samantha thought she would never recover from it. Marie’s suggestion that she might enjoy a hearty home-cooked meal had caused Samantha to run down the stairs in delight, announcing that she was going to the store. She had snatched up her purse and darted out the door. When she got back, she muscled in three bags of groceries, refusing any help. She didn’t want anyone else to know what was for dinner.

  Samantha spent the entire day cooking. James had tried to sneak a few peeks throughout the day, resulting in banishment from the kitchen entirely. If he wanted a drink of water he was told it would have to come from the garden hose outside. He had laughed at her announcement, and quickly hid the grin when he caught her heavy glare.

  Being prohibited from the kitchen and the enticing aromas was too much for James and Marie. They sat on the couch, because the bar was too close to the kitchen, conjuring up all sorts of different ideas of what was being created for dinner. James had even placed a bet with Marie on what the menu was. What else were they to do?

  Now, James moved to the grill, ready to sneak a peek, but stopped instantly when Samantha’s words hit him.

  “Don’t even think about it, James Taylor,” Samantha said as she slid open the screen door and walked through. She used her backside to slide the screen shut again. “You’ve made it the entire day.” She looked at her watch. “Just a few more minutes won’t make a bit of difference.”

  “Think about what?” he countered innocently. She was clad in a short summer dress that exposed slender thighs. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard fashion held by a brown clip.

  Stray hairs, tugged loose by the wind, danced over her golden shoulders. The thin purple straps of her dress enhanced her delicate frame. Her neckline went on for miles. He eyed the small indentation by her collarbone. The hollow would provide the perfect place for a kiss. He thought about that kiss as he shifted his gaze to the silky opaque slip under the gauzy purple material, which prevented him from viewing the rest of what lay under it.

  “No sneaking a peek.” She regarded the grill with a nod of her head. “I know what you’re thinking, don’t deny it,” she teased with a smile. “You’re practically drooling.”

  His eyes followed her as she set a green salad along with some dressing on the prepared table. “It’s not what’s for dinner that’s making me drool.”

  The salad bowl landed with a thump, the wooden spoon chimed against an empty glass as it fell to the table.

  James sauntered over to her and held up a glass of wine, offering it to her. “Purple looks good on you.”

  She took the wine. “It’s lavender,” she sputtered under her breath.

  He considered for a moment, then leaned into her ear casually. “Call it what you want. I’m sure it would look even better on the floor next to my bed.” The look she sent him made him grin. “I find the slip underneath a nuisance.”

  He brushed her hair away and rested his hand on the curve of her neck. His thumb found the slight indentation at its base. He stroked the area before he captured the thin lavender material between his fingers. He played with the strap as he watched her.

  She didn’t back away, he noted, but the wine in her glass vibrated. The small, almost unseen, detail excited him. Her insides were just as fluid and quivering as the beverage she was holding and that’s just how he wanted her.

  James dipped his head by her ear. “Feel a spark, did ya?”

  “Nothing here.”

  “Nothing?” A single brow arched over daring eyes.

  “Strange, I thought I felt something.”

  She took a very long drink of the wine. “Perhaps you were wrong.”

  He made no attempt to hide his smile. “I’m not often.” Using his body to shield her from his mom or anyone on the beach, he moved in front of her. He waited until she looked at him before he spoke. “You know, I like a good challenge.”

  “I’m not challenging you.”

  James skimmed his fingers over her shoulder and gently slid them under the narrow spaghetti-thin strap. He moved it in his fingers from side to side considering what should be done with the dainty material. He smiled and slid the strap over her shoulder revealing the full round crest of the top of her breast.

  He knew exactly what he wanted to do with the whole damn outfit. However, the location posed a problem. He looked up. “How about now? Feeling anything now, Angel?”

  Her skin broke out in goose bumps, her nipples clearly straining against the thin cloth barrier. “I’m glad you’re amused by all this.”

  “I don’t think it’s amusement that I’m feeling.”

  “Maybe you’re feeling like an overbearing, womanizing cad,” she offered in a voice that was weighed down with contempt.

  He laughed at the insult and shook his head. “No, that’s not it, either.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Exasperation found its way into her words. “I’ll add appalling to the list.”

  “You don’t believe that.” There was a short pause. “Your opposition only drives me more.”

  “It’s time to eat.” She said the words over her shoulder, and loud enough for Marie to hear, as she headed for the barbeque.

  When she turned, James made eye contact with her. “My thoughts exactly.” This time amusement was what he was feeling and he allowed it to show in his eyes. He gave her a wink because he knew it would send her into a tailspin. “I’ll get the water.”

  * * * * * *

  When he was gone, Samantha waited for the bout of faintness to pass. She prayed that it would. Her knees, she needed to put all her focus on her knees. She would die if they buckled. Would God be so cruel? Breathe Samantha, she told herself. She caught herself clenching the wineglass tightly and forced her fingers to relax.

  A spark? An explosion would be more like what she was feeling. And challenging him was the last thing she would want to do. She knew what James Taylor did with challenges. He made them his. No matter how unobtainable they might be, he always managed to dominate. It was a fascinating game that he liked to play.

  Samantha lifted the barbeque lid, glad that her attention could be focused on something other than James and the traitorous hunger that grew in her body.

  “What’s that, sweetheart? Did you say something?” Marie said as she stepped out onto the deck.


  “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

  “It smells heavenly.”

  Samantha took one last fleeting glance at James as he set the glasses of water on the table and then helped his mom with her chair. He looked so powerful, so confident, it made her head spin. He was arrogant, she thought. Women aren’t supposed to find men like him attractive. What was wrong with her?

  * * * * * *

  Conversation flowed freely throughout the meal. Topics included everything from the latest headlines to what the actual diet of a seagull was. As food was passed back and forth, easiness settled over the table, creating chitchat that was of old friends. Good friends.

  James couldn’t tear his eyes away from Samantha during the entire meal. He had allowed his gaze to drift to his mom during conversation, but it favorably drifted back to Samantha the moment it could. She was too exquisite not to watch, he told himself. With her face beautifully flushed from the wine, and her eyes glittering from all the laughing, it took every ounce of his willpower not to reach across the table and show her how much it pleased him to see her like this.

  He leaned back as he finished his meal. This was how it used to be, effortless and comfortable. Content was the only word he could use to define what he was feeling as he watched his mom and Samantha. It was this that he wanted. It was this . . . this feeling, this moment, that he must have back. He looked from one woman to the other . . . this was his life, and suddenly it became vitally important. Nothing would stand in his way until he got it.

  “James, would you like some more?” Samantha asked the question when she looked over and saw the intense look in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, it had produced the small line that found its way to his brow.

  “No, thank you. Dinner was superb.” James rubbed his stomach, satisfied. “You outdid yourself, Samantha.” He looked to his mom. “Mom, I’m so glad you got your appetite back.”

  “Me, too. I think I made up for all the lost meals with this one.” She looked at her empty plate and then at Samantha.