Jump through the fiery hoop, little kitty, Royce mocked inside my mind.
Can I do it naked? my hormonal doormat responded, while the Tigress in me growled, Why don't I hill you both, instead?
Along the way, I rammed into a portly gentleman holding a box of doughnuts. Uttering a hasty apology, I helped him rescue the now dirty pastries, then picked up my bag and hurried on.
I hate, hate, hate being late. Always have. I think the need to be on time had been ingrained in me since birth. My mom, who was always late, said I'd arrived two weeks ahead of schedule, that I'd walked and talked early and that I'd begun my terrible twos-whatever that meant-when I was only one.
Knowing each step brought me closer to Royce made my stomach churn with anxiety. It wasn't that I feared he would fire me. Quite the opposite, at this point. All too well I recalled his assurance that he planned to kiss me again.
With twenty-three seconds to spare, I rushed into the chrome-and-glass building and pushed my way through another green-clad crowd of women. I wondered briefly if I was the only one wearing camouflage panties and a green satin bra. Probably not. I wouldn't doubt that some of these women had a tattoo of the Jolly Green Giant.
This time, the guard let me pass without a word. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him and shout, "Ha! Ha!" but refrained. I was a Tigress, not a child. Sometimes. I headed straight for the express elevator.
A resonant chime signaled my arrival to the nineteenth floor. I stepped past the sliding doors, trying to prepare myself for the battle I knew was to come. For strength, I took a deep, fortifying breath. I'm a Tigress, I'm a Tigress, I'm a Tigress.
At the front desk, I faced down Royce's assistant. Ms. Carroll, aka Bride of Satan. Elvira's dark brown eyes clawed me like talons, all the more menacing in light of that vampiric complexion.
"I need to see Mr. Powell," I told her, using my most competent tone.
Matte gold lips twisted in feigned affability. "Do you have an actual appointment this time?"
"Yes."
"Well, what do you know?" She smoothed a hand over her perfect hair. "Once again your name isn't on his agenda. Would you care to explain this phenomenon?"
Not again! Why hadn't Royce told her I was expected?
"If you'll let Royce know I'm here," I said, each syllable crisper than the last, "I'm sure he'll be happy to explain this 'phenomenon.'"
"Royce, hmm?" She stood, fingers splayed wide across her desk. "When did you two become so close? Or are you his flavor of the week and I just didn't know it?"
Flavor of the week? I wanted to ask Elvira just how many women she'd seen come and go in Royce's life. The more women, the more he would remind me of my ex. And my dad. And the less tempted I would be by him. I didn't, though. Instead I said, "Just tell him I'm here. Please."
"Go to hell."
My inner Tigress crouched into attack position and I found myself saying, "I have a question for you." I placed my hands on the desk and inched forward. Eye to eye. "Are you jealous because you're three hundred years too old for him or are you simply a spiteful woman?"
"How dare you?" She gasped, my words having pushed her over the edge of tolerance. "I'll have you know I've worked here for six years. You'll be gone soon. Your kind always is. But I'll always be around."
"My kind? Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Cheap. Easy. And completely forgettable."
Now my Tigress spread her claws and growled low in her throat. I ran my tongue over my teeth and leaned even closer to Elvira. "You actually think he likes your type better? Cold. Evil. And leader of the undead."
"Why you little bitch." Her teeth bared, she flew around the desk, meaning to launch herself on top of me.
I fisted my hands, waiting, readying to strike.
"That's enough, Ms. Carroll," a male voice suddenly boomed.
Elvira stilled abruptly. She blinked, collecting her wits-if she had any, that is. Her pale complexion turned ashy as she backtracked to her desk. I whipped around.
A handsome man in his early thirties faced me. The rich baritone of his voice held an edge of unmistakable steel. With jeans that hugged his hips and a too-tight white T-shirt, he looked rugged and completely out of place in the formal office setting.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips," Elvira said.
Phillips… the name was familiar to me. Wait, wasn't he the one Royce had spoken to on the phone the first day I'd come in? They'd discussed some sort of merger.
Mr. Phillips gave her a look that clearly said, "I'll deal with you later," then turned his attention to me. I applauded anyone who could intimidate the indomitable assistant.
"No need for you to have interfered," I told him. "I had the situation under control. Ms. Carroll wouldn't have hurt me."
"It wasn't your life I feared for," he muttered, glancing from Elvira to me. "On behalf of the staff here, I'd like to apologize for what just happened. I promise you, we do not usually act so unprofessionally or physically threaten our guests." His tone became scolding.
Lately I'd been the queen of unprofessional. Elvira had nothing on me.
"Come on." He placed a hand on my lower back and led me to a secluded corner. His gaze raked over me before settling on my lips. I was used to being sized up by businessmen, but I wasn't used to all this blatant attention to my mouth. Most people tried to be discreet.
He grinned slowly, causing his green eyes to crinkle at the corners.
In appearance, his appeal rivaled Royce's. He possessed the same strength, the same inner power, except for some reason this man didn't have any effect on my senses. Why? I mused. Why was that? How could my testosterone immunity be vanquished to the point that I wanted Royce (desperately) but not this equally handsome man? It made no sense.
He held out his hand and we shook, and I was glad to notice I wasn't swampy today. Nor did I experience the electric shock I received every time Royce touched me. "Colin Phillips," he said.
"Naomi Delacroix."
"I know. You're the one driving the big guy crazy." His smile became sheepish, revealing even, white teeth. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
When he didn't seem inclined to let go of my hand, I gently extracted it from his grasp. "I'm not driving anyone crazy who wasn't already insane."
Colin tilted his chin to the side as he considered my words, amusement in his gaze. He nodded. "Good point." His gaze raked over me once more. "I can see what's had Royce so wrapped up for so long. You've got a classic charm."
My ears perked at that. Not at the compliment, though that was nice. "Wrapped up for so long? How long? Wrapped up in what way?"
He ignored my questions. "I apologize again for Ms. Carroll's rudeness. I'll personally make sure she's let go."
In all honesty, I would have loved to see that bitch punished. However, as much as I hated to admit it, the woman had bills to pay just like I did. I couldn't be responsible for putting another human being in the poorhouse-which begged the question: was she even human? No matter. "It's fine. Really. I'm fine."
He chuckled, a warm, rich sound. "Were the situation reversed, she would demand your head on a pike. You realize that, don't you?"
"Actually, I think she'd demand my limbs removed one by one while she watched, but hey, you know her better than I do."
He pressed his lips together to smother another laugh. "I'm sure you don't recall, but we've met-no, met isn't the right word. We've been in the same room together. Before today."
A complete switch of topics, but I could handle it. I flipped through my mental files and drew a blank.
He must have read the confusion in my eyes because he added, "About six months ago. You planned my sister's wedding reception."