THE ADDENDUM
On Sunday, Eric held true to his word. He spent the majority of his day staying active. He climbed a wall, shot some hoops with Terrell, and even did some lifting. He had lunch with Travis and even attended a party that his friend, Barry, invited him to last minute. He stayed so active throughout the day that he made sure he didn't have time to think about Juliet Carson--and he felt so much better about himself for it.
By Monday morning, Eric was feeling enthusiastic about his work. In just a few days, they were breaking ground on a project, and he was thinking about considering another one that he and Travis had looked over last week. Kim had filled him in on all the work she had put into the website over the weekend and the new work week was looking much more optimistic than it had the previous week. He had accepted the loss of the Carson Innovations contract, chalked last Saturday night up to be just one of many good experiences he would have throughout his life, learned from it, and was excited to start fresh. He spent the morning with a smile on his face, refreshed, rejuvenated, and raring to go.
He refused to give his third cup of coffee credit for his mood.
He had just hung up the phone with a new client when his father and his uncle walked in the door and took seats across from him at his desk. Well, at least he got through half the morning feeling good about himself. Now he prepared for battle.
To his surprise, however, his father's mood was unusually light. "Morning, son. How are ya?'
"Um...I'm, uh, better. I think it's going to be a good week. Uh, how are you?"
"Same," he admitted. "Better. Had some time to think, reevaluate some...some things, I--you know, about that Carson account--"
"Dad, that's just--it's done and over with, let's not beat a dead horse."
"You win some, you lose some, son. And, uh, you know I don't like to lose anything. But, uh, that's life sometimes. We can't get everything we want, no matter how hard we try. I, uh, hope that's a lesson for you."
"Believe me, I know," Eric murmured.
"Anyway, so, uh, I just want you to know that, uh...I'm not--I'm not...disappointed with my decision to put you in that chair. I don't know if you know that or not."
Eric narrowed his eyes and studied his father. What the hell was going on here? Was this...an apology? Was this his way of being remorseful for the way he'd acted last week? Eric didn't know how to respond and he sputtered trying to find the words. "Uh, well...you know, it's--I know," he finally said. "I, uh, I know. We all give way under the pressure sometimes, it's--it's no big deal..."
"Good," his father said uncomfortably. "Good. So, uh, I hear you have a new project starting--"
Before another word could be said, the office door burst open behind his father and his uncle. "I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, I tried to stop her," Kim blurted breathlessly as she burst in the door, interrupting the informal meeting between the three men.
Before he had the opportunity to react, Juliet Carson shoved her way past Kim and through the doorway of his office, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of the two older men who sat in front of Eric's desk.
The blood drained from Eric's face. There she stood, in his office, looking like the most beautiful disaster that had ever walked the earth. Behind her perfectly-tailored, black pants suit and the tight, dark bun that sat perfectly rolled on top of her head, her eyes looked like a deer in headlights. She obviously hadn't expected to walk in on anything and Eric's own bewildered expression must have shaken her beyond that.
"Juliet!" He exclaimed with surprise, as he rose from his desk chair. The looks he received from his father and his uncle caused him to check himself and clear his throat. "Um, Miss Carson, I'd like you to meet--"
Her own shock wore off quickly and she eyed the men, her expression incredulous. "That's no concern of mine. With all due respect, gentlemen, I'm willing to bet gross amounts of money that my business here is much more important than what you have going on right now. Kindly excuse yourselves."
Eric watched his father's face turn red as he rose to confront her. "I beg your pardon--?"
"Gentlemen," Eric suddenly interjected, finding an authoritative tone within himself that surprised even him. "She's right. If you please, we'll continue our meeting later."
Receiving a furious glare from his father and a look of curious bewilderment from his uncle, the two men saw themselves out the door, Walt unable to resist stopping to extend his hand to her. "Miss Carson," he smiled. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced--"
She looked down at his hand as if she were shocked at his audacity to offer it to her. "Are you Eric Reynolds?"
"Um--well, no, ma'am--"
"I'm here to see Eric Reynolds."
"Right..." And then the rejected man closed the office door behind him.
Eric tried to ignore his curiosity and his weakened knees as she proceeded to lock the door, and he tried to suppress the nervous trembling that made him want to immediately take her and splay her out across his desk.
As she turned around to look at him, her brown eyes glittering under the dim lamplight of the small office, he fought to gather--and keep--his composure. "Well, then," he started. "I assume a week's worth of my humiliation wasn't enough for you?"
As he sunk back down into his desk chair, finding his confidence again in remembering that she was on his turf now, he waited for her to take a seat across from him before he got comfortable and laced his fingers together. "It was cute, though, the way you returned everything without the notes. They were just stupid notes, worth much less than the gifts they accompanied."
"You like notes," she stated plainly.
"I do like notes," he challenged.
"Get over yourself," she suddenly shot at him as she reached into her briefcase and plopped a thick stack of papers on his desk in front of him. "I'm not here for any of that."
"What's this?" He asked as he picked them up off the desk and lifted his ankle to rest it comfortably on his knee, further sitting back in his chair.
"It's a contract," she answered curtly, her legs crossed tightly in front of her.
He looked up at her in confusion. "A contract...?"
"Yes. A contract. I assume you know what one is?"
He glared at her. "Don't insult my intelligence."
She took a breath and she straightened her spine in the chair. "I researched your company. As best as I could, anyway. And...well, T&K Contracting screwed us over and your company has very good references."
"Of course we do," he murmured as he leafed through the pages. "We're the best in town."
The pair fell into a silence for a minute or two, one that should have been uncomfortable, but was surprisingly the opposite. Eric skimmed page after page before he finally got what he wanted out of it and laid it back down on his desk.
"Well?" Juliet said. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going sign it so I can get out of here?"
Eric's eyes widened at her in surprise. "Sign it? Without reading it? You must be joking."
"Well, it's all very standard--"
"Eric Reynolds, and only Eric Reynolds, is to conduct any business or make any decisions regarding the construction, plans, scheduling, blah blah blah. Is that standard in all your contracts?"
"Your father is an asshole," she stated flatly. "And that uncle of yours is good for nothing. I don't want them having anything to do with my building. If you weren't the CEO, it would be whoever is sitting in your chair. Don't take it personal."
He was dying to know what triggered her sudden change of heart but, selfishly, his own personal agenda became more important than a contract he'd already accepted the loss of. "Well, I take this very personal, Miss Carson," he stated plainly. "You've come to me and laid quite a lot of responsibility into my hands."
"You're a CEO," she spat. "Responsibility is your job title."
"Well, yes, it is. Internally. You know, I'm supposed to turn this over to Walt and Travis when it's all said and done."
"That's not up for negotiation."
"This wouldn't be the only project on my plate, you know. There's only one of me. I'll need help."
"Then I expect it to be your top priority," she snapped. "This is my livelihood we're talking about, here."
"Yours and the rest of my clients."
"Then the rest of your clients can have Travis and Walt. I want you."
He arched an amused eyebrow and allowed the smile to creep across his face. "Can I get that in writing?"
"It is in writing," she said angrily through her teeth. "If you would shut your mouth and read what I gave you, you'd see it right there in black and white."
"I don't know who you're fighting," he barked back at her. "But it's not me."
"Then let me out of here."
"You're free to go whenever you want--"
"With my signed contract."
"Look. You can't just walk into my company and throw my family out of my office and then sit there and expect me to just do whatever you want me to do. This is my company. And I don't make any business decisions without knowing what I'm getting myself into, I don't care if you're the god damned Queen of England. I understand that you're used to getting everything you want, Miss Carson. But in real life, it doesn't always work that way. And I need to know that this contract meets my satisfaction before I decide I want anything to do with it. Rome wasn't built in a day."
She straightened her spine and took in a breath, looking painfully uncomfortable. She was holding back, but he didn't care. He didn't care what she did. Right now she was acting like a spoiled little rich girl and, as much as he wanted to melt to his knees and kiss her feet and helplessly worship her, she needed to be put in her place. He wasn't about to let her walk all over him. Especially not when his father stood on the other side of the door.
"I'm closing on the building soon. Very soon," she said quietly. "I've been working closely with a company for several months and they turned out to be shit. I'm running out of time. I just really need to get this started."
"And if I turn this proposition down?" He tested her.
He watched her shoulders relax with defeat and her eyes darted around the room as she began to fidget with her thumbs in her lap. Finally, her eyes landed on his and he saw her--the real her, the her he met two Saturdays ago--as she silently let her guard down. "I don't...I don't have a backup plan or anything, I...I spent the entire week last week researching your company. I, um, I'm very impressed with your work."
Looking in her eyes, his expression softened along with his tone. "You mean the company's work."
She shook her head meekly. "No. I mean your work. I, um--my first impression of your father wasn't...favorable to me. So I wasn't interested in how he ran anything. And since you're running it now, I only...well, I limited my research...and, anyway, Reynolds Construction has everything I'm looking for, so--and I've offered to pay you handsomely. If--if that's not enough money, we can discuss it--"
"The money isn't an issue," he assured her calmly.
"Look, this is--this is difficult for me. I've never found myself in a position like this before," she said, her voice struggling for strength as her knee bounced nervously with a subtle, vigorous rhythm. "But--but--Carson Innovations really needs Reynolds Construction--"
"You need me," he corrected her.
"Stop trying to make this so damn personal!" She shot at him loudly.
At this, his eyes hardened at her and he sat for a moment before he rolled his chair up against his desk and opened a program on his laptop and began to type in it. It didn't take him but just a minute to complete his task and, as he pulled the paper out of the printer, he scribbled his signature along the bottom and shoved the sheet across the desk at her.
She looked on at him in horror. "What is this?"
"An addendum."
"You can't put an addendum on a contract that isn't fully executed."
"There's no law that says I can't."
"Well, what's--?"
"Dinner," he said pointedly. "You and me. That's the addendum."
"That is not an addendum."
"It is. I refuse to sign a single letter to any page of that contract until you and I have ironed out our personal issues. I will not enter into a professional relationship like this with our issues, or whatever they are, hanging over our heads like this. You have to respect that."
"I can respect it, but I don't have to sign an addendum for it."
"Yes, you do. Because I know you--"
"You don't know shit about me--"
"And I know you will run. Unless you have a written obligation not to. This is how this is going to work: I'll sign that contract if you have dinner with me. That's it."
"This is blackmail," she objected, her voice rising with anger. "This is completely unprofessional--"
"That's the only way this is going to happen. Period."
"Absolutely not--"
"No dinner, no contract. And the both of us are very hungry people."
Juliet straightened up in her chair and smoothed out the bottom of her closed blazer. Then she carefully leaned over and slid the paper closer to her. Glancing at it, she plucked a pen out of a cup on the edge of his desk, scribbled something of her own, and shoved the sheet back at him. "That is the only way it's going to happen. Period," she said.
Amused, he picked the paper up and read it. With an arrow pointed upward, she'd squeezed the word "business" in front of "dinner." He smirked and shook his head. "Touche," he muttered.
Then she stood up and adjusted her clothes. She leaned over his desk to snatch the page out of his hand and he caught a glimpse of cleavage that peeked from the modest, pink shirt she wore under her suit. He found himself biting his lip in response before she could realize he'd seen anything, and she straightened back up and used the pen that was still in her hand to scribble her name underneath his. "Fine," she spat. "Bring the contract with you to dinner--signed--and we can go over it then."
"And if I have any questions between now and then?"
She glared at him with disgust. "I'm fairly certain you know how to reach me."
"Oh!" He said, suddenly breaking a sweat as he realized they hadn't made any actual plans. "Here," he said, scribbling one more correction and shoving the paper back across the desk as she gathered her purse and her briefcase.
"What now?"
"Dinner details."
She glanced at the page on the desk and she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "That's not okay with me."
"It has to be. You signed it."
"Putting something there after I've signed it does not make it valid. It just makes you desperate."
He raised his eyebrows and was unable to wipe the devilish grin off of his face. "Would you like me to add an addendum to the addendum? It would take me, like, five seconds..."
"Uggh!" She sounded, shaking her head and heading for the door. "You're absolutely impossible."
"Juliet," he said firmly, catching her attention before she turned the knob. "One more thing. Just do us both a favor and unblock my number already. It would make our lives a whole lot easier if we could contact each other."
"On our personal phones?"
"Dinner plans, remember?"
"Just sign the damn contract," she demanded menacingly. And with that, she was out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
He looked at the closed door for several seconds before a victorious grin spread across his face. Biting his lip and shaking his head, he fished his eyeglasses out of his desk, slid them on his face, and then went through her contract, signing every single dotted line there was to sign.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Juliet broke into a cold sweat on the elevator on the way to the ground floor.
Holy shit, what had she just done? She thought this would be a piece of cake. That she would just walk in and he would grovel at her feet and dry out every pen in his office just to sign that contract over and over and over again...
But, no. She had grossly underestimated Eric Reynolds. The man was beyond brilliant and he certainly gave her a run for her money. For the first time since her rise to professional power, Juliet no longer felt like she was in control. And while this concept scared her to death, there was also a certain calm that she couldn't control, knowing that Carson Innovations would be safe in Eric's hands--if only he'd come off it and sign that damn contract.
Damn him. Damn that man. That contract was solid--iron clad and completely favorable to Reynolds Construction. She understood his wanting to go over it himself, and she knew she was impatient, but the quicker she could get the initial plans off the ground with Reynolds, the less contact she would have to have with Eric. This was the part she wanted to hurry up and get over with.
And then there was him. She closed her eyes and she sighed as the elevator made its descent. He was so...gorgeous. He had been dressed entirely too casually for a CEO, in a pair of khaki pants and a black, knit pullover sweater, but he could have worn rags and still looked irresistibly sexy. And the way his deep, blue eyes bore into her and studied her...she hated how he always looked directly into her soul, but his eyes were bliss to get lost in. All she'd wanted to do for the past week was simply get lost in his eyes.
She couldn't stop looking at his lips as he spoke to her. His soft, perfect, luscious lips that had known inches of her body she didn't even know existed. His lips that kissed hers so deep, so sensual, so erotic--kissing should have never felt as good as it did when she kissed him. And lips shouldn't be so easily missed and longed for.
She wanted him. She wanted him so bad, she could hardly stand it.
But she couldn't have him. And she wouldn't. His leaving her without a goodbye was likely an omen, a warning she should heed. He wasn't the one. She would never have a "one" and she was okay with that. Having a "one" was overrated and nonexistent. Your "one" didn't hurt you. Your "one" didn't abuse you. Your "one" didn't rape you and convince you that you were worthless. Years later, your next "one" didn't betray your trust. Your "one" didn't leave you. Your "one" didn't remove himself in the middle of the night from the place in your heart that he'd implanted himself just hours earlier. No. Nobody was the "one." Because the "one" didn't exist.
One of these days another man would attract her just the way Eric did. And when that happened, she would know what to do--and what not to do.
By the time Juliet made it back to her office, and found Beth waiting for her in it, she had fully understood the horror that was going to be dinner. It registered about halfway back to Carson Innovations and her stomach dropped down to her feet.
"So?" Beth asked cheerfully, bouncing her calf on the knee that her leg crossed as she sat in a chair across Juliet's desk. "Tell me, tell me, tell me."
"We're going to dinner," Juliet blurted in a daze as it hit her all at once and she collapsed into her desk chair.
Beth's jaw dropped. "How did a contract turn into dinner?"
She looked at her best friend, wide-eyed. "He typed up an addendum. An addendum. To dinner. And I signed it."
Beth blinked at her, obviously allowing Juliet's words to register with herself. "So...do we...have a deal? Or not...?"
"That's what the addendum was for. He refused to sign until I went to dinner." Then she snapped out of it and her eyes landed deliberately on Beth. "A business dinner. That was my part."
To Juliet's surprise, Beth looked instantly annoyed. "Well, that's stupid. He can't do that, this is a business contract, he can't make up stipulations like that, it's unprofessional--"
"It makes sense," Juliet said quietly. "He won't sign until we work out our personal stuff. And--and I agree with him, but--but, Beth, I'm so scared. I don't want to do this. I don't want to--"
"You don't want to confront him," Beth said, gently. "Or you don't want to confront yourself?"
"I don't want to confront any of it. Life was so much easier when I hated him. He hurt me, Beth. I poured my heart out to him and he left me--"
"And he very well might have an excuse that will be acceptable--"
"And then I don't know what I'm supposed to do after that."
"Well...what do you want?"
Juliet eyed Beth and she bit her lip and inhaled air through her nose. "Honestly? I want to fuck his brains out for hours and hours and hours until he passes out from absolute exhaustion. And then when he wakes up I want to do it all over again."
Beth shook her head and she giggled. "Of course you do."
"And I want to hold his hand," Juliet continued, her tone growing more serious. "I want to hold his hand and I want to allow him to lead me...anywhere he wants to lead me. I want to know him. I want to trust him, I want to give in...Beth, I swear I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire life and I hate it. I don't want it."
"But it's okay to want those things."
Juliet shook her head. "No. I'm not--I'm not ready. And he's not ready. And I don't need--I don't need the conflict of interest between our companies, I just--I just really want to get this relocation done."
"And then after the relocation is done?" Beth pressed. "What will be your excuse for denying him, then?"
Juliet sat back in her chair and looked at her best friend, trying her hardest to come up with an answer. Except that she didn't have one.
"You know what I think?" Beth said. "I think you're putting way too much on yourself. Why don't you just take it one step at a time? Focus on the professional part right now. Don't work yourself up over things that haven't happened, yet. Maybe you're right, it does make sense that he wants to clear the air before beginning a business partnership. I think that's smart. And, you know, maybe that's it. Maybe he's come to the same conclusion you have, that the time for the two of you just isn't now. Maybe he wants a clean, professional slate just like you do. Maybe you have nothing to worry about."
But Juliet didn't want that. And she did want it, too. She wanted everything and she wanted none of it. She didn't know what she wanted.
"So," Beth said, interrupting her thoughts once again, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm this time. "What are you going to wear?"
On Sunday, Eric held true to his word. He spent the majority of his day staying active. He climbed a wall, shot some hoops with Terrell, and even did some lifting. He had lunch with Travis and even attended a party that his friend, Barry, invited him to last minute. He stayed so active throughout the day that he made sure he didn't have time to think about Juliet Carson--and he felt so much better about himself for it.
By Monday morning, Eric was feeling enthusiastic about his work. In just a few days, they were breaking ground on a project, and he was thinking about considering another one that he and Travis had looked over last week. Kim had filled him in on all the work she had put into the website over the weekend and the new work week was looking much more optimistic than it had the previous week. He had accepted the loss of the Carson Innovations contract, chalked last Saturday night up to be just one of many good experiences he would have throughout his life, learned from it, and was excited to start fresh. He spent the morning with a smile on his face, refreshed, rejuvenated, and raring to go.
He refused to give his third cup of coffee credit for his mood.
He had just hung up the phone with a new client when his father and his uncle walked in the door and took seats across from him at his desk. Well, at least he got through half the morning feeling good about himself. Now he prepared for battle.
To his surprise, however, his father's mood was unusually light. "Morning, son. How are ya?'
"Um...I'm, uh, better. I think it's going to be a good week. Uh, how are you?"
"Same," he admitted. "Better. Had some time to think, reevaluate some...some things, I--you know, about that Carson account--"
"Dad, that's just--it's done and over with, let's not beat a dead horse."
"You win some, you lose some, son. And, uh, you know I don't like to lose anything. But, uh, that's life sometimes. We can't get everything we want, no matter how hard we try. I, uh, hope that's a lesson for you."
"Believe me, I know," Eric murmured.
"Anyway, so, uh, I just want you to know that, uh...I'm not--I'm not...disappointed with my decision to put you in that chair. I don't know if you know that or not."
Eric narrowed his eyes and studied his father. What the hell was going on here? Was this...an apology? Was this his way of being remorseful for the way he'd acted last week? Eric didn't know how to respond and he sputtered trying to find the words. "Uh, well...you know, it's--I know," he finally said. "I, uh, I know. We all give way under the pressure sometimes, it's--it's no big deal..."
"Good," his father said uncomfortably. "Good. So, uh, I hear you have a new project starting--"
Before another word could be said, the office door burst open behind his father and his uncle. "I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, I tried to stop her," Kim blurted breathlessly as she burst in the door, interrupting the informal meeting between the three men.
Before he had the opportunity to react, Juliet Carson shoved her way past Kim and through the doorway of his office, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of the two older men who sat in front of Eric's desk.
The blood drained from Eric's face. There she stood, in his office, looking like the most beautiful disaster that had ever walked the earth. Behind her perfectly-tailored, black pants suit and the tight, dark bun that sat perfectly rolled on top of her head, her eyes looked like a deer in headlights. She obviously hadn't expected to walk in on anything and Eric's own bewildered expression must have shaken her beyond that.
"Juliet!" He exclaimed with surprise, as he rose from his desk chair. The looks he received from his father and his uncle caused him to check himself and clear his throat. "Um, Miss Carson, I'd like you to meet--"
Her own shock wore off quickly and she eyed the men, her expression incredulous. "That's no concern of mine. With all due respect, gentlemen, I'm willing to bet gross amounts of money that my business here is much more important than what you have going on right now. Kindly excuse yourselves."
Eric watched his father's face turn red as he rose to confront her. "I beg your pardon--?"
"Gentlemen," Eric suddenly interjected, finding an authoritative tone within himself that surprised even him. "She's right. If you please, we'll continue our meeting later."
Receiving a furious glare from his father and a look of curious bewilderment from his uncle, the two men saw themselves out the door, Walt unable to resist stopping to extend his hand to her. "Miss Carson," he smiled. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced--"
She looked down at his hand as if she were shocked at his audacity to offer it to her. "Are you Eric Reynolds?"
"Um--well, no, ma'am--"
"I'm here to see Eric Reynolds."
"Right..." And then the rejected man closed the office door behind him.
Eric tried to ignore his curiosity and his weakened knees as she proceeded to lock the door, and he tried to suppress the nervous trembling that made him want to immediately take her and splay her out across his desk.
As she turned around to look at him, her brown eyes glittering under the dim lamplight of the small office, he fought to gather--and keep--his composure. "Well, then," he started. "I assume a week's worth of my humiliation wasn't enough for you?"
As he sunk back down into his desk chair, finding his confidence again in remembering that she was on his turf now, he waited for her to take a seat across from him before he got comfortable and laced his fingers together. "It was cute, though, the way you returned everything without the notes. They were just stupid notes, worth much less than the gifts they accompanied."
"You like notes," she stated plainly.
"I do like notes," he challenged.
"Get over yourself," she suddenly shot at him as she reached into her briefcase and plopped a thick stack of papers on his desk in front of him. "I'm not here for any of that."
"What's this?" He asked as he picked them up off the desk and lifted his ankle to rest it comfortably on his knee, further sitting back in his chair.
"It's a contract," she answered curtly, her legs crossed tightly in front of her.
He looked up at her in confusion. "A contract...?"
"Yes. A contract. I assume you know what one is?"
He glared at her. "Don't insult my intelligence."
She took a breath and she straightened her spine in the chair. "I researched your company. As best as I could, anyway. And...well, T&K Contracting screwed us over and your company has very good references."
"Of course we do," he murmured as he leafed through the pages. "We're the best in town."
The pair fell into a silence for a minute or two, one that should have been uncomfortable, but was surprisingly the opposite. Eric skimmed page after page before he finally got what he wanted out of it and laid it back down on his desk.
"Well?" Juliet said. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going sign it so I can get out of here?"
Eric's eyes widened at her in surprise. "Sign it? Without reading it? You must be joking."
"Well, it's all very standard--"
"Eric Reynolds, and only Eric Reynolds, is to conduct any business or make any decisions regarding the construction, plans, scheduling, blah blah blah. Is that standard in all your contracts?"
"Your father is an asshole," she stated flatly. "And that uncle of yours is good for nothing. I don't want them having anything to do with my building. If you weren't the CEO, it would be whoever is sitting in your chair. Don't take it personal."
He was dying to know what triggered her sudden change of heart but, selfishly, his own personal agenda became more important than a contract he'd already accepted the loss of. "Well, I take this very personal, Miss Carson," he stated plainly. "You've come to me and laid quite a lot of responsibility into my hands."
"You're a CEO," she spat. "Responsibility is your job title."
"Well, yes, it is. Internally. You know, I'm supposed to turn this over to Walt and Travis when it's all said and done."
"That's not up for negotiation."
"This wouldn't be the only project on my plate, you know. There's only one of me. I'll need help."
"Then I expect it to be your top priority," she snapped. "This is my livelihood we're talking about, here."
"Yours and the rest of my clients."
"Then the rest of your clients can have Travis and Walt. I want you."
He arched an amused eyebrow and allowed the smile to creep across his face. "Can I get that in writing?"
"It is in writing," she said angrily through her teeth. "If you would shut your mouth and read what I gave you, you'd see it right there in black and white."
"I don't know who you're fighting," he barked back at her. "But it's not me."
"Then let me out of here."
"You're free to go whenever you want--"
"With my signed contract."
"Look. You can't just walk into my company and throw my family out of my office and then sit there and expect me to just do whatever you want me to do. This is my company. And I don't make any business decisions without knowing what I'm getting myself into, I don't care if you're the god damned Queen of England. I understand that you're used to getting everything you want, Miss Carson. But in real life, it doesn't always work that way. And I need to know that this contract meets my satisfaction before I decide I want anything to do with it. Rome wasn't built in a day."
She straightened her spine and took in a breath, looking painfully uncomfortable. She was holding back, but he didn't care. He didn't care what she did. Right now she was acting like a spoiled little rich girl and, as much as he wanted to melt to his knees and kiss her feet and helplessly worship her, she needed to be put in her place. He wasn't about to let her walk all over him. Especially not when his father stood on the other side of the door.
"I'm closing on the building soon. Very soon," she said quietly. "I've been working closely with a company for several months and they turned out to be shit. I'm running out of time. I just really need to get this started."
"And if I turn this proposition down?" He tested her.
He watched her shoulders relax with defeat and her eyes darted around the room as she began to fidget with her thumbs in her lap. Finally, her eyes landed on his and he saw her--the real her, the her he met two Saturdays ago--as she silently let her guard down. "I don't...I don't have a backup plan or anything, I...I spent the entire week last week researching your company. I, um, I'm very impressed with your work."
Looking in her eyes, his expression softened along with his tone. "You mean the company's work."
She shook her head meekly. "No. I mean your work. I, um--my first impression of your father wasn't...favorable to me. So I wasn't interested in how he ran anything. And since you're running it now, I only...well, I limited my research...and, anyway, Reynolds Construction has everything I'm looking for, so--and I've offered to pay you handsomely. If--if that's not enough money, we can discuss it--"
"The money isn't an issue," he assured her calmly.
"Look, this is--this is difficult for me. I've never found myself in a position like this before," she said, her voice struggling for strength as her knee bounced nervously with a subtle, vigorous rhythm. "But--but--Carson Innovations really needs Reynolds Construction--"
"You need me," he corrected her.
"Stop trying to make this so damn personal!" She shot at him loudly.
At this, his eyes hardened at her and he sat for a moment before he rolled his chair up against his desk and opened a program on his laptop and began to type in it. It didn't take him but just a minute to complete his task and, as he pulled the paper out of the printer, he scribbled his signature along the bottom and shoved the sheet across the desk at her.
She looked on at him in horror. "What is this?"
"An addendum."
"You can't put an addendum on a contract that isn't fully executed."
"There's no law that says I can't."
"Well, what's--?"
"Dinner," he said pointedly. "You and me. That's the addendum."
"That is not an addendum."
"It is. I refuse to sign a single letter to any page of that contract until you and I have ironed out our personal issues. I will not enter into a professional relationship like this with our issues, or whatever they are, hanging over our heads like this. You have to respect that."
"I can respect it, but I don't have to sign an addendum for it."
"Yes, you do. Because I know you--"
"You don't know shit about me--"
"And I know you will run. Unless you have a written obligation not to. This is how this is going to work: I'll sign that contract if you have dinner with me. That's it."
"This is blackmail," she objected, her voice rising with anger. "This is completely unprofessional--"
"That's the only way this is going to happen. Period."
"Absolutely not--"
"No dinner, no contract. And the both of us are very hungry people."
Juliet straightened up in her chair and smoothed out the bottom of her closed blazer. Then she carefully leaned over and slid the paper closer to her. Glancing at it, she plucked a pen out of a cup on the edge of his desk, scribbled something of her own, and shoved the sheet back at him. "That is the only way it's going to happen. Period," she said.
Amused, he picked the paper up and read it. With an arrow pointed upward, she'd squeezed the word "business" in front of "dinner." He smirked and shook his head. "Touche," he muttered.
Then she stood up and adjusted her clothes. She leaned over his desk to snatch the page out of his hand and he caught a glimpse of cleavage that peeked from the modest, pink shirt she wore under her suit. He found himself biting his lip in response before she could realize he'd seen anything, and she straightened back up and used the pen that was still in her hand to scribble her name underneath his. "Fine," she spat. "Bring the contract with you to dinner--signed--and we can go over it then."
"And if I have any questions between now and then?"
She glared at him with disgust. "I'm fairly certain you know how to reach me."
"Oh!" He said, suddenly breaking a sweat as he realized they hadn't made any actual plans. "Here," he said, scribbling one more correction and shoving the paper back across the desk as she gathered her purse and her briefcase.
"What now?"
"Dinner details."
She glanced at the page on the desk and she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "That's not okay with me."
"It has to be. You signed it."
"Putting something there after I've signed it does not make it valid. It just makes you desperate."
He raised his eyebrows and was unable to wipe the devilish grin off of his face. "Would you like me to add an addendum to the addendum? It would take me, like, five seconds..."
"Uggh!" She sounded, shaking her head and heading for the door. "You're absolutely impossible."
"Juliet," he said firmly, catching her attention before she turned the knob. "One more thing. Just do us both a favor and unblock my number already. It would make our lives a whole lot easier if we could contact each other."
"On our personal phones?"
"Dinner plans, remember?"
"Just sign the damn contract," she demanded menacingly. And with that, she was out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
He looked at the closed door for several seconds before a victorious grin spread across his face. Biting his lip and shaking his head, he fished his eyeglasses out of his desk, slid them on his face, and then went through her contract, signing every single dotted line there was to sign.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Juliet broke into a cold sweat on the elevator on the way to the ground floor.
Holy shit, what had she just done? She thought this would be a piece of cake. That she would just walk in and he would grovel at her feet and dry out every pen in his office just to sign that contract over and over and over again...
But, no. She had grossly underestimated Eric Reynolds. The man was beyond brilliant and he certainly gave her a run for her money. For the first time since her rise to professional power, Juliet no longer felt like she was in control. And while this concept scared her to death, there was also a certain calm that she couldn't control, knowing that Carson Innovations would be safe in Eric's hands--if only he'd come off it and sign that damn contract.
Damn him. Damn that man. That contract was solid--iron clad and completely favorable to Reynolds Construction. She understood his wanting to go over it himself, and she knew she was impatient, but the quicker she could get the initial plans off the ground with Reynolds, the less contact she would have to have with Eric. This was the part she wanted to hurry up and get over with.
And then there was him. She closed her eyes and she sighed as the elevator made its descent. He was so...gorgeous. He had been dressed entirely too casually for a CEO, in a pair of khaki pants and a black, knit pullover sweater, but he could have worn rags and still looked irresistibly sexy. And the way his deep, blue eyes bore into her and studied her...she hated how he always looked directly into her soul, but his eyes were bliss to get lost in. All she'd wanted to do for the past week was simply get lost in his eyes.
She couldn't stop looking at his lips as he spoke to her. His soft, perfect, luscious lips that had known inches of her body she didn't even know existed. His lips that kissed hers so deep, so sensual, so erotic--kissing should have never felt as good as it did when she kissed him. And lips shouldn't be so easily missed and longed for.
She wanted him. She wanted him so bad, she could hardly stand it.
But she couldn't have him. And she wouldn't. His leaving her without a goodbye was likely an omen, a warning she should heed. He wasn't the one. She would never have a "one" and she was okay with that. Having a "one" was overrated and nonexistent. Your "one" didn't hurt you. Your "one" didn't abuse you. Your "one" didn't rape you and convince you that you were worthless. Years later, your next "one" didn't betray your trust. Your "one" didn't leave you. Your "one" didn't remove himself in the middle of the night from the place in your heart that he'd implanted himself just hours earlier. No. Nobody was the "one." Because the "one" didn't exist.
One of these days another man would attract her just the way Eric did. And when that happened, she would know what to do--and what not to do.
By the time Juliet made it back to her office, and found Beth waiting for her in it, she had fully understood the horror that was going to be dinner. It registered about halfway back to Carson Innovations and her stomach dropped down to her feet.
"So?" Beth asked cheerfully, bouncing her calf on the knee that her leg crossed as she sat in a chair across Juliet's desk. "Tell me, tell me, tell me."
"We're going to dinner," Juliet blurted in a daze as it hit her all at once and she collapsed into her desk chair.
Beth's jaw dropped. "How did a contract turn into dinner?"
She looked at her best friend, wide-eyed. "He typed up an addendum. An addendum. To dinner. And I signed it."
Beth blinked at her, obviously allowing Juliet's words to register with herself. "So...do we...have a deal? Or not...?"
"That's what the addendum was for. He refused to sign until I went to dinner." Then she snapped out of it and her eyes landed deliberately on Beth. "A business dinner. That was my part."
To Juliet's surprise, Beth looked instantly annoyed. "Well, that's stupid. He can't do that, this is a business contract, he can't make up stipulations like that, it's unprofessional--"
"It makes sense," Juliet said quietly. "He won't sign until we work out our personal stuff. And--and I agree with him, but--but, Beth, I'm so scared. I don't want to do this. I don't want to--"
"You don't want to confront him," Beth said, gently. "Or you don't want to confront yourself?"
"I don't want to confront any of it. Life was so much easier when I hated him. He hurt me, Beth. I poured my heart out to him and he left me--"
"And he very well might have an excuse that will be acceptable--"
"And then I don't know what I'm supposed to do after that."
"Well...what do you want?"
Juliet eyed Beth and she bit her lip and inhaled air through her nose. "Honestly? I want to fuck his brains out for hours and hours and hours until he passes out from absolute exhaustion. And then when he wakes up I want to do it all over again."
Beth shook her head and she giggled. "Of course you do."
"And I want to hold his hand," Juliet continued, her tone growing more serious. "I want to hold his hand and I want to allow him to lead me...anywhere he wants to lead me. I want to know him. I want to trust him, I want to give in...Beth, I swear I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire life and I hate it. I don't want it."
"But it's okay to want those things."
Juliet shook her head. "No. I'm not--I'm not ready. And he's not ready. And I don't need--I don't need the conflict of interest between our companies, I just--I just really want to get this relocation done."
"And then after the relocation is done?" Beth pressed. "What will be your excuse for denying him, then?"
Juliet sat back in her chair and looked at her best friend, trying her hardest to come up with an answer. Except that she didn't have one.
"You know what I think?" Beth said. "I think you're putting way too much on yourself. Why don't you just take it one step at a time? Focus on the professional part right now. Don't work yourself up over things that haven't happened, yet. Maybe you're right, it does make sense that he wants to clear the air before beginning a business partnership. I think that's smart. And, you know, maybe that's it. Maybe he's come to the same conclusion you have, that the time for the two of you just isn't now. Maybe he wants a clean, professional slate just like you do. Maybe you have nothing to worry about."
But Juliet didn't want that. And she did want it, too. She wanted everything and she wanted none of it. She didn't know what she wanted.
"So," Beth said, interrupting her thoughts once again, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm this time. "What are you going to wear?"