Sheltering His Desire Page 3

  While it was nice to get back into the technical side of things, especially getting to meld it with the marketing he loved, he’d been working directly with sales so long that a good group made the transition easier.

  He turned back to Alan. “Action items?”

  His assistant ran through the list, and Tate made sure everyone was ready for their test users to launch by the end of the week. Tonight with Alyssia had to be all business. Not that it would be anything else. He still didn’t know what had happened yesterday. His pulse twitched at the memories—the way she tasted, the tiny gasps she made when they kissed, and the combination of frustration and desire she’d managed to overload him with.

  He tried to shake the thoughts away. The meeting wrapped up, and everyone headed back to their desks. Images of Alyssia still taunted him as he made his way to his office. Damn it, why was she getting in his head now? They’d dealt with this and moved on all those years ago. Or, at least, he thought they had. She’d barely been legal when he’d offered to be her last minute date for her senior prom. She’d looked gorgeous in that dress, no longer the little girl who tagged along with them as kids. And when she’d all but thrown herself at him—both too much and nothing like last night—he’d had to tell her no.

  The rambling combination of fantasy and denial skidded from his mind when he pushed open his office door. Speaking of relationships that had jaded his reality. An older woman sat in the chair across from his desk, not looking up at the soft creak. She scrolled through her phone. He personally knew her hair wasn’t that shade of auburn, but not because her hairdresser had made any mistakes hiding the gray.

  He hid his sigh. “Are you here for business, or personal reasons?” Her answer would determine how he addressed her. He didn’t like keeping his tone so formal, but years of having it drilled into his head didn’t leave him much choice. There were no favorites in his mother’s business world. Especially when it came to family. Though more and more their recent run-ins made him wonder if she was pushing things in the other direction. Discounting his ideas because of their relationship. He wasn’t sure if she was doing it to prove there was no favoritism, or for some other reason, but each time they talked business, he became more convinced he wasn’t imagining it.

  She locked her phone and returned it to her purse, never turning to look at him. “Personal.”

  He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek before moving around his desk and dropping into his chair. “It’s lovely to see you, Mother.”

  “Of course.” Her smile was as formal as his greeting. “How are things going, darling?” Her soft southern accent slipped in, adding a layer of artificial sugar to her words. He might not see it that way, except he knew the lilting drawl vanished the moment she was in a business meeting and felt like it would make her appear anything less than intelligent and businesslike.

  “Fantastic. I’ve been drumming. Women think it’s sexy as all get out. And I’m thinking of trading in the Bentley for an F-150.” He cranked his own drawl a couple of notches, poured out the clichés she saw as being ‘too hick’ for people like them, and never let his pleasant expression slip. “Y’all should stop by this weekend if you’re free.”

  Her eye twitched and he knew he’d pushed the right buttons. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but sometimes her sense of propriety rubbed him the wrong way.

  Still, she kept smiling. “Sounds wonderful, darling. How’s your little project coming along?”

  He resisted the urge to snarl at the disdain in her question. She hadn’t supported the idea for the crowd-funding offshoot. Had shot down his bids to rent the Skriddie’s resources, saying that wasn’t the industry they were in, and as COO of her husband’s company, she had that kind of veto power. “I thought we weren’t discussing business.” His voice was flat.

  “So right.” Her eyes hardened, and her lips drew into a thin line. “How’s Jared’s baby sister doing? The one who follows you two everywhere, bless her little heart?”

  That’s where this was going. Please let him be wrong. Let this be something he couldn’t even begin to guess at. “She hasn’t done that for years.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive. And she’s fine.” Wonderful, sexy, dangerously alluring. Great, that’s what I need to be thinking about right now. Not.

  “So you are on speaking terms with her. Are you personally handling her user experience for this little project of yours?”

  His mother already knew all this. Frustration swelled inside. This wasn’t the time to let his cool slip. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but I am her contact. You’re not here on business, remember?”

  “Of course. Tell her to drop the charges against Bryce Jr., and give him back his dog.”

  She’d almost cut straight to the point. That was odd. “Why are you asking me?”

  “You know her.”

  “Jared knows her. She’s his younger sister. You’re not in his office tossing passive aggressive formalities at him.”

  Her mouth pulled up at the corners, but her eyes were cold. “Mr. Tippins has work to do.”

  And Tate had the entire afternoon free? He clenched his teeth. “Why doesn’t Mr. Thompson have this conversation with Alyssia himself?”

  “He tried. She was unreasonable.”

  That almost made him smile. A hint of relief amid his mounting irritation. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Talk to her.” She stood. “Make this vanish.”

  “Or your boyfriend won’t put out tonight?” Tate winced as soon as the words passed his lips. He’d let his guard slip for just a moment, and he shouldn’t have done that. Just because everyone knew his parents had an open relationship, and his mother had spent as much time in Bryce Thompson’s bed as she had her own in the last several years, didn’t mean it was appropriate for anyone to talk about it. Oh well, too late to take it back. “Sorry. Gentleman caller.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she locked her gaze on his face for several seconds before turning away. “She won’t like the alternative, and experience tells me that means you won’t either.”

  The moment the door swung shut behind her, he clenched his hands into fists and dug his knuckles into his closed eyes. Stars danced against his eyelids. He took one deep breath and then another, struggling to find his composure again. He didn’t even know where to start unraveling his fury. Had that conversation really just gone that way?

  He took one more breath and tried to turn his attention back to work. It wasn’t like his mother—or Bryce Thompson for that matter—was going to order a hit on Alyssia or anything so ludicrous. They were verbal bullies. His best bet was to make sure Lys got her site up and running as quickly as possible, funded her shelter expansions, and put this unfortunate coincidence behind her.

  He slammed his fist into the arm of his chair. Why couldn’t he believe it was going to be that simple?

  Chapter Four

  Tate glanced at his watch every few seconds as he crossed the short distance from the elevators to his car in the parking garage. Work had tied him up far longer than he’d planned, with ‘just one more’ phone call and email rolling in, one after another, until he had less than fifteen minutes to be at the shelter. Tate had given himself enough time to get there half an hour before the video guy who was shooting animal footage, and now he was worried it might not have been enough.

  He’d sent Alyssia a text saying he might be late, but she hadn’t responded. It was earlier than her overnight shift was scheduled to start, and for all he knew, she was still getting ready. Unbidden, images flashed through his thoughts of her in the shower. Tall, lean, with water cascading over her.

  What was wrong with him? He dropped into his car, pulled onto the road, and turned on a local talk radio station. This time of night, they ran updates every ten minutes about the stock exchange, and he liked to hear the highlights.

  Some of his tension slipped away as he navigated lighter than normal
rush hour traffic. He might even make it with a few minutes to spare.

  “Tonight on ABC News at seven…”

  The pre-recorded commercial filtered into his thoughts, and blocked it out as standard chatter.

  “You think you’re taking your dog to the vet for a routine checkup, and suddenly the police are knocking on your door.” The announcer’s voice held a hint of threat, just enough to draw in listeners. Tate’s brain froze, and then honed in on the words. “We’ll tell you which local shelter may be up to no good.”

  Thompson’s station. Please don’t let this be about Lys’s shelter. His gut clenched at the reminder of the scene he’d left behind the night before, and his mother’s threat echoed in his head. The remaining time it took to reach his destination passed like cold molasses. Should he tell Alyssia she might want to check this story out? Keep what he’d heard to himself? She didn’t need more stress, and there was no guarantee the news report was about her.

  The moment he walked through the front door, Sara nodded toward Lys’s office. “She said you could go right in.”

  He might have been worried to hear otherwise. He paused, hand on the doorknob, and spun back toward the waiting room. The TV they kept behind the counter was on, turned to the news, and a promo video for upcoming stories. Sure enough, the image on the screen was the front of the shelter. Shit. So much for figuring out whether or not he was going to tell her.

  He pushed into her office, and knew immediately from the sound coming from her speakers that she was streaming the news.

  She looked up from her monitor, forehead pinched, and jaw clenched. “We’re so screwed.”

  His chest ached at the worry in her eyes. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “No?” She raked shaky fingers through her hair. “The camera crews showed up about two hours after I told Thompson he couldn’t have his dog back. I was already home asleep. The staff wouldn’t tell them anything, because that’s our policy. And now I see this on the commercials? How could that possibly be anything but bad?”

  He forced a calm he didn’t feel past his own concerns. “We’ll watch; you’ll deal. Life will go on.”

  She looked at him, eyes narrowed, and mouth flat. “That’s not as placating as you may think.”

  *

  Alyssia wasn’t going to snap at Tate. She had too many other things going on to deal with his brand of calm. He was trying to help, which was why she was biting her tongue, but sometimes he tried a little too hard. The streaming news shifted scenes, and her gut clenched. She crossed her arms. She was vaguely aware of Tate moving behind her, but her attention was focused on the news clip.

  The lead-in to the story was almost the same as what she’d been hearing teased on commercials since she woke up. And then her world crumbled a little, and an insistent throb twitched behind her eye. The reporter was talking to Bryce Thompson Jr., his parents sitting next to him on the couch in a living room larger than her entire townhouse.

  He frowned and sniffled as he explained how his dog had been struck in a hit and run. A growl slipped from her throat. The dog’s injuries didn’t coincide with that. He went on to say he hadn’t known what to do. His parents were gone for the evening, but he was lucky a member of the staff was around. She took the dog in for treatment at an all-night animal hospital.

  Alyssia’s blood boiled hotter the longer she watched. The newsman talking about “and that’s when the nightmare began.” The camera and reporter trying to get into her clinic. The footage—only about three seconds compared to the truth on her own security cameras—made it look like Ricco had literally kicked them out on their asses the moment they’d walked in. “The shelter took his dog, and refuses to return the animal to its family. They declined our requests for comments. But as of now, they’ve kidnapped this poor child’s best friend, and locked it away, cold and scared in some back room kennel.”

  She sank back in her chair, acid churning in her gut. A quiet, “Fuck,” slipped past her lips and frustration stung her eyelids. God damn it. What was she going to do?

  She slowly became aware of Tate’s hand resting on the back of her neck, his thumb kneading at the tight cord running from her shoulder to her skull. His quiet tone seeped into her thoughts. “Press release. Letter to the station. Contact Legal about slander.”

  His methodical list took the edge off her mounting fear and frustration, but didn’t erase it. She nodded. “I should get on that.” How could he sound so sure and calm right now? Everything inside her was screaming at her to do something. That this was bad. That the local news had just told the entire community that her shelter was essentially kidnapping dogs.

  Nausea bubbled up again, and she swallowed it back. It didn’t help. “I’ll call the lawyer. And have Sara start on the press release. Someone needs to contact the station now. I should do that first. Can I counter before the ten o’clock news? We have security footage, we can show them that’s not how this happened. This isn’t right, we can’t—”

  “Stop.” His voice was still low, but the single word stamped out her rambling. “Do the first two. Don’t fly off in a frenzy and try and fight this war publicly. This is Thompson’s TV station. Going into things half-cocked won’t help.”

  “But he’s verbally destroying the shelter.” She wanted to scream. Was Tate trying to make this difficult? “He just told the entire town I’m a fucking puppy kidnapper. I have to tell them otherwise.”

  “Lys.” Tate’s gentle tone was still there but an edge lined the single syllable. “You should and you will, but not without a plan. Don’t rush into this unprepared, okay?”

  She ground her teeth at the condescension, but didn’t have the words to argue. “Fine.”

  Her speaker phone buzzed, and Sara’s tentative voice filled the room. “There’s a camera guy here?”

  Her already fractured thoughts shattered further. “They’re back? What the hell? Can I go talk to them now? This is my chance, right? I can set things straight.”

  Her chair spun and she found herself face to face with Tate. He was half kneeling in front of her, gaze locked on hers, forehead wrinkled in concern. He rested a hand on her neck again, thumb stroking her cheek. She wanted to slap his arm away, but the shock of his touch raced through her and filled in the cracks in her thoughts with glue.

  When he leaned in and kissed her, lips soft and tender, her entire world ground to a stop. Her tension was still there, struggling in the back of her mind to be heard, but she couldn’t focus on it. Her attention was on the rough fingers against her skin, the tiny nips he laid along her bottom lip, the way his tongue swirled around hers.

  She exhaled softly, when he broke away and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Paying attention now?” The edge was gone from his voice. Was he breathless? No, she wasn’t thinking straight. He was just trying to keep that infuriating calm demeanor.

  She wanted to lean in for another kiss. Something more intense to chase the flutters through her veins like the night before. Instead, she nodded.

  He bit his top lip for a moment, before continuing. “Good. It’s Greg from the office. He’s going to take video of the animals.”

  She swallowed, struggling with disappointment and relief, but she wasn’t sure what the source of either feeling was. “Right.”

  “I’ll hook him up with one of your volunteers. You start making phone calls about this news thing.” He finally pulled away, and as he stood, she swore his hand was trembling.

  “Right. Press release from Sara, and call Legal.”

  The moment the door closed behind him, the borders protecting her compartmentalized thoughts disintegrated. Had he really just kissed her? And why was she focused on that? Because it was an easier question that what the hell she was going to do about this possible media shitstorm. She took a few deep breaths. They had a plan, and she would follow it.

  Her stomach lurched when she reached for her phone, and she pushed aside the nausea. She could do this.


  *

  Tate couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. A single night of no sleep and a little stress and he was letting instinct and lust drive him? He was really off his game this week. Her taste still lingered on his lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But instinct had kicked in, and he’d needed to calm her down.

  It was nothing more than a distraction to bring her nerves under control. Things were high stress right now. He obliterated his doubt, left the cameraman in capable hands, and pushed any tension or worry from his mind before he stepped back into Alyssia’s office. He kicked the door shut behind him, only half aware he was locking it, when he registered the sight in front of him.

  She was pacing and muttering to herself, not even looking up at the click of the latch. She raked trembling fingers through her hair, her feet slapping hard against the floor with each step. “I can’t do this. It’s not what I signed on for.” Her tone grew louder and higher pitched with each word. “I can confront the abusive jackasses. I’m prepared for that. But to have to defend myself publicly, for something I didn’t do, against a man who’s never even wondered what it might be like to not have so many people responding to his every whim. I can’t do—”

  “Whoa.” Tate stepped in front of her, palms on her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eye. He couldn’t watch this anymore. Her tension twisted every muscle in his body until he was sure something inside might snap if he didn’t move, and her near-hysteria added a layer of something unfamiliar. If he had to name it, it was need. The need to wrap her up and protect her. The need to hold her and comfort her and let the rest of the world bounce off. The need to do something more than just gloss over things and move on.

  “We’ll figure it out.” He kept his voice calm, despite the heat searing his palms and the nervous energy responding to her panic mingled with her soft scent. “You’re not alone in this.”