The New Guy Page 8

  Way to kill off the sexual tension. ‘I don’t know.’ But she’d woken in a cold sweat thinking about it. They’d bumped into each other a couple of times in the early days and each time she’d told herself the next time would be easier. Apparently she’d been lying.

  Ryan nodded and opened his door. ‘Well, you need me to beat anyone up, just let me know.’

  The thought was so delicious, Sam started to laugh. ‘How do you know he isn’t taller and stronger than you?’ Damien was about an inch or two shorter, and on the lean end of the body scale.

  Ryan shrugged those huge shoulders. ‘Doesn’t matter if he is.’

  She raised a brow. ‘Cocky, much?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not cocky. Just know how to handle myself.’ Before she could wonder at the meaning behind his statement, he was walking round the bonnet and pulling her door open. ‘Out you get, boss.’

  Grateful for her trouser suit as she climbed out of the cramped sports car, she waited while he bent to retrieve his jacket from the back seat. That’s when she noticed the side of his shirt. ‘Looks like you’ve got some oil on your shirt.’

  He stilled, looking down at the large black smear, then swore under his breath. ‘Guess I’ll be wearing a jacket all day.’

  Carefully he eased into it and jerked up his tie. The transformation was quite something. A brooding hunk in jeans and a T-shirt, in a suit he was … handsome wasn’t right. He was more than an attractive face. He was mesmerising.

  Willing the butterflies in her stomach to settle, she focused not on the powerful body shape silhouetted by the suit, but on the oil. ‘It wasn’t traffic that made you late, was it?’

  He flushed, avoiding her eye as he did up the button on his jacket. ‘No.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just wondered why you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Tell you what?’ Defensiveness ran through his voice and every inch of his body. ‘Sorry I’m late but the forty-year-old rust heap I drive is always breaking down? Think you’d have still come with me?’

  Her breath hitched as those eyes burned into hers. He’d wanted to take her. Before she could start to think about that too much, she nodded towards the hotel entrance. ‘Better get in before Becky sends out a search party.’

  The loaded look he gave her told her exactly what he thought about her avoiding his question, but thankfully he didn’t call her on it.

  Chapter 10

  Ryan felt like he was in a straitjacket, with a noose tied around his neck. He might be a geek, but he knew enough about the world outside his computer to understand there were times a suit and tie were needed. Didn’t mean he enjoyed wearing them, and knowing he was sporting engine oil down the side of his shirt didn’t help.

  Nor did standing in three square metres of vivid blue exhibition booth. He felt like he was an exhibit. The sales guy had popped off for a break, and Becky – one glance at her hair, and it wasn’t hard to see who’d dreamt up the colour for the Privacy Solutions branding – had somehow managed to rope Ryan in to help her for twenty minutes. So far he’d done four.

  ‘Stop fidgeting.’ Becky, looking almost normal in her black trousers and white shirt, with the exception of her Privacy-blue hair, gave him her death stare.

  ‘Who made you my mum?’

  She sniggered. ‘If I’d given birth to you, I’d have shoved you right back.’

  ‘If you’d been my mum, I’d have crawled back in willingly.’

  For a second she looked daggers at him. Then she burst out laughing. ‘Like newborn babies can do that.’

  ‘I was very advanced.’

  ‘God, Black, you’re such an arse.’ She looked him up and down. ‘But you scrub up okay.’

  He fidgeted again with his collar. ‘Careful with the compliments. You don’t want me getting big-headed.’

  ‘Too late for that,’ she muttered, then straightened up as she saw two men in dark suits walk towards them. ‘Hello. Welcome to Privacy Solutions. Can I help?’

  Ryan stepped niftily away. He was happy to answer technical questions, but that’s where his participation started and ended. Spying Sam on the other side of the stand, he walked over, frowning as he neared her. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. ‘Everything okay?’

  She shook herself, causing a tendril of red hair to escape from her neat bun. ‘It’s fine.’ But then she swore, and as Ryan tracked her gaze, he saw a slim, dark-haired man walking towards them, about his age.

  Sam continued to stare at the guy, as if she couldn’t drag her eyes away, and Ryan felt the penny drop. ‘Damien Lynch, I presume.’

  ‘Yes.’ The sound came out scratchy, and she coughed. ‘What the hell does he want?’

  ‘I’m guessing you’re about to find out.’ Should he stay, or did she want privacy? From the way his usually calm, collected boss was suddenly looking like a startled rabbit, he’d put money on the relationship between her and Damien being more than just business partners.

  Feeling an unexpected surge of protectiveness, and an unwanted bite of jealousy, Ryan squared his shoulders. He was staying put.

  ‘Damien.’ Sam had schooled her face into the same polite mask she’d worn when she’d walked up to him in the Privacy Solutions foyer, the morning after that night.

  Ryan studied Damien Lynch as the guy gave Sam what looked to be a well-practised smile. Grey eyes, about as warm as the North Sea. Wavy dark hair, neatly combed. Unbroken nose – yeah, okay, it was a good, straight nose. Lean body clothed in a charcoal suit that made Ryan’s look cheap and ill-fitting. Slim wristwatch that said I’m discreet and expensive.

  ‘Good to see you, Sam.’ Damien bent and kissed her cheek, and Ryan felt that blasted jealously bare its teeth again. ‘How’s business?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’

  Her voice was a whisper, her face a slab of marble. Where had his ballsy, animated boss gone? The woman looking back at Damien was like a hollowed-out statue of her, movements wooden, her fire extinguished. Whatever this prick had done to Sam, it had hurt. Ryan took a step forward and shoved out his hand. ‘Ryan Black. And you are?’

  Damien narrowed his eyes, no doubt wondering at the abrupt tone, but he clasped Ryan’s outstretched hand. The handshake was firm, though the hands were soft. ‘Damien Lynch. I used to be Sam’s … business partner.’

  Ryan nodded, as if he didn’t already know. ‘What do you do now?’ And yes, he wanted to make the guy uncomfortable.

  Damien gave him a tight smile. ‘I set up my own company.’

  ‘Same field?’

  ‘Yes.’ The man had the gall to reach into his inside pocket and draw out a business card.

  Ryan read the name out loud. ‘Privacy Protect, huh?’ He glanced across at Sam, who was giving him a what the hell are you doing? look. ‘You left Privacy Solutions and set up a rival company called Privacy … Protect?’ He emphasised the word ‘privacy’ and added what he hoped was a sufficient note of staggered disbelief to his voice.

  Damien’s smile vanished. ‘And what do you do, Ryan Black?’

  I’m the guy who’s going to develop an app that will bust your shitty venture wide open. Ryan swallowed down the words. Where had all this angst come from? It didn’t matter to him what Damien Lynch had done. Hell, if Sam decided to throw him out before his probation period was up, he might end up going to Lynch on bended knee and begging for a job. ‘I’m a software developer.’

  Interest sparked in Damien’s eyes. ‘You must be working on the Privacy app update, then.’

  Before Ryan could say a word, Sam was elbowing him in the side. As he let out an umph sound, she swivelled to face her ex-partner. ‘Thank you for your interest in my company, Damien. And good luck with yours.’ All attitude and poise again, she smiled sweetly at him. ‘Now if you don’t mind, we have customers to talk to.’

  Her look, her voice, the turn of her shoulders, all effectively dismissed Damien, who was left glaring at the back of her head, before walking away.

&
nbsp; ‘Neat.’ Ryan rubbed at his side. ‘Could have done without the bruised ribs, mind.’

  ‘I didn’t want to risk you blurting anything out.’

  Ryan stilled. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘Trust is earned.’ Her eyes strayed towards Damien’s retreating figure. ‘I trusted him once.’

  ‘Right. All men are bastards.’ It shouldn’t bother him. But it did.

  ‘No.’ She exhaled softly. ‘Maybe.’ Those big eyes found his and her expression softened slightly. ‘I appreciated you needling him. It was good to see him squirm for a second.’

  Still smarting from her lack of trust, Ryan nodded sharply. ‘Pleasure.’ Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and strode away.

  When he felt there was enough distance between them, he let out the breath he’d been holding and glanced back at the stand. Becky and Sam were now deep in conversation, looking occasionally over in his direction.

  The feeling of being slapped returned in force. Angry with himself, he spun back round. He was the outsider. He’d always be the outsider. Let them have their fun at his expense, it didn’t matter. He’d keep his head down, do his job. Pick up his pay slip. The rest of it, including any half-baked ideas he might have harboured about seeing Sam outside the office, could go to hell.

  ‘He looks angry.’

  Sam saw what Becky saw; the scowl on Ryan’s face, the hands rammed into his pockets. Yep, even from twenty yards away Ryan could show his displeasure. ‘He’s just cross because I sort of said I didn’t trust him.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t as bad as that.’ Yet the pain she’d seen flash across his face niggled at her. Her barb had been intended for Damien, not Ryan. ‘Damien came over.’

  Becky’s eyes widened. ‘Bugger, I’d forgotten he might be here. He was at the sister conference six months ago. I remember him having the balls to come onto the stand and talk to Alice until I sent him packing. What did the weasel want?’

  Sam might have felt the force of his betrayal most, but Becky and Lucas had both been hurt when Damien had set up a rival company. It was hard to conceive that the same man they’d built the company with, who’d been there through numerous all-nighters, who’d eaten pizza and kipped on the office floor with them, got stupidly drunk on launch day with them and ended up dancing in Trafalgar Square fountain, had gone on to coldly abandon them. Then set up a rival company. ‘I don’t really know what he wanted. Probably just to get under my skin.’ For a few sickening moments, she’d let him, too. It had taken Ryan stepping in to help her recover her balance.

  Becky touched her arm. ‘He’s not worth it, Sam.’

  ‘I know.’ And she did. Damien’s betrayal had successfully extinguished any romantic feelings she’d had towards him. Sadly, it had also left her feeling less: less of a businesswoman, less of a woman. Eighteen months on and she was still recovering from it. Of all the things he’d done, that was what she hated him most for.

  ‘How’d he look?’

  Unconsciously Sam’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘A bit thin, to be honest. And his hair was too long.’

  Becky sniggered. ‘You do realise why you’re saying that, don’t you?’

  ‘Because I’ve just seen him?’

  ‘Because you’re comparing him to Ryan.’

  Sam let out a noise that she hoped conveyed her disgust. ‘You marketing types have a vivid imagination.’

  ‘And you business types often can’t see what’s in front of you.’ She nudged Sam’s arm. ‘How was the journey here? Decided you don’t like him yet?’

  ‘Stop it, Becks. I’m confused enough without you stirring the pot.’

  ‘Umm.’ Her friend glanced at her, a smile hovering on her lips.

  Sam resigned herself to more mickey taking. ‘Come on, out with it.’

  ‘Just wondering what there is to be confused about. Unless you really are starting to like him, as well as fancy him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ She inhaled a deep breath, but her mind wouldn’t settle. ‘He offered to beat Damien up.’

  Becky’s eyes flew open. ‘You told him about what happened?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I’d pay good money to see that fight.’ Becky’s lips twitched. ‘From the look of Ryan, he’d pulverise the twerp.’

  Sam had a sudden image of Ryan standing over a prostrate Damien, tie askew, shirt sleeves rolled up over bulging biceps, broad chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow and down his crooked nose. She caught Becky’s eye, and started to laugh.

  It was late afternoon and they’d all had enough. Sam’s face felt like it had gained a hundred wrinkles from all the smiling she’d done. Becky and the sales team looked like she felt. Knackered.

  Ryan simply … looked. His eyes sought her out whenever he wasn’t with a customer. A dark, brooding gaze, simmering with an edge of resentment, it sent goosebumps racing across her skin. It was a gaze that was hard to ignore. Harder still to feel indifferent towards.

  And she still had the journey home.

  As she gathered up the feedback forms, Sam watched as a tall, good-looking man marched towards the stand. Early forties, she hazarded, and a face she was certain she’d seen before. His eyes flicked past her before zeroing in on Ryan.

  ‘I’m looking for Sam Huxton. The man in charge of this company. Is that you?’

  Ryan shifted on his feet. ‘Who am I talking to?’

  Fizzing with frustration, Sam dropped the forms back on the table. ‘I’m Sam Huxton. This is Ryan Black. One of my software developers.’ She enjoyed seeing the surprise register. That’s until she glanced at Ryan’s flushed face, and realised how her words had come across. Like she owned him.

  Regret washed through her but she had no time to dwell on it because now a pair of interested blue eyes were raking over her as if she was wearing a tasselled bra and a G-string. ‘Well, well. Jeremy Whittaker, at your service.’

  Now she remembered who he was. A tech journalist. The woman in her wanted to give him the same once-over, see how he liked it when her eyes lingered on his crotch. The businesswoman knew he could be useful, so she pasted a cool smile on her face.

  Ryan pushed his way in front of her. ‘Show some respect or make yourself scarce.’

  Jeremy bristled, though not half as much as Sam. First Damien, now the journalist. When had Ryan assigned himself as her protector?

  Summoning her calm, she smiled again at Jeremy. ‘Excuse us a moment, please.’

  Catching Ryan’s eye, she nodded sharply over to the other side of the stand.

  ‘What?’ All swagger and attitude, Ryan followed her over.

  ‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she hissed.

  ‘My mistake.’ Temper shot through his eyes. ‘Didn’t realise you liked being objectified.’

  ‘If you think I can’t handle a chauvinistic prick like him, that I need a man to protect me from him, then you’re just as bad as he is.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘I think you shouldn’t have to.’

  ‘Yeah? And I think he’s a journalist who could, if I smile sweetly at him, write a cracking article on our new app. So that’s what I’m going to do. If you haven’t entirely pissed him off.’

  Anger flashed across his face, but she didn’t have time to mollify him. She had a business that needed all the good publicity it could get.

  An hour later, Sam left the cafeteria feeling drained but happy with the way things had gone. Once they’d got down to business, Jeremy had proved to be entirely professional, though there had been an awkward moment at the end when she’d had to dodge his invitation to take her for a drink. Then again, maybe a drink with the flirtatious journalist would have been better than a ride home with an angry employee who made her hormones dance.

  When she arrived back at the stand, Becky was supervising its dismantling. ‘Ah, our CEO and founder returns. Is Whittaker going to write an article telling the world how great we are?’

  Sam r
olled her eyes. ‘Time will tell.’ She glanced around the hive of activity. ‘Have you seen my lift home?’ Becky bit into her lip, then slowly pointed to the other side of the conference room. Sam followed her eyes and froze. ‘How long have they been talking?’

  Becky lifted her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I only spotted them a moment ago.’

  It was nothing to worry about. Even if Damien was pumping Ryan for information, Ryan wouldn’t tell him anything, surely.

  Yet the man was clearly angry with her. And Damien would no doubt provide a ready and willing ear to any disgruntled employee.

  ‘You can always come back with me.’ Becky watched her carefully. ‘I’ll be done in another hour.’

  It sounded appealing, but it was also a copout. Between Ryan’s talk with Damien, his earlier attitude to the journalist and his clear anger at her, there was a lot of unfinished business that needed tidying up. ‘Thanks, but I’ll risk another dose of Mr Black.’

  Chapter 11

  The tension between them was so heavy, it set Ryan’s teeth on edge. An elephant in the room he’d heard of, but an elephant in the car was something else. And right now, there was a herd of the ruddy things stampeding through. But manoeuvring through rush-hour traffic to get onto the motorway wasn’t the time to mention them.

  ‘What were you talking to Damien about?’

  Ryan exhaled a deep breath. Okay, looks like Sam was going for it. ‘Any chance I could get onto the motorway before we start this conversation? Might help us make it home in one piece.’

  She snorted. ‘You need that long to work out an answer to my question?’

  The anger that had been simmering since she’d said she didn’t trust him and had ramped up when she’d belittled him in front of the journo threatened to boil over. ‘I need that long to calm the fuck down.’

  She flinched but kept quiet for the next ten minutes until he was on the motorway – hugging the slow lane, as that’s all the Triumph could cope with. When he felt her stare on him, he turned to catch her eyes. ‘You really think I was telling Damien about the updates I’m working on?’