Does he think we have another matter to discuss?
Damn straight we do.
Men shook their heads in disbelief, a clear indication of doubt and hostility, rising from their spots at the table. Not one of them approached her, in fact, they acted as if she were invisible.
Animosity rolled off her.
She was shaking with it.
Her emotions were raw, riding right on the surface and impossible to conceal. Anger and frustration flashed inside.
“Oh, and before you leave—” She reached for the clear glass of water sitting in front of her and swiped her tongue over the rim. “One of you requested a buccal swab.”
Inwardly, she cringed at her behavior. Ember never lost her temper and considered herself to be a mild-mannered person. She’d grown up in a Zen household, encouraged to see the best in people and to share her feelings with an open heart. Not anger.
No one bothered to collect the cup before departing. Nash strolled out of the room with the herd of good ol’ boys. She couldn’t decide if he merely fit in with the pack or led it. Either way, she was right on his heels.
“’Preciate your vote of confidence, Miss Thompson. Me, and the men at the ranch, we’ve got your back just as we had your father’s.”
“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. That means the world to me,” she obliged, exiting the conference room. Ember turned to her attorney. “Thank you for setting up the meeting, Mr. Jenson.”
Standing at the back of the pack in front of the elevators, she clasped the handles of her bag with a death grip.
When the doors opened, Nash insisted, “You boys go ahead. I’ll take the next one.”
Mr. Montgomery graciously waited for Ember to enter, but she shook her head. “I’m taking the next one.”
He gawked at her for a quick beat, dark eyes flooded with strained curiosity darting between her and Nash. He tipped his hat. “Good luck.”
They stood side by side, eyes forward, unstable energy rising in a silent battle of wills.
The stillness between them far more potent than words.
The ding of the second elevator nearly jolted her out of her skin, leaving her breathless and lightheaded. The doors parted and Nash motioned her inside the empty elevator with a quick sweep of his hand, insisting she go first.
Ember scowled.
Nash leveled her with a steady gaze. “After you.”
“How sweet,” she clipped, head bobbling back and forth sassily, marching into the lift. “You’re just full of typical Texas manners today.”
“I conduct myself with manners every day.”
“You don’t fool me. Not anymore.”
The doors closed, locking them inside. Pressing his back to the stainless steel, Nash crossed his legs at the ankle and loosened the knot of his tie.
“You held your own in there today.”
Her lip snarled upward in disgust. “Don’t even try that bullshit with me. You don’t give a damn about me or the ranch.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
“Well, I guess that’s refreshing. So, you mean what you say, but when you don’t say anything…that’s when I shouldn’t trust you.”
“I never said you should—”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were trying to buy Walker Ranch?”
The elevator gave a slight bounce before coming to a stop. Nash didn’t bother waiting. He filed out of the elevator leaving her behind. Ember followed, arms swinging in full motion, attempting to keep up with his long strides. Stopping at a door, he entered a code into a touch pad alarm system, turned the handle and went inside.
Hands on hips, chest heaving with each breath, she marched right behind him. Crossing over the threshold, her senses were flooded with elusive traces of citrus and leather. Her pace slowed to a crawl as she partly indulged in, and partly warded off, the pleasant squeezing sensation gathering near the bottom of her belly.
The heel of her shoe caught on the edge of the carpet sending her reeling face forward toward the floor. Her eyes popped wide in horror as a loud shrill echoed through the room.
Nash spun attempting to catch her when she pitched forward, but she face-planted straight into his abdomen nearly knocking both off their feet.
Her arms flew around his waist, fingers digging into his lower back, scrambling to keep from crashing to the floor. Nash gripped her arms and staggered backwards, dragging her with him.
When the commotion came to a stop, the side of her face was smashed against his chiseled stomach muscles, her body stretched out long from head-to-toes in a slanted plank position, as she clung to his hips.
Ember panted like a wanton hussy in a bar full of single men. The moist heat from her heavy breathing fogged against his belt buckle.
Mortification set in.
Peeling her cheek from his waistband, she clung to his flexing biceps, struggling to get her feet beneath her knees. Nash clasped her by the arms, the length of his fingers sinking into her flesh, lifting her with ease.
He half growled and half laughed, hauling her to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I tripped,” she stammered breathlessly.
“You okay?”
Caught in an awkward embrace, her hands wedged between their bodies, palms planted against the fine fabric covering his hard chest. The pounding rhythm of his heart pulsed against the flat of her hands.
Their breath mingled in rapid gusts of air, fanning across their faces. A small tremor rippled through her body. Being held so close was dangerous. She knew she should take a step back but couldn’t force herself to move.
He felt too good.
Way too damn good.
In fact, she’d never experienced such a rush of sentiments at one time. Anger, fear, desire, lust, and everything in between, wreaked havoc on her typically calm sanities.
“You’ve got—” He dragged the pad of his thumb from the edge of her lips to the side of her cheek. “—some lip gloss on your cheek.”
Ember remained still, mortification gathering traction as he made several passes over the stain on her skin. The back of his fingers brushed along the side of her throat, decelerating the hammering of her heart to a painful throb.
Slowly, she lowered her hands and inched away from him, the break in connection bringing a cold ache to her insides. His blue eyes wandered over her face with intricate fascination. A smile hooked the corners of his mouth, giving her cheek one final swipe.
His tenderness disarmed her.
Wrecked her.
Ember forced herself to take a step back. Gaining her bearings, her eyes darted around the room to see if anyone was watching. She half expected to find an entire group of office workers looking on with camera phones in hand, but what she witnessed was even more embarrassing.
“Oh. My. God. You live here?”
“Yeah, this is my place.”
The acknowledgment didn’t do her any favors. The idea of being in his home, so close to his personal space…his bedroom…far too risky. Longing and desire trampled through her, undermining any residual loathing lingering at the corners of her heart, turning her face crimson red.
“I’m sorry. I…I was so pissed, I just barged right in—”
“And tried to tackle me to the ground,” he interjected with a sultry grin. Ember moved toward the kitchen island, putting some much-needed air between them. Nash mimicked her movements, slinking toward her until her hips bumped against the granite counter, leaving only inches between the lengths of their bodies. “Ya know, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask. I’d gladly oblige.”