fact they were both females and shouldn't run around stealing men from each other. Not even if the men encouraged it and couldn't be faithful if they were manacled.
Well, she hadn't stolen him, had she? Just borrowed him for one night.
Somehow that didn't sound any better. Bryony 2.0 was in danger of turning into a slut and a bitch. So what if other women had done it to her in the past, didn't mean she should now turn the tables.
She stepped into his private elevator and pushed the button with an angry jab of the finger. Never again.
Never. Again.
Chapter Six
By the time she got to the office she expected a reaming from her boss. She'd prepared an excuse about the gas leak at her apartment building, but as it turned out she didn't need to say anything. When Adam Rostrop saw her walk through the doors and summoned her directly into his office it wasn't to ask why she was late.
"Seems you made quite an impression on the new owner of Leonato's restaurant yesterday," he exclaimed, beaming. "He wants to meet with us this afternoon about possibly using the firm for some of his other business. This could be big, Mulligan. Benedick Petruska is a very powerful man. You've hooked us a big fish."
"I don't quite—"
"He's coming in at two. Make sure you're prepared. I've asked Sandy to put a background file together for you on his various other interests and projects. We can't let this one get away."
She hadn't even sat down; he was pushing her backward out of his office. It was ten thirty in the morning and he already had sweat stains under his arms.
"Congratulations, Mulligan. Keep this up and you could be in line for promotion." He winked at her and shut his door.
"Great," she muttered, hurrying to her own office. Three and a half hours to read up on Numbnuts and be "prepared". As if she didn't know everything about him already. It was the being "prepared" bit that worried her. Might have known Petruska would do something like this—embarrass her, make her unravel and drop things in front of her boss. He'd love seeing how unsettled he could make her. This wasn't about throwing more work at Rostrop and Philips, it was about him getting his rocks off.
As she passed the secretary's desk, Sandy looked up and hurriedly finished her phone conversation. She put down the receiver, grinning and bouncing to her feet. "You've got flowers."
Alarm bells rang out loud and clear. "Flowers?"
"Is it your birthday or something?" Sandy beat her to the door and opened it with a flourish. "I was about to call out for a last-minute cake."
Her office was filled with bouquets of peach and white roses. The sweet fragrance was almost overpowering. How the hell did he know they were her favorites? This wasn't just a few flowers. This was an entire rose garden and in the midst of winter. He'd spent a small fortune.
It was certainly a generous way to say goodbye to one of his conquests.
"And then these came," Sandy added, drawing her attention to the credenza and a large box of Italian cream pastries from Veniero's.
Yes, there were cannolis. Smartass.
The man worked damn fast. She'd left him dead asleep two hours ago. Since then he'd pillaged a florist, ransacked a bakery and arranged to meddle in her career. What else had he been up to?
"Also there's a package. I put it on your chair as there was no room on the desk."
Christ on a cracker.
"You should have told me it's your birthday," Sandy burbled apologetically. "I usually get that on the schedule as soon as a new person starts—"
"It's not my birthday until January."
"Oh."
"And please take the pastries out for everyone to share."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I'm not going to eat them all am I?" She laughed, shaking her head. There was a time when she might have been tempted to do just that. Especially with her emotions all over the place like this. She hesitated and then decided to get it over with. "Was there a card?"
"No. Nothing."
Well, that was a relief. He'd
Well, she hadn't stolen him, had she? Just borrowed him for one night.
Somehow that didn't sound any better. Bryony 2.0 was in danger of turning into a slut and a bitch. So what if other women had done it to her in the past, didn't mean she should now turn the tables.
She stepped into his private elevator and pushed the button with an angry jab of the finger. Never again.
Never. Again.
Chapter Six
By the time she got to the office she expected a reaming from her boss. She'd prepared an excuse about the gas leak at her apartment building, but as it turned out she didn't need to say anything. When Adam Rostrop saw her walk through the doors and summoned her directly into his office it wasn't to ask why she was late.
"Seems you made quite an impression on the new owner of Leonato's restaurant yesterday," he exclaimed, beaming. "He wants to meet with us this afternoon about possibly using the firm for some of his other business. This could be big, Mulligan. Benedick Petruska is a very powerful man. You've hooked us a big fish."
"I don't quite—"
"He's coming in at two. Make sure you're prepared. I've asked Sandy to put a background file together for you on his various other interests and projects. We can't let this one get away."
She hadn't even sat down; he was pushing her backward out of his office. It was ten thirty in the morning and he already had sweat stains under his arms.
"Congratulations, Mulligan. Keep this up and you could be in line for promotion." He winked at her and shut his door.
"Great," she muttered, hurrying to her own office. Three and a half hours to read up on Numbnuts and be "prepared". As if she didn't know everything about him already. It was the being "prepared" bit that worried her. Might have known Petruska would do something like this—embarrass her, make her unravel and drop things in front of her boss. He'd love seeing how unsettled he could make her. This wasn't about throwing more work at Rostrop and Philips, it was about him getting his rocks off.
As she passed the secretary's desk, Sandy looked up and hurriedly finished her phone conversation. She put down the receiver, grinning and bouncing to her feet. "You've got flowers."
Alarm bells rang out loud and clear. "Flowers?"
"Is it your birthday or something?" Sandy beat her to the door and opened it with a flourish. "I was about to call out for a last-minute cake."
Her office was filled with bouquets of peach and white roses. The sweet fragrance was almost overpowering. How the hell did he know they were her favorites? This wasn't just a few flowers. This was an entire rose garden and in the midst of winter. He'd spent a small fortune.
It was certainly a generous way to say goodbye to one of his conquests.
"And then these came," Sandy added, drawing her attention to the credenza and a large box of Italian cream pastries from Veniero's.
Yes, there were cannolis. Smartass.
The man worked damn fast. She'd left him dead asleep two hours ago. Since then he'd pillaged a florist, ransacked a bakery and arranged to meddle in her career. What else had he been up to?
"Also there's a package. I put it on your chair as there was no room on the desk."
Christ on a cracker.
"You should have told me it's your birthday," Sandy burbled apologetically. "I usually get that on the schedule as soon as a new person starts—"
"It's not my birthday until January."
"Oh."
"And please take the pastries out for everyone to share."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I'm not going to eat them all am I?" She laughed, shaking her head. There was a time when she might have been tempted to do just that. Especially with her emotions all over the place like this. She hesitated and then decided to get it over with. "Was there a card?"
"No. Nothing."
Well, that was a relief. He'd
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