Page 2 of Accidental Encounters

2 Karter

As I paced the hall in front of Rhea’s door, I contemplated how best to handle this. Clearly, she had wanted to ignore me—she had refused to meet with me for lunch. Yes, I had not been assigned to the Greeks’ take-over in town, but I had been tasked with acquiring the distribution company and since Rhea was also involved that made the Greeks my problem too.

I have to talk to her. For work—of course. “Yeah right,” I scoffed to myself.

The thing about me, I wasn’t a quitter. Telling myself that my persistence was because of business matters, I had gone to her hotel. Wishing I knew how to pick electronic locks, I waited outside her room. I kept telling myself this was because of business. I was here to confront the enemy, to feel her out. Or feel her up? Would she let me run my hands up and down her spine again?

“Nothing better to do than wait outside my room?” Rhea snapped behind me.

Something inside my chest did a little jump at those words. I turned and took in those sky-high heals, which barely allowed her to reach my chest level. When I met her narrowed gaze, however, I suddenly didn’t feel the height difference at all. This woman could take on one of the monsters from her native land—a minotaur perhaps or a gorgon.

“You’re Rhea Dimakos.” I crossed my arms and leaned against her door frame.

“And you are Karter Livingston.” She shifted the laptop case so the strap wouldn’t cut into her shoulder.

Then there was silence. We just stood there. I was blocking her door, but if she had asked, I would have immediately stepped aside. I just didn’t want her blowing past me, before I got a moment to speak. Funny that, now that I had the floor, stage fright had consumed me and I was at a loss for words.

Although she had clearly been working all day, she didn’t seem weary or stressed out. In fact, her eyes were sharp, appraising me from a few feet away. I could see the fire deep in those beautiful dark pools, something was smoldering. I noticed the way she worked her tongue across her teeth, as if she were just as befuddled at the prospect of talking with me as I was of her.

So this is one of the dreaded Greeks. I felt my lip twitch despite trying to appear as neutral as she was. This petite little thing couldn’t be more than one-hundred pounds if I dunked her in the hotel pool.

Dunk her in the pool.

Now there was a tempting thought.

“What?” Rhea snapped. “What the hell are you smirking about?”

You. In the pool. Wet.

“Seriously, what the hell, Karter?” Then she did it. Rhea put her hands on her hips and scowled as she took a few steps closer.

I burst out laughing. She was just so fucking cute. It wasn’t that I underestimated her, but I also had seen the fun side of her—before the secrets came out of the box. “Come downstairs and have a drink with me?” I swiped at my eyes, trying to make sure I didn’t mar her image with my tears of mirth. “We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you; you’re a conflict of interest.” Rhea waved a hand at me and continued, “Please step aside.”

“Rhea…” her name on my tongue—it tasted so good. Almost as good as she did. She must have felt the change in the air—that unmistakable fizzle and pop.

“Did you know?” she demanded, but her voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What?”

“Who I am. Last night.”

“No.” I flashed her a wolfish grin. “And I’m glad I didn’t, because I would have missed out on that kiss.”

Rhea’s eyes widened. Before I knew what I was doing, I had reached out. My fingertips grazed across her cheek, following that strong jawline and finishing on her lips. For the briefest of moments I let myself linger there enjoying the memory of a connection with her.

But then I dropped my hand. Someone was walking down the hall and their presence broke the spell.

“I have business to discuss with you. Please.” I shrugged my shoulders, palms open to her in submission. “Join me?”

“Fine.” She snapped, but the irritation was not lacing her words. “I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes. I want a—”

“Sambuca on the rocks,” I finished for her, stepping aside so she could let herself in. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I walked to the elevator, chuckling under my breath. I heard her mutter something, not in English. But when I turned to ask her about it, I got a great picture of that pencil skirt. That tiny little piece of cloth, although modest in all the right ways, just did things to me. As it disappeared into her room, I stepped into the elevator.

No sooner had I sat down at the bar than I gave Milton a nod and ordered.

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