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CHAPTER ONE
“I think we’ve got a spy.”
Marcus Danvers’s announcement erupted in Alex’s mind like Mt. St. Helens on a bad day.
Pushing his chair back slightly from the massive walnut desk that sat in the center of his office, Alex met Marcus’s expectant stare. “Why?”
Leaning in the open doorway, his six-foot-two-inch frame exuding casual relaxation while, Marcus’s blue eyes glittered with anticipation and amusement. “Harrison’s daughter called this morning.”
The closer they got to seeing John Harrison’s company dismantled, the less humor Alex found in anything.
“Explain.”
Marcus crossed the oversized office and sat down in one of the chairs facing Alex’s desk. “She wanted to know if I liked the idea of changing employers. Ms. Harrison said that she had a client interested in someone with my skill set and experience.”
Alex shrugged, making a concentrated effort not to overreact and feed Marcus’s off-beat sense of humor. “She works for one of the most exclusive headhunting agencies in the Portland area. She makes a lot of calls like the one you received this morning.”
Although he’d never met Isabel, Alex had no doubt she was a lot like her father. He stole men’s ideas. She stole employees, specializing in the hi-tech industry. According to his sources, she was very good at her job.
Marcus stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankle. “If you ask me, it’s too much of a coincidence right now. Our client is only months away from closing the deal on her dad’s company and she calls your most valuable employee trying to lure him away.”
“My most valuable employee being you?”
“Well, yes.” Marcus attempted a modest look of acceptance. “Not to mention an employee with inside information St. Clair’s plans to take Hypertron apart.”
Alex nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
Marcus stood up to leave.
“What did you say to her?”
Marcus turned around, his brows raised in mockery. “If I’d said yes, I wouldn’t have told you about the phone call, now would I?”
“With your twisted sense of humor, that’s not a given.”
“I told her no, boss. I’m not interested in leaving CIS. Working for you gives me a chance to use my hunter’s instincts without dressing up in fatigues and chasing some poor animal through the forest.”
With a sardonic smile, Marcus left.
He was right. Operating CIS satisfied something both male and primitive inside him as well. Some called him a corporate raider, but that wasn’t accurate. He was a purveyor of highly specialized information. He evaluated companies, identifying their strengths and weaknesses for investment groups. A few of those groups were led by true corporate raiders, men who made their money in the warlike world of hostile takeovers.
Alex had created CIS, or Corporate Information Systems on the advice of his dad, just a few years before the older man’s death. Just out of college, Alex had considered pursuing a career in the field of arbitrage. His dad had suggested he would be happier participating in the hunt than in the kill. He’d been right.
Providing information that could help companies grow and change the landscape of the hi-tech industry was a deeply satisfying job. He’d discovered that the power to build up was more satisfying than that to tear down, hence the fact that he seldom took on corporate raiders as clients.
Guy St. Clair was one of those exceptions. Alex looked forward to being in on the kill, the hostile takeover of
Hypertron, with the primal anticipation of a predator ready to bring down its prey.
John Harrison owned Hypertron. Both the man and the company had played their role in the untimely death of Alex’s father. He had been biding his time for two years, waiting for an opportunity to redress that inequity. It had finally come three months ago when two unrelated, but necessary events had taken place.
The first had been John Harrison’s overextension of his company in an untimely bid for expansion. The second had been when Guy St. Clair, a true corporate raider, had approached Alex for information on several companies including
Hypertron. St. Clair bought companies and made his money taking them apart and selling off the pieces, in this case, product patents.
Alex considered it the perfect ending for the company that had destroyed his father by refusing him the right to patent the results of his personal research and development.
***
One hour and several information gathering phone calls later, Alex surveyed the notes he’d taken. No overt behavior on Harrison’s part or that of his company indicated he knew of the impending hostile takeover or CIS’s role in it.
There was a chance Harrison was playing a deep game though. If he suspected anything, his first order of business would be to secure accurate inside information. Hiring Marcus away from CIS would be a brilliant move in that direction.
Alex tapped his pen against the yellow pad on his desk and then pulled open a file next to it.
A picture of a young woman stared up at him. The black and white image couldn’t tell him her hair or eye color, though that information was listed on her fact sheet. Hair: light brown. Eyes: green. The photo taunted him as it had for the two years since he’d opened the file on
Hypertron, John Harrison and his family. Because in that candid shot, Isabel Harrison looked innocent and too damn appealing for Alex’s piece of mind.
The heart shaped face and sparkling eyes called to him on a level he didn’t understand.
He had women in his life, on a very temporary basis, but he’d never found himself fantasizing about one of them when he was on a case. Yet this photo found its way into his conscious mind regularly. Had she been any other woman, he would have made her acquaintance by now, dated her, bedded her and gotten rid of this longing.
But she wasn’t another woman. She was John Harrison’s daughter, not exactly Alex’s enemy, but a woman destined to hate him when his plans for her father’s company came to fruition. Using the evidence of what she did for a living, he’d managed to convince himself the picture lied.
He had managed to stay away from her.
Until now. His options were limited in gathering the information that he needed on this new development and what he had avoided for two years seemed inevitable.
He would have to meet her because every possible line of inquiry led back to the same source – Isabel Harrison.
***
Isabel propped her feet on her desk and admired her new Italian leather pumps. Dark mauve, they were the perfect shade to compliment the tailored jacket of her pantsuit. Sometimes size six feet had their advantages. She’d gotten her new pumps for a song off the clearance rack at her favorite trendy shoe store in Washington Square.
Smiling in remembered satisfaction, she shifted her gaze to the clipboard lying across her legs and wondered if she should put an appreciation for footwear on her list, but decided against it. That might be pushing the male chromosome just a bit too far. And it was definitely the male chromosome she needed, or at least the result of it...a man.
A small sound had Isabel swinging her attention from the clipboard in front of her to the doorway to her office.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
A man stood there. Undoubtedly not her man, but an impressive man just the same.
A nighthawk, she thought fancifully. There was just something so dark about this guy, and not only his appearance. Dark and intense. She could feel him standing less than a dozen feet away. His probing, deep brown gaze momentarily froze her in place and she stared back at him with helpless fascination.
Black hair, cut just a little long, framed a face that was not pretty-boy handsome, but drew a shocking response from her just the same. Attraction, strong and undeniable slammed into her like an express train. Sensual lips above an aggressively square jaw line snagged her attention before she got hold of her focus and sent it elsewhere.
He hadn’t even worn the customary white shirt to relieve the dark charcoal gray of his suit. Instead he wore a crisp black shirt with a Neru collar. At least eight inches taller than her own five feet four inches, he dominated her office and her breathing space.
The whimsical thought that this man probably had no appreciation for footwear flitted through her brain before she banished it. He was a potential client, not a potential date and definitely not a potential mate. He was too overwhelming.
Summoning a smile, she scrambled to present a more professional appearance and whipped her feet off of her desk. In her haste, she forgot about the clipboard resting against her legs and it went tumbling to the beige carpet.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right with you.” She bent down to retrieve it.
Heat crept up her neck and into her face as she opened one of the drawers in her oak desk and shoved the clipboard inside. He’d come further into the room while she’d been busy dealing with the clipboard and now stood on the other side of her desk.
Remembering her manners, she stood up and extended her hand. “Isabel Harrison. What can I do for you?”
Nanny Number Four had drilled courtesy into her. Courtesy is not merely a sign of good breeding, my dear, but it is more importantly a mark of respect from one person to another, she had repeatedly said. Isabel tried always to be courteous and had put the trait down on her list, wondering all the while if it would weed out too many potential candidates.
Not many men bothered with polite gestures anymore.
The man towering over her desk took her hand in his.
Heat transferred from his strong, masculine fingers to her own and she hastily pulled her hand back before she made a complete fool of herself over nothing more than a common gesture of courtesy. Lots of people had warm hands. Hers were probably uncommonly chilled for some reason and that is why his skin had felt so hot against her own.
It was not some kind of primitive female reaction thing.
Sliding an unobtrusive glance at the calendar on her desk, she confirmed that she had no appointment scheduled. She rarely did during the lunch hour, but it wasn’t unusual to have a client drop in unannounced. It was very unusual, however, for a client to have the affect on her senses that this man was having. She didn’t even know his name.
She indicated a floral covered chair in front of her desk. “Won’t you have a seat, Mr. ...”
Folding his body into the chair she had offered, he said, “Alex Trahern and I think you know why I’m here.”
So this was Alex Trahern, owner of CIS and boss to the man she had called to discuss career options this morning. She barely stifled a sigh. She didn’t want one of those confrontations this morning. She really didn’t. If employers would just realize that she wasn’t the enemy. It wasn’t her fault that they often underpaid and undervalued their employees, making her job placing them with other companies that much easier. She wouldn’t have a job if employees were all satisfied with their positions.
However, her phone call to Marcus Danvers earlier that morning had been a complete failure. He was one of the rare employees that had absolutely no interest in moving on. Perhaps if she told Mr. Trahern that, he would forego the whole warning-her-off-of-his-employee routine.
She summoned her most convincing smile, the one she used to encourage one of her clients to offer a higher salary or better benefits. “Mr.
Trahern—“
“I prefer Alex,” he interrupted.
Nanny Number Four would be appalled, but Isabel nodded. “Alex, then. Although I am not at liberty to discuss my clients or potential clients, I can say that if I had contacted one of your employees, you can rest assured that he or she showed no interest in changing companies.”
Instead of looking placated, he frowned. “I don’t like games, Isabel. I know that you called my assistant, Marcus Danvers, this morning with an offer to lure him away from my company. I want to know why.”
So Mr. Danvers had told Alex about her phone call. She wasn’t surprised. Some employees found that mentioning she had contacted them increased their leverage when negotiating for employment benefits. Others merely felt that they owed knowledge of the phone call to their employers as proof of their loyalty. She didn’t disagree with either stand, but it sometimes made her day less pleasant.
“Strictly speaking, I did not call Mr. Danvers with an offer this morning.” The conversation hadn’t gotten that far.
“The fact that an offer was not extended is unimportant. You called Marcus and I want to know who put you up to it.”
Oh dear. This was going to be worse than usual. Being warned off from employees who had exhibited no interest in changing companies could be handled relatively smoothly. However, when an employer started asking questions about her clients, she knew she had to tread very carefully.
“I’m sure you will understand,” she said, with more hope than certainty, “particularly considering the type of business that you run, that I cannot breach the confidentiality of my clients.”
Alex leaned forward, his brown eyes intent. “What exactly do you know about my business, Isabel?”
Squelching the ridiculous urge to back away from her desk, she straightened her shoulders. “I make it a policy to investigate the companies of the employees that I contact. It’s good business practice. Naturally, when a employer expressed an interest in hiring Mr. Danvers, I gathered what information I could on CIS. I must admit that it wasn’t a great deal.” She looked at Alex, trying to gauge what he was thinking.
The tensing of his jaw indicated he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “What did you learn?”
There was no harm in telling him what she had discovered. After all, it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. “I discovered that your company sells a service rather than a product. You are apparently a purveyor of information.”
He nodded, his expression still very intent and somewhat forbidding and yet she had this strange compulsion to reach out and touch him. She swallowed a groan at her own stupidity. Touch him. Right.
“I also learned that you have very low turnover in your company. I could not find anyone locally that had worked for you in the past.”
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes momentarily.
“This morning I discovered that your company engenders fierce loyalty in its employees as well.” She couldn’t help smiling with her own satisfaction over that fact. “It’s always a pleasure to come across someone truly content in his job.”
Alex leaned back in his chair, and considered her with an air of wry disbelief. “I can’t see a headhunter finding pleasure in an employee’s job satisfaction. Wouldn’t that make it a little challenging to lure the employee away?”
Darn. Just when she thought things were getting pleasant. “I don’t care for the term headhunter. I consider myself more along the lines of a career guidance specialist and I assure you, my primary goal is to see people content in their jobs. Certainly, sometimes that requires helping them find positions with new companies, but it is always in the best interest of the person making the move.”
“Is that how you justify stealing a company’s most valuable asset?” He didn’t even blink when launching that insult.
Irritation started to replace her desire for diplomacy. “I do not steal anything. Employees are people, not things. They have the right to fair compensation for their work, competitive benefits and a comfortable work environment. If that means moving to a different company, then the ones to blame are the managers and owners of the companies responsible for a lack in any of those three areas.”
“Convenient philosophy for someone in your line of work.”
She’d had enough. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. Tell me not to contact your assistant again. I’ll tell you that he’s made it clear he isn’t interested in moving, so it’s not an issue.” She stood up and indicated the door with a wave of her hand. “You can leave and I’ll get back to work.”
Alex didn’t even shift in his chair. “Do you get a lot?”
“A lot of what?” she asked with exasperation.
“Employers warning you off of their employees?”
She went to run her fingers through her hair and remembered belatedly that she’d twisted it into a French knot that morning. She felt strands of hair slip loose of the knot and fall against her face. Things were just not going her way. She immediately removed her hands, but the damage had been done. Another lock of hair slid from the neat coil and she knew that within seconds it was going to look like a rat’s nest. Darn it.
She yanked the clip from her hair, intending to pull it back into the twist. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It’s one of the hazards of the job. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put up with.”
He paralyzed her with a lazy smile. “Try me.”
She stood there like a simpleton with her hands stilled in their attempt to repair the damage she’d done to her hairstyle. He had a dimple and Heaven only knew why, but that fact had an astounding affect on her insides.
Giving up on trying to fix her hair without a mirror and with hands that shook for no apparent reason, she finger-combed the strands and let it fall in its customary blunt cut to her shoulders. Obviously, he wasn’t going to leave immediately, so she sat back down.
“I’ve had employers threaten me, call me names and throw temper tantrums right here in my office. The worst as far as I’m concerned, though, are the ones that come by and offer me money to not have contact with their employees.”
Alex brought his hands together in a loose grip in front of him. “Why does that bother you? It seems like good business sense. You still get what amounts to a commission and the employer keeps his employee. It’s a win-win situation.”
He didn’t get it. “Win-win for whom? The employee is stuck with a boss who would rather pay what amounts to protection money than improve their quality of life at work. Believe it or not, I’m not interested in earning my commissions that way. I’m a career guidance specialist, not the mafia, for Heaven’s sake.”
Surprise and something else flickered in his dark brown eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was desire. She must be mistaken. For goodness sake, she had just met the man. Besides, he couldn’t be attracted to her. He didn’t like her.
“So you only called Marcus this morning because you wanted to provide him with a better job opportunity than working for me? Your client’s needs had nothing to do with it.” The sarcastic disbelief in his voice grated against her nerves.
She didn’t know why she’d given in to the urge to try to convince this man to see her differently. It was obviously a wasted effort.
“I called Mr. Danvers because my client specifically asked me to. I had other potential candidates for the job on my books with qualifications I thought were a better match, but I always try to please my clients, whether employer or employee. I had no personal desire to lure your assistant away from a job he enjoys. Once I discovered that he wasn’t interested, I congratulated him on finding a good position, told him to call if he ever felt the need for a change and hung up.”
“That still doesn’t tell me who hired you to go gunning for my assistant.”
Really. The way this guy thought. “I didn’t go gunning for anyone and as I mentioned, confidentiality prevents me from telling you who my client is.”
Alex nodded and stood. He extended his hand in a unexpected show of courtesy. “Thank you for your time, Isabel. I apologize if my comments or attitude have offended you. I can see that you take your responsibility to your clients, both the employer and the employee, very seriously.”
She shook his hand, nonplussed at the abrupt change in his demeanor. She was pretty sure he had meant to offend her. So, why the apology?
“I can understand your concerns.” So many employers truly had something to worry about in this situation. However, Alex didn’t. “In your case, I believe they are unfounded. Mr. Danvers is obviously content to stay where he is.”
Alex let his hand linger on hers for just a second longer than a formal business handshake required and then let her go.
As he left her office she couldn’t help wondering how he would do against the requirements on her list.
***
Alex walked through the anteroom to his office and tossed instructions at his secretary as he passed her. “I don’t want to be disturbed for thirty minutes, Ms. Richards.”
Veronica Richards looked up from her meticulously organized desk, and smiled a cool, professional smile. “Very well, Mr.
Trahern. I’ve updated your task manager with this morning’s messages. When you get a moment you might wish to review them.”
He nodded and headed into his office. How did she manage to make a politely worded request sound like an order? No doubt about it, he might be the boss, but Veronica ran the office. Not that he would call her Veronica to her face. His young, but very proper, secretary would never countenance such familiarity, though she’d worked for him practically since he’d opened CIS.
Sitting down at his desk a few seconds later, Alex emptied his mind of all thoughts related to his zealously efficient secretary and concentrated instead on the information matrix he was building around Isabel Harrison.
The image of her running her fingers through honey brown hair kept superimposing itself over the data he was trying to compile. He finally gave up and allowed himself to focus on the woman, not the facts surrounding her. Isabel in person had not met any of his preconceived notions of what John Harrison’s daughter would be like. In fact, she had been the living, breathing embodiment of everything a two year old, black and white photo had implied – innocent, trusting and somewhat naďve.
He had expected a calculating businesswoman, not a self-proclaimed career guidance specialist.
And he had not expected to be physically attracted to her, but why the hell he hadn’t realized his reaction to her in person would outshine his reaction to a photo he didn’t know. He was usually a lot less self-delusional than that.
From the moment he’d walked into her office, he’d found it difficult to keep his concentration on the task at hand. Isabel kept getting in the way. Her hand had felt delicate in his own and her guileless green eyes had spoken of warmth and gentleness rather than calculation and greed.
Then, it had been little wisps of hair falling from her sleek twist behind her head and flirting around her face. He’d wanted to touch them, a completely uncharacteristic response for him when he was in an information-gathering mode. Hormones had no place in business.
When she had pulled her hair down completely, he’d felt his heartbeat accelerate while his hands actually itched to reach out and touch her. From the matter of fact way she had finger combed the silky strands, it was obvious she had no clue how sexy the gesture was.
It had only compounded the reaction he’d had when she stood up from her desk. Her tailored jacket and trousers had emphasized all too tempting feminine curves.
He wanted her and the knowledge rattled him.
He could not afford to let things get complicated at this juncture. He needed a clear head. He needed to know who had hired Isabel to approach Marcus.
She said it was someone who would have done better with one of her other employee clients. That implied either Isabel was ignorant of her father’s plans or it hadn’t been John Harrison who got her to contact Marcus.
Or Isabel had been lying.
She could be a consummate actress. The little routine with her hair could have been planned. The air of innocence and naiveté put on for his benefit.
Adept at reading people, Alex didn’t like the fact that after their brief meeting he had more questions than answers.
The only solution was to see her again. |
