2
Cox
Sophia.
She walked away—toward the lobby this time—the sway of her hips positively hypnotic. I stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized. Her scent lingered in my nose and I could still feel the slight tickle of her soft hair against my face.
I’d never been so awestruck by a woman before.
It wasn’t because I’d seen up her dress—and seen everything. Granted, that had taken me by surprise. Who expects to look up and see a woman climbing off a second story balcony, in a dress with no panties? It was certainly a first for me.
No, there had been something about her. About the sound of her voice and the smell of her hair. The way she’d felt sliding down the front of my body when I’d caught her and set her on her feet.
Sophia.
I hadn’t even gotten her last name. For a second, I considered chasing after her. After all, I’m Camden Cox, and when I want something, I get it.
But she’d already disappeared inside. And the fact that such a brief—albeit unusual—encounter had rattled me like this made me hesitate.
Pulling myself together, I adjusted my cuffs. Whoever she was, she was gone now. I doubted I’d ever see her again.
Which was fine. There were plenty of women in the world. I wasn’t going to be preoccupied with the identity of that one.
That turned out to be a lie. Monday afternoon at work, I was still thinking about Sophia. Her soft curly hair. The curves beneath her dress.
Other things beneath her dress.
It was annoying. I shifted in my chair, trying to make room in my pants. She couldn’t have been that hot. My memory must have exaggerated—fooled me into thinking she was special. Or maybe I’d had more to drink that night than I’d thought.
Didn’t matter. I turned my attention back to my computer screen. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have more than enough to keep me occupied.
My assistant rapped on the door and poked his head inside.
“It’s three,” he said in his posh British accent.
“Come in.”
Oliver Carrington waltzed in, looking impeccable as usual. Tweed vest over a button-down shirt. Fitted slacks. Not a single auburn hair out of place nor the tiniest scuff on his expensive shoes. He’d worked for me for years and was brilliant at his job. Putting up with me wasn’t easy, so I paid him well for it.
He set down a silver tray with a teapot, two teacups, and a plate of finger sandwiches. Somehow he’d built afternoon tea into my daily routine. I’d stopped arguing with him about it. Hell, I could even admit that I enjoyed it. I was a Texas boy at heart—as a kid, I’d moved around a lot, including several years in Seattle, but I’d spent more time in Texas than anywhere else. But even this Texas boy could appreciate a hot cup of tea and some finger sandwiches.
Although sometimes I did add whiskey.
He poured, then took a seat on the other side of my desk. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Bad.”
“Good, because I only have bad news. Thiago Santos is out.”
“Fuck.” I left my tea untouched and sat back in my chair. Thiago was the third investor to drop out of the Skyline project since my now-former business partner, Dominic Coates, had fucked me over with a public sex scandal. He’d resigned, saving me the trouble of getting rid of him, but now I had to clean up the mess—and keep this project afloat.
Oliver adjusted his glasses. “We knew it was coming.”
“I know. But this project is on the verge of collapse.”
“Well, who do we know who might be interested?”
I’d been thinking about that very thing all day. “Jackson Bennett might be, but he’s hard to pin down these days.”
“Family man, now. What about Richard Calloway?”
“I’d work with Richard in a heartbeat, but he’s become a lot more conservative with his investments.” I pressed the tips of my fingers together. “But maybe Shepherd Calloway.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Are you making the phone calls, because getting a meeting with Shepherd Calloway isn’t easy.”
I scowled at him. “He’ll see me.”
He made a non-committal sound in his throat.
The door flew open. Althea marched into my office and put her hands on her hips. “Thiago Santos?”
“He’s out,” I said.
She pinched her lips together. My lawyer, Althea McLellan, could have passed for a woman in her thirties, rather than fifty, although Botox probably had a lot to do with that. A blouse and slacks dressed her tall, slender frame and her blond hair was pulled back in a low bun.
“This is a problem,” she said.
“I realize that, but—”
“Do you?”
I leveled her with a hard stare. “I’m working on it.”
Her expression softened. “I know you are. I’m just panicking because we’re in danger of losing this entire deal.”
“We won’t lose the deal. I’m thinking of bringing in Shepherd Calloway.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Good choice. We know he has the capital. Do you need me to make some calls?”
Oliver set his teacup down with a clink. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll set up a meeting.”
“Didn’t you just say getting a meeting with him isn’t easy?” I asked.
He scowled at me. “I’ll get you the meeting.”
Althea looked skeptical but didn’t argue with him—which was something of a miracle. Oliver and Althea only tolerated each other because they had to.
“Keep me posted.” She cast a quick glare at Oliver, then left.
“That’s it, Maleficent,” Oliver muttered. “Back to your black castle of darkness.”
I chuckled, then took a sip of my tea. “Obviously I need a backup plan if Calloway says no, but for now, we’ll take this one step at a time.”
He checked his watch. “Speaking of meetings with investors, you have one with Irene Prager at her office in less than half an hour.”
Nodding, I took a finger sandwich and popped it in my mouth. Irene Prager was one of the remaining Skyline investors. The fact that she wanted to meet in person was a good sign. It meant I had a shot at convincing her to see the project through.
This was the biggest development deal of my career. I was not going to lose it now.
“Do you need me to join you?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah, you should come. Irene loves you.”
He grinned. “It’s the accent.”
“Drives the ladies wild,” I said. “And if it puts Irene in a stick-with-Cox-Development mood, even better.”
“I’ll do my best to be suitably charming.”
Oliver and I finished up with the tea, and he took it away. Irene’s office was only two blocks away and it was warm for March, so I decided to walk. I slipped on my suit jacket and waited for Oliver to join me.
We went down the elevator to the lobby and through the glass front doors. Blue sky peeked out between the skyscrapers, and the hum of traffic filled the air. The first job I’d taken here in Seattle had been in this very building, working for a commercial real estate developer. Only three years later, I’d bought him out.