Free Dalton, Tymber - Contractual Obligation (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Tymber Dalton Page B

magazine article about him three or so years earlier. Based out of California, they weren’t exactly a competitor because they made different kinds of aeronautics system parts than Wells Technology, and didn’t deal in software at all except in how it related to their specific components. But they were a big name in the aeronautics industry, although a much smaller company.
    He obviously recognized Harper, because he walked over to her with a smile that just screamed, I have plans to screw you, literally and metaphorically .
    “Harper Wells?” he asked as he extended his hand.
    She stood and shook with him. “Mr. James.”
    “Please, call me Bill.”
    She was tempted to shoot back, “Please, call me Ms. Wells,” but she didn’t. “All right. Bill.”
    The hostess seated them and took their drink orders. “I’ll have to admit,” Harper said once they were alone again, “I’m curious. Why the last-minute meeting?”
    He smiled again. This time, Harper detected shades of shark-infested waters behind his guise. “I’ve heard a lot about your company. Seen it on paperwork more times than I can count on a lot of our government contract projects. I wanted to get to know you better.”
    Yeah, right. She believed that statement about as much as she believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. What he obviously didn’t know was she’d already done some research on his company and knew the only things about it that mattered to her. What she needed to discover was his angle. So she didn’t reply and instead simply looked at him as if she expected him to stumble on along.
    Which he finally did when he realized she wasn’t rising to any kind of bait. “Ah, uh, you see, our businesses have a lot in common—”
    “Not really.”
    That threw him for a loop. “Pardon?”
    She was liking him less and less by the second. He was obviously after something and didn’t have the balls to just come right out and state what that something was. She hated people like that. She also didn’t like his manscaping—manicured fingernails, complete with clear nail polish, hair that was perfectly coiffed to best disguise the fact that he was starting to thin on top and held in place with copious amounts of hairspray and other products.
    She also didn’t like his cologne. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he wore too much of it. Despite the man’s expensive clothes and a wristwatch that screamed “penis envy,” she suspected inside he wasn’t any better than a shady used-car salesman.
    “You guys are a publicly held company,” she said. “We’re private.”
    “Well, I meant we both deal with aeronautics—”
    “We deal with directional and navigational components and systems. As far as I’m aware, your company doesn’t.”
    She couldn’t help it. It was like the doof had brought a knife to a nuclear war. If Gorden had been there, he probably would have already kicked her under the table a few times to get her to ease up. In fact, she realized she’d drawn her legs up under her chair and safely out of kicking range from sheer force of habit.
    One of the few times she ever let Gorden get away with pulling the almost-your-dad card with her during work.
    Bill James stared at her like he’d just realized the cuddly little puppy he thought he was dealing with had rabies and a bad attitude.
    She took a sip of her water to give him time to step in and try again, but he didn’t, so she cut him a little slack. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What are we here to discuss today?”
    That time, he was saved from answering by the waitress coming to take their lunch orders. When she left, Harper stared at the man across the table from her.
    “I’d like to discuss a business deal,” he eventually said.
    “All right. Shoot.”
    “We’d like to buy your company.”
    Good thing she hadn’t got the glass of water up to her lips yet or she’d have been doing a spit-take across the table and all over him. She laughed. “Say