LITMIR.BIZ

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personality flaws meant she wasn’t perceived to be as dynamic and forward thinking as people in upper management were expected to be.

      When her crippling fear had surfaced after the death of her mom, and when years of therapy appeared to make no headway, her father had always reassured her that she was simply a late bloomer and she only needed time to come into her own. But she was twenty-eight now, and she still hadn’t overcome her insecurities. She knew that was a continual, if quiet, disappointment to her father. While he’d never said as much, she knew he’d always hoped that she could overcome her phobia and stand at his side at HIT, and she’d wanted that, too. She’d thought he was still giving her time. She hadn’t realized he’d given up on her. Not until today.

      This latest development was the last straw. Her father had always included her in his planning for the firm, even implemented an idea or two of hers from time to time, but this he’d done completely without her.

      The shock continued to reverberate through her. The writing was on the wall. She’d been left in the dark on this major decision—and in the dark was where she’d stay going forward unless she did something about it. She couldn’t make excuses for herself anymore. She was a big girl now. It was past time that she stretched to her full potential. If she didn’t, she’d be overlooked for the rest of her life, and she knew for sure that she didn’t want that. Things had to change. She had to change. Now.

      Gilda and Ron were still laughing and talking, sharing reminiscences as well as exchanging those little touches and private looks that close couples did all the time. It was sweet, but it compounded the sense of exclusion she felt at the same time. In her personal life as well as in the workplace, the people around her seemed to move forward easily, effortlessly, while she struggled with every step. She was happy for the others, truly—she was just sad for herself.

      When they both looked at their watches and said they needed to be on their way, she didn’t object. Instead she waved them off with a smile and stayed to finish her barely touched drink.

      She should go home to her apartment, get an early night—prepare for the big announcement tomorrow. Should? It felt like all her life Sally had done what should be done. Like she’d spent her life striving to please others. But what about her? Change had to start from a point in time—why couldn’t that change start now? Why couldn’t she be bold? Accept new challenges?

      “Ma’am? The gentleman over there asked me to bring you this.”

      A waitress put another Gibson on the table in front of her. Sally blinked in surprise before looking up at the girl.

      “Gentleman?”

      “Over there.” The waitress gestured. “He’s really hot.”

      “Are you sure it was for me?” she asked.

      “He was quite specific. Did you want me to take it back?”

      Did she? The frightened mouse inside her quivered and said, oh, yes. But wasn’t that what she would have done normally? In fact, since she’d dismissed her personal security, wouldn’t she normally have left with Gilda and Ron and shared a cab so she wouldn’t be left on her own like this? Open to new experiences? Meeting new people? Flirting with a man?

      Sally turned her head and met the gaze of the man in question. She’d noticed him before and rejected him as being way out of her league. Hot didn’t even begin to describe him. He wore confidence as easily as he wore his dark suit and crisp, pale business shirt, top button undone. Sally felt every cell in her body jump to visceral attention as his eyes met hers. He nodded toward her, raised his glass in a silent toast, then smiled. The kind of smile that sizzled to the ends of her toes.

      Be bold, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She turned her attention to the waitress and gave the girl a smile.

      “Ma’am?”

      “Leave it. Thank you. And please pass on my thanks.”

      “Oh, you can do that yourself. He’s coming over.”

      Coming over? Sally’s fight-or-flight reflexes asserted themselves in full screaming glory, shrieking, take flight! like a Klaxon blaring in the background.

      “May I join you?” the man said smoothly, his hand hovering over the back of the chair Gilda had recently vacated.

      “Certainly.” Her pulse fluttered at her throat, but she managed to sound reasonably calm. She lifted her glass and tipped it toward him in a brief toast. “Thank you for the drink.”

      “You’re welcome. You don’t see many people drinking a Gibson these days. An old-fashioned drink for an old-fashioned girl?”

      His voice was rich and deep and stroked her nerves like plush velvet on bare skin. And he certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. He filled his suit with broad shoulders, and the fine cotton of his shirt stretched across a chest that looked as though it had the kinds of peaks and valleys of toned muscle that a woman like her appreciated but oh so rarely got to indulge in. His face was slightly angular, his nose a straight blade, and his eyes—whatever color they were, something light, but it was hard to tell in here—looked directly at her. No shrinking violet, then. Not like her. His lips were gently curved. He didn’t have the look of a man who smiled easily, and yet his smile didn’t look fake. In fact, he actually looked genuinely amused but not in a superior way.

      Not quite sure how to react, she looked down at her drink and forced a smile. “Something like that.”

      Sally looked up again in time to see him grin outright in response. Seeing his smile was like receiving an electric shock straight to her girlie parts. Wow. Shouldn’t a man need a license to wield that much sex appeal?

      “I’m Kirk, and you are?” He offered her his hand and quirked an eyebrow at her.

      Sally’s insides turned to molten liquid. Normally, she wouldn’t give in to a drink and a slick delivery like the one he’d just pitched, but what the hell. She was fed up with being the good girl. The one who always did what was expected. The one who always deferred to others and never put herself forward or chased after what she wanted. If she wanted to make a stand in anything in her life, she was going to have to do things head-on rather than work quietly and happily in the background. Hadn’t she just decided tonight to take charge of her life and her decisions? For once, she was going to do exactly what she wanted and damn the consequences.

      She put out her hand to accept his. “I’m Sally. Next round is on me.”

      “Good to meet you, although I have to warn you, I don’t usually let women buy me drinks.”

      Sally felt that old familiar clench in her gut when faced with conflict. The kind of thing that made her clam up, afraid to speak up for herself. It was one of her major failings—another thing she hid behind. But she’d told herself she wouldn’t hide tonight. She pasted a stiff smile on her lips. Pushed herself to respond.

      “Oh, really? Why is that?”

      “I’m kind of old-fashioned, too.”

      She couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped her. Despite being head of a leading IT corporation, her dad was also the epitome of old-fashioned. The very last thing Sally needed in her life was another man like that.

      “But,” he continued, still smiling, “in your case I might be prepared to make an exception.”

      Taken aback, she blurted, “In my case? Why?”

      “Because I don’t think you’re just buying me a drink just so you can take advantage of my body.”

      She couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. Not a pretty, dainty little titter—a full-blown belly laugh.

      “Does that happen often?” she asked.

      “Now and again,” he admitted.

      “Trust me, you’re quite safe with me,” she reassured him.

      “Really?”

      Was

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