TamingTara

Chapter Seven

Tara fumed. Bad enough she had to see him at work all day, now Grandpa was inviting him to their home for dinner. She had half a mind to stay at work all evening, which actually wouldn’t be that unusual.

At home, she changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top, since Grandpa had said casual, and wandered into the kitchen where Nina was preparing their meal.

“What are we having, Nina?”

“Chicken with artichokes and lemons and olives,” Nina replied. “Served over couscous.”

“Mmm. My favorite.” She reached for one of the marinated artichoke hearts Nina was slicing up and earned a little slap on the back of her hand. “Hey!”

Nina grinned affectionately at her. “I need those for the meal. Oh all right, have one.”

Tara grinned and popped a piece of artichoke into her mouth. Yum. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In the den.” Nina frowned. “I think she’s making martinis.”

“Oh.” She frowned. Tara and Nina both worried about how much Sasha was drinking lately. “I’ll go see.”

She left the huge kitchen and went across the hall into the cozier den. This was where she and Sasha spent most time when they were home, where they watched television together or read if they weren’t in their own rooms. Sasha indeed stood at the bar pouring a drink from the martini shaker into a stemmed glass. She dropped two olives from a crystal bowl into the glass.

“Hi,” she said, noting Tara. “Want one?”

Tara sighed. “Sure. How many have you had?”

Sasha shrugged, poured another glass and dropped in two olives. “Who’s counting? I hear we have a guest for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah. Grandpa invited Joe.”

“I can’t wait to meet him. He’s sure got you wound up.”

“He does not!”

Sasha just laughed. “Oh yeah, he does. Last night when you got home you were practically spitting you were so mad.”

“And today too,” Tara muttered.

“What happened today?” Sasha looked ready to be entertained.

Their grandfather entered the room. “Oh good, you’ve made drinks. Joe should be here any minute.”

“Actually, I’ll have to make more.” Sasha turned back to the bar. “I just poured the last one for Tara.”

She shook up another batch and while she was doing that, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Tara said reluctantly. She went to the front door and opened it to Joe. He held a bottle of wine, and was dressed in a pair of black pants and a form-fitting, sexy-as-hell charcoal T-shirt made out of some expensive-looking fabric.

“Hey,” he said, and she felt his eyes move over her as he checked her out. Her stomach muscles clenched and she tried to stay calm. “This is for you.” He handed her the wine.

“Thank you. That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”

He shrugged and walked into the foyer, glancing around. Tara knew their home was impressive. The ceiling in the foyer reached all the way to the second story, and a wide curving staircase with carved wooden banister climbed to the second floor. A spectacular chandelier hung above them, golden and amber globes of glass that cast a mellow glow. Rugs in jewel tones of ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz decorated the gleaming oak floors.

“We’re just in the den having drinks,” she said. “Follow me.” She led the way down the hall and into the den, furnished comfortably with soft tan-colored leather sofas and chairs and battered antique pine furniture.

She introduced Joe to Sasha, who looked him up and down with unabashed appraisal. Tara couldn’t help but compare her faded jeans and cotton tank top to Sasha’s silk dress and sexy sandals. Sasha was just totally different, her hair highlighted to a much paler blonde, flat-ironed to perfect straightness, her lips shiny bright pink.

Tara had always felt dull and boring beside Sasha, but it didn’t usually bother her. Tonight, however, she wished she compared more favorably to her younger sister seen through Joe’s eyes. Damn him. Why did she even care what he thought?

She glumly sipped her martini as Sasha poured one for Joe and Grandpa. She could have made more of an effort to look nice if she’d really wanted to impress him, but she’d stubbornly refused to give in to that silly feminine urge. And anyway, she couldn’t compete with Sasha, so she never usually even tried.

“Do you like that painting?” Sasha asked Joe, apparently seeing his interest in the large painting on the wall behind the bar.

“Uh,” he said. “It’s kind of…disturbing.”

Sasha grinned, handing him his martini. “It’s by a local artist, a young man from Solvang. I like to support young up-and-coming artists.”

Joe looked around the room at some of the other art.

“Sasha has redecorated the entire house,” Grandpa said. “And as she’s the only one in the family who knows anything about art, she chose the paintings and the sculptures too.”

“And the chandeliers,” Sasha added. “They’re Dale Chihuly.”

“I don’t know much about art, either,” Joe said. “But you’ve done a nice job of the house.”

“Thank you.” Sasha smiled at him.

“Sasha’s very talented,” Grandpa added.

Tara stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Sure, it was easy to decorate a house when that’s all you had to do.

Sasha expertly kept dinner conversation going as they ate, and Tara sat there saying little. She felt Joe’s eyes on her from time to time, and knew he was probably comparing her to Sasha with her perfect manners, gentle laugh and conversational grace, moving easily from one topic to another—current events, art, a little gossip.

That thought just made Tara slump even more in her seat, dried up any possible topics of conversation she might have wanted to discuss. The truth was, the business was her life, and if she wasn’t talking business, she didn’t have much to say.

For the first time in her life, she wondered if maybe her existence was too narrow. Was she missing out on things by not having a social life, other than Le Château, by not participating in all the parties and balls and fundraisers that Sasha did? Joe must think she was a boring lump, sitting there mutely.

But no. With Grandpa constantly trying to discourage her in the work she did at Santa Ynez Olives, she had to make it her sole focus. She had to prove to him—and to everyone—she could do it. She had no time for anything else.

They had no safety measures to prevent potential employee theft.

Joe sighed as he looked through the accounts payable. No policies or procedures, nothing, zip—something he was acutely aware of after his last job. So when he met Friday morning with Fiona Desara, the controller for Santa Ynez Olives, he definitely wanted to talk to her about that.

“We need to develop some rules—authorization levels, maybe approval for entering new suppliers into the computer system,” Joe told her. Fiona was open to other suggestions and they discussed options.

“I could have done something like that a long time ago,” Fiona said with a sigh. “But Tara likes to keep pretty tight control of things.”

Joe pursed his lips. Oh yeah. Another example of how she could be delegating more. Fiona seemed very capable of dealing with the company’s finances.

“Let’s talk about this tax audit,” he said. “Anything I need to be aware of? Concerned about?”

When he finished with his meeting with the controller, he went to talk to Tara. Her office door was closed and he lifted a brow at Paige.

She smiled. “In a meeting. With the last of the website designers.”

What the fuck? She was meeting with them without him? A surge of anger heated his veins. After the last meetings when he’d challenged her on her decision-making process, when he’d confronted her with all the things she hadn’t thought about, she’d gone ahead and met with them without him?

On purpose too, no doubt, the little witch.

He narrowed his eyes as the office door opened and Tara showed out a woman dressed in a business suit. Tara’s eyes met his, then slid away as she walked past him.

He strode into her office, threw himself down into a chair and waited, fingers tapping on the arm.

She returned a few moments later and stopped just inside her office.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked, starting forward again toward the chair behind her desk.

“Did you forget to tell me about a couple of meetings this morning?” he asked tersely.

Color bloomed in her cheeks and she didn’t look at him. “Um…no.”

“That’s what I thought.” He rose to his feet, placed his hands on her desk and leaned forward. “You deliberately left me out, didn’t you?”

She scowled at his chest. “You were busy with Fiona. And you didn’t need to be at those meetings.”

His jaw tightened. “Yes, I did. I want to make sure we make the best decisions. There’s a lot more to this than just the design of the website. We have some fundamental decisions to make about our online sales and marketing.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Tell me about the meetings.” The muscles of his arms tightened, supporting him as he leaned on her desk.

She licked her lips. “Well, I still like the first one we met with.”

“Because they ‘get you’?”

Her mouth twisted. “It’s not just that.”

“Okay then, what is it?”

“I just think they’re the best ones.”

He leaned forward. “You could be right. Once again, you have to prove it to me.”

She regarded him with open hostility. “We are not going to Grandpa with this,” she told him coldly. “This is my decision.” Her grandfather would have a fit if he knew what she was planning. She knew it. Joe knew it. Oh yeah, this one was going to be battled out between them.

“Our decision,” he stated. “And if you want me to agree, it’s the same deal…you have to show me.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I don’t have time for this shit! You’re driving me crazy!”

“I know.” A smile tugged his lips. Pushing her buttons was kinda fun.

“You can’t make me do it.” She stared defiantly back at him.

He reached out and touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Oh I think I can,” he said softly, holding her gaze.

She froze. Their gazes locked. They were both thinking the same thing—his assertion last week at Le Château that he could dominate her. “Get out.”

They faced each other, almost nose to nose. Her body quivered. Adrenaline surged through him.

“You can’t make me,” he softly threw her own words back at her.

Her jaw tightened. She took another step toward him as if she was going to physically try to eject him from her office. The thought almost made him laugh. She wanted to get physical? Bring it, baby.

He took a step toward her too.

Joe’s blood zinged through his veins as the adrenaline rushed through him and his heart thudded fast and heavy in his chest. Christ, dominating her was a challenge like no other. They stood there staring at each other for long, wordless moments. Unable to help himself, his eyes went to her mouth, now softly parted, her white teeth just visible. When he looked up at her eyes again, she lowered hers, her cheeks flushed, and white-hot need jolted through him straight to his groin. All he wanted at that moment was to grab her and bend her over the desk, spank that pretty ass and then fuck her brains out.

Her breasts rose and fell beneath her blouse. Tension rose between them, stretching tighter.

He shook his head and took a big mental step back. This woman was testing his control like nobody ever had. He’d never, ever been at the edge of losing control in the office like this. Yeah, he was confident, authoritative, knew what he wanted in the business world and usually got it—heavy emphasis on usually—and kept that very separate from the dominant tendencies he let loose in his personal life.

“I told you, Tara.” He flicked his gaze over her. “Don’t dick me around.”

Her eyes widened and he loved the flash of fear and uncertainty he saw there as he turned and left her office and returned to his own.

By the end of the day he was ready for a weekend. His mind buzzed with all the information he was taking in, not to mention the perverse pleasure he got from annoying Tara with all his questions.

He grabbed his laptop and briefcase and left the office. He’d always been one to work hard when he was at work, do whatever it took to get the job done, work long hours at times if he had to, but balance had always been important to him too. Back in San Francisco, he’d had friends he liked to hang out with, a large family he was close with too and a full and busy life outside of work. Which had been the only thing that had kept him going when his career had gone down the toilet in one quick flush.

He didn’t know many people in Santa Barbara, but that was okay. He wouldn’t be there long anyway. He was here to work and that’s what he should concentrate on. For now, though, it was the weekend—time for him to play, relax and recharge so he could show up Monday morning and kick ass.

And he knew just how he was going to play.