Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights)(10)
A look similar to the one my three-year-old niece gets when she’s hurt or afraid but is trying to pretend like hell she’s perfectly fine. A brave, little girl in this big, bad world.
Guess Harper’s not so sure of her heeled feet in this world after all.
And why does that thought bug the shit out of me?
Chapter Five
Harper
I’m the first in the room, my mind focused on getting to work, my body still reacting to the feel of Ryder’s body against mine.
That’s what I get for taking a minute to appreciate the sight of his very fine ass walking in front of me. Take my eyes off the dirt for one damn second and I almost fall face-first and make an idiot out of myself.
Correct that. I did make an idiot out of myself with what felt like a million other eyes watching. Ain’t that a kicker? Try to prove you’re a woman, capable and tough, and end up looking like the helpless damsel.
Of course, no time like the present for the prince who saved me to enter the room. Needing space, I step to the opposite side of the crowd as him because I can still feel my body against his, can still smell the subtle scent of his cologne, and can still see that look in his eyes from earlier today when I don’t want to.
And then I’m left to wonder if that fluttering I feel is from today or just the memory of before? Which one has my body standing to attention when his undeniable presence is near?
How can one mistake of a kiss years ago still make me feel this way?
Because it was one helluva kiss. That’s why.
My thoughts are interrupted when a woman hands me a colored file folder with the number “13” and “Harper Denton” written on the front of it.
“Please don’t open anything yet,” Mason’s assistant says as Mason, himself, walks in the room, right as I was about to do just that.
The subtle hum in my veins returns because we’re about to get started. The bid, the competition, the fight for first. There’s no better feeling than walking into a room as the underdog simply because you’re a woman, to later walk out the victor because your skills and expertise proved them all wrong. And because of this—my drive to prove I’m better than my competitors are, that I need to refocus and get myself back on sure-footedness that the dirt dusting my heels tells me I lost today.
I look around to see everyone else with that anticipatory look on their faces, their excitement palpable, and wonder if it’s the same for them as it is for me.
“Hey, Harp.” Ryder’s low timbre is whispered in my ear, his chin hitting my shoulder as he speaks. I freeze, hold in my yelp of surprise that he’s behind me when he was across the room a second ago, and try to remain as professional as possible when everything in my body feels like it has just been electrified. “Just in case you were wondering, beard burn is a real thing.”
His chuckle rumbles from his chest into my back before he steps away. I’m left staring at the number thirteen on my folder and pretending to remain unaffected to the people around us––like he was discussing the particulars of the project––while inside I’m dying a slow, beautifully torturous death of desire.
My mind shifts gears suddenly and realizes he heard me. Actually heard me as I chastised myself for thinking about it while we talked earlier. Can this day get any worse?
But before I can turn any redder, Mason takes charge of the room. “You’ll note the full-scale model has been placed in the center of the room to make it easy for you all to see from your seats. Elevation renditions are hanging on the wall to your left and a nonnegotiable construction schedule with deadline dates is hanging on the wall to your right. We’ve set up a desk for each of you and you’ll find it fully stocked with supplies, calculators, etcetera,” Mason says with a flutter of his fingers as if all this secrecy is self-explanatory.
We all glance to the two rows of desks set facing each other a mere five feet apart. Talk about staring down the enemy while you work. I catch a few furrowed brows of the guys around me as to why all the hubbub and quietly sympathize because I feel the same way.
“By now, each of you should have a file folder in your hands. These are your bibles for this bid. It is your information and yours only. That folder is not to leave this room and it and its contents should remain on the top of your desks when you leave each night.”
Expressions become more bewildered. This stipulation means that our bid calculations would be sitting in plain sight for any of our competitors to open and look at if they wanted to see our numbers.
“Doesn’t that allow for––”
“I know it’s unconventional, Brandon, but it’s the way the contractor wants the bid run and therefore we are following through with his wishes. A couple of notes before you begin. The client is very specific in his demands for the project. He will not negotiate with you over your numbers, so be firm. The first two phases are up for grabs and the lowest bid wins. Good luck.” His chuckle fills the room. “Please, find your desks and feel free to start. Remember, you will have three days including today to work on your numbers, with your presentation to board members taking place on the third day and the subsequent awarding of the project afterward.”
Heads nod in agreement around me even though I know most of us are confused about these strange and unconventional parameters for this bidding process. I haven’t been out of the game that long that things have changed this much, have I?