Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights)(5)

I clench my jaw as a person squeezes through the line in front of me, forcing me to lose my concentration momentarily. The line moves forward again, the metal detector in view, and yet my sudden urgency to get upstairs and start has waned. Eavesdropping about my assumed abilities is so much more fun.

“Nah. Nograd’s always dead middle. He won’t go low enough to take a risk and too high is a death wish. This project is out of his league. The rest are just here so Century Development can say they ran a fair bid when in the end it will come down to the usuals. Like always.” He laughs again. “I’ll play the game. Don’t worry. I’m confident. Yeah. See ya.”

My mind stutters over thoughts, eyes focused on the back of his hand holding his phone, with emotions swirling that I never allow to show. A glorified assistant? I bet my track record is more extensive and exclusive than his by a mile.

Prick.

He may be hot, but he’s still a prick.

Then again, let him underestimate me. If he’s so cocky he thinks he has this in the bag before he even starts, then he deserves what he gets when I beat him handily upstairs.

Screw him and his nice, Starbucks drinking ass.

He’ll learn the error of his ways soon enough. I may have purposefully kept my return under the radar, but those in the know will recognize my name once the bid list is revealed. I’m certain a few will even be a little shocked. New York is a long way from Los Angeles, but that doesn’t mean they’re not familiar with the name Harper Denton or my reputation as a no-nonsense, ball-busting businesswoman not afraid to get her hands dirty to deliver a project under budget and on time.

What a pity he turned out to be an ass. I had so much hope for us.

I smile and sigh. Well, at least I’ll have something pretty to look at while I’m working.

Besides, what person is that arrogant that they talk shit about their competitors in the lobby where they’re supposed to meet for the bid? Someone is bound to hear him so maybe he’s that secure he doesn’t care?

I glance Hot-Suit Guy’s way just as he lowers his phone and takes his briefcase off the security table. It’s when he lifts his face to flash a smile at the security guard with an All-American charm I’m way too familiar with, I freeze.

…no way…

I know him.

…it can’t be…

Ryder Rodgers.

Son of a bitch.

I should have known.

And so we meet again.

This is going to be so much fun kicking his ass.

Again.





Chapter Two



Harper




I know the minute he enters the boardroom.

Yes, there are about thirty other men filling the space—my fellow competitors and some Century Development employees––and yet I can feel when Ryder walks through the doorway. I know he’s there. And without looking up, I can distinguish his laugh as it rumbles through the space and commands the attention of those in the room.

Everyone’s attention that is, but mine.

Because I don’t care that he’s here. Don’t care that he seems at ease with the guys, slapping backs and shaking hands like he owns the place. Don’t care that his charisma is palpable and pulls on every part of me and begs me to look up.

Ryder Rodgers does not command my attention.

Hell, who am I kidding? He commanded my attention years ago and then owned it again in the security line before I even knew it was him.

His laugh rings across the space again and breaks through my thoughts of him, but I refuse to look up and give him any more of my attention. Especially since he’s all I’ve thought about since he walked away from the security station downstairs.

I should be focusing on the task at hand. The bid we’re about to start. The game we’re about to play that just changed in so many ways for me.

Not thinking about a kiss we shared way back when and wondering if he’s ever thought twice about it like I have over the years. Like maybe when his name has been brought up in business conversations.

I should be writing down the names of the competitors in the room. Making a list of them so that I can research them later when I’m alone in my room.

Not wondering if beard burn is a legitimate thing and if so, imagining how damn good it would feel getting it.

Jesus, Harper. Get a grip. Shut him out. It’s just Ryder.

And therein lies the problem. It is just Ryder.

But I’ve shut him out before. I can do it again. No one knows better than I do how he can take advantage of any distraction to get an edge.

And I can’t be giving up any edges. Not now that I know he’s here—just like old times. I have too much riding on this bid to let Ryder get in the way, and no doubt of all the people in this room, he’ll be my biggest challenge.

I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.

He laughs again and my body doesn’t heed the warnings I’ve been giving myself because I glance up to where he’s chatting up three other competitors.

Now that I can see him from the front, I can affirm one of my theories. He’s definitely sexy. Add to that he’s changed from the coed I used to know––body filled out, ass definitely tighter, and that beard? Damn him for that. Let’s pray he doesn’t have tats beneath that crisply starched shirt of his or I may be sending out an SOS.