She found a polite smile and pointed to the head of the table. “There will be fine.”
Ryder took his seat and she sat in the chair to his right, in easy reach of all the ingredients, then slipped into the speech she’d been preparing in her mind. “The Diva Truffle Bar has tested well and is unique. At this stage we believe it will be able to enter the Australian market in its current form.” The bar—crushed almond and honeycomb in a chocolate truffle, coated in their own brand chocolate—would be as much a hit here as overseas if her research was correct. “We’ve run some preliminary focus groups and the feedback from the tastings was overwhelmingly positive.”
Ryder steepled his fingers under his chin, elbows on the armrests of his chair. But said nothing.
The silence threatened to stretch and leave her in the unfamiliar position of being flustered, so she took a breath and forged on with her spiel.
“The second product we’re investigating as an option is Diva Drops.” The dried fruit pieces smothered in a thick layer of their dark chocolate was their second highest selling line in the U.S., after the Truffle Bar. “Given your preference for Australian production using Australian products where possible, we might need to adapt some varieties. The cherries, cranberries and blueberries are harder to source here so we’re looking into the viability of some locally grown fruit.”
Ryder tipped his chin to the bowls in front of them. “Such as mango.”
Macy nodded and picked up a piece of dried mango on a toothpick then held it beneath the stream of the chocolate fountain. “This is dried Bowen mango. It’s in plentiful supply in the north during the summer and we have some early feelers out now with growers.”
She waited till the chocolate solidified, then handed the toothpick to him, realizing too late that there was very little room on the end of the pick for both sets of fingers. His thumb and forefinger encircled hers, capturing her hand with a gentle clasp. Time seemed to still as her body reacted to the touch, from the heat in her hand right down to a tug of desire deep in the core of her being.
She’d been thinking of his hands only minutes before and his fingers were so firm, his palm radiating such warmth on the back of her hand that she was glad she was already sitting down.
Then he moved to grasp the toothpick at the very end and she let go. He lifted it slowly and as the chocolate and mango reached higher, his tongue appeared and took the food into the dark depths of his mouth before he slid the pick out through closed lips.
With a start, Macy realized she’d been staring, so she began stabbing toothpicks in other pieces of fruit, but this time, arranged them on a plate instead of handing them to him.
Keeping her eyes glued to her task, she asked, “What did you think?”
There was no response as she put several more pieces of dried mango through the chocolate fountain then onto his plate. Her eyes drifted back to him. He was watching her.
He cleared his throat. “Delicious.”
The sensuality in his voice was unmistakable but Macy had no choice but to ignore it, despite the protestations of her body. She couldn’t afford to ruin this opportunity. That Australian CEO position had her name on it, and if she got the job, hopefully Ryder Bramson would remain her boss for a long time. She needed to keep this professional relationship working optimally.
She pushed the plate in front of him. “Other fruits in plentiful supply are pineapple, lychees and strawberries. Additionally—” she picked up the silver sugar tongs and pulled another bowl over “—we’re considering adding mint leaves to the range.” She ran the fresh mint leaf under the stream of chocolate, but before she could place it on his plate, Ryder laid his palm out for the delicacy.
She looked up, sure her boss was the type who’d want to minimize mess, but he nodded so she laid the leaf into the palm of his hand. Making sure not to watch him consume this one—staying professional—she grabbed a couple of napkins and put them beside his plate.
He wiped the chocolate remnants from his hand, then sampled an assortment of the other morsels from his plate. She could feel him watching her as he tasted and chewed, but she found things for her hands to do. Her pulse fluttered but thankfully her hands were steady.
“Very good,” his deep voice rumbled. “You said you’d be recommending three lines. The Truffle Bar, these variations of the Drops and …?”
“And the basic sampler tray. The current five fillings in the sampler should be suitable, but we’ll run more focus groups before finalizing that recommendation.”
A knock sounded at the open door and Tina walked in. “How’s it going in here? Do you need me?”
Ryder leaned back in his chair, eminently comfortable in his new domain. “No, Ms. Ashley has taken good care of me.”
Her skin heated as if the timbre of his voice, the intensity of his gaze could reach across and touch her. Caress her. Stroke her. She suspected that if he beckoned her now with the crook of a finger, she’d go without a second thought.
Thank goodness they’d be working on opposite sides of the globe most of the time. He was unexpectedly dangerous to her composure.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, glancing around the table, at the ingredients they’d been through. “Actually, unless you want to keep tasting, I’ve pretty much shown you everything.”
Ryder nodded once and stood. “These options are good. Tina, tomorrow you can run them past Shaun and the team.” He turned back to Macy. “Ms. Ashley, I’d like to see you for a moment alone. In my office, please.”
A shiver of excitement skittered along her spine despite knowing his request was professional—of course he’d want to talk to the team leader.
She stood taller and nodded. “Certainly.”
This was her opportunity to impress him—an opportunity she’d been looking forward to. But that was before she’d met him and felt how he could effortlessly bring her body zinging to life.
Would the effect be magnified once they were closeted in an office, alone?
Ryder stood behind the polished wooden desk in his temporary office and stared down at the cruising boats negotiating the ribbon of the Yarra River.
Macy was perfect. The woman he’d crossed the globe to meet had the face of an angel, the body of a Venus and a spine of steel. He’d have married her just to buy her father’s company, but all evidence now pointed to him enjoying this marriage.
Marriage.
Macy would be his wife.
Ryder sucked in a satisfied breath.
He knew he was cut from the same cloth as his own father—he’d lost count of the number of times people had told him that—knew he was incapable of love, especially the forever kind. So a practical marriage would suit him perfectly—he’d have companionship and raise a family, sidestepping the love issue.
He heard Macy’s voice, sweet as birdsong, coming down the corridor, talking rapidly to one of her staff, and he shook aside his wandering thoughts. One step at a time, no point getting ahead of himself.
Then she stood in the doorway, looking impossibly beautiful, awaiting his instruction. Her mysterious hazel eyes assessed him and her curtain of dark brown hair draped her shoulders like satin. Long, toned legs showed below the skirt of her suit, but he tried not to look.
He indicated with a hand that she could enter and she moved to stand in front of him, seemingly so delicate. For one crazy moment, he lost himself in the desire to explore her delicateness more intimately. To step forward—
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bramson?”
Her words brought his attention back to the meeting … and his eyes back from her legs. He swallowed hard. “Call me Ryder.”
Her