corridor. She’d already come to a complete halt beside him, her eyes riveted on the live screens on the other side of the room, and he could see tiny beads of perspiration forming at her hairline and on her upper lip. And, dammit, she was trembling from head to foot.
“Sally?” he asked gently.
She swallowed and flicked her eyes in his direction. “I can do this,” she said with all the grimness of a French aristocrat on her way to the guillotine.
Sally walked woodenly toward the podium set up in front of the camera. The sheaf of papers he’d given her earlier was clutched in one fist, and she made an effort to smooth them out as she placed them on the platform in front of her.
He had to give it to her. She wasn’t backing down, even though she was obviously terrified. He wished she’d just give in and hand the papers back over to him. Making her go through this was akin to punching a puppy, and the idea made him sick to the stomach. Probably about as sick as she was feeling right now.
The camera operator gestured to Kirk to take the other seat and Kirk hastened to Sally’s side. As he settled beside her, he could feel tension coming off her in waves. She’d grown even paler than when they’d arrived.
“Sally?” he asked again.
“Five minutes until we go live!” someone said from across the room. “Someone get mikes on them, please.”
Kirk reached across and curved his hand around one of hers. “Let me do this. I’ve had time to prepare. You haven’t.”
He held his breath, waiting for her reply, but they were distracted by two sound technicians fitting them each with a lapel mike and doing a quick sound check.
“One minute, people.”
Kirk squeezed her hand. “Sally, it’s your call. No one expects this of you. Least of all your father—and especially given the circumstances.”
“Don’t you see,” she whispered without looking at him. “That’s exactly why I need to do it.”
“Ten, nine, eight...”
“You only have to be here, Sally. That’s more than enough given what you’ve been through.”
“Live in three...” The technician silently counted down the last two numbers with his fingers.
Kirk waited for Sally to speak, but silence filled the air. Sally was looking past the winking red eye of the camera to the screens across the room, to the people of Harrison IT. Then, infinitesimally, she moved and slid the papers over to him. Taking it as his cue, Kirk pasted a smile on his face and introduced himself before he launched into the welcome Orson had prepared for his staff, together with a brief explanation that a medical event had precluded Orson from participating in the announcement.
Sally stood rigidly beside him throughout the explanation of the merger and the question-and-answer session that followed. The moment he signed off and the red light on the camera extinguished, Sally ripped off her microphone and headed for the door. He eventually caught up with her down the hallway.
“Leave me alone!” she cried as he reached for her hand and tugged her around to face him.
Kirk was horrified to see tears streaking her face.
“Sally, it’s all right. You did great.”
“Great? You call sitting there like a barrel of dead fish great? I couldn’t even introduce you, which, in all honesty, was the very least I should have done given you are a total stranger to most of those people.”
Distraction was what she needed right now.
“Dead fish? For the record, you look nothing like a barrel of anything, let alone dead fish.”
She shook her head in frustration, but he was glad to see the tears had mostly stopped.
“Don’t be so literal.”
“I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “When I look at you, the last thing I picture is cold fish of any kind.”
He lowered his voice deliberately and delighted in the flush of color that filled her cheeks, chasing away the lines of strain that had been so evident only seconds before.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“Tell me how impossible over dinner after the press conference.”
“No.”
“Sally, we need to talk. About last night. About now.”
He could see she wanted to argue the point with him, but he spied one of their media liaison staff coming down the corridor toward them. He was expected at the press conference right away.
“Please. Just dinner. Nothing else,” he pressed.
He willed her to acquiesce to his suggestion. Not only did he need to talk to her about the broken condom, but he found himself wanting to get to know her better away from the confines of the office. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she gave a sharp nod.
“Not dinner. But, yes, we can talk. I’m heading back to the hospital for a few hours first. I’ll meet you later in my office. You can say what you have to say there.”
It wasn’t quite the acceptance he’d aimed for, but for now it would do. He watched her walk away and head to the elevators.
“Mr. Tanner, they’re waiting for you downstairs in conference room three.”
He reluctantly dragged his attention back to the job at hand. Unfortunately for him, Sally would have to wait.
* * *
It was late, and most of the staff had already headed home. The media session had run well over time, and afterward he’d been called into an impromptu meeting with the CEO and several others. The board might have agreed to appoint him interim chairman, but the executives still wanted to make it clear that they were the ones in charge. But he’d handled it knowing he had Orson’s full support at his back, and that of the board of directors, too.
Now, he had a far more important task at hand. Kirk loosened his tie and slid it out from beneath his collar as he approached Sally’s office. He bunched the silk strip into his pocket and raised a hand to tap at her door. No response. He reached for the knob, turned it and let himself in.
The instant he saw her, motionless, with her head pillowed on her arms on the top of her desk, he felt a moment of sheer panic, but then reason overcame the reaction and he noted the steady breathing that made her shoulders rise and fall a little. She’d removed her jacket before sitting at her desk, and the sheer fabric of her blouse revealed a creamy lace camisole beneath it.
Desire hit him hard and deep, and his fingers curled into his palms, itching to relieve her of her blouse and to slide his hands over the enticement that was her lingerie. He doubted it was quite as silky soft as her skin, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out?
No, he shouldn’t go there again. Wouldn’t. Whatever it was about Sally Harrison that drew him so strongly, he had to rein it back. Somehow. It would be a challenge when everything about her triggered his basest primal instincts, but—he reminded himself—didn’t he thrive on challenges and defeating obstacles? He forced himself to ignore the sensations that sparked through his body and focused instead on the reality of the woman sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard him knock or enter her office.
She had to be exhausted. She’d been through a hell of a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Any regular person would have struggled with the onslaught of emotions, let alone someone forced to be part of a video conference who suffered a phobia like hers. Orson had forewarned him that Sally experienced acute anxiety when it came to public speaking. He’d had no idea how severe it was or the toll it obviously took. Having seen her like that today went a long way toward explaining why she’d remained in a safe middle-management role at HIT rather than scaling the corporate ladder to be at her father’s side.
He’d