Page 2 of Crave Me

“No,” I reply, cutting my steering wheel toward the left when my car veers right. “We’re representing Mellon, their biggest competitor. It’s a conflict of interest to supply both companies with the same technology.”

I mutter a curse when the minivan in front of me slams on their brakes and I narrowly miss ramming the bumper. And I suppose, because we’re in Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly love, the woman rolls down the window, permitting snow into her vehicle just to wave an irate middle finger at me.

“Rich Bitch loser,” she cries out.

I rub my face. Bloody hell, why am I here again? Before I can finish the thought, Ashleigh reminds me.

“Evan, we’re at risk for financial collapse. The company needs the revenue.”

“Not at the expense of our ethics,” I counter.

True, my company is at risk. But it’s due to poor business practices, such as the ones Ashleigh suggests I entertain. I understand she learned these tactics from my predecessor, but he was a conniving snake?which is why he’s currently serving time for embezzlement and I had to leave London to rebuild my father’s dying empire.

“What about your eleven a.m. with the V.P. of County General?”

“Have Anne and Clifton start straight away. I emailed them the presentation last night?”

“Do you really think they’re qualified?” she interrupts.

I open my mouth to insist that they are and to remind her I’m her superior, not the other way around. But I’m not oblivious to what she tells me. Anne and Clifton are fairly new and not at the level I’d prefer them to be. Nevertheless, they’re learning fast under my tutelage and the only ones from the original staff I trust.

“Evan,” she presses.

“Ashleigh, Anne and Clifton will handle it. That’s my final word.” I disconnect, swearing as I take the ramp and practically slide down sideways.

Another proud Pennsylvanian sticks his head out the window. “Get a real car, fucker,” he hollers.

I rub my face again, tired and frustrated. I didn’t arrive home until three this morning. It wouldn’t have taken as long had I been driving a vehicle capable of enduring this ungodly weather.

I glance up, releasing a tense breath when the sign for the Ford dealership I researched comes into view. Saving iCronos will take me time. Time I can’t spare driving a Jaguar on roads better maneuvered via dogsled.

My car slows to a stop in front of the massive dealership. The combination of the vehicle I’m driving, along with the expensive suit and coat I’m wearing, command attention. The moment I step inside, a young woman with dark spiky hair hurries over. “Good morning, sir. I’m Penny,” she says. “Welcome to Ford Nation. Are you interested in acquiring a new vehicle?”

She seems young, but eager, a respectable attribute. Yet no sooner does she finish speaking than a man about my age steps in front of her, adjusting the jacket of his gray suit. “I got this, P,” he tells her. “Get us some coffee, will you?” He holds out his hand. “Hello. I’m Oscar Nelson. Welcome to Ford Nation.”

My frown bounces from his hand to the young woman whose face is now bright red with humiliation and possibly more. “Are you his assistant?” I ask her.

“No,” she answers. “I’m a car sales representative?”

Oscar speaks over her, but it’s the sound of quickly approaching footsteps that causes me to turn. A woman with a pinstripe jacket and matching skirt hurries forward, the quick motions of her long legs causing the edge of her skirt to brush above her knees and swing her hips seductively. Long hair flutters like streams of ebony smoke, revealing a staggeringly beautiful face better suited for my wildest fantasies.

I spent the first five years following the completion of my doctorate in either a lab or boardroom packed with men in alternating stages of balding, and these last nine months trapped in a building working a minimum of eighteen hour days. I haven’t had the opportunity or time to meet women. But if I’d known she was out here, I’d have spared a moment.

Good . . . God.

I don’t realize I’m staring until she stops directly in front of us and juts out her chin. “Problem?” she asks Oscar.

Oscar straightens to his full height. “No. I was just showing Mr. . . .” He motions to me. “My apologies, what’s your name, sir?”

“Jonah,” I say, returning my attention to the stunning young woman. I offer her my hand. “Evan Jonah.”

Full pink lips lift into a dazzling smile that resonates in her deep blue eyes and lights her creamy white skin.

“I’m Erin O’Brien, but I go by Wren,” she says. She shakes my hand with a firm grip, releasing me to guide the smaller woman forward. “How can Penny and I help you today, sir?”

“I’m afraid my vehicle isn’t equipped for this weather and I am seeking a better alternative, possibly a truck or SUV,” I reply, doing all in my power to keep my focus on her face.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Penny, will you show Mr. Jonah?”

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