Page 13 of The Refusal

“So, you’re in love with …”

“Jo Williams.” His voice drops. “Who else?”

Something white hot shifts in my chest and I stare unseeing at the gray geometric carpet ubiquitous to airport lounges all over the world. He’d better not be. Matt rattles on oblivious.

“Oh God, Janus, this girl is amazing. She’s all over this, digging into the nitty-gritty, the speed with which things are happening is almost frightening. Her brain, man, it’s sexy as hell.”

I lean forward in my seat—finger pressed in my ear—trying to shut out the announcement of boarding for another flight; then I get up and pace away from my chair and the distraction of my laptop. Matt’s one of my favorite employees, but right now I’m plotting his murder. I let myself have a brief fantasy that Jo’s personal commitment to this is because of me, but she couldn’t have made it clearer that wasn’t how things stood when I took her for lunch. In any case, I can’t afford to let myself be distracted by the fact I’m smitten when we’ve got such a critical problem.

“Matt,” I growl, “she’s a supplier; that’s inappropriate in a major way.”

“Okay, I know. Iknow. A man can dream though, right?”

My gut clenches with something hot and dangerous. How many men does she have chasing after her? How many men like Matt? The map she drew at the meeting, everything written in this perfect tiny script; different colors between every connection, each symbol drawn with a quirky flourish. I could almost taste her desire to nail everything down. What a warm contrast to the chaos that seems to be sweeping over everything else in the company. She and Matt are working so closely together, I’m pleased he likes her but—goddammit—I don’t want him to bethatkeen on her. I want him focused on our security problems. We need to build additional layers of defense. I try to drag my tired brain away from all things Jo Williams. If this blows up with our clients, then we could have a serious issue.

“How’s the damage limitation with customers going?”

“I’ve talked to all of them now. The big companies are scheduled for lunches, which is a sensible thing to do anyway, so in a twisted way this is an excellent excuse to see them. One or two of the important ones are in your diary. We’re running an internal security session next week to go through the nitty-gritty. Jo’s going to run that.”

“And?”

“Well, they’re concerned obviously, but they’re also relying on us to sort it out. Nobody has threatened to move business because of it.”

I blow out a breath. Jo Williams might just be saving our asses, and with a bit of luck I might even be able to chase after her ass if I ever make it back to the US. I search the flight notifications on the board again. I’m back on my home turf for a few weeks after this. Fucking Matt is not getting a look in.

* * *

Twenty hours later, I walk into the huge steel-and-glass conference center, my limbs moving like I’m swimming through molasses. Thank God I’m not doing a talk; all I have to do is chair a couple of discussion panels. Seven hundred emails and two hours of sleep out of the whole flight, despite the seat in business class. Little wonder my thoughts are woolly and my brain is taking ages to process anything anyone says to me.

I head down the ramp toward the smattering of people still milling around outside the main hall, a speech booming behind the pale wood doors. I want to encourage other entrepreneurs to set the world on fire; so many people helped me, but I won’t be contributing much today. My fires are growing a littletoowarm. Perhaps I should talk about that.

I briefly glance at the woman behind the fancy reception desk. Her eyes are like saucers.

“Janus Phillips?” I say, perusing the name tags set out on the table.

“Oh yes!” she flusters. “Mr. Phillips! So glad you could make it. Let me find Catriona and—”

“Janus!”

The voice comes from somewhere behind me, and the next minute I’m enveloped in a warm hug and a sickly cloud of perfume. Not, I reflect wryly, the smell I’d like to be surrounded by. Why do women wear cloying scent anyway? I take a step back.

“Catriona, good to see you again.” I eye her glossy lips and perfect ponytail warily. “How’s it going?” I’ve met Catriona before, she seems to organize every tech conference in New York, and she makes the back of my neck prickle. She’s just the wrong combination of oblivious and gossipy.

“We started about an hour ago,” she says, taking my elbow, and I steel myself not to jerk away. “But I’m so glad you made it! I got the message from your office about the flight delays. What anightmare. Are you okay? There are seats reserved at the front for people who are going to be on the stage.”

I nod noncommittally. I don’t want to be drawn into a discussion, or talk about how exhausted I am. No one wants to hear about the struggles that come after you’ve made your company a success; they only want to hear about how rewarding it all is, how the grind is worth it. As Catriona sashays quietly down the aisle in front of me, trying not to disturb the presentation, I scan the space looking for familiar faces. I catch a glimpse of red hair and my pulse picks up. Could I be lucky enough that …? Keeping my fingers crossed, I squeeze into the last chair at the end of the long row. Several people lean forward to nod silently at me and my stomach tightens as a pair of green eyes meet mine. Her lips curl up.Hallelujah.The day has gone from being vaguely interesting with the hope of a quick nap at the back of the hall, to being something completely different if I can hang out with Jo. I could spend the lunch break with her. My whole body starts to crank up, the lack of sleep and heavy limbs receding like a wave.

Two hours later and I’m sitting in an almost empty auditorium in the first interval grinding my teeth. The smell of coffee wafts in from the lobby, but I’m not leaving until the pack of guys surrounding Jo on stage have stopped fawning all over her. She gave an impressive talk about current security issues, but they’re circling her like a pack of wolves. The light is dim, her final slide is still up on the screen, and she laughs up at a good-looking guy. Another man in chinos and a band T-shirt indicates a path off the stage, and Jo nods as yet another holds out his hand to help her down. His long fingers wrap around hers and a growling beast starts up in my chest.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman deal with me like Jo, and if I was in a more rational frame of mind, I would probably decide it was teaching me some kind of lesson. Instead, it takes me right back to college sitting on the edges like some nobody. A shudder runs through me: Have I really becomethatarrogant? I push up out of my seat in the darkness and head back toward the coffee, trying to squash everything down. Jo isgorgeousand insecurity, THE hot topic right now. She’s going to be seriously successful if she can make her business take off, and having Janus Industries on her client list will give her a huge step up. I’m glad of it, I want to see her do well, but what is this possessiveness? Over lunch, she was clearly fending me off. I have no idea how to get out of the friend zone she’s put me in.

As I walk into the break room, I nod at various people I recognize, scanning for her red curls as I make my way to the hot drinks. A woman materializes at my elbow.

“Janus Phillips?”

My heart sinks, and before I can take evasive action several more people appear and then I am surrounded—people asking me questions, a few women fluttering their eyelashes at me. I’m starting to despair when my phone vibrates in my pocket and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Hey, Matt.”

---