By Linda Howard
He used to be the main interesting guy she'd ever met . . . Claire Westerbrook came upon it demanding to think that Max Conroy used to be really attracted to her. Then she came across he wasn't -- he simply sought after information regarding her boss. Max used to be learning her corporation for a takeover and had made up our minds the fastest approach to make it occur was once via her. Now Claire desires not anything to do with a guy who may perhaps mislead her with so little regret. yet Max is not leaving Houston with no buying every little thing he desires. And that incorporates Claire . . .
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Extra resources for Almost Forever
He spent a lot of nights in the office whenever he was working on a new alloy; his delight was in the development of new metals, not in the day-to-day routine of running the business he'd founded. For all that, he was a cagey businessman, and nothing escaped his attention for long. When the coffee was finished, she poured a cup and carried it through to Sam's office. He was asleep at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms. A legal pad crowded with numbers and chemical symbols lay beside him, and five Styrofoam cups with varying levels of cold coffee was scattered around the desk.
How awkward it would be if he guessed that she was just like all the others, mooning over him like a starstruck teenager! Goodbye friendship, goodbye Max. Sam called her into his office late that morning to take letters, but dictated only a few. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers and peered at her over them, frowning. Claire sat quietly, waiting. Sam wasn't frowning at her; he was lost in his thoughts and probably didn't even see her. At last he roused himself and got to his feet, groaning a little as his stiff muscles protested.
He put his hand on her bare arm, his lean fingers gently curving around her elbow. It was only a polite gesture, but Claire felt her skin tingle under his touch. An instinct of self-protection told her to move away from him, but it was only a small voice, easily swamped by the disturbing rush of warmth generated by the light touch of his hand. Just walking beside him gave her pleasure. He opened the car door for her, and when she was seated, he leaned down to tuck her skirt out of the way, another of his casually courteous gestures that disturbed the even rhythm of her pulse.