Inescapable Eye of the Storm Read online

  Inescapable Eye of the Storm

  By Sarah O’Rourke

  Text copyright © 2012 Sarah O’Rourke

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedicated to our husbands who have patiently endured the past few years as we both accepted this new role called “writer”.

  T&T

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Prologue

  Leaning against the steel wall behind him, Colin Storm felt the demons of his past taunting him in the confined space.

  Why the hell had he insisted that his beautiful Chief Operating Officer join him on this so-called business trip? He could have handled the merger with Hastings & Company alone. After all, he’d done all the legwork on this venture, purposefully keeping his motives from all but a chosen few.

  Obtaining Hastings & Company had been the sole mission in his life for the past six months. Destroying the company of the man that had singlehandedly torpedoed his marriage had been a goal that had nearly consumed his every waking moment, but watching Taggert Hastings’ face today when recognition had flashed behind his hooded grey eyes had made the effort worth the cost paid.

  Colin had to admit that Hadley McGovern Storm had painted him in an exceedingly unsavory light during their ugly, public divorce. Accusations of desertion and abandonment had been bandied about with startling frequency. She’d attacked his reputation with a ferocity he’d never thought her capable, making him appear to be a cold, unfeeling monster that had used her for sex on demand and as a brood mare.

  And yet, in spite of the shocking disgust that now filled him, he still loved her. Almost twenty years of marriage and a beautiful son had made it impossible for him to turn off the emotion. God knew, he’d tried to stop himself. Hadley had done everything short of writing him a message in the sky to convey to him that whatever feelings she might have once possessed were gone now.

  Colin might not have been able to punish the woman that had ravaged his heart, but he’d taken down the guy that had instigated the affair that had mangled his marriage. That would have to be enough.

  He could only hope.

  The fact that he’d brought the self-contained Abigail Donavan to witness the feat wasn’t something Colin was particularly proud of doing. For some reason, he’d just felt the need to illustrate to her just how far he’d go if he was pushed. Perhaps he was trying to warn her. Or maybe he just needed her to see him as a dominant male willing to go to any lengths to prove his superiority.

  “Colin?” Abigail murmured softly, lifting one dark brow as she eyed the man standing beside her. “Are you alright?”

  Hearing the husky cultured voice of his companion, Colin turned his head toward the sound. Feeling his body automatically tighten in response to her words, he ruefully admitted that while his ex-wife might still have a claim on his heart, this woman beside him definitely affected his libido.

  Thank God Hadley hadn’t eviscerated everything inside him.

  “Fine,” Colin replied evenly, his eyes lifting to the lighted numbers above the sliding steel doors when the elevator seemed to falter beneath their feet. “The storm must be affecting the electricity,” he noted when the numbers seemed to dim for a moment and the fluorescent lights briefly flashed on and off inside the car.

  “Great,” Abigail muttered under her breath. Inwardly cursing the soaring temperatures and the muggy heat, Abigail blew a strand of dark hair that was plastered to her forehead out of her eyes. The humid weather had assured her that her hair was a categorical mess that no amount of mousse or hair spray could help.

  Abigail wouldn’t have categorized herself as one of those women that was always concerned about her appearance. She simply recognized the power of a first impression….how could she not, considering the field she had chosen? Advertising was based on appearances and creating the perfect illusion. And since the world was powered by the visions of so-called beauty, she’d been forced to conform. She had promptly taken advantage of the wisdom of an image consultant early in her career who had given her valuable advice regarding the tools of the trade, so to speak. Any woman worth her salt knew how vital it was to use her femininity to her best possible advantage…mostly, to lull unsuspecting men into doing her bidding without even realizing they were under her spell.

  And speaking of spells, she was fairly certain that she had been the victim of just such a machination herself. From the moment she had first laid eyes on the tall, dark headed man standing beside her, she had known that she was out of her league. He had been everything he had been rumored to be….demanding, exacting, ruthless, and cutthroat in business. She honestly hadn’t expected anything less, considering he had made the sneakiest backdoor deal in advertising history to steal her away from his largest competitor two years ago.

  Perhaps steal was too harsh of a term. She hadn’t exactly been playing hard to get. She had wanted out of Chicago as much as Colin Storm had wanted her to move to New York. Why stay after a failed engagement to a fiancé who was more concerned about how he was going to explain to his trust-fund family that he had been caught in flagrante more times than either of them could count? Circumstances had ensured that she’d be amenable to a change in zip code. After all, even a strong woman like herself had to draw her line in the sand somewhere.

  And that line had led her directly into the life of Colin Storm.

  And to this unexpected detour that Mother Nature had decreed they must suffer.

  Relieved when the elevator came to a faltering stop, the floor beneath her feet trembling ominously as the wind outside howled, Abigail pressed her lips together and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. A quick look toward the window at the end of the corridor confirmed her worst suspicion. The hail pounding against the glass testified that the storm outside had definitely shifted into high gear.

  Seeing the direction of Abigail’s gaze, Colin smiled faintly. Her distress was obvious. From the dilated pupils and rapid rise and fall of her chest, it was clear that she had an aversion to bad weather.

  Or maybe, just maybe, he was the one that was proving to be her stressor. Her mood had darkened the moment the clerk had informed them that there was only a single room left in their establishment. No amount of cajoling from his gorgeous employee had swayed the concierge. She’d tried for several minutes to wrangle another room from the man to no avail.

  There was no other available room to be had in the very nice upscale hotel.

  Tonight, they would be sharing a bed.

  And Colin Storm’ day had taken a definitive turn for the better.

  Chapter One

  Necessity was indeed the mother of invention.

  He'd heard that platitude many, many times in his life before. But never had it rang as true as it did now as he watched Abigail Donavan make yet another pass in front of the opened drapes of the hotel’s rain-splattered window. If he didn't find a way to calm his colleague, this was going to be a very long night. Every once in a while she would pause to finger the thick gold tassels that tied back the heavy patterned drapes as she stared quietly out the window. But mostly, her dainty feet that were now clad in ballet slippers just kept moving.

  "Abigail, please sit down," Colin requested tiredly as he watched her pause in front of the window once more to gaze out at the ominous grey clouds swirling on the horizon. "You're making me dizzy, and unfortunately, you can't stare those storm clouds into submission, no matter how hard you try." Although, he’d be willing to bet that if anyone could manage the feat, it would be her. One of the primary r
easons that he enjoyed Abigail’s company so much was that she didn’t cower in the face of a problem. She faced it. It was a sight to behold, watching the petite woman face down advertising giants inside the boardroom. The more those foes discounted her, the more determined and ferocious she became. And he had to wonder what it would be like to brave her fire and tame the woman at the heart of her.

  Turning on her heel to glare at the unconcerned man sprawled in one of the two Queen Anne chairs in the room, Abigail's lips tightened. "Don't start," she warned with glittering eyes. "I'm about this close," she said, holding her thumb and forefinger together for emphasis, "to losing it altogether."

  Her expression would have quelled a lesser man, but he was not naïve when it came to countering the Donavan glare. Cocking his head, Colin replied evenly, "It's just a little weather, Donavan. We've moved inland. We're going to be fine," he informed her negligently, deliberately using her last name in an attempt to force her to focus.

  "It's a hurricane, Colin," Abigail growled in exasperation, lifting her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the darkening cloud cover above the building. "And we're only thirty miles from the Coast!" How in the hell could such an intelligent man make such exceedingly stupid comments? Or better yet, her psyche smirked….how could she be attracted to such a man?

  "We’re in a sturdily built hotel and not outside in the way of Mother Nature's elements. Considering how we in all likelihood may have gotten the last vacant hotel room in North Carolina, we should be grateful," he noted impartially, grimacing as she rolled her eyes and began to pace the carpet again. Probably not the best thing to have said to her, his mind chided. Reminding her that she was for all intents and purposes trapped inside a room with him wouldn’t exactly pave the path into his arms.

  "No," Abigail bit out as one foot stepped in front of the other, "I would have been grateful if you had listened to me last night and we'd had the company jet come and get us as I’d originally suggested. While you might have experience with these kinds of storms," she said, gesturing at the window, “I do not.”

  "You know they'd already shut down the airports," Colin remarked with a sigh, watching as she made another pass near the window while glowering out the glass at the rapidly devolving elements. "Frankly, I wasn't aware that you were afraid of a little storm," he said casually, realizing too late that it was exactly the wrong thing to say to her.

  "I'm sorry," she hissed, turning flashing eyes upon him as she stopped suddenly in her tracks. "Did you say little storm, Colin? This isn't some thunder boomer coming our way, you know! It's a hurricane. It even has a name. Irene!"

  "I heard the same news report you did, Donavan," Colin replied dryly, shaking his head. "I know she has a name," he remarked, privately thinking how ironic it was that this particular hurricane had been dubbed with a female name. Destruction, thy name is woman. Trying to ignore the way her slim slacks hugged the curve of her perfect ass, he shifted in the chair. Had they turned off the air conditioning already, he wondered, glancing at the air vents in the ceiling. Suddenly, it felt hot as hell in here. "Look, at least you'll have company to ride the storm out with. Wouldn't it be worse if you were in here alone?" he asked, propping his chin in his hand as he watched her turn toward the window again.

  Now, there was a loaded question, Abigail thought grimly. While she was, indeed, happy that the her boss was with her...this wasn't exactly the fantasy she'd envisioned if she ever finagled her way into a hotel room alone with him. The fact that they were sharing this space together had been a result of necessity, not choice. "Oh, yeah," she muttered almost to herself. "I'm thrilled," she mumbled, her eyes on another black cloud rolling past the window.

  How the hell could he remain so calm? Based on her limited knowledge of the man sharing the room with her, he was a pro at manipulating situations to his favor. She supposed that skill even applied to weather anomalies. Spying him out of the corner of her eye, she again let her mind wander over the facts she knew about the magnate currently casually sipping a scotch he’d poured for himself.

  A man that had fought for everything he’d gotten, Colin Storm was, by all accounts, a warrior. Born in a Texas town on the Mexican border to a dirt poor family that he rarely spoke about, Colin had clawed his way out of poverty, working hard in school and on the football field alike. She privately suspected that either one or both of his parents had been abusive. After all, loved and adored children didn’t fight so hard to get the hell away from doting parents. And Colin had done everything possible to escape the bowels of Texas. To her knowledge, he didn’t communicate with either of his parents. Oh, he sent a monthly stipend to them each month – she knew that much from her perusal of the monthly financial statements of Alliance, but she’d never so much as heard him utter their names aloud since she began working for him.

  His company bio had let her know that Colin had graduated his high school with honors and earned a scholarship to the University of Texas. He’d completed the four year program in just over two and a half years and gone to work for a small advertising firm in Dallas immediately after graduation. He’d climbed the ladder even more quickly after that, landing coveted account after account for the small firm. Five years later, he’d bought the small company from its owner and renamed it Alliance in honor of the small circle of executives that had pooled their money and thrown in behind Colin. Those select people had become his surrogate family with him as the patriarch.

  It was little wonder. Beyond his ex-wife, Hadley, and their son, Joshua, the only actual family she knew he remained in contact with was his brother, Matthew. He wasn’t quite the go-getter that his prominent brother was, but he was quite successful in his own right as an editor at one the leading publishing houses in New York City.

  Intensely private, Colin only shared the information he wished to disperse. He’d long ago adopted the “less is more” approach in regard to his own personal life. At least, that’s what he’d tried to do…right up until the Hell Bitch (as Abby privately liked to refer to Hadley Storm) had left him. That woman had attempted to drag Colin’s past into court in order to position herself for a better settlement in the divorce.

  It hadn’t worked. Colin had friends in high places and wasn’t afraid to use them or their resources if the situation warranted it. It was one of the things she admired most about him. He wielded considerable power, but he only used it when it became absolutely necessary. Mostly, he believed in the art of the clean, fair fight…in business and in his personal life. However, he was prepared to change his tactics when his son’s wellbeing hanged in the balance.

  Hadley had pushed him, and he had shoved back. Her airtight case against him had withered on the vine, and Abigail Donovan wasn’t ashamed to say that she’d danced around her desk after receiving word that Colin Storm, his son, and his company were safe. Instead of half of everything he owned, Hadley had received a very nice living allowance and a sizeable child support check on a monthly basis. Colin had received the joint custody that he’d wanted so badly.

  Sadly, though, it was apparent that the man would rather have his wife back. Although, for the life of her, Abigail had no idea why. She’d had Hadley’s number from the day she’d met the woman. Perhaps it was because she’d grown up around women like her. Pretentious and vapid, the lady Colin had married oozed ambition…for her husband, and more importantly, for herself. She’d assured her place in Colin’s life by giving him a son and had used that child accordingly.

  What Abigail couldn’t wrap her mind around, however, was how he couldn’t see it.

  She supposed it was true. Love blinded men and made them fools, she thought sadly as Colin’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  "Donavan, you need to relax," Colin chided, honestly wanting to put his colleague at ease. He liked Abigail. Really liked her. In a way that tightened his groin and reminded him that, yeah, he still had needs. Physical needs. Seeing her slender face tightened with anxiety wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world
. "Have you ever been through a hurricane before?"

  "Once. Back in the eighties," she replied absently, frowning as she watched an ambulance zip past the hotel, lights blazing in the grayness that had settled outside giving off an eerie glow in underneath the street lights. It was so not a good sign of things to come, she thought nervously, remembering a long ago nanny’s whispered warnings about paying attention to omens and portents. One of the so-called privileges of having blue blood and being an offspring of a couple that had ancestry dating back to the Mayflower, she guessed….lots of foreign nannies. That one had been Haitian in descent.

  "Donavan," Colin ordered sternly when her small hands balled into fists at her side as a clap of thunder shook the room, "step away from the window. Now." Waiting until she'd turned away from the glass and took a step toward him, he continued calmly, "Tell me how you managed to get through the last hurricane without a nervous breakdown. Maybe we can replicate that experience."

  Eyes widening as images from that long ago weekend when Hurricane Gloria wreaked havoc on New York City, Abigail swallowed. "I...don't think so," she faltered while she shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat underneath the weight of Colin Storm's gaze. "That was a rather unique experience," she said as blithely as she could.

  Raising an eyebrow at her less than forthcoming explanation, Colin asked, "How so?" Already interested, the flush consuming her usually pale, smooth face only ramped up his desire to flesh out her secrets.

  Clearing her throat uncomfortably as she averted her gaze, the sumptuous pile carpet suddenly far more interesting than anything else in the room, she mumbled, "I was...distracted."

  "Distraction is good." Colin nodded approvingly. Distraction was exactly what his tightly wound colleague needed at the moment. "What did you do to distract yourself? We'll just follow the plan for whatever worked last time. Consider it a template."