When the elevator started to rise, Cara Sebastian let out a stream of curses so vehement that mothers for miles around would be scrambling to cover their children’s ears. She was already pretty miserable when she left the offices of Maximilian “Please call me Max” Webb where she was politely told in a read-between-the-lines sort of way that she would not be offered the position of Vice President of Research and Development. To add salt to the wound, she’d left behind her briefcase in her extreme hurry to leave the mogul’s presence. And now, just to add a little something more, vinegar was added to the wound. When she retrieved the briefcase after working hours, she’d gotten into an elevator headed in the wrong direction.

She didn’t even want to contemplate how late in the evening it was. Of course, the lateness would help justify the next stop -- one which would definitely include a date with Jack, Jim, or Jose. Daniels, Beam, or Cuervo, respectively. Straight up.

Slumping in abject misery against the cool elevator walls, Cara replayed in her mind the scene with Max Webb. Her eyes stung from the need to shed tears, but she would absolutely under no circumstances allow that to happen. She gritted her teeth instead and forced herself to mouth the words she’d said to him when she walked out earlier. You’re making a mistake. I am the candidate that is best for this organization.

Self-confident? Yes. Cocky? Probably. True? Absolutely.

Maybe.

Having to make the walk of shame twice didn’t help her parting argument. And she’d never forget the way his blue eyes tracked her as she walked into the room the second time. The heat of the stare almost bore a hole in her neck when she walked out again. If he weren’t Maximilian fucking Webb, she might have turned around to return his gaze with a sultry one of her own.

A good fifteen years separated them. Would this have stopped her? Probably not. True, he sported silver hair, but the way he carried himself suggested no one had ever told him he was fifty, if he was a day. A recent article in a business journal supplied the information that he worked out two hours daily in the gym, and his physique demonstrated the benefits of his diligence. His tailored shirt clung to him possessively, and he filled it without apology. The first time she saw him sitting in the power chair behind his desk, Cara became slightly aroused. If the interview wasn’t such a career maker, she might have allowed her mind to drift to subtly carnal thoughts while she spoke with him. As it was, dragging her eyes away from his mouth while he spoke was an unqualified battle.

Cara’s mind skidded back to the present as the elevator reached the top and began its descent. She let out a slow breath and tried to rally her thoughts. This was the first interview for a vice president position she’d ever had, and it would not be her last. Seeking a position at Webb Consortium, Inc. had been a reach for the stars, but the founder/CEO’s rejection brought her back down to earth in a hurry. She had to focus on what her next steps would be and where to go from here.

The elevator slowed to a stop on the twentieth floor, and the doors opened. When Max Webb walked into the doorway, a trench coat and tie draped over one arm, Cara pulled herself away from the wall to stand ramrod straight.

“Miss Sebastian,” he drawled.

Damn, her name sounded good the way he said it.

“Mr. Webb,” she returned with a nod.

True to elevator protocol, they both stood facing forward, neither making eye contact. Cara focused on the numbers which displayed the floor they were passing and tried to keep her face neutral. Standing this close to the person who had brought her career to a skidding halt was infuriating, though. With each number that passed, her blood pressure rose. On the eighteenth floor, she clenched her jaw. By the sixteenth floor, she clenched her fists. By the twelfth floor, she saw red.

Max sighed deeply, and she watched in dismay as he reached forward and pressed one of the elevator’s buttons. The son of a bitch stopped the elevator before they had reached the eleventh floor.

“Excuse me?” she said, turning, a smile slathered on her face. Her tone was sugary sweet.

“Miss Sebastian, you seem upset,” he said, now facing her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what gave you that impression.” The smile was still there, but her cheeks burned brightly from the effort to appear pleasant and in control.

“Darlin’, I know people. It’s what I’m good at.” His blue-eyed gaze roamed over her face, and he nodded to himself as if confirming what he was saying.

“Mr. Webb, if you will please restart the elevator, we can both be on our way.”

“As soon as you hear me out,” he replied. His calm demeanor belonged to a man accustomed to leading people and to getting his way. Bringing his company in less than ten years to the Fortune 500 without this charisma would have been impossible.

“Mr. Webb,” she exhaled, “you are a busy man.”

“Not too busy for this.”

“I am a busy woman,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “You’ve made the decision that you think is best for your company. I don’t need an explanation. Now, if you will please be so kind?”

Cara held out an upheld hand towards the elevator button that Max guarded like a jealous lover. When he made no motion to press it again, she had to count to ten under her breath to keep her anger in check.

“Mr. Webb!” she exploded.

“Miss Sebastian?” The look on his face was positively serene.

Arms crossed, she leaned against the elevator wall. She hoped pure hatred with a touch of professionalism was evident in her manner. Max took a step toward her, and she stiffened, losing her nonchalant stance.

“Miss Sebastian,” he began. Another step. “You have done remarkably well for someone your age.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. He’d already said as much during the interview.

Another step. “For this particular position, you have to understand that you were up against people almost twenty years older than you.”

Cara pressed herself against the wall, knowing she had no place to go, but needing to put some distance between herself and this striking man.

“My age has nothing to do with it. I’m a good risk,” she said.

“I didn’t say that you aren’t. But someone twenty years older than you has twenty years more experience. And that’s what I need for this company right now. More experience.”

He held her with his eyes, and she met the gaze, refusing to look away.

“But trust me young lady…” There was another small step, and Cara could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke. She could even detect the faint aroma of peppermint coming from him. “…I will be keeping a close eye on you. And your career. But mostly on you.”

Cara’s eyes had drifted away during his speech, her previous resolve stripped away. When she heard his final words, though, her head snapped up to capture his face again.

“Excuse me?”

“Have I misread your signals?”

One hand trailed to the side of her face and pushed away a strand of hair hanging there.

“Excuse me?” This time, she whispered. Her throat felt tight, her chest constricted.

The proximity of their bodies sent a shiver through her. Max’s gaze caught the subtle tremor and closed the distance between them. Cara could scarcely breathe, afraid that the mere act of exhaling would send her chest crashing into his.

“Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing is deep and slightly labored. Your nipples are straining against that shirt, and your legs are pressed tightly together. Like I said, Miss Sebastian, I know people.”

His lips came down against hers in a gentle caress. Cara knew it was coming, did nothing to stop it, and her head swam when it finally happened.

“Have I misread you?” he probed softly after pulling away.

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