Fire with Fire (Crash and Burn, Book 3) (A Military Romance) by Eva Grayson

the far wall.
    Tall glass windows stretched along the perimeter of the office, giving whoever was in the room a view overlooking the Charles River and the bridge spanning Boston and Cambridge.
    Against that backdrop, atop a slightly elevated platform, sat Cullen Sharpe behind his massive black desk. The desk was of the same onyx, reflective material that the conference table had been made of.
    The CEO was studying the enormous dual computer monitors that sat on his desk. His gaze was intent and focused, and she felt a bit of relief that he wasn’t yet watching her.
    “Ivy Spellman,” he announced, still watching his monitors.
    “Uh…you wanted to see me?” she said, and her voice sounded so slight and frail that she cleared her throat.
    “I did,” he replied, finally turning his head to glance at her. “Come closer.” He gave one brisk wave with his left hand.
    She walked forward until she reached a pair of black leather chairs. “Should I sit?”
    “If you like,” he said, his lips curving into the slightest hint of a smile.
    Those lips . So pink, so soft. So unlike his cold, steely eyes.
    “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, immediately regretting the question.
    “That’s what we’re here to discuss,” he said, his voice and expression betraying nothing.
    “Oh,” she replied numbly. Her belly felt leaden and her mouth was parched.
    Cullen sat back in his chair and watched her. “We need to address what happened earlier when you brought me my morning coffee.”
    She dropped her gaze, embarrassed, as she felt her cheeks flush. “I’m so sorry about that. I was trying so hard not to spill the coffee that it happened, of course. Self-fulfilling prophecy.”
    “Ivy, look at me,” he said, his voice taking on a hard quality.
    She instantly did as he said, looking at him and seeing that he was displeased. He rose from his chair, his suit still just as unwrinkled and impeccable as it had been earlier. He walked around the desk and towards her.
    Ivy felt her breath catch in her chest as he approached.
    As if sensing her fear, he stopped a few feet away and looked down at her. “Do you know why you actually spilled that coffee?” he said.
    “I just told you,” she said. “It was a mistake—“
    Cullen held up a hand. “No,” he said. “There are no mistakes.”
    She felt herself rebel against this notion. “I didn’t want to spill coffee on you, if that’s what you’re implying.”
    “I’m not implying anything,” he said.
    This is why he brought me here , she realized. He wants to yell at me for spilling coffee on him, to harangue me and make me feel like a fool.
    The realization both frightened and angered her.
    I don’t have to put up with this , she told herself. And I won’t much longer .
    “I’ve already apologized,” she said. “What else can I do?”
    “Apologies don’t interest me. They’re meaningless.” He stepped down off the platform and then walked to within a few feet of her and sat down in the matching leather chair.
    His knee was practically touching her knee as he swiveled to face her. Up close, he was even more shockingly good-looking than she’d previously realized. His skin was smooth, slightly tanned, and flawless. His eyes were like two blue sparkling diamonds, flat and cold and gorgeous.
    She could smell his cologne, and under that, his musky masculine scent that sent her quivering internally.
    He made her deeply uneasy, afraid…but he also made her feel something else, something indefinable.
    What was it?
    What was the word that summed it up?
    Desire.
    She realized this as she inhaled his scent and noticed his perfectly manicured fingernails, his long fingers. But his hands weren’t wimpy, despite the obvious fact that he took good care of his fingernails. To the contrary, everything about Cullen Sharpe looked strong and invulnerable. His body was fit, muscular, filling out his suit as if he’d been created to wear expensive clothing rather than the