“Fine, but I need you back here ASAP.” He jotted a note and looked up. “Anything else?”

She bit her lip.

“Hannah?”

“You made it into the National Star again.”

His mood took a nosedive at the mention of his “favorite” tabloid magazine.

Hannah pulled the paper from her bag and tossed it on his desk. On the front was a picture of him and Monique walking through the lobby of his New York hotel on his recent visit.

“Fabulous,” he muttered, easing back in his chair as he read the marriage rumor headline.

“It gets better. Inside, there’s a nice little quote from Monique about getting creeped out in hospitals. A terminal patient at one of her runway shows tried to get an autograph, asked her to make an appearance in his cancer ward. She snubbed him. Told him he needed to go grow some hair. Press is all over it, especially with her connection to you. Not sitting well for us, Ryan.”

He clenched his jaw. His relationship with Monique was anything but exclusive, and marriage was the last thing on his mind. He had no control over what she did or said. And they never talked business when they were together. Rarely talked at all, as a matter of fact.

“How do you want me to handle it?” Hannah asked.

“Don’t. Ignore it.”

“The press is going to play this up, and we don’t need backlash right now with everything that’s happening with Grayson. I really think we need to make a statement.”

Like he cared. The press could print anything about him they wanted. “The Grayson deal’s sealed. And I don’t really give a shit what people think of me personally.”

“Well, I do. It’s my job to care. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“I pay you the big bucks because you earn them.”

“I’m trying to earn them now.”

“Your opinion on the subject is noted.”

“But you’re going to do as you damn well please. And that means nothing.”

He pushed out of his chair. “You want a drink?”

She frowned. “Just water.”

He crossed to the wet bar, pulled two chilled bottles from the fridge, then handed her one. “What else?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, closing the file on her lap.

“I can see it on your face. What else?” She might be good with the press, but she couldn’t hide anything from him. They’d known each other too long.

She let out a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, fingering the water bottle. “The Grayson deal has me curious.”

“About what?”

“About your goals.” When he raised a brow, she added, “Long-term goals. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not following you.”

“Well.” She shifted in her seat. “Aside from wanting to excel in the pharmaceutical world, which you’ve already done, and wanting to expand your umbrella company, which you’re doing by acquiring subsidiaries, I’m just curious where things are going.”

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going. Moving back to his desk, he sank into his chair and waited for her to get to the point.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Ryan, but you’re not exactly the norm for a CEO.” She arched one perfect eyebrow. “You’re a multimillionaire and are very successful at most everything you put your mind to, but you don’t live like a man who rakes in the dough. You live in a nice house, but you could easily afford something bigger and way fancier. You drive the same car you drove five years ago, you don’t have expensive spending habits, you don’t own a yacht or sports cars or even take luxury vacations. Aside from the one week every year that you take to go somewhere with Julia, you never take time off. You belong to the country club, but you rarely go there, you barely use the car and driver you have on staff for the company, and you don’t throw lavish parties or socialize with San Francisco’s elite.”

He swiveled his chair to look out over the bay as she talked. Darkness was setting in, and the lights of the city reflected off the water. Darkness that suddenly mirrored his sinking mood.

“My point is,” she went on, “you don’t seem to enjoy any of the benefits you have from the work you do, so I’m curious why you’re pushing so hard to expand AmCorp.”

“I have my own reasons.” And he’d be damned if he was going to explain them to her or anyone else.

“But what’s the point if it’s not making a difference in your life?”

His gaze cut to her. “You’re one to talk. You’re as dedicated to this company as I am.”

“Sure I am, but I also have a life outside the office. You don’t.”

His jaw clenched again. Any enjoyment he’d had in the meeting earlier had trickled away. He didn’t need her blunt realism smacking him in the face. “My private life is none of your business.”

Tension floated in the air as she stared at him. Their relationship was professional yet friendly, and they shared not only a love of this company but a mutual admiration. However, she’d just crossed a line—a big one—and they both knew it.

Long seconds passed in silence. Finally, she set her water on the table, then stood and retrieved her papers. “You’re right,” she said as she reached for her briefcase. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I’m flying to Denver Monday morning, so I’ll be around this weekend if something comes up.”

Shit. Now he felt like an ass. But dammit, his personal life was just that—personal.

The knock on the door had them both looking over as Mitch peeked into the room. “You planning on sleeping here tonight or what? Hey, Hannah.”

“Hey, Mitch.” A weak smile tugged at her mouth as she finished gathering her things.

One glance at the clock told Ryan it was already after seven. He tossed his reading glasses onto the papers littered across his desk and scrubbed both hands over his face. “I didn’t realize it was so late. We were just finishing up.” He dropped his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come rescue you.” Mitch tipped up his blue Mariner’s baseball cap. Unruly curls peeked out from beneath the hat. He dropped into a leather chair opposite Ryan’s massive mahogany desk and propped his dirty sneakers on its sleek surface, then smiled Hannah’s way.

Ryan’s brows drew together. “You’re gonna get crap all over my work.”

“Your work is crap.” Mitch grinned. “Wanna get a beer?”

A cold beer in a noisy bar where he couldn’t think sounded like heaven right about now.

“Sure, just let me get my stuff together.” He glanced toward Hannah, hoping to ease some of the tension still lingering in the air. “Hannah, you want to join us?”

“Tempting, but no. I have a date.”

“With who?” Mitch asked.

“Kevin Moreland.”

Ryan shot her an amused look. Kevin Moreland was doing a promo spot for one of their drugs. “Now who’s handling the models?”

“I am not the CEO of this company. No one notices what I do.”

Ryan slipped on his jacket, relieved her playful tone had returned.

“Besides,” she added, “Mitch has never gotten around to asking me out, so I have to settle for the young, hot models to fill my time.”

Mitch’s brows snapped together. “Hannah, sweetheart, I would ask you out, but you scare me. A woman in a suit intimidates me.”

She leaned close and ran a coral-tipped fingernail down the stubble on his cheek. “Power is a very sexy thing. You just never know what it’s going to do next.” She headed for the door. “I’ll call you next week, Ryan.”

“Hannah,” Ryan called. She looked back. “What type of car should I buy?”

A wide smile spread across her face. “How about a Jag?”

He thought about it a minute, then nodded. “Tell Christy to get me some brochures tomorrow.”

“I will.” The door snapped shut behind her.

“A Jag?” Mitch asked. “Dude, if you’re buying Jags, I’ll take one.”

“You’d take it into the mountains and coat it with mud. No way.”

Mitch chuckled as he pushed to his feet. “Chicks dig dirty guys.”

“In your dreams, mountain man.” Ryan reached for his jacket. “Where’s Julia? I thought she was with you this afternoon.”

“Mom and Dad took her to get ice cream. I wanted beer. I was outvoted.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while Ryan moved around the room, gathering his things. “They’re leaving tomorrow morning and wanted to take her out for a little fun before they head back to Seattle.”

Ryan was all too aware they were leaving. He loved seeing his in-laws, but this week had been too emotional with the recent crash. He was looking forward to getting his house back to normal. “I thought you were going to Chicago, some geologist’s conference?”

“I was. Opted out. Not really feeling like traveling right now. I have a ton of work sitting on my desk. We’ve identified a new site off the coast of British Columbia. It’s pulling in all kinds of controversy.” He rolled his eyes. “This one chick, this editor for the Geologic Times, wrote this article totally bashing our oil company and any sort of exploration off Queen Charlotte Sound. Made some smart-ass comments about our drilling possibly causing massive earthquakes and tsunamis in the area. It’s such bull, and she had basically no scientific evidence. So now I’m stuck running interference, trying to convince the investors it isn’t a big issue. Like we’re not monitoring the fault lines seismically and testing radioactive gas emissions day and night as it is anyway.”

Mitch could drone on and on about geology and not care if anyone was listening. In that respect, he was just like Annie. In fact, this was one of those controversies Annie would have loved to argue with him about. She’d always goaded him about his career choice as an engineering geologist working for an oil-and-gas conglomerate. While she’d claimed her work as a seismologist was important to the world of science, she’d teased him that his was only important to the world of profit.