It Takes a Rebel by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

Ms. Tremont," the man said in a hauntingly familiar voice.
    Chapter 5
    « ^ »
    A full fifteen seconds passed before Alex made the connection that this … paragon … was the same wild-eyed, bushy-headed,
    scruffy-faced irreverent vagrant she'd spoken to yesterday. Her jaw loosened a bit, and her mind raced, trying to reconcile the
    two images.
    Meanwhile, Jack Stillman seemed to be enjoying every minute of her discomfort. His dark eyes—brown? green?—alight with
    the barest hint of amusement, never left her face. Her heart pumped wildly, sending hot apprehension to her limbs while alarms
    sounded in her ears. His full-fledged grin catapulted his unnerving energy across the space between them to wrap around her.
    Alex resisted the pull, leaning into the conference room table until the hard edge bit into the front of her thighs. This man was
    dangerous, and she would do well to keep her distance, and to keep her wits about her.
    "Good morning, Mr. Stillman," she replied coolly, then gestured toward the opposite end of the table. "Won't you have a
    seat?" Getting the man off his feet would give her the slightest advantage.
    Instead of answering, he strode toward Heath and extended his hand. "Jack Stillman of the Stillman & Sons Agency."
    Heath introduced himself, and Alex could have kicked herself for her gaffe. The men shook hands, although the set of Heath's
    chin emanated a certain wariness. Bobby Warner, a fellow sales director and her prime competition for the vice presidency
    walked in with his signature swagger, then gaped at Jack.
    "You're not the Jack Stillman who played for UK in the early eighties?"
    Jack dimpled. "Guilty."
    Behind them, Alex rolled her eyes.
    "I'll never forget that sixty-six-yard touchdown against Tennessee in eighty-four," Bobby said, stepping back to feign a catch
    while Alex stared. She could count on her colleagues to overlook Jack Stillman's exaggerated celebrity and do what was best
    for the company … couldn't she?
    To her relief, several other associates entered the room—the public relations director, another sales director, two vice
    presidents and a couple of marketing assistants—chatting among themselves. She left the introductions to Bobby, who seemed
    disturbingly chummy with Jack Stillman after only three and a half minutes. The group body language concerned her. The men
    leaned toward him, hands in pockets, athletically wide-legged—even Rudy Claven, who hadn't missed being a woman by
    much, and was teased mercifully by the company softball team for "throwing like a girl." And the four women in the room
    seemed to hang on to every detail as Bobby ingratiatingly expanded on Jack's scoffing I'm-not-a-legend preamble.
    Ugh.
    Alex pretended to mingle as they waited for her father, but instead studied Jack from beneath her lashes, part of her
    marveling over his physical transformation, all of her wary to the point of nervous tension. He panned his audience to include
    everyone in a glory-days anecdote he'd probably recounted a thousand times, and his gaze seemed to linger on her longer than
    necessary.
    Men were like cats, she observed, pretending to study her watch. The more you ignored them, the more they wanted your
    attention. She forced herself not to listen to Jack Stillman's words, although his baritone was impossible to shut out. Someone
    had found a photo of the '85 UK football team among the cluttered bookshelves, and there he was, Jack pointed out as everyone
    crowded around, then launched into a story about the fellow who sat next to him. Within seconds, everyone was laughing.
    Oh, brother . Alex took a deep gulp of coffee and scalded her tongue. "Dammit!"
    Her expletive coincided with a lull in the laughter and seemed to reverberate from the dark walls. Everyone turned to stare,
    including Jack, whose eyes danced with amusement as she ran her tender tongue against the roof of her mouth. She had the
    strongest urge to stick it out at him.
    "Problem, my dear?" her