by EC Sheedy
When his next words came they were labored, as was her own breathing. "For now—tonight—let's just love each other with everything we have."
She arched into him and put her hands under his shirt, running them impatiently up the indent made by his spine. His muscles were hard; he was hard, his erection straining against her as he used his elbows to keep his upper torso a safe but tantalizing distance from her breasts.
Her now feverish hands clutched his shoulders and pulled him down, greedy to feel his full weight and rigid sex pressed tight to her body. She bit his earlobe, and the heat of her own breath came back to warm her lips. She heard him groan, felt him tremble, triggering her own surge of passion.
"Everything we have, my darling," she promised in a broken, husky whisper. "Everything we have."
* * *
Blue woke to the muffled ring of the telephone coming from his room. At first he ignored it, preferring to indulge himself in the sensation of soft woman curved into his back and the memory of last night. Closing his eyes against the incessant ringing, he pulled Simone's hand to his chest and covered it with his. Then a thought struck him. This could be it. With careful haste he extricated himself from Simone's grip and stood. She grumbled an unintelligible protest before burrowing deeper into the pillow.
Ignoring the morning chill, and his nakedness, Blue strode through the door to his room. He picked up the cordless receiver.
"Uh-huh," he acknowledged the call while grabbing a pair of jeans from the chest at the foot of his bed. He grimaced. The damn things were not only freshly laundered, he noticed, but ironed to a full crease by the indomitable Marie. His morning condition would have appreciated more flexible denim. He tugged them on—carefully—while balancing the receiver precariously on one shoulder.
"Blue?"
"You got it." Blue straightened. It was Bill—the call he'd been waiting for.
"I was about to hang up. Took you long enough to get to the phone," Bill groused.
"Yeah, well... I was busy."
A chuckle came over the line. "Is it worth my while to ask with what?"
"No."
"Too bad." Another chuckle. "Okay, on to the dull stuff then. I may have what you need on your man Hallam. Is this a good time? It could take a while."
Blue smiled in grim satisfaction, settled himself on the bed, and stuffed a pillow behind his head. "This is the perfect time. Shoot."
"Okay, hold a minute, will you?"
Blue heard the rustle of papers coming through the phone. Unless he missed his guess, the paper was the proof he'd been looking for. Bill came back on the line.
"It goes something like this..."
* * *
A half hour later, Blue turned off the phone. His mood contemplative, he leaned his head back against the ornately carved headboard and stared vacantly at the canopy over his bed. He had what he wanted, what he'd expected—and it disgusted him. He shook his head. There were far too many Gus Hallams in the world, he decided. Greedy untrustworthy bastards, all slithering around stuffing their pockets at anyone's expense and vicious as hell in the process.
Snakes, every one of them, and damn mean when they were cornered. Hallam was definitely cornered, but if this particular snake thought he was going to bite the woman Blue loved, he was in for a surprise.
And the woman who loved him back.
At that thought, he warmed from the inside out, and padded barefoot to the still open door between his and Simone's rooms. When he got there, he heard her shower come on. He glanced at the clock. Almost seven. It wouldn't be long before Marie arrived with coffee.
He did a quick time calculation and took in the open door to Simone's bathroom. He read that as an invitation. Hell, there was lots of time for what he had in mind. He took his first step just as her voice came from the shower, half-muffled by the running water.
"If you don't get in here pronto, Mr. Bludell, Marie's eyebrows will be permanently raised—and we'll be drinking cold coffee for the balance of our time in London. Unless, of course, you're not up to it."
He shucked off the stiff jeans.
In three seconds he'd be in that shower showing her exactly what he was up to—and telling her again how much he loved her. This time in the clear, honest light of morning.
* * *
"We've got to talk," Blue said. Dressed, he sat on Simone's bed watching her slip a blouse over her creamy shoulders. Her back was to him. At the sound of his voice, she turned to him, smiled, and started to do up the buttons. Blue's attention strayed. He was mesmerized by the deft movement of her fingers, the contrast of her coral polish against the dark green silk—and the slow veiling of the skin he'd spent all night and the better part of this morning exploring.
"Blue?" She gave him a curious look and stopped buttoning.
He lifted his eyes to hers and managed not to clear his throat as if he were a dazzled adolescent. "I think I've got what we need on Hallam."
"The call this morning?"She gave him her full attention.
He nodded, got up, and went to refill his and her coffee cups. When Simone sat in one of the chairs under the window, he joined her, taking the one opposite."He's been screwing around with his employees' pension fund. Through a combination of graft and bad management, the fund is seriously depleted. A few years ago, he borrowed from it—heavily—along with investing in too many highly speculative, high-risk stocks." Blue stood and started to pace. "The gist of it is the fund is grossly overstated on the books. Some of the stocks are completely worthless."
Simone slowly sipped her coffee, her expression deeply thoughtful. "And the shoe is about to drop," she said, lifting her gaze to his.
"According to my source, a reporter has been sniffing around Hallam's operations for months."
"So, Hallam would dearly love to distance himself from the whole mess by selling to Anjana," she added.
"Exactly, but he won't. Not completely. He may wiggle away from blame for the bad investments, but he's going to have a hell of time justifying his borrowing. The law's clear on that, but no doubt with a boxcar of promises, he can avoid paying until God knows when. The thing is Anjana will—for good faith—have to make good on the pension shortfall. They'll be your employees, your responsibility. It's not a small amount, Simone." Blue leaned against the mantel and crossed his arms. "There's something else."
Simone rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Three major customers—representing a good twenty-five percent of Hallam's revenue—did not renew their contracts."
"How did you find that out?"
"The mysterious Richard Cranway. Turns out, he's a good guy. Been covering for Hallam for two years, based on Hallam's promise he'd replenish the fund and make things right. It didn't happen of course, and when Hallam asked him to falsify a couple of sales contracts, he split. Went to Spain to try and figure out his next move."
"And you found him."
"My source did. By the way, his name is Bill Steeves, and I asked him to come by this morning and fill you in personally. I thought you'd like to see the proof for yourself."
Simone rubbed her forehead and let out a breath. "I never expected something this... criminal. To think Anjana almost—" She walked to the window, stared out silently for a moment, then turned back to him. "Thank you, Blue," she said simply.
He walked toward her and took her hands in his. "No thanks necessary. You would have found out sooner or later. The thing to remember is your instincts were right from the beginning. I'd say that should make you feel damn good."
"He shouldn't get away with it."
"No, he shouldn't, but he probably will." Hallam's kind usually did. The blows of justice tended to glance off armor cast from money and power.
Simone's brow furrowed as though she pondered a complex puzzle. He pulled her close and locked her hands behind his back. "Hey, it's done. Forget it."
"I have to call Hallam."
"Later." He brushed his lips over her mouth. She kisse
d him then, long and lingeringly.
"You're a bad influence," she whispered.
"Thank God for that," he muttered against her mouth.
She brought her hands to his chest and pushed gently. "But I am going to resist you. Josephine is due back today and I intend to deal with Hallam before she gets here." She pushed again. "What time is Bill Steeves coming?"
He released her and she stepped back, looking triumphant. He took comfort from her flushed complexion and ran a finger over her cheek. "About ten," he said before adding, "I knew I shouldn't have fallen in love with a tycoon. Big, big mistake. I'll probably spend the rest of my life chasing you around your desk." He shook his head and tried to look pained.
"But once you catch us, our big desks are accommodating." With that she gave him a sassy grin and tucked in her shirt.
* * *
Josephine called early to advise Simone she'd arrive shortly after seven. Simone decided to wait, tell her about Hallam and their terse morning conversation in person.
For the moment she was alone. Blue had left a half hour ago with Bill Steeves, a man as straightforward and easygoing as Blue himself. She trusted him on sight. He'd insisted Blue buy him the most expensive lunch in London as payment for his services. She'd declined their invitation to join them with the excuse she had letters to draft. That was only part of it.
She needed time to think, about Blue, what it meant, and how to break it to Josephine.
She leaned back in her chair, resting her head on its high back. She was deeply in love and supremely happy about it, confident even Josephine would see how right it was. She'd come around. She'd have to. If she didn't...
Ignoring that possibility, Simone forced herself back to work, but it was Blue who came to mind.
I'm going to marry him, she thought with sudden clarity. Maybe he hasn't asked me yet, but he will.
Why she was so certain, she couldn't say, but she was, and it elated her, filled her with an unaccustomed serenity.
As she smiled to herself her gaze fell on Hallam's name in her calendar. With the end of their negotiations, much of her time in London was freed. Her smile deepened. She knew exactly what she would do with it—or at least most of it.
* * *
Simone was in the living room when Josephine stepped into the foyer that night. Despite her effort to remain calm, she tensed when Harold showed Josephine into the room.
Compared to her mother's elegant dinner dress, Simone's gray crepe slacks and loose white silk top were strikingly casual. Her hair was down, and her wrist held a mass of silver bracelets. She hoped the pleasant ravages of her afternoon with Blue weren't too obvious. She smoothed her hands over her hips as Josephine walked toward her to kiss her lightly on the cheek, her lips as cool as the hand she briefly placed on Simone's arm.
Harold brought them each a glass of wine and advised them Marie would serve dinner when they were ready. When he left, they each took a seat on one of the room's two large sofas, facing one another.
Josephine gave Simone an appraising look over the rim of her wineglass. "You look wonderful. Did you find time to try the spa I recommended?"
"No. I've been too busy." Simone refused to drop her eyes under Josephine's stare, but she couldn't help her hands from suddenly becoming clammy. This was ridiculous, she told herself, forcing herself to relax. She had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.
"Well then, work is obviously agreeing with you." Josephine said, settling back into the sofa. "I'm glad. Now, tell me about Hallam."
She was about to when Blue strode into the room. Wearing dark gray slacks and a plum-colored linen shirt—no tie, of course. He looked wonderful. He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She immediately covered one of them with hers, and he bent to plant a quick kiss on her neck. But as her skin warmed under Blue's casual caress, her stomach knotted painfully at the angry shock on Josephine's face.
"Josephine, nice to see you again," Blue said, his hands still resting easily on her shoulders.
Simone saw Josephine freeze into position, her gaze fix on Blue's hands. She didn't acknowledge his greeting, and the room shuddered under the weight of her silence. Simone couldn't see his reaction to her mother's scrutiny, her only hint of it a gentle squeeze on her shoulders before he stepped away.
Simone hurried to break the silence, her words rushed, her tone uneven."Your question about Hallam is timely, Josephine. And Blue has been invaluable. He's saved Anjana from making a costly mistake."
"Really?" Josephine's challenging gaze swept away from Blue and settled on Simone. "I can't wait to hear about it."
Blue came around the sofa to take a seat beside Simone. Sitting back, relaxed and casual, he smiled briefly at Josephine, then listened quietly while Simone told Josephine of Hallam's attempt to defraud Anjana. He made no interjections, but throughout, she was conscious of his arm behind her, his surreptitious stroking of her hair. She spoke quickly, without embellishment. Josephine's face remained composed and unreadable, expressing only a thin-lipped curl at any mention of Blue's name. The animosity emanating from Josephine grew as Simone's explanation progressed.
"And that's it," Simone said finally. Relieved and grateful the telling was done, she leaned forward to place her wineglass on the coffee table and took a deep breath. "I talked to Hallam this morning and told him the deal was off. Needless to say, he wasn't a happy man."
Without a word Josephine stood and walked to the table holding the wine tray. She set her glass down and turned to face them. She made no comment about Hallam.
"I would like you to leave," she said to Blue without preamble. "This room and this house."
Chapter 12
"Mother!" Simone leaped to her feet, aghast.
Josephine faced her, her expression set to subzero. "Well, well. So that's what it takes to make you call me mother, an insult to your—" she paused "—what? Lover? Tell me, Simone, what exactly is this man to you? And I'd advise you to think carefully before you speak. Very carefully. We both know what's at stake here. As for you, Mr. Bludell, I asked you to leave—now," she stated in a tone of unmistakable command. "I have no intention of letting my daughter get involved with a two-bit, opportunistic accountant because he gives good—"
"Mother, for god's sake!" Stunned, Simone shook with agitation. She'd expected Josephine's anger, but not this show of malice.
Blue, who'd sat unmoving through the whole exchange, rose slowly to his feet. "I'll leave, Josephine, when Simone asks me to," he said calmly.
Simone took his hand in hers, squeezed it, and tried to find her voice. "Maybe it's best you go, Blue. It seems Josephine and I have a few things to work out."
He studied her quietly, and she wondered how he could ignore the waves of antagonism emitted by Josephine. "You're sure?"
She touched his cheek. "I'm sure. I won't be long."
Blue glanced at Josephine's stony face, then back to Simone. He nodded and took a step away, hesitating.
He came back to face Josephine.
"Before I go, there's a couple of things you should know," he said calmly. "One, your daughter is more than capable of making her own decisions. Second, I love her, and while that may mean nothing to you, it means a hell of lot to me—and I hope to Simone. As for that 'opportunistic' concern of yours, don't worry. I don't want or need her money or Anjana's. I—"
"You'll put it all in writing, of course," Josephine spat out sarcastically, her face a mask of disbelief.
Blue nodded, a faint smile playing around his mouth. "You Doucet women do love your contracts, don't you?" That said, he nodded again. "But if that's what you want, you've got it—with all the fine print your lawyers can dream up."
"Humph!" Josephine lifted a shoulder and turned aside.
"All I want. All I need is Simone, Josephine. I love her."
Josephine gave him an bland stare. "Nice speech, Bludell. Now will you go?"
Simone sensed Blue's anger, saw him bite down his lip i
n a struggle for control, and she was grateful for it. The last thing she wanted was a war between Blue and Josephine.
Simone walked Blue to the door, unable to resist touching his shoulder. At her touch, he raised a brow, feigned disappointment. "You know, I really don't think she likes me."
"Looks that way, but it doesn't matter. I like you."
He lifted her chin with his knuckle and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'd hoped it was a lot more than like."
"It is—much, much more."
"I'll hold that thought until you come upstairs." She watched him draw in a breath, look toward Josephine, who was standing at the mantel with her back to them. His expression turned thoughtful. "This thing with your mother. It's more complicated than I thought, isn't it?"
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
After a beat of silence, he said, "I love you. Just keep that front and center and everything will work out." He caressed her cheek and left.
Simone closed the door behind him and leaned on it. Josephine spun to face her.
The air stretched between them, a frayed rope, one misstep, one ounce too much pressure, and it would unravel, separating them forever. Simone willed her anger away. They would talk about it. Make it right.
"Get rid of him, Simone," Josephine said flatly. "You don't need him."
"I will not get rid of him." She pushed away from the door. "I love him." Her words were definite, the emotion behind them a well of courage.
"I can't believe we have to go through this again." Josephine rolled her eyes and tilted her head back as though looking for patience, as though Simone were an unruly child in need of repeated instructions.
"We don't. I love him. He's everything I want."
For a heartbeat Josephine stared at her, then briefly glanced away. In an uncharacteristic gesture, she clasped her hands together as though to warm them, or still them. "So, in the end you've learned nothing. Not from your father's leaving, your brother's, or that husband of yours. And there's nothing I can say or do to change your mind?"