Ulterior Motives

by Laura Leone

  “I think he was telling the truth, Shelley. He seemed worried. If they decide they’re not pleased with the way he’s been running things, he’ll be lucky to find himself running a one-room Elite outpost in northern Alaska by the time this is over.”

  “I’m still skeptical. I wish I’d been there to talk to Chuck myself,” Shelley muttered.

  “So do I. Did you have a nice chat with tall-dark-and-handsome, by the way?”

  “Never mind that,” Shelley chided. “You get on the phone and see if you can find a French teacher for tonight while I call Chicago.” She picked up the phone and started dialing the long-distance number. “When is this guy expected to arrive?”

  “He’s already here. He arrived yesterday.”

  “He’s here?” Shelley repeated. “Have you seen him?”

  “No. I asked Charles to point him out at the reception, but he had disappeared.” Wayne got up to leave.

  “I’d have loved to have talked to him, too. Tell Francesca to hold my calls for the next... Wait!”

  Drifting thoughts started to come together in Shelley’s mind. Something about Toulouse and a man who had disappeared from Keene International’s reception today... I may do some business with them... Michelle Baird... Director of the Babel Language Center...

  With an oppressive sense of irony she asked Wayne, “Did you find out what his name is?”

  “Ross Tanner.”

  Shelley slammed the phone down just as it started ringing in Chicago. “Somehow I thought you’d say that.” She rubbed her fingers against her temples, feeling a sudden headache coming on.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sit down. I have something to tell you.”

  Chapter Two

  Let me get this straight,” Wayne said. “You not only invited Ross Tanner up here, you actually showed him around?”

  Shelley nodded. “Francesca!” she called. “Have you got anything for a headache?”

  “Well, gee, Shelley,” Wayne continued, “as long as he was here, why didn’t you show him our books, tell him about our latest contracts, and let him sit in on a few language lessons?”

  “Stop it,” she chided. “I had no idea who he was. The only thing he said about his line of work was that he might do some business with Keene International. I didn’t know he was connected to Elite. How could I have known?”

  “All right, all right, I’m sorry. The damage is done—”

  “No ‘damage’ was done,” said Shelley. “All he did was look around a bit. For goodness sake, even Chuck has been here before.”

  “Why did you bring Tanner here in the first place? Was it his idea?”

  “No...”

  “You suggested it?”

  “Yes...”

  “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “Because he took me home and then drove me back to work. I invited him up here for a cup of coffee. I was just trying to be polite.” That wasn’t the whole truth, but Shelley intended to keep certain mistakes private.

  “All right, even assuming that he really didn’t know who you were, why didn’t he say something once he realized his mistake?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Shelley muttered.

  “He was thinking about other things, maybe,” suggested Francesca knowingly as she entered the room with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water.

  “What things?” asked Wayne.

  “That’s enough, Francesca,” said Shelley. “Give me that. My head hurts.”

  “What things?” Wayne repeated. “Francesca, did he seem unusually interested in something up here?”

  “Yes, he was very interested—”

  “Francesca,” Shelley warned.

  “In Shelley.”

  Both Wayne and Francesca turned to stare at Shelley. Francesca looked at her with fond concern, while Wayne seemed convinced his boss had lost her marbles.

  “And you fell for that?” he demanded.

  “I didn’t fall for anything,” Shelley insisted.

  “My God, Shelley, of all the men to pick—”

  “That’s enough, Wayne. I made a mistake, that’s all. He caught me off my guard, but it won’t happen again. He didn’t see or hear anything up here that’s going to lead to our dramatic downfall. Now I think we all have too much work to do to waste any more time dwelling on why he didn’t tell me the truth. He’s obviously a slippery character, that’s all.”

  There was a moment of silence as they digested this.

  “All right,” Wayne said, “you’re right. We shouldn’t overreact to this. I’ll get on the phone and find someone for tonight’s French class. You’d better call Chicago.”

  Shelley called her superior in Chicago to explain what they’d just learned. She decided not to tell him about the afternoon’s events, since it was irrelevant and made her feel foolish.

  “Have you ever heard of this guy, Jerome?” Shelley said into the receiver.

  “No, but then he’s obviously never come to the Midwest before. I’m supposed to call the New York office tonight and the Paris office on Monday morning. I’ll ask about him then. If he’s well known, they’ll be able to provide information on him. In the meantime, Shelley, just don’t let him come between you and that contract with Keene International. We’re counting on you.”

  “Yes, Jerome.”

  “Call me around ten o’clock Monday morning with this week’s figures, and I’ll let you know what I’ve heard.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Shelley. You’re doing a great job. You’ve always made me glad that I recommended you for that post.”

  Shelley smiled. “Thanks, Jerome. I’ll talk to you Monday.”

  Shelley worked late that night. This had nothing to do with Ross Tanner or her worries about what kind of trouble he could cause. She had increased business by more than thirty percent in the time she’d been director of the Babel school here, but she still hadn’t been supplied with the staff necessary to cope with that extra workload. She had requested an associate director and another secretary; headquarters in New York had denied these requests but promised to review the situation again the following year. So Shelley worked longer hours as business continued to grow.

  Upon reflection, she could believe Ross hadn’t known who she was. He had seemed genuinely surprised when she told him she was the director of the Babel Language Center. At the time she had attributed his surprise to the unusual name of her business. It evoked images of the biblical Tower of Babel, the lust for power that had inspired its construction, and the confusion that had followed its destruction by the Almighty. Shelley wished once again that the board of directors would choose a new name.

  She went home feeling weary and a little hurt. Ross had seemed like a wonderful man. Why hadn’t he told her the truth before he left? Had he really had hopes of learning something significant from her before she found out who he was? Had he been playing with her? Was he embarrassed? She had sensed some indecision in him, and she wasn’t sure what to attribute it to.

  Now that she knew who he was, she certainly couldn’t see him again. Babel company policy prohibited teachers and staff from dating clients and students. Although Shelley disapproved of a business policy that tried to regulate employees’ personal lives, she had abided by it during her sojourn in Cincinnati and had turned down several personal invitations from male clients. Given that, she could hardly go out with her company’s chief competitor, particularly not when he represented such a potential threat to the growth of her business.

  At home she stuck some leftover Chinese food in the microwave and wondered whether Ross Tanner could convince Keene International to go with Elite instead of Babel. She had another meeting scheduled with Keene on Tuesday. She would try to get a commitment from them then, before Ross had time to put together a new proposal.

  There was not, as Wayne had pointed out, enough business to keep two language schools very busy. Competition for each new client was fierce. Sh
elley prided herself on her talent for running a business and drawing new clients. However, she knew that she owed part of her success here to the mediocrity of her competitor at Elite. Chuck was as incompetent as Shelley’s predecessor, and probably a lot more dishonest—he was just better at hiding it. Shelley was still new enough to lack confidence in her ability to stay on top now that Elite had brought in an expert.

  Ross would be coming to pick her up in the morning, she realized. She must decide how to deal with him. She wanted to handle the situation with dignity, both for her self-respect and because, curiously enough, she wanted his respect, too. She decided she would be cool, businesslike, and firm, no matter what.

  When Shelley opened her front door the next morning, Ross took one look at the total absence of warmth or welcome in her eyes and realized she already knew the truth.

  “News travels fast around here, I see,” he commented after a heavy silence.

  “Especially bad news.”

  “Can we talk about this?” he asked.

  “I think I already know what I need to know.”

  “Shelley, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

  “Then you should have told me yourself yesterday,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, I should have,” he said with a sigh. “I just thought we would need some time to discuss our options, and there didn’t seem much chance of talking to you alone in your office.”

  “Our options?”

  “Can I come inside?”

  “I think it would be better if you left now, Ross.”

  “I think it would be a big mistake to leave now,” he countered as he leaned against the doorframe.

  “Look, Ross, yesterday was very nice, but—”

  “Nice?” he repeated. “Nice? Shelley, how often do you suppose something like yesterday happens to two people?”

  “It happens all the time in Frank Sinatra songs.”

  “Well, yes,” he said, slightly amused. “But how often has it happened to you?”

  “That depends on which part of yesterday you’re talking about. The part where you entered my office as a guest and neglected to tell me who you really were? The part where I felt like a fool after I found out? The part where I wondered why you hadn’t been honest with me? The part where—”

  He took her chin in his hand and forced her face up. His blue eyes were intense and his voice was low when he said, “I’m talking about the instant attraction between us and then very real pleasure we took in each other’s company yesterday.”

  His touch was electric. His eyes were compelling. His voice burned straight through her, setting off little reactions deep in her belly.

  “You misled me,” she said shakily. “You’re going to try to undermine my business. Why on earth should I trust you?”

  “I’m not asking you to trust me, not yet, anyhow. Just to talk to me.” He didn’t plead or cajole; he simply asked, and the effect was devastating on Shelley’s system. She forgot what very sensible thing she had planned to say next.

  “I... Um... You...”

  “Let me in so we can talk about this,” he whispered, his eyes holding hers.

  He smelled so good, she thought irrelevantly; it wasn’t cologne or soap, just a clean, musky, male smell. Wordlessly she backed into the apartment while he followed her. He closed the door behind them and looked around the room. It suddenly seemed very intimate to have him here, and she hoped he would like it.

  “It’s like you,” he said, obviously meaning it as a compliment. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  Shelley nodded. “Would you like some?”

  “I’d love some. I take it black.”

  She brought him a big colorful mug filled to the brim. His eyes were soft as he took it from her hands. He looked even better today than he had yesterday, casually dressed in tight blue jeans, a pale shirt, and a black leather jacket. His jet-black hair was windblown.

  “You left the top down,” she said suddenly.

  “I promised, didn’t I?” he said with a smile. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t catch pneumonia, though.”

  Shelley looked wistfully out the window. “I’m tempted, Ross, but I just don’t think we should pursue this any further. It just wouldn’t be intelligent. Or responsible.”

  “Shelley,” he said firmly, “I didn’t know who you were until you told me. And I’m not interested in you in the hope that you’ll let your guard down and say something I can use against you.”

  He looked so honest and strong. But he had looked that way yesterday, too. Maybe it was just a gift of bone structure.

  “Shelley...” he prodded.

  He was irresistible, which made her question her judgment in this case. She wanted to be with him enough to talk herself into anything.

  “Not today,” she said at last. “I have to think about this.”

  Ross saw the determination in her eyes and realized that was the best answer he would get for now. At least she hadn’t told him never to darken her door again.

  He let out his breath in a rush and put his coffee cup down in a graceful motion. Everything he did looked good, Shelley thought distractedly. It wasn’t fair. He crossed the room swiftly. Before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

  Ross lost himself in her eyes, which were warm and soft with confusion. “If you want time, you’ve got it. But I’ll be thinking of you,” he said huskily as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  It wasn’t the tender caress of yesterday. It wasn’t an affectionate embrace. And it certainly wasn’t a respectable ten-o’clock-in-the-morning kiss. His kiss was hot, passionate, and erotic. His tongue tickled her lips, then plunged without warning into her mouth to stroke and taste and explore. He shifted her against him, so that their hips pressed close together while his mouth continued to pillage hers. His hands came down and stroked her bottom with a slow, firm caress that pulled her even closer. All Shelley saw was swirling black. All she heard was the sound of their mingled breath. All she felt was the hot pleasure of his touch, his kiss, his strong body against hers. All she thought was, sweet, sweet, oh, that’s so good.

  They were both breathing quickly when he released her. Finally Shelley remembered to open her eyes, and she was pleased to see that he looked almost as dazed as she felt.

  “You’re... good at that,” she said weakly.

  “You inspire me,” he whispered and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. He moved away from her and went to the front door. He paused on his way out. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Not tomorrow,” she said, wanting to beg him to stay.

  “Monday, then.”

  “No... later.”

  “I’ll call you,” he repeated. He took one last look, his eyes seeming to burn through her clothes, then left, closing the door softly behind him.

  Shelley gave an enormous sigh, partly from relief and partly from longing, and dropped into an easy chair. This was going to be tougher than she had thought.

  Since Ross’ hopes for a day spent with Shelley had come to naught, he decided to get some work done. That’s why he was in Cincinnati in the first place, wasn’t it? He might even take time out to consider the possibility that he was wrong—an activity he seldom wasted much time on once he’d decided what he wanted. It was possible that Shelley was right and that they should, for the sake of common sense and good business, call a halt to this thing between them before it even began.

  Although he realized that adhering to Shelley’s sense of duty would certainly make life simpler while he was here, Ross’ life had never been simple, so why start now? Since she had made it clear she didn’t want to see him the rest of the weekend, he expected to have plenty of time to consider all the angles of the problem tonight in his elegant, luxurious, and very lonely hotel suite.

  So much for the glamorous life, he thought wryly. Despite the long rest he’d taken the previous year, he was aware of feeling burned-out again. He was tired of changing cities—or ev
en continents—every few months, tired of hotel rooms, plane flights, long-distance calls, sudden changes of plans. Oddly enough, despite his protests to Henri Montpazier, he still liked the work itself. At least he still liked the language schools, although he was tired of firing people and hoped he wouldn’t have to do it again.

  Parking downtown proved to be no problem on a Saturday. Elite, like Babel, was open on Saturdays to accommodate its students. The regular office staff didn’t normally work weekends, though, so Ross was surprised to find Charles Winston-Clarke there. Charles was startled to see him, although his formal expression didn’t really give much away. Ross greeted him politely and let himself into his own small, makeshift office, noting with amusement that Charles wore a suit and tie even on Saturdays.

  Within minutes Ross was studying the school’s financial records for the past year. He knew that central accounting had been complaining about the Cincinnati school for more than two years, and he had been given written and verbal briefings on the whole situation. The various financial logbooks were inconsistent and messy. The high turnover of staff at this school only further complicated matters. One accountant had even lost a vital logbook, and his successor had been forced to begin a new log in midyear with no record of the first six months.

  And this was only one aspect of the job. As usual, Ross had his work cut out for him. However, things didn’t look as bad as they had on his first job for Elite. That had been eight years ago in Toulouse. The assignment had been a bargain, a bet, really, between Henri Montpazier and a brash young man who had always rebelled against authority. Ross was older and calmer now, more experienced and more confident; he’d succeeded at this enough times to know he was very good at it. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t concerned with his job this morning nearly as much as he was concerned with Michelle Baird.

  Shelley.

  Ross leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly.