He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at her. “I know I sound like a high school boy needing reassurance.” He rolled his eyes, clearly disgusted with himself. “But it’s how I feel. I want to know where you are with this relationship. And I need some proof of your feelings for me.”
Damn, he always had to spoil it. Always had to put parameters on things. First by getting her to stay overnight on workdays, when they’d agreed to sleep separately during the week. Then meeting his parents, which she’d avoided initially. Finally he insisted they go out in public—no, be an obvious couple in public. She had compromised, damn it.
“All right,” she said as calmly as she could, but couldn’t completely erase the pique in her voice. “How can I prove it this time?”
From the streetlight above, quick anger changed the frigid blue of his eyes to sparking flame. “Don’t do me any favors.” He moved to walk away.
Her hand shot out to grab his arm. “Wait. What is going on with you? Why are you so prickly about this?”
“Look, either you want me in your life, or you don’t. Either you’re willing to commit, or not.”
She knew her face paled, was grateful to the nighttime shadows, which would conceal her reaction. Never once had either of them talked about commitment. “Commit to what?”
“To working on this relationship and dealing with those blurred lines you keep getting all upset about.”
“I have been working on it.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Is this about my wanting to hire Parker Quest?”
“No, it’s about you and me and how we deal with things.”
Suddenly she was very tired. She hadn’t slept well since she left DC for Christmas. And Elliot’s words came back to her. He only wants what any guy wants from his girl, Lyss. “All right, how can I prove it?” When he hesitated, she added, “I want to prove it.”
“Go to Highwire’s New Year’s Eve party.”
“Of course I’m going.”
“With me.”
Her shoulders slumped. She’d wanted to avoid flaunting her and Joe’s relationship in his partners’ faces by attending separately. And all the movers and shakers would be there. It would be a huge statement if she went with him.
She thought about Elliot’s happiness. She thought about Joe’s parents, who’d made sacrifices to be together. But mostly she thought about losing the man before her because of her fears.
So she stepped closer, looped her arms around his neck, and aligned her body with his. “I’ll go with you.”
She was shocked to see his eyes close with relief.
Not knowing how to handle the vulnerable gesture, she stood on tiptoes and whispered, “Just wait till you see me in the new dress I bought.”
Ignoring the sexy quip, he clasped her to him. Hugged her tightly. Softly, so softly it nearly broke her heart, he whispered, “I missed you. Come home with me.”
Without waiting for her answer, he drew back, grasped her hand and led her down the street.
Elyssa was right about the dress, Joe thought, staring at her from across the room. She was stunning in it. Black, tight and strapless, the gown was more than appropriate for Highwire Industries’ annual New Year’s Eve party. As usual, the soirée was being held at the downstairs ballroom of the Willard InterContinental—where every and any figure of historical importance in the life of the country had made a notable appearance. Its ornate chandeliers, Persian rugs and old, fine-aged wood shouted wealth and power. Right now Elyssa was in deep discussion with his parents, who seemed to like her more every time they were with her.
Join the club, Joe thought.
“Joe, darling. Hello.”
He turned to see the perfect face and body of his ex-wife, Bethany. Five-foot-seven, model thin, and epitomizing the word chic, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Beth, hi. I didn’t see you come in.”
“I came with Daddy.” Her father was on the board of directors of Highwire.
Joe glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Jonathan?”
She pouted prettily made-up lips. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard?”
“Jonathan and I are getting a divorce.”
Shocked, he stared at her. “No, I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s Melanie taking it?”
“Hard.”
“That kind of thing is tough on kids.”
“It’s going to get even tougher.”
“Why?”
“I’m going back to work.” Bethany had been a top interior designer before she and Joe had married. She was good at her work, and very creative. When she quit her job to be just his wife, Joe got bored with her—hell, they got bored with each other.
“Good for you.”
She grasped his arm. “I was going to ask you to help me get back into the field.”
“Oh.” He was surprised. She moved uncomfortably close. He glanced up to see Elyssa peek over at him and do a double take. She frowned, then turned to his father to ask a question. It didn’t take Einstein to figure out what she was saying.
Who’s the blonde falling all over Joe?
Oh, that’s his ex-wife.
Geez.
As quickly as he could, and with a promise to meet with her next week, he extricated himself from Bethany and threaded his way across the ballroom. He breathed a sigh of relief when Elyssa gave him an I’m gonna bust your balls look.
“It’s a little early for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ isn’t it?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.
He slid his arm around her waist before he remembered that he was going to be discreet tonight, that her coming with him, letting everybody know she was his date, was compromise enough. Giving her a brief hug, he drew back and quipped, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“How’s Bethany, dear?” Joe’s mother asked.
Joe cleared his throat. “Beth’s getting a divorce.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me, too,” Elyssa said dryly.
With the tact required of the ambassador he’d once been, Lance drew Janice away to visit with a couple behind them. Joe sipped his champagne and said, “Sorry. She—”
“—came on to you.”
“Actually, she wants me to help her jump-start her business.”
Elyssa raised a brow. “She wants you for more than that, Monteigne.”
“Jealous? Hmm, I like that.”
“Jealousy is highly overrated.” Something beyond his shoulder caught her eye and she frowned. “Joe, what’s Parker Quest doing at Highwire’s party?”
Pivoting, Joe saw Quest in the doorway. Damn. He studied the man. Dark blond hair to his collar. Big eyes. Long nose. Pronounced chin. Rough-hewn build. Joe knew the guy had just turned thirty. He was almost a decade younger than Joe.
One of Highwire’s partners, Martin Sloan, approached Quest, clapped him on the back and smiled warmly. Quest played best buddy and gave Sloan a bear hug.
Joe turned back to Elyssa. Her face was full of questions.
“Quest is one of Martin’s recruits.”
“Recruits?”
“We financed his company.”
“Highwire financed Parker Quest’s business?”
“Yes. It was Martin’s project.”
She didn’t say anything. Just glanced from Quest to Joe and back again.
“How much did you invest?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much did Highwire trust him, believe in him, to invest?”
“That’s private information, Elyssa.”
“How much?”
“What we invested in you.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Your firm invested millions in Parker Quest’s company, and you discouraged me from hiring him?”
Again, a stony silence.
“What the hell is going on, Joe?”
Chapter 2
Waiting for Parker Quest to arrive for lunch, Elyssa studied The Executive Room, an exclusive business club where, in order to obtain a membership, a person had to have connections in high places. Joe, of course, had facilitated her access into the club. Not that she wasn’t rich or successful enough to warrant belonging. But it was who you knew that got you entrance.
Tucked away in a building on Massachusetts Avenue, the place screamed Men’s Club—mahogany paneling; heavy, dark furniture; book-filled walls. But it was an ideal place to do business—private, quiet and Elyssa liked it. So she’d suggested the elite spot to meet with Quest when she called him yesterday and accepted his proposal to head up her ancillary products.
Sipping Perrier, she pondered what had really led her to hire Quest’s firm. . . .
On New Year’s Eve, Joe had suggested they shelve their discussion of the man in question until later when they were alone. About two A.M., at his place, she’d broached the issue.
Calmly, she thought, and maturely. “I don’t understand this, Joe. You say it’s not personal and I hate to think it’s because he’s an attractive man, that you don’t want me to work with him. But Highwire backed him. You must have thought he was a solid businessman.”
Having removed his black tuxedo jacket and tie, Joe had prowled his living room in his shirtsleeves, sipping Courvoisier. “To be perfectly honest, I had some reservations about giving Quest Highwire’s money. But Martin was adamant, and he’s been proven right. Quest has done very well.”
“Then what was your objection all about?”
He’d faced her, guilt and something else in those mesmerizing eyes of his. “You were right all along. Quest’s a notorious ladies’ man and I don’t like how he looks at you.”
At first she’d been shocked into silence. Then a piercing pain flooded her. It hurt so much, she could hardly contain it. “You’re something of a notorious ladies’ man, too, Joe. Is that the connection? You think because I slept with you, I might sleep with Parker?”
Never in the eight months she’d known him had she seen Joe so explosively angry. He’d hurled the brandy glass across the room, shattering it against the fireplace. Then he strode over to her, grabbed her by the wrist and spat out, “Don’t you ever imply anything like that again.”
His loss of control silenced her, but also made her sane. They squared off like boxers in a ring, staring at each other for a long moment. She finally said, “I guess that was out of line.”
“You’re damn right it was.”
“But so is your reasoning, Joe. It’s crazy. You can’t keep men away from me.”
His anger defused, like snowflakes in the spring. He ran a hand through his hair and she could see it was shaking. “I know. And I hate myself for this . . . jealousy. It’s so unlike me.”
They’d made up—as usual in bed, which was beginning to bother her. They promised to be less defensive, to trust each other more. Their lovemaking that night had been different; Joe had been ravenous the first time and she wasn’t much more in control. But the second time had been so tender it had brought tears to her eyes.
“We’ll be okay, Lyss. I promise. . . .”
“Elyssa?”
She peered up into the smiling face and mile-wide shoulders of Parker Quest. His dark blond hair was like a lion’s mane around his face, and he stared out at her from huge, tawny eyes. She rose. “Parker, hello.”
He held her hand in a gentle, friendly clasp. “Sit.” When she did, he took a chair. His smile was so genuine, it relaxed her. “Did I tell you how happy I was to get your call?”
“Yes, you did.” He’d been refreshingly honest on the telephone.
“I’m thrilled to be working with Allheart. You’ve got the number one rep in the business.”
“And so we picked the number one product designer.” She smiled as the waiter approached their table. “Would you like a drink?”
He nodded to her Perrier. “I’ll have the same as you. I don’t mix business and cocktails.” Neither, of course, did she. Glancing around, he gave an ingenuous grin. “This place is great.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Yeah. Once or twice.” He shrugged and tugged at the neck of the fine cotton T-shirt he wore with pressed slacks and a tan wool sports coat that accented his golden eyes. “Not bad for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Pardon me?”
“I grew up dirt-poor—which always puts this kind of place in perspective.” He gestured at the elegant room.
“Where do you come from?”
“Upstate New York.”
“Really? So do I.”
“I know, I saw a bio on you somewhere.”
“Where are you from exactly?”
“A small town south of Syracuse called McGraw. It’s so tiny there isn’t even a stoplight there.”
“Lockport’s not exactly a booming metropolis.”
Again the Huck Finn grin. “I don’t know about you but I don’t mind having humble roots.”
“No?”
“Nah, it keeps you honest in this business.”
“Speaking of which, shall we talk about how we’re going to infuse ancillary products into my company?”
“Fine by me.”
They ordered first—both chose quiche Lorraine and a vinaigrette salad—and then they got to work.
For all his down-home boyishness and his youth, he wasn’t shy. And he had a quick, incisive mind. “You said what made you pick my firm was the prospect of a creative correlation of products with the kind of cards you have.”
“Hmm. We have a few companion products already but are looking for a unique line of ancillary products that could go with all our cards. I especially liked your suggestion of the herbal tea basket idea for the You Can Cope cards and the mother’s pampering basket for the New Baby cards.”
“Both were my sister’s ideas,” he said with affection.
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s my creative consultant. She’s a gem.” He smiled. “You have a brother, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“We have a lot in common.” Again, his grin was ingratiating.
They talked through their lunch and got down to particulars over coffee. “I prefer to work on-site. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, of course not. I’ll have Robyn ready some space for you. Allheart’s offices can handle you easily.”
“Good, I—”
“Well, hello.”
Elyssa looked up to find Joe standing at their table. He wore a severely cut navy suit and starched light blue shirt, which turned his eyes the color of a midnight sky.
Hanging on his arm was a gorgeous blonde. His ex-wife.
“Joe, hello.” It took effort to smile. “Parker, you remember my business associate, Joe Monteigne.”
Ever the gentleman, Parker stood. “Yes, of course. How are you, Joe?”
“Just fine.” He introduced them both to Bethany, who sidled in closer to Joe.
Elyssa couldn’t help herself and asked, “Was I mistaken? I thought you were out of town until tomorrow.” He’d flown to New York on business. Had seen Elliot, there, as a matter of fact. They’d taken in a Knicks game.
“No, you weren’t mistaken. I concluded my meetings earlier than I expected and took the first plane out this morning.” He transferred his gaze to Parker. “By the way, welcome aboard.”
Parker smiled. “Thanks. I’m thrilled to be on Elyssa’s team.”
“Joe, our table’s ready.” Bethany’s breast grazed Joe’s arm; the flash of intimate contact made Elyssa’s stomach lurch.
“Well, nice to see you again, Parker,” Joe said easily. “I’m sure we’ll be meeting soon.” He nodded to her. “Elyssa.”
“Enjoy your lunch.” She spoke with more equanimity than she felt.
She didn’t watch the couple walk away. She didn’t check to see where they were seated. But she couldn’t help the backward glance when she left the
club.
The scene was cozy and close. Joe, sitting across from Bethany as she daintily dabbed her eyes with what Elyssa would bet was Joe’s monogrammed handkerchief. His hand extended across the table—to cover hers. And there was complete absorption on his face.
It broke her heart to watch him with another woman.
Joe spent the rest of the day trying to track Elyssa down. By the time he finished lunch with Bethany and called Elyssa’s office, she’d left for a meeting with Carole and a potential advertiser for Allheart. Robyn informed him the boss had an appointment at the gym at six.
He found her in the sparring room, pounding the daylights out of a punching bag. From across the way, he watched her. Dressed in black nylon shorts and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination, she’d donned padded gloves and foot protection necessary in the ring. White headgear and other gloves lay off to the side. The black bag she fought with was almost as big as she was.
Frowning at her opponent, she didn’t see him until he was upon her.
“Good form,” he said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “Keep your chin up, though.”
Jab, jab. “Thanks.”
“How long have you been beating on him?”
“Her.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a her.” She darted a quick look at him.
“I see.”
“Good.”
A harder punch. A quick uppercut.
He drew in a breath. Not able to remember when he’d ever condescended to explain himself, he forced his tone to be neutral. “On New Year’s Eve, Bethany asked if I’d meet her this week to discuss her business. She called my cell phone when I was in New York and said it was urgent that she see me as soon as I got back.”
Elyssa’s only reaction was a double punch. She wiped her brow on her arm.
“I tried to call you last night and again this morning to tell you I’d be back earlier than I expected, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“As far as I know, my voice mail is working.”
“I didn’t leave a message.”
“Why not? Just checking up on me?”
His insides knotted. “Is there something to check up on?”
Jab, jab, jab. Her opponent would be sprawled on the floor by now. He grabbed the bag and steadied it. “Stop a minute.” She took several more punches, which jarred him. She’d be a strong contender. Then she drew back and looked up at him. “Care to join me?” She nodded to the equipment at her feet. “I was supposed to spar with my trainer but he got busy.”
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