The Sexiest Man Alive

by Sandra Marton

  “A retraction?”

  She nodded. She had him now. Oh, the confused look on his handsome—if you liked the type—face! “It will be my pleasure to tell the world that I was wrong. You are most definitely not studly.” She eyed him up and down. “I don’t think you could turn a real woman on if you tried.”

  His face went white, and something that sounded suspiciously like a growl broke from his throat. Warning sirens shrieked in Susannah’s head, but she wasn’t about to stop.

  “But I’ll stand behind everything else I said about you. You’re an arrogant SOB, and now that we’ve met, I understand your propensity for blondes. Dumb ones, I mean. Let’s face it, Mr. Romano. They’re the only ones who’d put up with your overinflated ego.”

  That last sound had definitely been a growl. He was moving, heading toward her, with a glint in his eye that was truly terrifying.

  Susannah picked up speed. It wasn’t easy, making for the door while going backward, especially since she’d left one sneaker behind, but she kept going until she figured she hac only to reach back to touch the doorknob.

  “As for this job, and your magazine, you know what you can do with them, Mr. Romano. Oh, by the way, my surname isn’t Clinton. It’s Madison, as in James Madison, the fourth president of the United States—if that’s not too much for you to remember. When you write out my severance check please make it out properly, to Madison. Susannah Madison Capital M, a, d, i, s, o, n.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Studliness had given way to fury, and the sight warmed her heart.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Romano. Have a nice—Whoa!”

  Susannah’s bare foot went down on something soft and slippery. In the blink of an eye, she was airborne.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT ALL seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The woman with one sneaker. The jelly doughnut on the floor—

  The pratfall.

  Matthew leaped into action, coming up behind her, catching her in midair before she could hit the floor.

  There hadn’t seemed to be much to her, as far as he’d been able to see. She was small and skinny, not curvy the way woman ought to be. But she was a full armload. Her weight as she fell against him, had enough force to knock the breath out of them both.

  “Ooof,” he gasped, as his arms closed around her.

  He lurched, staggered, tripped over his own feet. Susanna gave a thin shriek. She turned, and her arms closed around his neck, and whatever air he might have drawn in to replace what he’d exhaled never made it to his lungs.

  What could a man who is being choked to death say to the woman who was choking him?

  “Aagh,” Matthew said, backpedaling wildly.

  Overbalancing, they skated in reverse, smashed into the table, careened off a cabinet and fell into the unforgiving embrace of the high-backed armchair Matthew had been sitting in before Susannah Madison had come marching through the door.

  The chair groaned, flew backward and glanced off the table. A lamp went down with a crash, followed by the telephone which made a sad, tinkling sound as it hit the floor.

  And then, mercifully, there was silence.

  But just for a second.

  Somebody pounded on the closed boardroom door.

  “Suze?” Claire’s voice was shrill. “Suze, are you okay?”

  Matthew dragged one of Susannah’s arms from around his neck.

  “She’s fine,” he called.

  Susannah glared at him. “I’m not—”

  He clamped a hand over her mouth

  “You want them to see this mess?” he hissed, his mouth at her ear. “Do you have an explanation that’s going to keep everybody out there from figuring we just slugged it out?”

  Susannah threw a wild look around the room. Papers were strewn across the floor. The heavy conference table stood at an angle to the wall. The lamp had shattered, and the telephone was emitting a pathetic bleep. And on top of all that, here she was, sitting cozily in Matthew Romano’s lap.

  She wrapped her hand around his and lifted it from her mouth.

  “Everything’s fine, Claire,” she called. “Just fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” Positive? The room looked as if an inmate had rearranged the furniture in the asylum. For a second, Susannah wanted to burst out laughing.

  “Mr. Romano, ah, Mr. Romano had a little accident, that’s all.”

  “Mr. Romano had an accident?” Matthew whispered indignantly.

  A tremor raced along her skin as his breath tickled her ear.

  “He, um, he backed into the table. And, uh, some stuff fell down.”

  There was silence. Susannah could imagine the way Claire and the rest would be looking at each other.

  “Okay,” Claire said finally, “but if you want me, I’ll be right in my office.”

  Susannah nodded. “Yeah,” she muttered, “great.”

  Footsteps tapped down the hall. She waited a moment and then cleared her throat.

  “You can let me up now, Mr. Romano.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What’s with the martyred tone of voice, Madison? This mess wasn’t my idea, you know.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t mine!”

  “No. That’s true enough. Attempting a crash landing on your butt was definitely your idea.”

  Susannah glared at Matthew, and he glared back. Oh, hell, she thought. He was right. If he hadn’t managed to grab her, to break her fall…

  “I suppose there’s some validity to that,” she said stiffly.

  “Is that supposed to be a thank-you?”

  Susannah blew out a breath. A dark curl lifted on her forehead.

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  Matthew grinned. She’d said the words as if he were an executioner who’d just offered to cut off her head with a newly sharpened blade instead of a dull one.

  “You see? It didn’t hurt, did it?”

  “Don’t push it, Mr. Romano,” she said, fixing him with a cold eye. “You got your thank-you. Leave it at that. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  “Actually, Miss Madison, you stepped on something.”

  Susannah shifted her weight and looked at him. Not a good idea, Matthew thought. Shifting like that, while she was sitting in his lap. Whatever had made him think she was skinny? She wasn’t an armful, he had to admit, but skinny? Not with those firm breasts brushing against his chest. Not with that nicely rounded little bottom against his thighs.

  “Stepped on what?” she said.

  Matthew frowned, cleared his throat and dragged his mind back to the conversation.

  “A jelly doughnut.”

  Susannah’s brows shot skyward. “A jelly—” Delicate waves of pink surged into her cheeks. “Oh, damn.”

  “Yup. You might say that you really put your foot into it this time.”

  He knew the image would be forever etched into his memory. Susannah, figuring she’d leveled him with a barrage of words, making for the door with a clever exit in mind until one sneakerless foot came down on the doughnut and she executed a takeoff that could have only been improved by a guy with a big red nose and a clown suit.

  Matthew couldn’t help it. He snorted. Big mistake. He knew it instantly, but it was too late.

  Susannah’s eyes dashed.

  “You find this amusing, Mr. Romano?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head, “no, certainly not. It’s just…”

  Oh, hell. He couldn’t help it. He snorted again.

  Her face flamed. “I was right,” she said, slamming her hand against his chest. “You really are a horrible human being! I almost broke my neck, and you sit there laughing?”

  “I’m not. Laughing at you, I mean. It’s just that—”

  “It was all your fault, anyway. I’d never have slipped if you hadn’t come after me.”

  “Now, wait just a minute, Miss Ma
dison. I did not—”

  “You did. I should have expected it. I mean, a man like you would never let anybody get away with one-upping him.”

  Matthew jerked back “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Susannah said coldly. “I showed you up for the rat you are, and you couldn’t handle it. So you—you came stalking after me.”

  “I what?”

  “Who knew what you were going to do? No wonder I tried to get away. No wonder I tripped and fell. No wonder—”

  “Either you’re a world-class liar, Miss Madison—”

  “I never lie, Mr. Romano!”

  “Or you’ve got an imagination big enough to fill this room!”

  “Are you trying to deny that you came after me a few minutes ago?”

  Matthew glared at her. “Are you trying to deny that you insulted me?”

  “I just told you the truth.”

  “You insulted me, Miss Madison. And you challenged my manhood.”

  Susannah blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “All that garbage about me not being able to turn a real woman on and dumb blondes being the only ones who’d go out with me—”

  “Not all blondes are dumb, of course,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I guess that limits your field.”

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t it bother you to condemn the members of your own sex that way?”

  “Why should it? I’m not a card-carryng feminist. I believe in equal opportunity for women, but I don’t believe all women are equal. If there are lowbrow idiots out there who can be turned on by a man with a lot of money and a little bit of looks—a very little bit—so be it.”

  “So, I’m incapable of turning a woman on?”

  “If she doesn’t owe points on an intelligence scale? Damned right, Mr. Romano!”

  “Would it surprise you to know that the woman I’m currently seeing is an attorney?”

  Susannah laughed. Dammit, he didn’t blame her. What was he going to do? Trot out the pedigree of every female in his past?

  “I suppose,” he said coldly, “your IQ is high enough so that you consider yourself immune to—how did you put it? A man with a whole lot of money and a little bit of good looks.”

  “Definitely.”

  “That, then, is why you don’t find me…” He smiled nastily. “What was your phrase, Miss Madison? Ah, yes. Studly.”

  Pink color swept into her cheeks. What kind of conversation was this? And why were they having it with her seated in Matthew Romano’s lap?

  In his lap? Good grief! What she doing still sitting, in his arms?

  Susannah pulled back.

  “Let me up, please.”

  “Does Peter have a whole lot of money and a little bit of good looks?”

  “What?”

  What, indeed? Why had he asked her about Peter? The men in Susannah Madison’s life were none of his business.

  “What do you know about Peter?” she demanded. “Have you been spying on my private life, too?”

  “The next time you send hugs and kisses to the man in your life, don’t do it via office E-mail.”

  “That’s it,” Susannah said with quiet fury. “Let me up!”

  It was, Matthew knew, a logical request. There was no reason to keep her here, with her spiky hair inches from his nose. He leaned closer and sniffed. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers. And it only looked spiky. When his nose brushed against it, it felt silky. And soft.

  “If you don’t let me up, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” He chuckled. “Yell? Scream? Call for your colleagues to break down the door and see their boss cozily occupying the lap of the studly enemy?”

  Lord, oh, lord, why had she ever called him that?

  “I am not cozily occupying your lap,” she said, with great dignity. “And I’ve already told you, you are not—”

  “Studly?” Matthew said, and laughed.

  The laugh, sly and low in his throat, did it. Susannah punched her fist into his shoulder.

  “Let go,” she said furiously. “And tell me what’s so damned funny!”

  “You, Miss Madison. You seem to think you can waltz through life saying whatever you like about people without ever having to pay the price.”

  “If you mean that I speak my mind—”

  “I mean exactly what I said. You’ve made some unpleasant accusations about me.”

  “Let go,” Susannah panted, as she struggled to free herself from his arms.

  Romano held her tighter.

  “Unpleasant, and unwarranted. And I resent it.”

  “Too bad.”

  Matthew shifted his weight in the chair. The sudden movement tipped Susannah forward. Without thinking, she threw both arms around his neck to recapture her balance.

  “Do you happen to know your IQ, Miss Madison?”

  Susannah looked at Matthew Romano. His face was inches from hers, the cool blue eyes bottomless. She could see a tiny scar feathering out from beneath one eyebrow. Did it have something to do with that little jog in his nose? Somehow or other, despite the expensive suit, the faint but elegant cologne, the trappings of wealth that clung to this man, she had no difficulty picturing him getting his nose broken or his forehead cut. There was something intensely masculine about Matthew Romano, something that could surely make female hearts flutter.

  Close up, he wasn’t quite the empty suit she’d imagined.

  Actually, there was nothing empty about this suit, nothing at all. The arms that held her were powerful. The chest she leaned against was muscular, as were the thighs that cradled her bottom.

  Susannah flushed.

  All right. Perhaps there were things about him some women might find attractive. Some. Not her.

  “Doing an assessment?” he asked softly.

  Susannah blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Matthew’s smile tilted “You seemed to be taking inventory, Miss Madison. I wonder—do I come up to par?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coldly.

  He laughed, and settled his arms more comfortably around her. “Let’s return to my question, shall we? Do you know your IQ?”

  “I don’t see what my IQ has to do with anything, Mr. Romano.”

  “Humor me.”

  Susannah folded her arms. “Take two of your female friends, add them together and tack on half of one more, and you’re getting close.”

  Matthew grinned. “That’s perfect.”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “It’s excellent.”

  “I’m delighted you approve, but I fail to see what my IQ has to do with anything,”

  “It’s quite simple, Miss Madison.” Matthew shifted her so that she was facing him. “I’m going to prove that you’re wrong, and I want to be sure to do it by a wide enough margin.”

  “What?” Susannah said.

  It was all she had time to say, because less than a heartbeat later, Matthew Romano’s mouth closed over hers.

  His lips were firm and warm. They settled over hers with an authority that, for a second, anyway, stunned her into immobility.

  But it didn’t last.

  He knew the instant reality hit. She went from shocked compliance to horrified rigidity in his arms. Next, she’d begin to struggle. Except he wouldn’t let things go that far.

  Matthew wasn’t a man who got pleasure from overpowering women. Pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, came from giving as well as receiving. He liked to feel a woman’s heartbeat quicken, to have her sigh his name and turn to warm honey in his arms. And he certainly didn’t enjoy making love to a woman he found unattractive, in spirit as well as body.

  As soon as Susannah Madison began fighting him, he would let her go. All this was about, all he wanted, was to show her for the sharp-tongued witch she was.

  She couldn’t claw his male dignity to shreds and get away with it.

  It was a fine idea. Unfortunately, there were
factors he’d failed to take into consideration.

  The softness of Susannah’s mouth.

  The scent of her skin.

  The race of her heart.

  The feel of her in his arms.

  He’d expected to be kissing a sour old maid. But he found himself kissing a dream instead.

  She began to struggle. It was time to let her go.

  But he didn’t want to.

  He wanted to stroke her hair. To slip his tongue into her mouth. To shape her body with his hands and taste all its sweet, hidden places.

  “Susannah,” he whispered against her lips “Susannah.”

  He sank his hands into her hair, fit his mouth more carefully over hers and softened the kiss. And all at once she wasn’t fighting him She was kissing. him back.

  She was kissing him, this man who’d just forced his kiss upon her, this man she’d despised on sight. She was kissing him, and loving it.

  The taste of him.

  The feel.

  The incredible hardness of his body.

  The shocking tenderness of his mouth.

  What am I doing? Susannah asked herself. And then she gave up thinking and tumbled into the magic of the kiss.

  She’d never known a kiss could be like this, that her heart could hammer in her throat just at the feel of a man’s lips on hers. The sensation was beyond comprehension. She felt as if she were slipping away from herself, and it was wonderful. Nothing existed but the moment and Matthew.

  He moved so that she was lying fully against him. When he did, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. There was a thudding sound somewhere in the distance. Was it the sound of her heart?

  Was somebody calling her name?

  Was a voice saying, “Suze?”

  It wasn’t Matthew. He hadn’t seemed to know her name a little while ago. Now he was holding her, kissing her, whispering “Susannah,” over and over against her lips.

  “Matthew,” she sighed.

  He groaned, bent his head, gently nipped her throat.

  She dug her fingers into his hair. Desire shot through her. She felt reckless and bold.

  He was silk and steel, fire and ice. And she was burning.