Uncontrollable

by Susan Kearney

  No.

  Yes. She’d much rather unknot Hathaway’s tie, rip open his shirt.

  He’s the enemy.

  I want him. God, help her, she did. Every cell in her body quivered. Her heart raced. She didn’t understand how he could make her so insane for sex.

  Bolt’s coming. Wait. Wait. Wait.

  Amanda was tearing apart. Her soul shouted no. But her body had needs of its own.

  Bolt had promised he’d be here for her. Where the hell was he?

  She was standing, walking toward Hathaway and not even the man’s triumphant smile stopped her. And then outside Hathaway’s office, she heard a commotion. Loud voices.

  Bolt’s voice.

  He was here. And knowing help was seconds away strengthened her resolve. She changed direction and instead of heading toward Hathaway, she strode by him to the window. But she didn’t see what was outside.

  Her heart was racing. As much as she wanted to redirect her passion from Hathaway to Bolt, she simply couldn’t fling herself into Bolt’s arms the moment he came through that door or she’d give away their plan. She needed to leave the office, but didn’t have a ready excuse. And thinking was so damn hard.

  Bolt strode through the doors with Hathaway’s secretary on his heels. “Sir, I’m sorry. I told him his appointment wasn’t for an hour.”

  “Nonsense.” Bolt looked at his watch. “Actually I’m ten minutes late and not a moment too soon.”

  Hathaway frowned. “Your conduct—”

  “Silence.” Bolt opened his briefcase and removed equipment, which was already beeping. “Not another word.” He then proceeded to find bugs in Hathaway’s phone, behind the light switch, in a desk drawer, under the carpet and even one on the back of the computer. By the time Bolt tossed the bugs into Hathaway’s coffee, Hathaway’s former anger seemed to have evaporated.

  She could see Hathaway was impressed. He was going to hire “Bob Timmins” and that meant her cover wasn’t blown. And luckily for her, Hathaway’s attention had shifted, causing his animal magnetism to disappear. While she no longer had to deal with his continuing sensual assault, the aftereffects would take some time to settle. Her body didn’t turn on and off like Bolt’s electronic equipment, but slowly, she became more aware of her surroundings and how brilliantly Bolt had dealt with Hathaway.

  The agent was accustomed to others kowtowing to his every wish. When Bolt had openly defied him, rudely barging into the office, Hathaway’s astonishment had made his protests ineffective. Now Bolt had proven his usefulness and Hathaway’s frown of outrage had turned to a frown of worry.

  “You can talk now.” Bolt put away his equipment and snapped shut his briefcase. He held out his hand. “Bob Timmins. Sorry to be so abrupt, but I didn’t want to warn whomever was listening that I’m working with you.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve hired you, Mr. Timmins.”

  “Ah, no problem.” Bolt turned as if to leave. “If you don’t want the best—”

  “You’re very cocky.”

  Bolt half turned. “I’m stating the truth. I can keep your conversations clean of eavesdroppers—unless they’re Federal.” Bolt faced him directly. “I don’t take cases against the government.”

  “The government has no interest in me.” Hathaway gestured to a chair as he sat behind his desk. “Please have a seat.”

  Amanda edged toward the door. She needed to wash her face, collect her thoughts. Regroup.

  “Amanda, stay.”

  She leaned against the wall, putting as much distance between herself and Hathaway as possible. She resented the way he’d ordered her like a dog, but was powerless to do anything but obey. She also wished she was in a better state to help Bolt, but he seemed to be doing just fine on his own.

  Hathaway respected bold moves and strength, and he recognized those traits in Bolt. But clearly he was also wary.

  “You have references?” Hathaway demanded.

  Bolt shook his head. “My clients prefer to remain anonymous—just as you will after I’ve solved your problem. I’ll need keys to this building as well as your personal residence and vehicle. I’ll also need computer passwords and alarm codes. If you are uncomfortable with that, then I suggest you hire someone else.”

  “We haven’t discussed your fee.” Hathaway leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head.

  Bolt shrugged. “I can’t quote a price until I see how big a problem you have. But from what I’ve seen so far, my services are going to be expensive.”

  “And why is that?” Hathaway challenged him.

  “Because those aren’t your garden-variety bugs. They are exorbitant in price and most equipment wouldn’t have detected them. That might be why your regular sweeps missed them.”

  Hathaway didn’t reveal that he believed his former security people betrayed him. Now that her lust had begun to subside, it seemed to Amanda that Hathaway liked to toy with everyone. He pushed, he tested, he tried to see what made a person tick by probing until he got a reaction that exposed real emotion. His tactic wasn’t working with Bolt. But Hathaway didn’t acknowledge that he was up against a better negotiator.

  Instead his eyes flicked to Amanda for the first time since Bolt had entered the room. “You think I should hire him?”

  “It’s your decision.”

  “Of course it’s my decision.” He unlocked his hands from behind his head. “You can vouch that he does good work?”

  She forced herself to respond to Hathaway and ignore Bolt as if the outcome was of no concern to her. “My former employer was satisfied, but I wasn’t privy to all the details.”

  “That’s not exactly what I call a full-scale endorsement.” Hathaway’s gaze returned to Bolt. “I prefer working with women.”

  Bolt grinned an easy smile of understanding. “I prefer doing everything with women.”

  “If you so much as talk to one of my models, you’re fired.”

  “Not a problem.” Bolt gazed straight at Hathaway. “I’m seeing someone right now.”

  Me. Me. Bolt was seeing Amanda, and Hathaway should keep his lust vibes to himself. She didn’t want them. She certainly didn’t want Hathaway. Compressing her lips, she didn’t make a sound, but as if the strength of her hatred echoed through the office, Hathaway’s gaze found Amanda again.

  “You think if he’s seeing someone it’s enough to keep him from going after some of the hottest women on the planet?”

  “I don’t know Mr. Timmins well enough to make that call.” She didn’t care if she sounded like a prim Sunday school teacher. The personal nature of the conversation was inappropriate and irritated her. But she knew some men were capable of committing to one woman. Her parents had had a great relationship and to the day they died together her father had adored her mother.

  Hathaway stood, signaling the end of the interview. “If you want something, you ask Amanda. She’ll get you everything you need.”

  “Understood. I’ll also need a copy of your schedule.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can stay out of your way as much as possible. With Amanda’s help, I shouldn’t have to bother you again.”

  The men shook hands, and Amanda prayed she could leave with Bolt, who’d opened the door to escort her out. Amanda desperately wanted a shower. She needed to wash her skin clean of Hathaway’s games. The combination of staying on her toes mentally while he bombarded her with lusty emotions took a toll. She felt as though she’d just waged a battle.

  But Hathaway’s gaze went to her. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Timmins. I need a private word with Amanda.”

  “I’ll wait out there.” Bolt didn’t so much as glance her way. Calmly, he strode out of the office and closed the door, leaving her alone with Hathaway.

  Once more she attempted to remain calm, but with his renewed focus on her, his energy returned. Once again, he showered her in a drenching downpour of emotions she didn’t want and tried to resist. “Yes, sir?”

  “W
hile Timmins is working for me, don’t let him out of your sight.”

  She nodded, relief filling her that she was actually being ordered to stay with Bolt. Which would lessen her chances of being alone with Hathaway. The tension seemed worse when they were one on one. Perhaps he focused more on her. Perhaps she couldn’t distract herself as easily without Bolt there. Either way, she felt compelled to take a step toward Hathaway and only the utmost concentration on remaining still kept her rooted. And she clung to the notion that once she left here, she would be with Bolt, always with Bolt.

  Hathaway’s next words burst her bubble of hope. “However, I’ll expect Bolt to cool his heels in reception while you report to me at least once a day.”

  * * *

  AFTER HATHAWAY’S COMMENT, Amanda fled to the rest room. As if sensing she was barely in control of herself, Bolt had whispered for her to take all the time she needed. She gulped in oxygen and steadied herself on the counter. Leaning over the sink, Amanda splashed cool water on her face, determined to wash away her wild expression. With her pupils dilated, her face flushed, her hands shaking, she looked far from the calm executive assistant she was supposed to be.

  When one of Hathaway’s models exited a stall, Amanda almost didn’t recognize the leggy Vogue cover model from Hathaway’s party. Frances had changed her hair from blond to cinnamon-auburn, and without makeup, she didn’t appear nearly as haughty as she had the night of Hathaway’s party.

  Plunking a designer bag on the counter, Frances leaned forward toward the mirror to examine her flawless complexion. But her arrogant gaze rested on Amanda. “There’s no use fighting the compulsion.”

  “Excuse me?” Startled that the famous model had actually spoken to her, Amanda blotted her face dry with a paper towel and reminded herself to turn the conversation toward Melanie if she could. Yet, she thought it ironic that of all times, Frances had chosen to speak to her now when she was still hampered by the aftereffects of her meeting with Hathaway.

  “You’re fighting yourself.” Frances spoke as if to an idiot, her tone condescending.

  “I am?” Amanda played dumb, hoping to draw more information from her. Frances had been around Hathaway’s organization a while and had to know quite a bit about his agency.

  “Better women than you have tried and failed to resist Hathaway.” Frances opened her makeup bag and applied cream to her eye lids, face and neck in swift professional strokes.

  “Really?”

  “Sure. People assume models are just a pretty face, with no brain. Some of us have a life beyond our careers, you know.” Frances shook her head and her glorious hair shimmered under the florescent lights. She fluffed it to perfection then spritzed on a liquid scented with jasmine. “I’m taking business classes at night and learning to invest my own money, so I needn’t depend on managers. A model’s career is short and too many managers are crooks. I work too hard to leave my assets to someone else’s management.”

  Amanda nodded in admiration. “At least when you’re done, you won’t be dependent on Hathaway like Melanie Carter.” She threw the name of Donna’s friend out there in hopes Frances would keep chatting.

  “Melanie’s old news. Hathaway moved on a long time ago.”

  “So they were an item?”

  “Not after the accident.”

  “You think Melanie still has feelings for Hathaway?” Amanda pushed a little more.

  Frances shrugged, but didn’t frown. The supermodel likely had too much Botox to move her facial muscles. “Melanie wanted a wedding ring. Hathaway wanted Donna.”

  “Donna?” Had her sister come between Hathaway and Melanie? Amanda pretended ignorance. “I don’t believe I’ve met her.”

  “She’s dead. Took a bullet to her head and her body ended up in a Dumpster. Nasty business. Hathaway took her death real hard.”

  Now this was interesting. Donna had told her sister about her feelings for Hathaway but Amanda hadn’t known Hathaway had returned those feelings. Perhaps Amanda’s initial suspicion about the superagent was off target and Hathaway had nothing to do with her sister’s death. And it now seemed Melanie had motive to kill since it appeared Donna had stolen Hathaway’s affections. But if Melanie had killed Donna, why would she have contacted Amanda? Had telling her about the stalker and the diary been red herrings? And if Melanie wanted to get back in Hathaway’s good graces, would she tell Hathaway that Amanda was Donna’s sister?

  Or was Melanie exactly what she seemed? A friend of Donna’s who didn’t know enough to go to the police but still wanted to help. And why should she come forward when Hathaway was supporting her? Unless her conscience was nagging her?

  Amanda simply didn’t have enough facts to judge Melanie’s true motives. Digging for more information, she tried to keep her tone casual. “With the way Hathaway flirts, I wouldn’t have guessed he was hurting too badly.”

  Frances waved a lipstick tube at her. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Hathaway is never loyal to anyone. But Donna was certainly one of his favorites.”

  “She must have been very beautiful.” Amanda tried not to sound too interested.

  Frances tossed aside the lipstick and applied blush to her high cheekbones. “He was more preoccupied with her brains. She used to be a chemist.” Frances spit out the word chemist as if instead Donna had been a whore instead of a world-renowned expert.

  “Is Hathaway interested in chemistry?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Frances chuckled without smiling. “He’s very interested in the chemistry between a man and his women.”

  Amanda shrugged, glad that Bolt still had his receiver and was listening to the conversation, too. She looked forward to hearing his assessment of Frances’s words, and more importantly, he would understand what was keeping Amanda in the bathroom so long. “I don’t understand.”

  “Hathaway wanted Donna to use her expertise to create the ultimate aphrodisiac perfume. She wanted to model. So they compromised.”

  So that was why Hathaway had held back on getting her assignments. He wanted her working on the perfume. “Did she finish the project before she—”

  “I don’t know. If she did finish, Hathaway’s obviously keeping it all to himself.” Frances dabbed a drop of perfume between her breasts. “Hathaway once took me to his bedroom. He had a perfume bottle sitting out on his dresser. When I started to pick up the bottle to try to sniff, he went postal on me, kicked me out of his room and told me I’d be lucky if I ever worked again.”

  “You seem to be doing fine.”

  Frances smiled, but her eyes remained cool and arrogant. “Oh, we made up. He even apologized. And let me tell you, Hathaway does everything in grand style. He flew me on his private jet to Tahiti.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “I am beautiful, am I not?” Frances must have thought the question rhetorical. She didn’t wait for a response and kept chatting. “This was shortly after Donna died and there were enough rumors flying around. He couldn’t afford to have his top-earning model leave for another agency. So he bought me the finest champagne and caviar, brought me to an exclusive island and spent hours making love to me. He was actually almost sweet…” she began, and then her eyes hardened.

  “What?”

  “Once we returned, he changed. I’m not the possessive type but Frances does not stand in line, if you know what I mean.”

  “I sure do,” she agreed and refrained from wincing. Amanda detested when people referred to themselves as if they were royalty.

  Frances snapped shut her compact and dropped it into her bag. “But Hathaway’s not going after me. He’s focusing on you. It’s easiest to enjoy him while his interest lasts, then simply let him move on. My advice is not to fight him.”

  “Did he tell you to say that?” Amanda asked.

  Frances’s eyes widened. “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  * * *

  HATHAWAY DRUMMED his fingers on his desk. Right about now, Frances ought to be giving Amanda his message. Although
he couldn’t trust Frances not to gossip and put her own twist on their past, she would do as she was told. She wouldn’t risk losing her contracts.

  Since Hathaway had found intimidation and fear helped the bottle do its work, he’d suggested to Frances that she should tell Amanda just enough to make her think Hathaway was dangerous. Some women liked that edge in a man. They found the danger exciting.

  Either a frightened Amanda or a turned-on Amanda would work in his favor. And he would see to it that she spent more time in his presence so he could practice his powers on her. It wasn’t that he found her so attractive, but that he didn’t understand how she was resisting him. And if one woman could resist him, then others could, too.

  Being all powerful had too many advantages for him to ignore the significance of Amanda’s immunity. To counter her strength, he needed to know exactly how she was doing so.

  And one way or another he would find out.

  9

  BOLT HATED HOW Hathaway was trying to manipulate Amanda. After listening to her conversation with Frances, it was clear the man had manipulated Frances and Melanie, too. While it remained unclear whether the woman cooperated voluntarily or not, he ached to take Amanda into his arms and comfort her, but there were too many prying eyes around the office. So when she exited the rest room, looking much more together than when she’d entered, he gestured toward the elevator. “Since I promised to stay out of Hathaway’s hair, let’s start at his personal residence.”

  “We’ll need to stop at his secretary’s desk for—”

  He held up keys. “Per Hathaway’s instructions, she also gave me the security code. If you’re ready, we’re set to go.”

  They didn’t have to go outside. Hathaway’s agency was on the top floor of the offices in the building and his suite was just one story up on the first level of private condominiums. If Hathaway had to be in close proximity to the perfume bottle for him to tap into the special powers, he had that neatly covered without having to move the bottle.

  Bolt and Amanda couldn’t speak privately in the crowded elevator, and he had to wait until he’d unlocked the door and turned off the alarm to Hathaway’s suite to take her into his arms. The suite looked exactly as it did on the monitor, spacious, luxurious and decorated in the height of New York hip fashion. Today the Shey Group had made sure the maid had car trouble and wouldn’t be in until tomorrow and the chef had the night off due to Hathaway’s dinner plans; he was to be a keynote dinner speaker for a business association. He then planned to take in a Broadway show. They had the place to themselves and wouldn’t be interrupted.