Come and Get Me

by Julie Cannon

  Synopsis

  What would you do if an irresistibly desirable but utterly untouchable woman whispered to you, If you want me, you'll have to come and get me? That's exactly the situation that Elliott Foster, CEO of Foster MacKenzie, finds herself in when she meets the alluring Lauren Collier, Chief Legal Counsel of a Fortune 500 company. Elliott never has a shortage of attractive women willing to share her bed, and she doesn't care if they are attracted to her or just her money. By her rules, if two women are attracted to each other there's no reason why they shouldn't spend the night together—or in some cases, the afternoon. Lauren, intriguing but decidedly oflimits, doesn't fit the mold and Elliot knows she should walk away. Instead she finds herself in the unusual position of pursuing another woman, and even more disconcertingly...on Lauren's terms. Come and Get Me is a passionate, rollercoaster romance that's anything but predictable.

  Come and Get Me

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  Come and Get Me

  © 2001 By Julie Cannon. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-280-1

  This Aeros Ebook is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.,

  New York, USA

  First Edition: April 2007

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Jennifer Knight and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri(graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)

  Acknowledgments

  This book might not have been completed if not for Hurricane Rita. A category 3 hurricane, she hit Lake Charles, Louisiana, on September 24, 2005, in the shadow of her sister Katrina. Rita caused the worst property damage southwest Louisiana has ever seen. My partner?s family lives in Lake Charles, and Rita took the homes of two of her family members, damaged another, and caused my partner?s mother to be without water or power for about three weeks.

  The twenty-hour drive to pick up my mother-in-law and the twenty-hour return trip to Phoenix provided me with ample opportunity to write Come and Get Me. Anyone who has ever driven through New Mexico and Texas knows what I?m talking about. If my mother-in-law had any idea what would come out of that trip, she might have thought differently before she asked, ?Laura, will you come and get me??

  To all of the wonderful women at Bold Strokes Books: Your time, encouragement, support, and faith in me are invaluable. The simple words thank you seem hardly enough, yet they speak volumes. Jennifer Knight was my fabulous taskmaster editor, and I have learned more from her than anyone, even if I still get hung up on POV.

  Finally, on June 14, 2006, I joined the sisterhood of women afflicted with breast cancer. During my treatment and recovery I had the privilege to meet some of the strongest, funniest, and most beautiful women in the hood. These women taught me a new definition of hope, faith, and love and what we as women can do together.

  Dedication

  To my dad: We miss you every day. We talk about you all the time and laugh because we suspect you?re probably smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer, and playing pinochle with your buddies.

  To my dearest friend Claire: I miss you more than you can imagine, especially on a day like today. You would love reading this book, and it is fitting it?s being released exactly one year after you left us. Tell Bailey the kids say hi.

  To Dude, The Devine Miss Em, and #1: You make me understand what is truly important in life.

  To Laura, my partner, my life: After fifteen years I?m still all yours. Come and get me. I love you.

  Chapter One

  “Okay, what the hell is it now?” Elliott Foster shouted from her closet.

  She was trying to get dressed, and in the past hour she had received three sales calls and one wrong number. At the sound of her doorbell she was prepared to tear into the poor soul on the other side. Fuming, she strode through the house and flung open the door.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” She’d known it was only a matter of time before this woman showed up on her doorstep.

  “Do you greet all your lovers this rudely?”

  “You’re not my lover, Rebecca,” Elliott growled in frustration. I don’t need this shit right now.

  Several months ago she and Rebecca Alsip had spent a long, snowy weekend in Aspen between the flannel sheets, which Elliott would hardly classify as making them “lovers.” They’d hooked up for a few weeks, but when Rebecca started making demands, including the right to have Elliott exclusively, Elliott ended it. However, her short-term fling did not go quietly.

  Rebecca batted her hard blue eyes and turned on her best Daddy’s girl smile. “We could very easily remedy that, Elliott. You know I’m more than willing to pick up where we left off.” This invitation was accented by a slow perusal of Elliott’s body as she moved a step closer.

  Elliott blocked the door. “I’d be more than happy to pick up where we left off. As I recall, I was telling you that anything you have to say to me, you can say to my lawyer.”

  She had never wanted their disagreement to go as far as to involve attorneys, but Rebecca’s erratic behavior over the past few months had forced her hand. Conflicting emotions battled in her head. She didn’t know if she was furious because this woman refused to accept the fact that their affair was over or because she was here, standing on her porch. She settled on the former and demanded, “What do you want, Rebecca?”

  Elliott watched with a certain detached fascination as Rebecca’s demeanor changed in an instant from using sex appeal as an enticement to sex as a weapon. It had been inevitable, she supposed, that sooner or later her sexual interludes would catch up with her. From the moment she met Rebecca, she’d sensed danger, but one look at the drop-dead gorgeous body in front of her had banished her caution to the wind. It wasn’t a mistake she made in business. She’d spent the past three years getting to the top by being a good judge of people and of risk. The fact that she failed to heed her own instincts with Rebecca made her feel like an idiot, and even worse, an idiot who could still be tempted to touch the flame that was burning her.

  Irritated, she forced her gaze away from the cleavage displayed by Rebecca’s provocative blouse and reminded herself of the dozens of phone calls she’d received from the manipulative blonde. Rebecca had tried everything from coy sexual teasing to pleading to see her again and, lately, outright threats if she continued to refuse. Now a flash of triumph in Rebecca’s eyes made it clear that she had caught Elliott looking.

  Her confidence growing, she said with a sensuous smile, “I know what you want, baby.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Elliott retorted coldly. “You don’t know the first thing about what I want.”

  “Maybe that’s true. But I know what you don’t want.” A sneer of contempt sapped Rebecca’s face of its superficial prettiness, revealing a woman who would probably pimp her grandmother. “You don’t want everyone knowing you’re a queer. And for three hundred thousand dollars, they won’t have to.”

  Years of self-control in the boardroom did not fail Elliott. Her heart was racing and her mind whirling, but as calm as if Rebecca had asked for the butter, she replied, “I’m not following you.”

  “I’m saying three hundre
d thousand makes me go away.” Rebecca’s voice dripped sarcasm. Evidently, she believed she had Elliott by the short hairs. She had already threatened to out Elliott in an ugly, explicit manner to the board of directors of Foster McKenzie, and Elliott had already told her that since the board already knew she was gay, they would not give a damn. The demand for cash was new and completely unexpected.

  Elliott took several deep, calming breaths before she spoke. She didn’t like being threatened, least of all by a woman who was supposed to be just a pretty face. “That’s roughly fifty thousand dollars a fuck,” she said with a trace of amusement. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, Rebecca, but you were definitely not worth it.”

  Rebecca’s eyes filled with fury and her face turned a deep crimson, ready to explode. “How dare you! Just wait till I’m through with you. What will your adoring big shots think about you when I expose you as preying on and seducing innocent, defenseless straight women?” Her voice seethed with hatred. “You’ll be disgraced and out on the street with nothing.”

  An eerie calmness settled over Elliott as she changed her perspective on this problem. The truth was that Rebecca had blatantly propositioned her and was far from the innocent lesbian virgin. But now, this was no longer personal; it was business, and Elliott knew how to handle business.

  “Let me guess who my board will believe. Me, the owner of the company, or you, a woman who plays around behind her husband’s back and is trying to extort money.”

  “You think you’re so smart!” Rebecca responded shrilly. “Well, your business friends might be cool with you being queer behind closed doors, but just wait till your dirty secrets are all over the tabloids. You know, in your position it’s really dumb to let women send you pornographic e-mails with photos in them. They can fall into the wrong hands.”

  It took all of Elliott’s willpower not to show a reaction beyond cool contempt. Was it even possible that Rebecca could have accessed her e-mail? Elliott felt weak at the thought. Her business communications were in a separate account she never left open. But she had been using her laptop when they were in Aspen, and it was possible that she hadn’t signed out of her personal e-mail. She could think of several very candid e-mails Rebecca might have found there. Two were from the closeted daughter of a family-values politician, a story the media would eat up. Elliott had recently deleted them. Not soon enough, it seemed.

  Masking her concern with a tone of brazen unconcern, she said, “Don’t fuck with me, Rebecca, because I’ll eat you for lunch. Now get out of here or you’ll need a lawyer for more than threatening me.” Elliott slammed the door on a very big mistake. “Jesus, Ryan is going to bust my chops over this one,” she said to no one as she walked down the hall to resume dressing.

  Getting involved with Rebecca had been the biggest mistake of her life, and Ryan Smith, her attorney, had given her strict instructions not to speak to her. That was the problem—Elliott seemed to have very little control over her actions when it came to the blond bombshell, and she was definitely going to pay for it. She wondered if Rebecca was really serious about selling her story to the tabloids. If so, maybe three hundred thousand was a small price to make it all go away. The politician’s daughter was a charming young woman who had been foolish. She should never have sent indiscreet e-mails, and Elliott had told her so. They had both agreed to delete all their communications, but Elliott had been careless.

  It wasn’t as if she’d miss the money, she thought; it would simply be another line item in her checkbook. Elliott could already hear Ryan laughing at that idea. It would just be the start; blackmailers didn’t stop asking for money. But they had to do something. This was her fault and she could not allow a closeted ex to be outed in these circumstances, let alone put up with sordid publicity no one in her position needed, gay or straight.

  She finished securing her cufflinks, slipped on her jacket, and stood in front of the mirror as she adjusted her collar and lapels. The woman staring back at her looked every bit as successful as she was, from the knot of her silk tie to the toes of her Bruno Magli loafers. The impeccably tailored Armani tuxedo only enhanced her lean form and made her seem taller than she really was. Her unruly dark hair had been cut recently and she continued to decline the rinse that her hairdresser, Randall, guaranteed would hide the few strands of silver beginning to pepper her temples. Elliott refused to be anything other than what she was.

  At thirty-four, she was the chairman of the board and CEO of Foster McKenzie, a venture capital firm with billions of dollars invested in business and economies around the world. Until she took the helm three years ago, the most important thing in her life had been the next big adventure under the covers. She drove expensive cars, indulged in what she termed “the celebration of life,” had friends all around the world, and never lacked for female companionship. It had all come crashing down when her father died and her uncle subsequently drove the company into near bankruptcy. Her younger sister, Stephanie, was neither qualified nor interested enough to run the business, so Elliott had been forced to reconsider her blithe existence and take on the responsibility that was rightfully hers.

  Along with that responsibility came power and fame, both of which led to a never-ending supply of attractive women willing to share her bed. Elliott never knew if they were attracted to her or her money and, frankly, most of the time she didn’t care. She always made very clear that she was not interested in monogamy or a relationship, and she cut the strings if they started to tighten. So far, no one had complained. Elliott always made sure to choose as her partners women who knew the score. So how did I go so wrong with this one?

  The sharply dressed woman in the mirror said, “She’s got some nerve trying to blackmail me into coughing up cash for our little roll in the sack. I’ll be damned if I give that bitch one red cent.”

  Elliott combed her hair. And speaking of a bitch, this charity event was the last thing she wanted to go to tonight. Why didn’t she just say no?

  The tanned face scowled at her. “Yeah, right.”

  Without a backward glance, Elliott spun on her heel, turned off the light, and walked out the door, heading for her garage.

  Just as she’d expected, traffic was at a standstill three bocks from her destination, the Lincoln Grand Hotel. This added another layer of anger to her already short fuse. The public responsibilities of her position at Foster McKenzie were onerous, and sometimes it seemed like they were more social than managerial. Tonight was one of those occasions. Elliott knew her presence mattered to the organizers, and her closest friend Victoria had insisted she attend so they could be each other’s “date” for the evening, a strategy that usually served them well; Elliott would blow smoke if Victoria wanted to leave early, and her friend always did the same for her.

  Cars crept forward until she was finally able to swing into the driveway of her destination. She handed her keys to the valet and entered the lobby of the historic hotel, in search of a stiff drink. Electricity was in the air and the throngs of people milling around set her teeth on edge. Small talk was a skill she excelled in, especially at these types of social affairs, but in her foul mood, benign chatter was not going to come easily. She straightened her posture as if preparing for battle and approached one of the members of her board.

  Chapter Two

  Lauren Collier tuned out the voice of the balding man speaking from the podium. Her date for the evening was equally dull, and it took all of her willpower to pay attention to either man. As the sole female on the executive team of Bradley & Taylor, not to mention the only single female executive, she had been assigned the task of escorting the boss’s nephew that evening. Lauren had been incensed by the assumption that she would not only give up her time for the event but be grateful for the opportunity to spend the evening with a marriageable, well-connected male. She was still pissed several hours later when the perfectly groomed, pompous Princeton MBA continued to treat her like she was the eye candy on his arm, instead of understand
ing that he was the guy who had to have an arranged date.

  There’s gotta be a law against this shit. The funny thing was, Lauren knew the law inside and out, as the chief legal counsel of a Fortune 500 company. Two years ago, she had been surprised when a headhunter contacted her as a potential candidate to fill the position soon to be vacated by the retiring counsel. She was never sure who had put the recruiter on her tail, since she was only a relatively successful midlevel attorney at a local law firm. Seven interviews and eight months later, she was in a job she loved with a high six-figure salary, an office with a view, and a secretary, and she was being ignored by the “eligible” Mr. GQ.

  Her gaze swept the exquisitely decorated ballroom of the Lincoln Grand. Handsome men and beautiful women were rising in applause from tables topped with white linen tablecloths and Wedgwood china. Black tie was the dress of the evening, and by the looks of the women, and some of the men, every safe deposit box in San Diego had been emptied of its contents for this event.

  The rich, famous, and powerful of her city were gathered en masse to be seen and to raise money for the Children’s Education Fund of Greater San Diego County. Lauren had been to several such galas in the past year and she was convinced that these people were more interested in the tax deduction and the distinction of having their name on the benefactor list than they were with actually helping the underprivileged kids in her hometown.

  The president of the Chamber of Commerce and his wife occupied the table directly in front of the podium along with the bishop of the archdiocese. Adjacent to them was the CEO of the largest bank in town, who was eyeing a platinum blonde with surgically enhanced breasts while his wife of twenty-two years glared at him over her empty glass of Chardonnay. At the mayor’s table was his wife and Steven Stark, an aging movie star in town to promote his latest flick. Stark’s trophy wife sat next to him wearing an expression that said that she would rather be anywhere other than here.