Valentine Voodoo

by Jianne Carlo

  “Wonderful meal, great conversation,” Bill Harris said as he braced his palms on the table and rose to his feet. “My thanks, Iggie. I'll meet you for coffee before the meeting?”

  “In the boardroom. Shall we say seven?”

  Bill nodded and walked around the table, all the while directing a narrow-eyed glare at Shane.

  Cued, Shane lurched to his feet. “Kudos all round for the company and the meal. I'm heading back home tonight. So I'll say good-bye now.”

  Eli and Iggie both murmured their adieus, and Shane and Bill, followed by the rest of the guests, filed out of the room, leaving only Eli, Lisa, Iggie, and Stephanie.

  Downing the full flute of champagne she held, Lisa rose in the graceful way only a former ballerina could. Wearing the camera-ready half smile the National Enquirer appeared so enamored of, she said, “Good evening, all. Tomorrow.”

  Stephanie caught the shadow crossing Iggie's features and watched him watch his wife as she glided swanlike across the room, her slender neck holding her head high, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. At thirty-eight, Lisa's beauty and glamour and presence captured and held in thrall almost any male in any room she entered or left.

  Eli remained seated, his brows gathered into a gravity-defying V. He shot Iggie a thunderous scowl, tipped his chair back, and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Stop posturing, Eli. Wait for Stephanie in your room. And yes, I know the two of you are together.”

  “Boss—”

  “Don't try my patience, young 'un. I won't keep her long. Now go.”

  Muttering something under his breath, Eli cut Stephanie a glance, and he asked, “Do you need me to stay, honey?”

  Ooh I'm going to kill you.

  Fingers clenching, imagining his thick neck between her hands, she said through gritted teeth, “I'm a big girl, Eli Gallagher, and believe it or not, I've survived without your assistance for twenty-five long years.”

  His head dipped back as if he'd taken a hook to the jaw.

  Good.

  Blinking, he tried to retreat. “Of course you can take of yourself. I—Aw shit. Fine.” Bounding to his feet, Eli glared at Iggie. “I'll see you in the room within the hour, Steph.” He stomped out.

  “That boy is the son I never had,” Iggie said, “but there are times when I want to strangle him.”

  “I know the feeling,” she agreed. “He thinks I can't defend myself—not that I think I'll ever need to defend myself to you, Iggie.”

  “You don't.” Iggie ambled over, pulled out the chair next to hers, and sat. He cleared his throat. “Actually, Stephanie, I know why Christine sent you on this trip. She handed in her resignation this morning.”

  Her heart raced so hard and pounded so loudly, Stephanie couldn't think as the seconds ticked by. She scrunched the napkin in one hand into a tight ball. “Why? She never even hinted. Is it because of the twins?”

  No one knew the reason why the father of Christine's twins had never been in the picture. Stephanie admired Chris for the way she had handled her pregnancy and the birth of her girls. An intensely private person, she kept her business and personal lives strictly separate.

  A waiter entered and used a long iron bar with a thimblelike end to snuff the dozen or so candles on the sideboard. Stephanie peered up at Iggie but couldn't discern his expression as shadows coasted across his features.

  “No reason given in her letter, but I'm assuming the babies are the reason. I haven't had a chance to talk to her as yet.”

  She knew Iggie had been in New York for the last couple of days meeting with the two firms who held a minority interest in Todd Technologies.

  “Is that why she sent me on this trip? To test whether I could handle her position?” Stephanie studied her sandaled feet.

  “Are you interested in her position?”

  Her pulse stammered, and oxygen seeped out of her lungs.

  “VP of creative animation? Me?”

  Gawd, why do I always squeal when I'm nervous?

  “Yes. Are you interested?”

  Shaking her head, she lifted her chin and wriggled her shoulders. “No. I like the creative end. I hate the paperwork, and I'd be no good with the publicity part. I'm not VP material, though I'm very flattered you asked me.”

  “You're the best in the business, Stephanie, and I don't want to lose you. I'm counting on your playing a big part in the company's future.” Iggie held out a hand and stood. “No one else knows this, but Todd Technologies and Dreamcoast are merging. Bill Harris is going to be president of the new division. Can you work with him?”

  “Bill,” Stephanie squealed as she gripped Iggie's hand and allowed him to pull her up. “I'd give my eyetooth to work with him. We've had so much fun working on Valentine. Wait a minute.” Her fingers clenched the wooden chair's back. “I won't have to move here, will I?”

  Her parents had had her late in life, and she was an only child. Church and lunch with her parents, aunts and uncles, and cousins every Sunday played a very important part in her life.

  “One of the conditions of the merger is separate corporate cultures. Todd Technologies' headquarters will remain in Bradenton, and Dreamcoast's will remain on the West Coast,” Iggie replied. “So you're okay with the changes?”

  “Yes.” Did Eli know about this? Why hadn't he told her?

  As if he read her mind, Iggie said, “Three people know about this besides you and me. Sam, Eli, and Bill. I asked Eli to let me break the news to you when he called me about Amy Cartwright earlier. I'm having her flown in overnight,” Iggie murmured on the way to the elevator. Cupping Stephanie's elbow, he added, “I need you to put together a PowerPoint detailing how she copied the file before tomorrow's meeting. Can you do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “This is the second trailer you've worked on with Amy, isn't it?” Iggie slid a key card into the penthouse's slot. “How well do you know her?”

  “We don't exactly get along,” Stephanie replied. She resisted the urge to circle her neck and ease the tension coiling her trapezoid into a tightening bunch. “She's very talented, though. The trailer script she did was awesome.”

  “Why were you suspicious of her?”

  The sudden elevator ascension made Stephanie's ears pop.

  Because I thought she'd been with Eli, and I'm insanely jealous.

  “When Chris phoned me with the news about the theft, I started thinking about the people who had access to the DVDs. She was one.”

  “Well done,” Iggie said as the elevator doors slid open. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

  It took her five seconds to understand his implied question. Iggie had always treated her as a father would a daughter.

  “You respect Eli, don't you? That's why he's one of the people who know about the merger?”

  “I trust Eli, Stephanie. And there aren't more than five people on this planet who I can say that about. He's got his hang-ups, particularly about his blue-collar background, but he's solid through and through.” Iggie touched a forefinger to her cheek. “Eli's mom and I grew up in the same neighborhood. I've know that boy since he was a gleam in his daddy's eye. You might try trusting him. And believing in yourself.”

  Jaw sagging, Stephanie stared at his retreating back. Ignatius Mason hadn't risen to the top of the Fortune 500 list of CEOs for no reason. She puffed out an exaggerated exhale.

  Trust Eli and believe in me.

  Wise words, but much easier said than followed.

  Eli opened the door to their suite almost before she knocked. He hauled her into his arms and kicked the door shut. She glimpsed thigh-hugging, bulging cotton boxers before her face met his searing bare chest. He smelled of soap and Bel Ami aftershave. She'd recognize his distinctive aroma in a Thanksgiving shopping crowd.

  The soft hairs near one small male nipple tickled her nose; her arms crept around his slim waist to find the dimples in the small of his back. Unable to resist the tempting indentations, she trailed f
ingers around their circumferences.

  “You okay?” he asked, drawing back and tipping her chin so she had to meet his gaze. “Iggie told you everything?”

  “Yes. It's really an exciting move. A little scary. I mean, working with Bill Harris and Shane Smith. They're on almost every animation screen credit. Hell, they've won three Oscars between the two of them.”

  “It won't be long before you have your own golden statue, Stephanie Grant.” He shot her a devil-may-care grin and then winked. “I can just picture you on the stage wearing a little red number.”

  All at once the niggling feeling she'd had since the meal ended beamed into a single point. “Eli—why doesn't Lisa know about the merger?”

  His arms dropped away, and she lost the heat of his embrace. An overhead vent blasted dry, hot air, but Stephanie couldn't stop the shiver snaking up each vertebra, one by one.

  Eli tunneled both hands through his hair, raising spikes and swirling locks. “Aw shit. He didn't tell you that part, did he?”

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be good?”

  “Iggie and Lisa are divorcing.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Iggie and Lisa are divorcing?” Stephanie didn't know why the news surprised her. “It's not as if it's unexpected. I mean, everyone knows how jealous she is. And those hottie assistants of his—well, you can't help but wonder.”

  “It's not what you think, honey and it's a long story,” Eli replied. “I ordered milk and cookies. Why don't I tell you about it while we munch?”

  How did you know I'd crave milk and cookies? Oh, Eli, I don't want to fall in love with you. It's too dangerous.

  The doorbell ding-donged.

  “That's probably room service,” he said, then kissed the tip of her nose. “You go get changed, and I'll organize everything.”

  Stephanie's chaotic thoughts slowed her movements.

  Did I latch onto Amy because of my jealousy? She could lose her job.

  Chris has a copy of the trailer. And there's one at the bank in the safe. And until I deleted it when I discovered it, there was a copy on my desktop. Shoot. What if I'm wrong?

  It took longer than normal to pull on sweats and a T-shirt. She wandered into the spacious bar, dining, and TV-cum-living room area ten minutes later.

  Eli lounged on the couch, knees bent, toes wriggling above a glass-topped coffee table. Remote in hand, he scanned channels. Didn't he ever feel cold or self-conscious? Wearing nothing but a pair of gray cotton boxers, he appeared oblivious to his near nudity.

  Iggie'd told her once that Eli's amazing discipline and stamina came from his extreme martial-arts training. If fat existed on his body, the stealth plane team should study Eli. Her gaze traveled from his face to his thick defenseman's neck, past his rippled shoulders, traced each ridge of his pectorals before settling on his navel and the cumulus cloud of hair teasing at the boxers' waistband. A scalding fluttering started low in her belly, tightening her inner muscles, coating her folds with dewy liquid. She'd eschewed a thong and shot a look at her crotch to see if the cotton showed an embarrassing wet splotch.

  “Honey?” Head tilted, three horizontal lines marring the skin above his gathering brows, he chucked the remote and sprang from the sofa. “What?”

  “Eli, what if I'm wrong about Amy? Iggie's flying her in. She could lose her job.”

  Before he neared, his radiating heat inflamed her skin, and the oversize shirt turned into an extra-small. The material constricted, sweltering a film of perspiration everywhere.

  His arm snagged her waist, curving around her back, and he drew her pelvis to his groin. His blatant erection grazed midstomach, and she had to lock her knees to keep standing. Twirling her hair with his other hand, he tipped her head back to bolt her eyes to his. Even the soft lighting provided by the Tiffany lamps above the couch couldn't prevent her from noticing the gold flecks in his gray irises, the expansion of his pupils.

  He wants me as much as I want him.

  But is he falling in love too?

  The chunks of pain making her insides ache dissolved.

  “She had opportunity.” He combed her hair; the caress tingled her scalp but somehow connected straight to her nipples.

  “I know, but the fact is that since the day she made that copy of the DVD, another one's been on my desktop's hard drive.”

  “Talk to Iggie in the morning. Let him know you're having second thoughts. Iggie's fair. He'll give Amy every opportunity to prove her innocence. Okay, what else is bothering you?”

  “The whole situation, I guess.” The lie came easier than Mom serving pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. “How come you seem so blasé?”

  “I'm a guy, and I'm a salesman. You can't be successful with either unless you can out-poker face every person in the room.”

  The sweet odor of toasted macadamia rolled to her nose, and a loud growl rumbled from her stomach.

  Eli chuckled, tweaked her nose, and squeezed her ass. “I scarfed down a few cookies while you were changing, but it sounds like we need to get you fed, little missy. I warmed half in the micro. My little sister likes her cookies warm.”

  “What's her name?”

  He twined their fingers together and tugged her into motion.

  “Trixie, and she hates it. Mom named her after Dad's mother. I keep telling her a name doesn't matter, but when you're twelve going on twenty and female, every little thing is a major catastrophe. Sit,” he said, “and enjoy the feast your man's prepared for you.”

  Stephanie obeyed his order, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Two glasses of milk and two plates of cookies decorated the coffee table. She reached for a chocolate chip-encrusted cookie.

  “You're very close to your family, aren't you?” After breaking the cookie in half, she dunked it in the milk for a good seven seconds before hastily bringing the saturated dough the d to her mouth and sucking on the moistened cookie before chewing. “Hmm, yummy.” She swallowed and looked up to find him ogling her mouth as if he intended to devour her lips with his. “Eli?”

  He dropped onto the couch, herded her onto his lap, and nuzzled her neck. “You make me so hot and hungry, Steph. I can't get enough of you.” Moist kisses and nips trailed from her nape to a tickle-torture of her earlobe with teeth and tongue. Her pulse played hopscotch, jumping and skipping erratically.

  A surprisingly calloused thumb and forefinger tilted her chin up, and his eyes had darkened pupils, black and distended. “What do you think about you and me moving in together?”

  Huh?

  She wanted to scrub her ears; the cookie fell from her hand. “What did…?” Shaking her head, she continued. “No matter. I must have stepped into an alternate reality…Eli?”

  “Let's move in together, Steph,” he cajoled. “Wouldn't it be nice coming home together, cooking meals together, waking up together?”

  Move in, not marry.

  Wake up, Stephanie Grant. That's how it's done today. You live together, try things out, and if it work out, in a few years…

  “Honey, you look like the proverbial deer in the headlights.” Eli's voice went from butter and brandy to dirt and gravel. “The idea's so unappealing, you can't even utter a word.”

  No no no.

  “Who moves where?” She had to remind herself to breathe, and her blood seemed to be fire and ice at the same time.

  Color returned to his face, and one side of his mouth sidled up. “I'll do whatever you want. Move in with you. Find a new place. What do you want to do, honey?”

  Suddenly he hugged her so tightly, her ribs ground into his iron pecs, and she winced.

  “Damn. Sorry.” He bounded to his feet with her in his arms and spun around and around and around, then slid her down his body and tugged the ends of her T-shirt up.

  All at once his elation hit her, and she smiled like Trevor the Marmot at the end of the last animated short, a huge, toothy grin.

  Acting on a numbed autopilot, she lifted her arms, and he dragged the
cotton over her braless breasts. “Eli?”

  Since the cotton blinded her sight and muffled her mouth, the question came out as eeelgh.

  “Oh God, you're so damned beautiful.”

  He tugged the T-shirt off her head, and the cotton drifted and slithered off her shoulder.

  “And look at these perfect titties, and I get to see them every day from now on.” He sifted her breasts in his hands, licked one taut tip and then the other. His head whipped up. “When we fly home, I'll stay at your place until we figure out what we're doing.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, thinking matter soaring out the window as his thumbs rubbed circles on both nipples. Stephanie held onto his biceps for support as the fires of hell licked flames to her fingers, toes, and ears, to wherever he greedily suckled, and he moved between her breasts and their valley, repeating the journey once, twice. On the third pass, her legs gave out, and she collapsed into that hard line defining his pectorals, burying her nose in his slick skin, and tonguing the dusting of hair matting his chest.

  “Bed,” he ordered, scooping her up and stalking to the bedroom. “Honey, this may be quick. Next one will be slow. Promise.”

  They fell onto the bed, his thigh nudged hers, and she let her legs fall apart, a heat wave cascading low in her belly. Eli slipped his hands under the waistband of her sweats, shoving the material over her hips, and he let out a loud groan when he discovered her lack of underwear. His fingers slipped over her folds, and he growled, “So wet, so wet for me. And you smell like paradise.”

  One finger slid inside her; his thumb rubbed up and down, grazing her clit on the ascent. She squirmed and panted, opening her legs wide, her head rolling on the mattress. The second he drew her breast into the silky heat of his mouth, she spiraled, her inner walls jerking and quivering in irregular spasms, the cadence too inconsistent, making her needy, desperate.

  More, more, more.

  “Oh yeah, honey. More. Like this?” His finger and thumb rode her faster; she grew slicker. His mouth tortured her breasts, nipping between them, and then he settled on one and gnawed.