by Laura Taylor
"Oh, I do, but there’s a problem. Hadley Martin’s secretary stopped by right after I got off the phone with the Whitney people. She was on her way to the hospital to see her boss."
"Not his heart again?" Geneva said, alarmed because of his history of coronary problems.
Rose nodded. "He’s had a heart attack. It happened last night at his daughter’s birthday party."
"How bad?"
"Moderate, according to his secretary, but Hadley’s doctor has confined him to bed for the next week. He needs triple by–pass surgery, and he can’t put it off any longer. If I know his wife as well as I think I do, then he’ll be having it in short order."
"Would you call the florist for me and order a bouquet for him while I deal with New York? I can’t move forward in the negotiations without Hadley, so I’ll have to put everything on hold for the time being."
"That might not be necessary, Geneva," said the older woman, her gaze straying to the back of the store.
Geneva glanced in the same direction. She tensed as Thomas strolled out of her office, a file in his hand. Feeling wary, she watched him approach.
He reminded her of a stalking predator. She already felt like his prey. After the previous night, a sleepless night during which she’d wrestled with her feelings and desire for Thomas, and now this situation with her lawyer, she didn’t need any more complications.
After placing the file on a nearby counter, he signed a greeting. "At the risk of sounding like an ambulance chaser, I think I can help."
She glanced at the distinctive yellow folder. Because she recognized it, her gaze slashed to Rose, who flushed.
The older woman hurriedly explained, "Thomas stopped by this morning to help me move some heavy boxes in the storeroom. He was here when the call came in from New York and when Hadley’s secretary stopped by. He put two and two together, so I thought he might be able to fill in for Hadley. The file was on your desk, and I didn’t think you’d object if he took at look at it… " Her voice trailed off.
She knew Rose meant well, but Geneva felt trapped and more than a little annoyed at this invasion into her business affairs. Affairs. She winced inwardly, then decided that other people’s good intentions would be her undoing.
"Why don’t we sort this out in your office?" Thomas suggested. "Rose can handle your customers while we talk."
Two shoppers walked into the shop, as if on cue. Retrieving her purse, Geneva managed a curt nod and marched stiff–backed to the rear of the store.
Thomas rescued the file, gave Rose a reassuring look, and followed Geneva to her office.
Once she took off her coat and poured herself a cup of coffee, she took a seat at her desk and faced Thomas. He settled into a chair opposite her. She noticed that he didn’t seem at all fazed by her obvious irritation with him. Damn the man!
"Don’t be too upset with Rose," he said. "She was just trying to help."
"I’m not upset with her. I know she meant well."
"While I have an agenda?"
So much for stating the obvious, she thought. "Don’t you?"
"Guilty, ma’am."
"You look positively thrilled with yourself, and not in the least repentant," she accused.
He chuckled, not bothering to issue a denial. "Actually, what I am is impressed. By you and Hadley Martin, who is an excellent attorney, by the way. He’s orchestrated everything up until now in your favor. And it isn’t as if the Whitney Group has any slouches on its executive staff. I know, because my partner dealt with them a few years back during an acquisition involving one of our clients. That said, it’s clear you’re entering a critical stage in the negotiation process. The retention of control and maintaining consistent standards in each store are obviously key issues at stake now."
Surprised and pleased by his accurate summary of the situation, Geneva nodded. "The first question I have to answer is whether I go it alone or put them off. The meeting’s tomorrow morning."
"Your other option is sitting across from you."
"I wouldn’t want to impose."
"You aren’t. I’m offering, and you’ll get a bill for services rendered."
Geneva slowly exhaled.
Thomas got up from his chair and helped himself to a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker atop the file cabinet. His steady gaze on Geneva, he walked—no, she thought—he prowled back to his chair, although he didn’t sit down.
"You’ve done this kind of thing before, I assume," she said, buying a little time in order to weigh her options.
The thought of entangling him in her professional life made her a tad uneasy. Not because she doubted his competence, but because she felt emotionally defenseless where he was concerned. And forget being obligated in any way, shape, or form to the man!
Thomas nodded in reply to her question as he settled back in his chair, took a sip of the steaming brew, and then slid the mug onto her desk. "Many times, Geneva. It’s a chess game, pure and simple."
"It’s also a war of nerves, Counselor."
He grinned, looking almost boyish at the prospect of a major legal tussle. "I like a challenge, but you already know that, don’t you?"
She ignored his question. It was personal. Not going there, thank you very much.
"With the meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning, will you have enough time to prepare?" she asked.
"Shouldn’t be a problem."
"I have additional information on the Whitney Group from Nicholas that you’ll want to review. My position regarding quality control of products with the Talmadge, Inc. label is non–negotiable. They know precisely what I expect from them, and I want my expectations itemized in the contract. As well, I want a board position, a fifty–one percent share of the stock, and their guarantee that Talmadge, Inc. retail outlets will be corporate controlled by regional staffs that I oversee at my discretion. They don’t know that I am also willing to act as a spokesperson for the chain of stores, nor do they know that I’ll back away from my request for a board seat, provided, of course, that they meet my other terms."
He nodded. "Bottom line, you get what you’re asking for, with a few deal sweeteners for good measure tucked in your hip pocket if you need them, or you’re taking yourself out of the game," he finished for her.
"Exactly. They came to me, because they want me and what I’ve created. A piece of my pie is preferable, according to their Board of Directors, to no pie at all. I don’t need the Whitney Group, and they know it. I can achieve what they’re proposing on my own, but that’s the equivalent of reinventing the proverbial wheel. If I can avoid it, I’d prefer it that way."
"What about your partner? Does he need to sign off on my filling in for Hadley?"
She frowned. "How did you know I have a partner?"
"I’ve met him. Nice enough guy, from what I can tell. He doesn’t say much, does he?"
Geneva shook her head. "Sean will not be involved in the contract negotiations. I speak for both of us, and I hold his power of attorney for all business matters."
"Interesting partnership."
"It’s not up for discussion," she informed him, slamming the door on anything to do with Sean Cassidy. Like Nicholas, Sean would always be the recipient of her complete loyalty. To do otherwise would be a violation of everything and everyone she held dear. Almost everyone, she silently amended.
"I’m impressed… yet again."
"By what?"
"You, Ms. Talmadge."
Suspicious of his praise, Geneva asked, "Why?"
"Let’s just say that I find your strength of character and sense of purpose very seductive."
"Seductive? Some men might not agree with you." His remark surprised her. In her experience, most men were irritated by women who knew their own minds.
Thomas shrugged, but there was nothing even vaguely casual or careless about the gesture. "I’m not some men, Geneva. You don’t ever want to forget that. We’re on the same wavelength, and that’s all that counts between us. The rest of
the world isn’t that important to me. You are."
"If you say so," she said, unwilling to follow his lead since she felt certain he was heading toward the subject of their becoming lovers.
"I say so." His eyes filled with a kind of adamance that left little doubt he really meant what he’d just said. "Now, as to the other matter between us."
Geneva froze.
"I’m officially tabling that discussion until a more appropriate time," he signed. "We both need to focus on the Whitney Group for now."
She didn’t move a muscle or make a sound as he drained his coffee, got to his feet, and picked up the file. She simply watched him, trying hard to maintain a level expression that concealed the tumultuous state of her emotions.
Thomas paused, looking expectantly at her.
Geneva was nonplussed for a moment, then realized he was waiting for the documents Nicholas had assembled for her use. She slid the file in question across the top of her desk, her eyes on his face the entire time, and then tucked her hands in her lap.
He collected the second file, his gaze turning speculative. He then spoke slowly enough for her to read his lips. "I’ll stop in later."
Once he disappeared from sight, Geneva muttered a word she rarely used, then surged to her feet and made her way into the storeroom. Jerking on a smock, she threw herself into the task of redoing the display window at the front of the store.
It was an all–day chore, but it did little to distract her from her thoughts of Thomas. She still possessed a great deal of unspent nervous energy when he reappeared at the end of the workday.
She had just positioned the closed sign in the newly decorated and well–lighted display window, which now reflected the Thanksgiving season. She pulled open the front door and waved him inside.
He placed his briefcase on the countertop next to the cash register and pulled off his gloves. "I can’t stay long. I’ve got a supper meeting with a client."
She quelled her disappointment. "I’m busy, too. What did you need?"
Thomas peered down at her, a half smile hovering around his lips and heat in his gaze as his eyes swept over her. "Do you really want me to answer that question right now?"
"I assumed you were here because of The Whitney Group." She was determined to ignore his personal asides.
Thomas shook his head as he stepped closer. "You’re going to fight me every step of the way, aren’t you?"
Geneva shot a belligerent look at him as she squared her shoulders. He kept moving forward, slowly, deliberately, his eyes darkly sensual as they roamed over her face and then down her body. Her breasts swelled as his gaze lingered on them, her nipples puckering into points of throbbing need. Geneva trembled, but she refused to give ground.
The closer he got, the more she had to tilt her head back to keep her gaze fastened on his face. She closed her hands into snug fists, the urge to touch him a reckless impulse within her. It made her ache. It also made her furious, because he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he still did it.
"Relax, Geneva. I couldn’t harm you even if it meant saving my own life." Then, he drew her into his arms and held her.
Relax? How do I relax when I’m tied up in knots? she wondered even as she tried unsuccessfully to smother the moan his nearness caused.
Her heart raced as all of her resistance to him drained out of her. Meantime, his hands gently roved up and down her narrow back.
He soothed with his touch.
He comforted.
He reassured.
He did nothing overtly sexual, but his strong body, growing more aroused with every passing second, and his tenderness conveyed a message of barely leashed hunger for her.
Geneva sagged against him, overwhelmed by the desire coiling deep inside her, by the strength he seemed so willing to share with her, and finally by the reality that she had fallen—hopelessly, perhaps even foolishly—in love with him.
She shivered, and then slipped her arms around his waist. Tucking her face into the warm curve of his neck, she breathed in the musky scent of man and cologne. And her senses glittered like bright sequins.
As he held her, the wool lapel of his topcoat tickled her chin, but she didn’t draw back. She couldn’t. She wanted him too much, wanted everything he had to offer as a man.
She felt the power of his desire for her as she moved closer, aligning the length of her body to his. When his arms tightened around her, she reveled in the safety she found in his embrace.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, his kiss almost chaste.
Geneva nearly wept, because she felt cherished for the very first time in her life.
A tremor suddenly ripped through his big body. An answering tremor rippled through hers. Regret filled her several moments later when he released her and stepped back, but she marshaled her wits and met his gaze.
"The meeting is at nine," she said. "I’ve arranged for a private conference room at the inn. The hotel restaurant staff will serve refreshments during the meeting, then our lunch when we call for it."
"Do you want me to pick you up in the morning?" he asked, all business once again.
She shook her head. "I’ll meet you there. Just ask the concierge for directions to the conference room when you arrive at the inn."
Thomas extended his hand, briefly stroking her cheek with trembling fingers.
She felt the force and depth of his hunger for her. Unable to stop herself, Geneva turned her face into his palm, closed her eyes, and brushed her lips across his skin. Her breathless exhalation followed.
Glancing at Thomas, she didn’t miss the tension in his clenched jaw just seconds before he drove the long, narrow fingers of both hands into the dense fall of golden hair that framed her face. He anchored her head between his palms and leaned down, the intensity of his gaze enough to singe her soul with hot need.
They stared at each other.
Geneva held perfectly still, eyes wide, the air in her lungs trapped and burning for release.
He took her mouth. And he claimed it for himself, as if to tell her that no other man would ever know or touch her in this way again.
She welcomed his possession, her lips parting and the tip of her tongue darting forward to duel lightly, seductively with his.
She sighed.
He inhaled both the sound and the taste of her, then proceeded to thoroughly reacquaint himself with the wet heat of her mouth.
Arousal throbbed in every part of her body.
Geneva could barely stand when their kiss ended. Flushed and shaking with desire, she seized the edge of the counter to steady herself.
"Tomorrow," Thomas finger–spelled before collecting his briefcase.
She nodded, but this time, she refused to watch him walk away. She feared that she might run after him.
Geneva eventually found the strength to walk to the door and secure the lock. As she stood there with her forehead resting against the cold glass pane, all the fight rushed out of her. Her willingness to continue living in isolation followed a few seconds later.
She knew in that moment that two things had finally happened: she’d resurrected the courage necessary to risk her emotions, and Thomas would soon become her lover.
The twin realizations unnerved her a little, because she had no idea where their journey would lead, but the unknown no longer frightened her. She’d moved well beyond fear. Now, she possessed the strength to venture forward, to reach out and seize with both hands the promise of happiness even if it was meant to be a brief interlude.
** ** **
Thomas strolled into the conference room at the Cedar Grove Inn the following morning like a warrior armed to the teeth for battle. Geneva watched him from her position at the wall of windows that overlooked the scores of skiers lined up at the lift at the base of Cedar Mountain.
He joined her at the window once he placed his briefcase and topcoat on the conference table. "Looks tempting, doesn’t it?"
"Very tempting, and definitely
a low–stress way to spend a day."
"We’ll have to join the hordes on the mountain one of these weeks."
She smiled, surprised by how relaxed she felt despite the negotiations scheduled to commence in less than ten minutes. "I’d like that. Rose told me you competed when you were younger."
"Much younger. Seems like it all happened in another lifetime and to another person." Unbuttoning his suit jacket, Thomas shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his boot heels.
Geneva’s gaze dipped below the terrain of his crisp white shirt, silk tie, vest, and gold watch chain, paused for a breathless instant, then lifted her eyes to find his hands in motion.
"…my competition days ended when I graduated from college and headed east for law school. I’m pretty rusty now."
"I haven’t been out yet this year. No time."
"Then let’s make some time."
She smiled, but a movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her. The conference room door opened, and four men and two women stepped inside. Geneva immediately sobered.
So did Thomas, who strode across the room and introduced himself as Geneva’s temporary counsel.
The day lasted forever. At least, that’s how Geneva felt that evening as she stood in front of the family room fireplace at Thomas’s lodge. Staring at the darting flames and basking in the fire’s warmth, she absently massaged her right shoulder.
Thomas touched her to signal his presence behind her.
Geneva turned to look up at him.
"You alright?"
"Just tired." She smiled. "Being fed helped, though. Thank you for supper."
"You didn’t think Rose was the only chef in the family, did you?"
She laughed. "I hadn’t given it much thought, to be quite honest." Geneva accepted the snifter of brandy he handed to her.
"I’m full of surprises."
"Now you tell me." She took a sip of cognac, placed the balloon–shaped snifter on the coffee table, and then sank into one of the two chairs situated before the fireplace.
"Well, you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d accept my dinner invitation."
"Hunger makes the otherwise rational somewhat stupid."