She groaned. “Oh, Steven. Please stop.” There wasn’t an ounce of conviction in her raspy voice.
“Not on your life.” His voice was husky, hoarse.
“I’ve imagined this,” she muttered against the soft, warm flesh of his neck.
“I know, so have I. If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now.”
He pulled her closer to him, reaching down her jeans to her soft spot
She pulled his T-shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest against hers.
With his soft, moist lips, he planted small, delicate kisses on her breasts and stomach. Her heart thumped. She wanted to stop him, but it had been so long since she’d been loved, her willpower shut down like the night the lights went out in New York City.
Unreservedly letting go, she molded herself to him. Slowly he pulled back, and with both hands, he slid down her jeans. She kicked them off, helped him out of his in a moment of flurry in the heat of passion.
Like the fluttering of butterfly wings, he ran his fingers around her nipples until the tips hardened.
Slowly, with more experience than she’d imagined, he worked his tongue over her clitoris, driving her into a frenzy. No one had ever brought her to this level of excitement before. “Stop,” she whimpered, hardly able to utter the words.
He lifted her legs out from under him and slipped inside her. She gulped at his size. “Oh, my God.”
“Feel good?” he said in a gravelly whisper.
Her only response; another moan as he moved her rhythmically up and down. She relaxed in his strong grip and let him do the work, the bristly hair on his wide chest tickled her nipples.
He pulled back, lifted her up on top of him, and then eased her down slowly, deliberately, until he was fully inside her. Tormenting her further, he held her perfectly still. “Wait,” he said.
How could he know she was reaching a climax?
A long, breathless moment later, she lifted her head from his chest, parted his lips with hers and kissed him passionately, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. The tighter he held her, the more fiercely she pushed and pulled against his grip. This was the first time she’d risen to a climax so quickly.
His movements became more rapid, as if he were out of control. His breath quickened and he yelled, “Now!”
Like riding an untamed stallion, she plunged her nails into his shoulders and with wild abandon, she rode him until she finally collapsed against his chest in total exhaustion.
Only the steady hum of the engine broke the silence. She laughed against his chest. “You're magnificent.”
This was a sweet little secret she’d keep to herself.
15
Carrie parked her white Mercedes sedan in front of Phillip Henshaw’s offices on Sunset Boulevard. Outside, the building looked rundown. Inside, ankle-deep blue carpeting lined the narrow corridors, and large black and white photographs of prominent Henshaw recording artists hung throughout. Phillip had been at this location since the company’s inception during the late sixties rock revolution. Wes bought the company in the seventies.
Just being here, ambling down these corridors, gave her a thrill. She should listen to Steven, get back into the business and show these younger folks how to do it. Yeah, right! Her time had passed; she’d been away too long. She’d been the good wife, raised her son in a town where most women found their satisfaction in their careers. Now, all she had to do was get her man back on track.
She might have made it to the top, but getting involved with Phillip had nearly derailed her marriage to Wes. Phillip was so dashing and exciting back then. He believed in owning his current star, body and soul. He’d fallen hard for her, promised her the moon.
Fortunately, following a brief affair, she kept her head, dodged any further advances or promises and gave up her career to keep Wes. He was everything she wanted.
Today, she had more important matters on her mind than an abandoned career: keeping her son in Los Angeles, keeping Della Garland in line, and most importantly, keeping control of what rightfully belonged to her.
She had spent the last week with a new trainer, exercising two hours a day. He put her on a diet she hated, but she lost nine pounds–only twenty-one to go. Already she felt more in control. “Thank you, Steven,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. Mmm, she loved her boy.
She had based her decision not to invite him to this meeting today on her need to keep him innocent of her plans. Alienating him was the last thing she wanted to do.
Jack Davis told her how thrilled she had invited him. After Della sent him one of those high and mighty faxes of hers, he had flown into a rage, right where Carrie wanted him, mad as hell and ready to fight–at least until the board made their decision.
Carrie liked a good fight, especially now that she had her brass tits back. Enough of this playing the victim crap. That wasn’t her style. To think she’d let that little grunt, Della, get to her! The woman didn’t know who she was dealing with.
She swept into Phillip’s office like she owned the place. Well, basically, she did. If it hadn’t been for her career, Wes wouldn’t have been interested in Henshaw and Associates. Profit was up and down, not like the lucrative flow from Globe and most of the others. Of course, she’d always suspected Phillip of skimming a little off the top, not uncommon in the music industry.
“You look fabulous,” Phillip said, getting up from behind his desk and zeroing in on her. He wrapped his long arms around and nuzzled her neck. “Like old times.”
She pulled away. “Not quite. Those days are gone.” Thank God. He had grown a spare tire around his waist large enough for an eighteen-wheeler, and his perfectly round, hairless head could easily pass for a bowling ball.
He held her hands at arms’s length and looked her over. “You’ve been back on the machines, I see.”
“You can tell?”
“You betcha. Two months, and you’ll be the knockout you’ve always been.”
“It won’t take two months, sweetie.” She took a seat, wishing he’d take a look at himself and do something to recapture his youthful appearance. Her momentary lapse in personal image, thank the Lord, was over. “Jack Davis’ll be here any minute,” she said. “He was more than thrilled at the invite.”
“I’ll bet.” Phillip winced. “Two faxes in less than a month are intolerable for the human spirit. Is Wes going senile on us? In the old days, he took care of business personally.”
A knock came at the door. Jack peeked in. “Dis da place?”
Cute, thought Carrie, his little Mexican bit. Despite his lack of charisma, Jack Davis had enough clout to help her cause. He was a pompous little ass she wouldn’t have given a second thought to if she didn’t think he could help her. That handlebar mustache on his narrow face was too much for television, but he had enough ambition and anger for ten people.
He shook her hand, took a seat next to her. “Glad you sent for me.”
Phillip buzzed his secretary and requested his calls be held, and his open-door policy canceled until further notice.
He shook Jack’s hand. “Glad you made it.”
“Where do we begin?” Phillip said.
Carrie, the lady in charge of this little get-together, enjoyed occupying the power seat for a change. It had been a while. She relished the moment when she and Della would eyeball each other across a boardroom table. If Carrie had her way, that might be in the not-too-distant future.
“I can trust you both to keep our little meetings to yourselves?”
Phillip and Jack nodded.
“For starters, I see other companies Della’s responsible for joining us, and either getting her demoted or fired; preferably the latter.”
Phillip and Jack smiled at each other.
“You’re playing hardball, I see.” Jack said. “All I want is my company back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“If we succeed, that’ll be the first order of business,” she stated flatly. “However, with a good board presentati
on, you may get your wish and this meeting will be moot.”
Two hours later, she emerged from Henshaw’s office with a new bounce in her step and a song in her heart. She would sing again, but not into a microphone for damn sure; and this time, the tune would be hers.
* * *
Wes was in his study when Carrie burst into the room. She twirled around in front of him, inviting his approval. It had taken four weeks of fasting, exercising, and barely touching the good stuff when she ate, to lose all but the last five pounds. She now wore a size six, which she hadn’t worn in two years.
“Well?” she said, continuing to flaunt her new figure.
“You look like your old self,” Wes said. “What happened? I thought you’d settled into middle age and didn’t give a damn how you looked anymore. Isn’t that what you said you were going to do once your lusty days were over?” He chuckled, got up and went to her, put his arms around her and held her. “You’re beautiful to me, no matter what you weigh.” He stepped back, holding her arms. “Didn’t we say our love was all that mattered?”
If he loved her so damn much, why had he shut her out of the business?
“I’m proud of you, honey.”
“It was Steven who inspired me to get back in shape. From the moment he arrived at the airport, I saw the revulsion in his eyes.”
Wes looked startled. “That doesn’t sound like Steven. He adores you. He’d love you any way you were, just as I do.”
What a crock. “Whatever.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
“How about going out to dinner and showing off that sexy new figure?”
“No, thanks,” she said coyly. “I’d rather stay home and fix you a celebration dinner like we used to have in the old days.” She sat on the overstuffed sofa no one could get out of, spread her full skirt out, sucked in her tummy. It had shrunk, but still protruded slightly.
“Lobster tails?” Wes grinned. “Pasta with black olives, artichoke hearts, feta cheese, with some of that good olive oil?”
“Think your heart can take it? I even bought a bottle of Crystal to celebrate with.”
He sat next to her, draped an arm over her shoulder. “I like you like this. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so enthusiastic, especially about cooking dinner.”
If her instincts were right, she had pushed his buttons. She wanted to talk about the company, but this wasn’t the right time. She had to soften him up with good food and champagne first.
They ate on the patio under the starry sky. Wes leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. “The good life. Can I expect more of this in the future?”
Lifting her glass to toast, she said, “That depends on if you’re a good boy or not.”
He laughed. “In what way, my dear?”
She sipped her wine. “I think you could be a little more open with me about the business. After all, what goes on in your life is important to me. I worry what we’ll do, should anything happen to you.” There, she had said it. She let it hang in the air, waiting for his response.
His facial features tightened. “Come on, Carrie. I tell you everything I think you need to know about the business.”
“Well.” She leaned against him, squeezing his thigh, inching her hand toward his crotch. That always excited him. “It seems ever since Della came on the scene, you’ve been secretive.”
He laughed. “It’s all in your head. You were never interested in anything but the parties we threw here at the house and who I hired. It’s better that you do your thing and I do mine. It keeps things fresh here at home. Besides, any shrink’ll tell you that separate interests are healthier in the long run. If anything happens to me, the business will take care of itself.”
She scowled. He had shut the door to her at Gates International. “Perhaps you’re right. All I really want is for you to retire.”
“That’ll be the day! I’ll never retire. The last place on earth I want to be is in some hideaway, doing nothing. I’d die for sure.”
“What about Steven?”
“What about him?”
“He should be taking your place.”
“If he wants to, he can. He knows that. Frankly, Steven is quite happy with his own career. Can’t you accept that? The kid’s a born lawyer. Let him do it, for chrissake.”
Time to cool it. She changed to a dulcet tone. “Are you going to continue promoting Della?”
“There’s no glass ceiling at Gates. She’ll go as far as her talent will take her. It’ll have no effect on you or Steven. She’s no different from Joe or Mike. They’re equal. You don’t get on my case about them. In fact, I think if I turned the reins over to one of them, you’d be relieved. Della’s good for the business. She’s right where I want her to be.”
Carrie poured herself another drink for courage. However, instead of courage, she was getting tipsy. She swallowed the entire contents of the glass, set it down with a clank. She thought, what the hell, might as well put it all out there. “You’d make me happy if you’d get rid of that woman. I could put up with your continuing to run the business if she was gone. I think we should encourage Steven to take his place by your side.” She hiccupped and grinned.
Wes lounged back in his chair and laughed heartily. “What’s the matter with you? I don’t think you have enough to do with your time.” He eased himself up. “This conversation is over. Go sleep off that booze.” He scratched his head and walked toward the house.
She ran after him and pulled at his shirt sleeve. “You listen to me, Wesley Gates. If you don’t work with me, our marriage is in deep trouble. You may lose more than Della Garland.”
He spun around. “You’ve reversed things a bit.”
She stormed past him, yelled for Mildred, the housekeeper. The two of them headed upstairs to the bedroom. By the time Wes got there, they were moving Carrie’s clothes to the adjoining bedroom.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Mildred scurried around the room, gathering Carrie’s personal things as if nothing were going on.
“You snore!” she screamed, her face flushing. “I can’t sleep with you.”
“I don’t snore. You snore!” he yelled back, “And right now, you’re making a big mistake. In fact, you’ve already made it.” He left, slamming the door behind him.
Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Following a shattering moment, sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled a tissue from the box on the night stand, wiped her eyes, and gritted her teeth.
Wes and Della would regret they had kept her out of the loop.
* * *
Iris Hartman, secretary to the board, had called this special meeting of the board of directors to vote on the Globe Travel matter. She, Della, and Steven were the first to arrive. Davis’s report had been sent by messenger a few days before. Iris made sure a copy of the report and a fresh pad and pen were placed at each seat. Coffee, tea, water, and rolls were on a side table along the wall for the board members as they arrived.
Would Jack be truthful with the board? Della feared he might not be, and it would fall in her lap to expose his plan before the board voted. That would antagonize Jack, and surely open the door for him to follow through on his threat. She hoped he wouldn’t use this arena to shake her down, but she wouldn’t put anything past him.
Della and Iris flanked the head seat. Steven discretely took a seat at the other end of the table. He winked at her. She turned away to hide the feelings she knew would show in her eyes.
Wes arrived next. He greeted them, grabbed a jelly donut and a cup of coffee, and took his seat. He mumbled to Della, “This should be interesting.”
“To say the least,” she said.
Moments later, all but one of the chairs surrounding the long table were filled. Jack came in last, dressed to kill, a smirk on his face. He took the only empty seat. Wes called the meeting to order.
“The only business today will be your vote on Globe. I’ll turn the floor ov
er to Jack Davis. He’ll answer any of your questions.”
Jack stood, leisurely strolled to the blackboard and with a pointer, went over the figures since Globe had been acquired by Gates. There were no questions. The profits from his company ranked high among Gates’s acquisitions.
“I’m offering full value of the company, plus an unprecedented five percent share of its profits for the next three years.”
He returned to his seat next to Della. She glanced over, waiting for him to add the business about foreign travel. He remained quiet, gloating, as if he had offered them the moon.
Papers rustled as the board shuffled through the report.
Bert Hardy looked up over his reading glasses. “So, why should we sell Globe back to you? We’re happy with its performance. If we did this with any of our companies, we’d be derelict to our shareholders. We’re here to show a profit, not sell our moneymakers.” He shook his head.
Dan Wright, the bank president from downstairs, said, “I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t sell it back to him. This acquisition was strange in the first place. If Jack’s unhappy, let him go.”
Della shut her eyes for a moment, thought about her conversation with Steven, how good it felt to be honest. Let Jack Davis do whatever makes him happy; She wasn’t going to allow her personal life to interfere with her job. Slowly she rose, cleared her throat, glanced over at Steven, who sat with his hands folded on the table, watching her intently. She held the edge of the table to keep her hands steady. “Jack, would you mind telling the board of your plans for Globe?”
“What plans?” His eyes widened.
Della Page 18