by Lucy Monroe
She smiled in response to Alex's words. "Yes, he is."
After dinner, they moved into the living room. Alex poured himself some scotch while Isabel sipped on her wine leftover from the meal. She put on a Bach harpsichord CD before sitting down on the sofa. Curling her feet under her, she leaned against the overstuffed leather arm of the couch. She had lit vanilla candles earlier, and their fragrance filled the room now.
Alex prowled restlessly around the room. It reminded her of the first night they met, but there was no sense of controlled fury, just curiosity. She felt as if he were studying everything in the room and weighing her in the balance.
"Do you always do this?"
He turned abruptly when she asked the question. "What?"
"Study your date's home so intently."
He walked over to the sofa. Although he sat at the other end, she felt as if he'd invaded her space.
He regarded her, his eyes giving away none of his thoughts. "No. I don't date often and when I do, I don't usually spend this much time compiling data on my date's home."
"Compiling data?"
His smile was self-deprecatory. That didn't make the dimple any less devastating. It was a good thing for her peace of mind that Alex did not smile often.
He took a sip of his whiskey and then answered. "Gathering information is what I do. When I look around your home I notice things about you."
"Data that you store away for future reference?" she asked, trying to understand how his mind worked and wondering if it was an impossible task.
This time his smile was approving. She could get addicted to that dimple.
"Yes. The data fits into your information matrix."
Information matrix? She was definitely getting in over her head. "So what have you learned?"
"You have an eclectic taste in music, everything from country to classical."
"That's pretty obvious to anyone who looks at the CD's I have in my cabinet."
He shrugged. "I didn't say the data was top-secret stuff."
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "I would have expected a man with your talents at gathering information could have observed something more subtle and equally more important than the fact that I like a lot of different types of music."
"You don't think your taste in music is important?" Before she could answer, he went on. "Everything about you is important to me, Isabel."
Warmth spread through her at his words.
"Your relationship with your father isn't close."
She frowned at the satisfaction in Alex's voice. Surely he couldn't be happy about her near-estrangement from her dad. "I told you I do not approve of his work habits. I didn't say we aren't close."
He laid his arm across the back of the sofa, and she wanted to move over enough to curl into his side.
"You didn't have to." He waved his hand toward the photo display on her bookshelves. "The pictures you keep out say it all. There are casual shots of you with Bettina and other friends, but the only picture you have of your father is a formal studio shot."
"Maybe he doesn't like having his picture taken." She didn't know why she was arguing with Alex. He was right. Her only somewhat recent photo of her father was one he had professionally done for a Hypertron annual report.
"Well?" he asked, not giving her an out.
"My father and I are practically strangers." The stark truth hurt, but she couldn't pretend otherwise. She had tried, but her father had no interest in sharing her life in more than the most superficial of ways.
"I wasn't very close to my dad, either." Alex looked as if the admission surprised him as much as it had surprised her.
"I'm sorry. It hurts, doesn't it?" she asked.
"His dying hurt more."
She didn't doubt it so she nodded. At least with her dad, there was always the hope that one day he would realize he needed her and want a bigger role in her life.
"I'm going to my mother's for lunch this Sunday. I want you to come with me."
The change in topic wasn't nearly as disconcerting as the subject of that change. "You want me to meet your mother?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It's traditional for a man to introduce his mother to the woman he intends to marry."
Alex watched the cascade of emotions cross Isabel's face. First shock, then confusion, and finally anger.
This is about the list, isn't it?" she demanded.
"This is about you and me, sweetheart."
She shook her head vehemently. "No. It isn't. You think I'm some kind of desperate fruitcake who will marry any man that comes along." She jumped up from the couch and started pacing. "Well, you're wrong. I'm not desperate. I want a baby and a family, but that doesn't make me crazy." She stopped in front of him. "Do you hear me?"
"I hear you just fine." Hell, her neighbors probably heard her. "Sit down, sweetheart. We can talk this out rationally."
"There's nothing rational about informing a woman you've only known a matter of days that you intend to marry her!" Her voice had risen until the panicked tones were almost at screeching level.
"Calm down, Isabel. I'm not proposing we elope tonight."
She glowered down at him. "You aren't proposing at all. You informed me I was going to marry you, told Brad I was your fiancée, but unless I'm the crazy woman you think and have forgotten something important, you haven't asked me anything!"
Hell. He hadn't expected her to be looking for moonlight and romance, not when she'd made a shopping list of requirements for her future husband. "You didn't put 'romantic' on your list, and for the record, I don't think you're crazy."
"Leave my list out of this. You didn't have any right to look at it in the first place, even less right to take it from my office, and you aren't going to use it as an excuse to insult me now." Her breasts heaved as she gulped in air.
Setting his drink on the table next to the couch, he stood up. She backed up a step, but he reached out and snagged her arm. Taking the almost-empty wineglass from her hand, he placed it next to his glass on the small table.
Gently pulling her toward him, he said, "I did not realize that my wanting to marry you would be so offensive to you."
She stared at him. Her mouth opened, then closed. She swallowed. "I didn't mean to imply that marriage to you would be an insult."
He nodded. "Good." Then he lowered his lips to hers.
He kept a tight leash on his desire. He wanted to calm her down, not overwhelm them both with the sensations that erupted whenever they touched. He waited until she softened against him, and then tugged her toward the couch. Sitting down, he pulled her with him. She landed on his lap, her hands locked at the back of his neck. He allowed himself the pleasure of kissing her for another full minute before pulling his mouth away.
"You like kissing me." He knew without her admitting it that she didn't think about work when she kissed him.
She sighed and opened her eyes, allowing her hands to slip down to rest against his chest. "Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm going to marry you after knowing you such a short time."
He thought about that. "How long do you think you'll have to know me before you agree to marriage?" He couldn't afford to wait too long. He wanted Isabel tied to him before St. Clair went after Hypertron.
She bit her lip. "I don't know."
"I fit your requirements," he reminded her.
She frowned. "So you say, but I don't know that."
He didn't like the implication in her words. "We're compatible, Isabel. I even have decent work habits."
Her chin angled up. "Just what do you consider decent work habits? Taking some poor schmuck on a date to worm information out of her?"
Frowning, he rubbed her arm in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I keep a lot better hours than your dad, and you won't ever have to worry about walking in on me and my sex-starved boss."
"Because you own your own company?"
"Because you can trust me to be faithf
ul."
Her fingers traced a pattern on his chest, wreaking havoc with his control. He reached up and covered her hand with one of his.
Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull her hands away. "Work habits are something you have to observe over time."
He didn't know how much time he had, but he could see her point. He went on another tack. "There's enough attraction between us to cause lightening storms. That's better than the minimal passion requirement you put on your list."
Her face turned a soft shade of pink. "That's true, but marriage is more than sex."
"Right It's about family, too. I'll give you babies, Isabel. As many as you want." It had surprised him when he'd realized how much he wanted to do just that. He hadn't liked being an only child, and he didn't want any child of his to grow up without siblings.
Her lips parted with a soft, "Oh," and her cheeks went a deeper shade of pink.
He smiled. "That is what you want, isn't it? You want a family and I'll give you one."
"Why?"
"Because I want you."
She gripped his shirt. "That doesn't make sense. If you want me, you should be trying to seduce me, not marry me."
"Do you want me to seduce you, honey?" The thought was a tantalizing one, especially with her sweet derriere cuddled against his thighs.
She released his shirt and jumped off his lap in one swift motion. She tripped as she stepped backward and he reached out to steady her. "No. I don't want you to seduce me. I want to understand why you want to marry me."
He didn't know if he could explain. He was accustomed to moving once he'd made a decision, and he had decided that he wanted Isabel … permanently.
He stood and she hastily stepped farther away. He frowned. "I'm not going to attack you, sweetheart. Relax."
She made an obvious effort to do so, taking in several deep breaths and letting them out. "I know that. It's just that this is all so confusing. I haven't even had one normal, uneventful date with you."
"You know you won't be bored with me. That was on your second-level list," he said, in case she'd forgotten.
She eyed him with interest. "You figured out the different levels?"
He didn't think she would appreciate it if he told her they were so obvious a small child could have done so. "Yes."
She chewed on her lower lip and then finally said, "I'll go to meet your mother."
Triumph rolled over him. "Great."
She crossed her arms. "It doesn't mean I'm going to marry you. It's just that I like to meet new people."
"Whatever you say, sweetheart."
Chapter 8
« ^ »
Alex read the online news announcement a second time. Hypertron reported low earnings for the last quarter. Unsurprised, Alex made a notation for the file. With this news, which confirmed Alex's initial findings, St. Clair would begin preparation for the first steps in the hostile takeover.
Tapping his fingers on his desk, Alex considered how this information would impact his relationship with Isabel Harrison. He'd spent two years mooning over a photograph. After meeting Isabel and discovering the woman fulfilled every fantasy the photo had inspired, it had not taken him long to determine that if she was set on getting married, he was the man she'd get married to. They were compatible, even if she did not yet see it that way. And physically they were more than compatible, they were combustible.
He was thirty-two years old. The prospect of settling down to marriage and family appealed to him. His mother would make a wonderful grandmother, and for the past four years she'd been pressing him to start dating "seriously." With his company well established and his financial picture secure, he was ready to take her advice. With Isabel.
He wanted Isabel. Isabel wanted marriage and a family. So, they would get married and he'd give her a baby. The thought of what it would take to get her in that condition played havoc with his mind and his flesh. Having the beautiful, spirited, and slightly innocent woman share his bed on a nightly basis would be no hardship.
No other woman had affected him as she did. When he was with her, he wanted to touch her. All of her. And the more time they spent together, the stronger the attraction grew.
Ideally, the marriage should take place before St. Clair's takeover of Hypertron. Although Alex no longer planned for his role in Hypertron's destruction to become public, there was no guarantee it wouldn't. He knew better than anyone how easily buried information could be brought to the light, and he didn't want Isabel in a place where she might walk away from him without a backward glance when she found out.
If finding out about his revenge against her dad's company upset her, his instincts told him that as his wife, she'd try to work it out. If they were just dating, she might say good-bye—and mean it. He couldn't take that chance.
Every detail except one that he had managed to plug into the matrix surrounding Isabel pointed to a single truth: She belonged with him.
The one circumstance that had given Alex pause—the fact that she was Harrison's daughter—had ceased to matter.
Isabel might not think she'd known Alex long enough to make a commitment, but he would just have to prove to her that she was wrong.
Snatching the phone from its cradle, he dialed St
Clair's number and ended up leaving a message. He needed to tell Marcus about the latest development.
Walking into the outer office a moment later, he found Marcus leaning on Veronica Richards's desk, in what appeared to be a wholly flirtatious conversation. Alex stopped short. He hadn't realized that his secretary was capable of something so basically human as flirting.
Marcus was a different matter. Alex's assistant had no trouble attracting women. However, Marcus had never shown interest in women like Veronica. He tended to go for women who could only be described as big and brassy.
It took a moment, but Veronica became aware of Alex standing a few feet from her and Marcus's little tête-à-tête. She looked up and blushed guiltily. "Mr. Trahern. What can I do for you?"
"Actually, I was looking for Marcus."
Marcus pushed away from Veronica's desk and walked toward Alex. "Sure thing, boss."
Marcus winked at Veronica as he passed her. After a hasty glance at Alex, she pretended interest in something on her desk.
Alex led Marcus back into the office and sat at his desk. "I wouldn't have said that she was your type."
Marcus's mouth tipped up at one corner in a sardonic smile. "People aren't always what they appear on the surface."
"In the years that I've known you, the women you've dated have been all surface. Are you saying you're looking for something different with Veronica?"
An expression that looked entirely too familiar crossed Marcus's features. It contained confusion and irritation. Both feelings were all too frequent for Alex since he had met Isabel for him not to recognize a fellow sufferer. Marcus had it bad, but from the way he wiped his face free of expression, Alex figured he wasn't going to acknowledge it.
"So, what's up?" Marcus asked.
"Heard any word from Bettina on the employer who wanted to hire you?" Better to get that out of the way first.
Marcus had told Bettina that he'd called Isabel only to find out the name of the prospective employer. Evidently, the news had not surprised Bettina, and she'd still offered to set up the interview, provided the employer still wanted to after being told the truth of the situation.
Marcus had agreed and they hadn't heard anything since.
He grinned. "Don't you know that's supposed to be confidential? How am I supposed to make the best decision for my career with my current boss breathing down my neck?"
Alex frowned. Was Marcus seriously considering leaving CIS?
"Relax, Alex. That was a joke. Bettina called this morning and told me she'd spoken to the prospective employer, and he's deciding whether or not to go ahead with the interview."
"I don't believe it's Isabel's father."
Marcus nodded. "That's what my g
ut's telling me, too."
Whoever it was would have an opportunity to try to convince Marcus to leave CIS. Alex didn't like it but the plan was set in motion, and he had no choice but to trust his right-hand man.
Alex moved on to the principal reason for this meeting. "Hypertron just announced low earnings for last quarter."
Marcus let out a low whistle. "The game's afoot eh?"
"The stock should see a dip tomorrow," Alex agreed.
"When Hypertron announces that the new technology is going to be late to market, that dip is going to become a steady decline."
"Are you sure the technology is going to be late to market?"
Alex knew Marcus wasn't asking for guarantees. He was wondering if Alex had heard from their informant at Hypertron since the last report a week ago. "Bart called yesterday. It's still touch and go. The design team is scrambling, but it looks good for a late entrance."
Marcus shifted in his chair and studied Alex. "You don't sound as excited as you should be, considering that the revenge you've waited two years to get is at hand."
"I'm not an excitable man."
Marcus chuckled. "You're telling me, but don't you think your lack of reaction is pretty remarkable? Even for you."
"There are still too many unknown variables in the matrix." Like what adding Isabel to the equation would do to the outcome.
* * *
Isabel picked up the soft, flexible shoe and examined it. The fluorescent lights of the mall reflected off the sage green pump. She didn't recognize the maker, although it appeared well made and had the stamp on the sole proclaiming it to be genuine leather. It smelled good. She inhaled the fragrance of new leather and smiled.
For her, the smell was more compelling than flowers or expensive perfume. Perhaps she should try on a pair. She caught the attention of the store clerk and asked him to find a pair in her size. Darn Alex, anyway. She didn't need another pair of shoes, but here she was trying on some anyway. The pumps weren't even on sale.
She'd come shopping to escape her apartment and the telephone that would ring any moment with Alex on the other end of the line. He had phoned every night since their date, ending each call with one or more things he fulfilled on her list.