by Linda Cajio
Liz giggled. She couldn’t help it. “He looks elegant. Give or take a nose.”
As Matt gazed down at her, a slight smile played across his mobile lips. He was so damn sexy, she thought, with his green eyes and dark beard. And the jeans and pink western shirt he wore casually and yet so confidently made him look even more masculine. She felt her body zing and tighten yet again. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the constant flip-flopping inside her any longer.
Frantically she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Their lips touched, and she forgot her own shocked amazement at what she was doing. Curving his arms around her, Matt instantly took over the kiss, and it was everything she’d unconsciously hoped for. His mouth slanted across hers and dominated it, yet demanded a like response. And she gave it greedily, her tongue swirling with his in an age-old dance. He lifted her on tiptoe and nestled her body tightly against his. His hands stroked their way down her back until they kneaded the soft flesh of her buttocks through her skirt. Then she was pulled even tighter against his hard arousal.
A gentle shock wave rocked her once. It began to grow into a yearning ache, warning her of the explosion that could be with him. Her head spun dizzily. Everything felt so right and so special that she couldn’t imagine herself being anywhere else but in his arms.…
In his arms?
Three
“Liz?”
Lost in the kiss, it had taken Matt a moment to realize Liz was struggling in his embrace. Involuntarily his arms loosened, and she slipped out of them. Her eyes not meeting his, she straightened her jacket.
“Liz?” he repeated, a puzzled frown crossing his features.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I’m not.” He stepped forward, intending to take her in his arms again to find out if the dynamite-packed kiss had been his imagination. He still felt as if he’d been rabbit-punched in the stomach.
Taking a step backward, she straightened and looked directly at him with steady gray eyes. He sensed the effort she was making to retain her control, and it stopped him dead.
“Forget what just happened,” she said.
“Not on your life, lady.” He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.
Pink flushed her cheeks, and he wondered if she knew how demure and shy she looked. In three days he’d glimpsed a sex kitten, a trim businesswoman, a witty companion, and a wanton. Such a small package for such a lot of woman. He ignored the sudden urge to reach for her again. She was upset, and he needed to be understanding, not an animal.
He swallowed. It wouldn’t be easy.
“Matt, I know what you’re thinking”—he wondered if she really did—“but I’m not available.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I have a good job at the bank, and I don’t want to lose it.”
Confused, he gave her a blank look. “What’s that got to do with us?”
“One kiss does not make an ‘us,’ ” she stated firmly.
“A kiss like that—”
“I’m your banker,” she continued, thrusting her chin forward. “And I intend to stay that way. It’s the relationship I want, and the only one.”
“Could have fooled me,” he muttered, eyeing her in frustration.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Liz turned on her heel and marched to the front door. Matt immediately followed, his angry long-legged strides quickly closing the distance. Just as she opened the door he grabbed her left arm none too gently and spun her around.
Realizing he was rapidly losing his temper, he released her and forced himself back in control.
“Look, Liz—”
“Thank you for dinner, Matt,” she broke in. “Good night.”
He scowled fiercely, but let her slip out the door. Crossing the threshold, he watched her slim figure retreat around the hedge and up her driveway. Her own front door shut with a finality that would have daunted most men.
Matt grinned suddenly. Liz might shut her door, but she had to come out sometime. And he’d be waiting. She was a bundle of feminine contradictions, and he was determined to explore them all.
His sudden and fierce desire for her had surprised him almost as much as her initiating the kiss. He was positive there had been nothing in his life that he’d wanted more than he now wanted Liz. Not even when he’d been a kid desperate to escape the Bronx and had pestered the Ford Modeling Agency until they’d finally given him a job. One kiss. And mixed with the overwhelming need had been an equally strong urge toward protective tenderness.
His burst of laughter broke the still night air. Liz required about as much protection as an enraged tigress. She was smart and independent. And stubborn.
Well, so was he. He’d learned early to go after what he wanted and stick with it until he got it.
He briefly wondered if he was so drawn to her because she was reluctant to acknowledge her attraction to him. Then he dismissed the thought. The kiss proved there was something more there, something not to be ignored. He had no intention of ignoring it.
But Liz had begun drawing battle lines tonight. Given time, she’d enclose herself in them. He couldn’t allow that. A little gentle strategy was required, that’s all.
“And it better be a good strategy,” he muttered aloud.
“I’m retiring after the end of the fiscal year, in September,” Joe Malack said, steepling his fingers over his paunch. He gazed around at the large noontime crowd at the Hopewell Inn.
For a long moment Liz stared open-mouthed at her boss, who was seated across the table from her. Even over the din of clinking silverware, clattering dishes, and the calliope of voices, she knew she’d heard him correctly. She just had trouble believing it.
Joe retiring? He was only in his fifties, and considered one of the top banking managers at New England Bank. He oversaw the operations of five branches, of which Liz’s branch was one. During her two years at the bank, she and Joe had become good friends. As her superior, he’d never nitpicked over how she ran her branch. Instead, he’d guided her with loose reins and good advice, allowing her to do her job without interference. She’d liked and respected him from their first meeting, and their friendship had grown out of that. Joe treated her more like a favorite niece than his employee, which, in turn, made their business relationship quite relaxed. But she’d never considered that there might be a time when he would leave the bank, and especially not this soon.
“This is a surprise,” she finally said, realizing just how much she would miss him.
His gaze returning to her, he nodded. “Jen and I have been talking about it for a while, and we decided we deserved our golden years before we were horizontal.”
Liz chuckled.
“Anyway, we’ve been talking and figuring, and we know we’ll be pretty comfortable. Why wait until we’re retiring into the old folks home?”
Liz nodded, her mind churning over the other implications of Joe’s early retirement. Only two years with the bank, and one as a branch manager, she knew she wouldn’t be considered as a candidate to take Joe’s place. But it did mean a reshuffling of the branch managers, and she could even move up into the central office in Swanton. It might be a sideways promotion, but she was young, and it could be a good career move for her.
Instantly she felt guilty for even thinking about how Joe’s leaving would affect her position within the bank, especially when she didn’t want him to retire.
“I’m going to tell Harry Aberman at Central this afternoon,” Joe added, breaking into her thoughts. “Just to make it official with the big guys. I thought I’d let you know ahead of time, since I’m recommending you as my replacement.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
Joe chuckled. “I thought that would take you by surprise. Yes, you. And not because we’re friends, although I feel good about that part of it, but because you’re savvy, and you’re diplomatic. Smalltown Vermonters aren’t easy to deal with, yet you’ve gained their respect this
past year. That business with Micah Davis was brilliant.”
“But I only made sure he’d be able to pay the loan after that accident with his new bull,” Liz protested. “Any bank manager would have done that.”
“Very few managers would have persuaded the client to sell his only other prize stud bull to the bank to pay off the loan. How’s Romeo doing?”
“Excellent,” Liz replied. “Micah’s clients are up to their hip boots in calves and butterfat.”
She remembered how she hadn’t wanted her first major decision as Hopewell’s new bank manager to be a foreclosure. Micah Davis had a small, unprofitable dairy farm and one superb Holstein breeding bull he’d raised from a calf. That was Romeo. Through artificial insemination dairy farmers improved their stock and made milk production faster, better, and cheaper than by the old-fashioned method. With visions of artificial insemination stud fees whirling in his head, Micah had taken a loan to buy a second mature bull. Unfortunately the bull hadn’t liked the threshing machine and challenged it to a fight before anyone could stop it. The bull lost. Micah was left with a $150,000 debt and no bull to pay it off. He’d needed a good deal of persuasion to sell Romeo, the darling of his herd, to the bank. But he had finally caved in when Liz had guaranteed, in writing, that he’d manage the bull for the bank for a share of the stud fees. The bank was not allowed to sell Romeo for five years, and then Micah had first chance to purchase the bull back. Romeo had always lived up to his name, and everyone was pleased with the deal. Especially Romeo; now he had even more ladies to love. Indirectly, of course.
“I doubt anyone would have come up with such a creative and profitable solution,” Joe said, laughing. “If you had foreclosed, Micah would have lost his Romeo at the least of it, and I doubt we really would have made more than legal fees. You’ve proven yourself here in Hopewell, Liz, and I wanted you to know you were getting my recommendation for district manager.”
“But—”
Joe held up a hand to stop her words. “Liz, don’t worry about what your ex-husband did. It had no bearing on our hiring you in the first place, and it will have no bearing on a promotion for you. The authorities in Chicago were very satisfied that you were never involved in it, and even praised you for giving them full cooperation at the time. You’re the best person for the district manager job. And that’s the bottom line, Liz.”
She stared down at her plate. Wonderful, “go-getter” Jonathan Mansfield, she thought bitterly. Executive extraordinaire—and immoral thief. Shortly after their marriage, she’d discovered her corporate vice-president husband fully expected her to embezzle funds and to implement other questionable “irregularities” in her position as assistant manager at a Chicago bank. It hadn’t taken her more than five minutes to pack her bags and file for a divorce, feeling like the worst fool. Jonathan had had better luck, though, seducing a female loan officer at another bank into his schemes … until they’d been caught. Unfortunately that had happened just two weeks before the divorce became final. The ensuing humiliation had been almost unbearable for Liz. She’d found out much later that her superiors had quietly audited her bank to see if she’d also “cooperated” with Jonathan. While she’d been completely cleared, she knew her career there had ground to a screeching halt. She’d applied to financial institutions across the country, and when New England offered, she had grabbed the job. New England Bank had been good to her, and good for her self-respect. But Jonathan’s dirty stain had not totally disappeared. She wondered if it ever would.
“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say to Joe for his confidence in her, and the opportunity he was extending. But she nearly fell off her chair at his next words.
“Your coup in getting this Matt Callahan account couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.”
“I … ah …” She felt the heat rising up her throat as she remembered their kiss. Ruthlessly she forced down the blush. “I can’t take credit for that, Joe. He just walked into the bank and signed up.”
“Well, it looks very good just now. He’s a neighbor of yours, isn’t he?”
“Just moved in this week,” she answered promptly. Obviously Joe had read the application forms to know Matt was a neighbor. He’d also know the “single” box had been checked. “I barely know him.”
Joe eyed her with speculation, then said, “He called me yesterday.”
“What!”
“Said he was very pleased with the friendly treatment he’d received at the bank. You look shocked.”
Liz realized she was gaping at him. She composed herself and said, “Just surprised he’d call, I guess. I’ll have to thank him next time I see him.”
That dirty, rotten … Furious, she couldn’t conjure up a word unprintable enough to call Matt. She was positive he’d done it to let her know she had to be beholden to him as a depositor. If it wasn’t for the possibility of a promotion, she’d tell Matt where to stuff his account.
Liz plastered a pleased smile on her face. “Thank you, Joe, for your recommendation and your faith in my abilities. I really appreciate it, knowing others have more seniority with New England. If Central does take your recommendation, I promise I won’t let you down.”
“I never thought you would.” Joe grinned. “I expect you’ll handle Callahan with your usual diplomacy and tact.”
Liz nodded, thinking she’d rather let Romeo handle Matt. Romeo’s usual form of diplomacy was a mixture of mean disposition and twelve-inch razor-sharp horns.
“No. I don’t want in, Mike,” Matt said as he opened his front door in answer to whoever was persistently knocking on it. Grinning at the sight of Liz standing on his threshold, he cradled the telephone receiver against his shoulder and waved her inside. “That bill could get killed in the committee sessions at any moment. Support for offshore drilling in that state is only marginal. You know that.”
“The governor is supporting it, and that will make a big difference. This is a real ground-floor opportunity …”
Mike’s words faded as Matt watched Liz march into his living room, her straight back radiating fury. He smiled to himself. She was so fragile-looking, like a porcelain figurine, but she packed a hidden wallop. He had the distinct feeling she was about to wallop him. It looked like his first move to draw her out was working.
“Not interested. Good-bye, Mike,” Matt said into the telephone.
“But …”
“Good-bye.”
He hung up the phone. Some investment groups never took no for an answer.
“Hi, Liz,” he said softly as he closed the door. He walked over to where she was standing by the sofa. Other than a brief glimpse of her going and coming from the bank, this was the first he’d seen of her in the three days since the dinner. She really ought to get out more often.
“Why is your car in my driveway?” she asked.
“Trees.”
Confusion instantly took the place of the angry expression on her face. “Did you say trees?”
“Mmmm.” Matt studied the way her smooth shining hair just touched her slim shoulders. His gaze drifted farther down to the tailored lines of her khaki suit. The jacket hid the curve of her breasts, but the skirt hinted at the beautifully rounded thighs underneath.
She looked good in his living room. Damn good. His modern paintings seemed to match her changing moods, the hard woods of the desk and tables her stubborn core, and the muted tones of the blue plush sofa expressed her softness. It was almost as if he’d put the room together for her.
A finger rudely poked him in the chest, bringing back his wandering attention.
“What the hell do trees have to do with your car being in my driveway?” she asked, her voice laced with acid.
He shrugged. “I black-topped my driveway today. How about staying for dinner? I’ll whip up something good.”
“You’re about to ‘whip up’ my patience, Matthew Callahan. Get your car out of my driveway. Now!”
He shrugged again, but was silently pl
eased. She was reacting to him with sparks and fire. Unfortunately he had had to light the wrong end of the firecracker to get them. Well, at least the fireworks were started.
“You’re blowing this all out of proportion, Liz. I borrowed your driveway only for a little while. I know it was presumptuous of me, but I didn’t want to leave the ’Vette at the curb. Not with all these trees. The tree sap and the birds would ruin the finish. As a banker, you can understand the importance of upkeep on a property.”
He could see her visibly rein in her temper. She took a noticeable breath and smiled sweetly at him, satisfaction lighting her eyes. Matt suddenly felt as if he’d just walked into a trap.
“Surely, as a bank customer, you can realize the importance of your banker’s reputation, Matt. How does it look with your car in my driveway, no matter how innocent the reason?”
“But you weren’t home, and—”
“Doesn’t matter. It looks as if we’re more than neighbors.”
“Come on, Liz. That kind of thing went out with poodle skirts and D.A.’s. This is the eighties. Nobody cares what two adults are doing.”
Liz threw up her hands in exasperation. “And this isn’t New York. Hopewell has a grapevine that moves faster than the speed of light. That phone call you just had will be all over town before dinnertime.”
“What!”
She gave a wicked laugh, obviously enjoying his consternation. “The phone company must have told you you’re on a temporary party line.”
He frowned in confusion. The telephone installer had mentioned it yesterday when he’d connected the phone line. He’d claimed it was because of the town’s small size that the telephone company didn’t bother with installing private lines until they had to.
“Yes, but …”
“People listen in. In fact, several of the townspeople keep a party line because they love to listen in. Hopewell may not have poodle skirts and the ducks’ rears may be on real ducks, but that old-time mentality is still there.”