‘I assure you, Ellis values that friendship very much.’ Although at the moment she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. ‘He wants the best for both of our companies, and so do I.’
Marston laughed in the dismissive way men do when they think women can’t possibly understand the intricate complexities of the masculine world. ‘His opinion of you’s that high, is it?’
Her dislike of the man was growing exponentially every time he opened his mouth. ‘Opinion has nothing to do with it.’ She spoke between gritted teeth. ‘Since I’ve taken on Beverly Neumann’s responsibilities, I’m the one who’s most familiar with your needs, and I’m anxious to see these negotiations through to the benefit of both our companies.’ Her face hurt from her efforts to force a sincere smile. She squared her shoulders, trying to project more confidence than she felt. ‘Let’s not play games here. Pneuma Inc. is offering you a win-win deal, and you know it. I can show you how to make Scribal a lot of money, and I can show you ways into markets you never dreamed of.’
He gave her a look normally reserved for something found stuck to the bottom of a shoe. ‘If I believed for one minute that you were the one who was most familiar with my needs, I’d have been at your goddamned meeting with bells on.
‘You’re absolutely right. What Pneuma Inc. is offering is a brilliant proposal, if it works. An offer that Scribal Paper will give serious consideration. In fact, I’m just fucking intrigued to death by the whole damn thing.’ He leaned forward, breathing stale coffee into her face. ‘And I might even be tempted to jump for fucking joy if I thought as much of the work was yours as you’re getting credit for.’
‘Excuse me?’
He towered over her, forcing her back against the desk, his expansive belly diminishing the space between them. The smell of too much Hugo Boss made her eyes water. ‘What I want to know is why the hell you’re here instead of Tally Barnes?’
‘Tally Barnes? What does she have to do with this?’
He offered her a sour chuckle. ‘That’s rich. Covering your butt to the end, are you? I tell you what, Ms Henning –’ he made the word “Ms” sound like an obscenity ‘– from the way things look on this end, Tally Barnes has pulled your ass out of the fire so many times her poor fingers must be burnt to cinders, yet she’s not even here as a part of the team. Why’s that?’
‘Because she’s not a part of the team.’ Dee fought back the growing sense of alarm and bit her tongue, knowing it would only make her look worse if she told him Tally had caused the problems to begin with.
‘Your arrogance astounds me.’ Marston shook a thick finger at her. ‘In my day, Ms Henning, people had to earn their keep. Thorne has a reputation for making smart business decisions –’ he raked her with a scorching gaze ‘– so I can only conclude that the man was temporarily insane when he hired you.’ He turned on heavy heels and marched back behind his desk, plopping down hard in his chair. ‘If someone else has to do your work, then someone else should get the credit, I say.’ He nodded to the door. ‘Now, if Ellis wants me to attend this meeting he’s so keen on and hear what Pneuma Inc. has to say, and if he can’t send the person doing the work to talk to me about it, then he’d damned well better come himself or, as far as I’m concerned, we have nothing else to say.’
Chapter Twenty-one
Back at the hotel, Dee dropped her computer in the suite and then went down to the lounge, where she was to meet Ellis. Still reeling from her meeting with Marston, she settled in at the bar for a much-needed glass of wine. A small band played a Latin set designed to pick up drooping after-work spirits, and she definitely needed all the help she could get. She knew Tally Barnes was a troublemaker, but she never dreamed the woman would be so devious. The problem was; Dee didn’t know what to do about it. She couldn’t bring this information to Marston. He’d only think she was doing exactly what Tally had done, stepping on other people’s backs to get what she wanted. No doubt Tally knew that.
She’d have to tell Ellis about the situation. Certainly, she didn’t want him hearing it from Marston. It bothered her less that Tally was getting credit for her work than it did that Marston was accusing her of stealing that credit. Her faced burned with shame just thinking about it. She was contemplating the crap day she’d had and how best to prove her innocence when someone elbowed in next to her at the bar.
‘Dee? Dee Henning?’
With a start, she found herself looking at a man who could have almost, but not quite, passed as Ellis’s twin.
‘I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you in person.’ He offered her a slight bow, which caused his dark hair to fall rakishly over one eye. ‘Forgive my interruption, but I’m Garrett, Garrett Thorne.’
‘You’re Ellis’s brother?’
‘In the flesh.’ He bent over her hand and laid a warm kiss across her knuckles, all the while holding her in a quicksilver gaze. ‘Rumour has it you’re rapidly becoming indispensable.’ Before she could do more than gape, he continued. ‘Are you all right? You look like you could use some cheering up.’
Dee forced a smile. ‘It’s not really been a stellar day.’
He patted her hand sympathetically. ‘Well, there you go, then. Just consider me a fast-acting happy pill you don’t have to swallow.’
‘Fast-acting and extra strength, I hope.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ he said. Unlike Ellis, Garrett needed a haircut, yet he had that look about him that Dee knew other men would imitate, and women would pant after. Never having being much of a panter herself, she was unimpressed. But, when he smiled, the lines of his face echoed those of his brother, and that softened her considerably toward him.
Garrett ordered a glass of wine for himself and another for her, then leaned closer. ‘So tell me, do you really enjoy working with that twit? I hear you’re as much of a workaholic as he is.’
She looked into eyes that seemed to be searching for the punchline to the universal joke that was existence. ‘He said that?’
‘Who knows, maybe it’s like math.’ Garrett shrugged. ‘Two workaholics cancel each other out and become carefree and fun-loving.’
‘It’s a plausible theory, I suppose.’
The bartender brought their drinks, and Garrett studied her unabashedly over the top of his glass. ‘I know my brother well enough to be certain he’d never hire anyone who wasn’t the best, so I can only say he got an incredible bonus when he hired someone who’s also witty and beautiful.’ He heaved a sigh, then dazzled her with a thousand-watt smile. ‘The providence of the universe is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?’
Her own smile felt a bit forced. ‘I’m curious, Garrett, how did you know I was Dee Henning and not some other witty, beautiful woman who just dropped in for a drink after work?’
‘I’m psychic.’
‘Of course you are. And does the Thorne charm run in the family?’
‘Only the younger son. It skipped Ellis completely.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yep. Genetic defect, I’m afraid. Sad, really.’
‘Yes, very sad.’
‘Good evening, Dee. I see you’ve already met my little brother.’ Ellis slipped between them, took her hand, and pulled her up from the stool. Then he turned his attention to his brother. ‘You’ve monopolised the poor woman long enough, Garrett. Make yourself useful. Order us a bottle of wine or something.’
Before Dee realised what was happening, she was on the dance floor with Ellis. Her pulse went into overdrive, and nerves jangled down through her chest and into the pit of her stomach. This was her boss, this was the man who, only last night … Her knees suddenly felt like water, and there were little tingles down low in her abdomen. ‘I don’t dance, Ellis. Really, I don’t.’
‘I’m surprised Garrett didn’t already have you on the dance floor. Normally I wouldn’t trust him with any respectable woman, but the man’s in love at the moment – a ballerina – so he’s fairly harmless, if a bit annoying. Besides, you’re doing
fine.’
‘No, really. I had a single dance lesson back when I was in college. There weren’t enough guys, so I had to learn the men’s part.’
He offered her a wicked smile. ‘Oh? Would you like to lead?’
She shook her head stiffly. ‘I kept stepping on my partner’s toes.’
‘I’m not worried about my toes, Dee.’
‘You’re a brave man.’
Ellis pulled her closer. His voice was a pleasant vibration as he deliberately brushed his lips against her earlobe. ‘Just relax and let me worry about the rest. It’ll be OK. I promise.’ His breath made gooseflesh along the nape of her neck and down over the tops of her breasts beneath the linen suit.
‘What if your brother’s watching? What will he think?’ she whispered, making a futile attempt to pull away.
‘He’s not watching. His ballerina just arrived. Trust me, my brother’s full attention is now on her.’ He offered her a wicked chuckle. ‘You could fuck me right here on the dance floor and he wouldn’t even notice. Not a bad idea, really.’
‘He might not notice, but other people would.’ Again she tried to put a little more respectable distance between them, but he was unyielding.
‘Just relax, Dee. It’ll be all right.’ And, really, how could she do otherwise. How could she doubt him? She was with Ellison Thorne, and his full attention was on her, and it was way too easy to forget that she worked for him, that he was her boss. Ellis moved with the same grace with which he did everything else, and Dee let the experience settled around her like a gossamer fog seeping into muscle and marrow as she gave herself to the ebb and flow of his lead.
‘You see. It’s not so hard.’ He pulled her still closer. The music stopped, and another tune started. They kept dancing. ‘It’s good to get out once in a while, and do something that doesn’t involve Pneuma Inc. You’ve been under a tremendous amount of pressure these past few weeks, Dee. I’m sorry for that, but I’m afraid there’s not much to be done about it.’
The gossamer fog dissipated with the mention of work, and a cold knot tightened in her stomach as she recalled the disaster at Scribal. ‘I didn’t expect it to be any other way, Ellis. It’s just that with Scribal … Well, Marston seems to think that I –’
‘I don’t care what Marston thinks, at least not tonight.’
She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. ‘But, Ellis, I –’
‘Don’t worry about Marston. He may be a lot of things but he’s not stupid. He’ll come around.’
‘It’s just that he thinks I –’
It came as a complete shock when, right there in front of everyone, he stopped her words with a brush of his mouth, lips parted just enough for her to taste his breath and sense a feather flick of his tongue. But it was enough to shut down the speech centre of her brain and speed her pulse rate to a drum-roll.
‘Dee, I don’t want to talk business. I want to dance. There’ll be plenty of time for business tomorrow.’
Three songs later, Garrett joined them on the dance floor with a willowy brunette, who Dee later learned was his ballerina, Amy.
It was one of those evenings when it was more of an effort to go out than it was to stay put, so the four danced, shared wine and dinner, and never left the comfort of the hotel. It was nearly midnight when Garrett and Amy left for her place, and Dee and Ellis took the elevator to the 19th floor.
In the suite, Ellis switched on the lamp next to the sofa. Dee kicked off her shoes and threw her jacket across the back of a chair. ‘I suppose it’ll make for a long day tomorrow, but it was fun tonight.’ She wriggled her toes in the thick carpet and stretched, aware he was watching her, surprised by how much she liked it when he did.
‘We both needed a break,’ he said. ‘You definitely deserved the chance to get your mind off Marston for a while.’
And it had worked. She’d actually been able to forget about Marston’s accusations for a few hours. But the problem wasn’t going away. The press of the small pool of light in which they stood suddenly felt claustrophobic. She forced her voice around the tension in her throat. ‘Ellis, we need to talk about Marston. He’s got this idea that I –’
‘Not tonight, Dee.’ He took her hand and pulled her to him. ‘You’re already grossly negligent of your need for rest, something you’ve been reprimanded for more than once, and something that, shame-facedly, I’ve enabled the last two nights.’ With his free hand, he switched off the lamp, and the room dissolved back into the monochrome hues of night. Then he lifted her into his arms, causing her to gasp and throw her arms around his neck as he carried her to his room.
The bed was turned down, and he deposited her gently onto the crisp white sheets. ‘We’ve done this before, Dee, though you probably don’t remember much of it.’ Both hands went to work carefully, deliberately unbuttoning her blouse. Then he lifted her to him just enough to ease the blouse off over her shoulders, unhook her bra, and toss both onto the chair by the bed. ‘After all, you were unconscious with exhaustion.’ He eased her back onto the pillow and settled a kiss onto her sternum, between her breasts. ‘I’ve always been the good Thorne brother, but seeing you there in your bed, so vulnerable, helping you out of your jacket and your shoes while you slept and dreamed secret things I couldn’t see, made me rethink my strategy.’ He cupped each of her breasts in turn, tracing a finger around the tight puckering of her areolas, running a thumb over pearled nipples, causing her to arch up into his touch. Then he lowered a kiss onto each nipple, pursing his lips enough for her to feel the pressure of his nursing before he crushed their straining peaks with the hard lavings of his tongue, making her whimper.
He unzipped her skirt and she lifted her bottom so he could slip it off, hooking his thumbs in her panties and dragging them down too, so that she lay exposed, with only the stockings sheathing her legs, held in place by a pale blue garter belt. ‘I wanted to share your bed so badly that night.’ With careful deliberateness, he undid the garter belt from her stockings and rolled them down one at a time, lifting each leg in turn so that she was open, so that she was vulnerable and tender, so that, if he chose to, he could see the rise and fall of her, every plane, every fold, every moist crevice of her inner landscape. ‘I wanted to be inside you, not just your body, but inside your dreams too.’ He sighed, kissing the curve of her ankle. ‘Though I can’t imagine your dreams of me would have been very pleasant ones after what I’d put you through that day.’
‘Ellis, I –’
He bit the inside of her thigh just above her knee and she gasped and squirmed down into the soft bedding. ‘Shhh!’ She felt the hiss of his breath against her splayed sex, and she moaned. ‘Don’t talk, Dee. This is on my calendar. Remember, the calendar with all the important meetings I never forget? This is what I want you to feel before you fall asleep.’ He rose and unhooked the garter belt from behind her waist and tossed it aside, and when she reached to unbutton his shirt, he slapped her hands away. ‘Tonight I want your dreams of me to be good ones.’
‘Ellis,’ she protested, ‘don’t you want to …? Shouldn’t you let me –’
He stopped her words with a kiss. ‘Shh! Dee, don’t talk. Just feel.’ He kissed his way down over her belly, lingering to nibble and lap at her navel while his fingers stroked and caressed her pubic curls. Then he scooted down, lifted her butt into his palms, and spread her swollen landscape with his thumbs, making her feel as though he really could look right up inside her, as though he really might be able to see her dreams, her hopes, her fears. But before she unnerved herself with thoughts of her vulnerability, his mouth filled the void, warm and humid, way stronger than she would have thought lips and tongue could be, supple and dextrous, intuitive and relentless. He probed and laved and nibbled until he found the secret places, the tight, wet, tender places that were swollen and waiting to burst like soft fruit beneath the press of his lips and the nip of his teeth. And she came, kicking and writhing and clawing to get him closer to her.
She mumble
d something about wanting to satisfy him, but she was asleep by the time he pulled the comforter up. Later – it could have been hours, it could have been minutes – he slid under the covers next to her and pulled her against him. She remembered he was naked. She remembered he was hard, but when she reached for him in some strange state somewhere between dreaming and waking, he pushed her hand away. ‘When you’re rested, Dee, then you can take care of me.’ He kissed her ear. ‘And then I plan to be very, very demanding.’
Chapter Twenty-two
‘You’ve been a very sneaky girl, Tally Barnes.’
Tally jumped and slopped her Moët and Chandon onto the bar as Terrance Jamison slid onto the stool next to her. ‘Mr Jamison, I wasn’t expecting you.’ She dabbed at the spill with a cocktail napkin.
He ordered his usual Glenfiddich from the bartender, then turned his attention back to her. He gave her a once-over that was disconcerting but not sexual, maybe more disconcerting because it wasn’t sexual. ‘New suit?’
She straightened her jacket and opened her arms so he could see. ‘Christian Dior. Do you like it?’
‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘And it goes really well with the necklace. Is that new too?’
‘It is, yes. They were just too perfect together for me not to have both.’
He scooted closer, too close for comfort. He hooked a well-manicured finger beneath the braid of gold chain around her neck and pulled her so close that she would have thought he might kiss her, except the curl of his lips had nothing to do with passion, and his eyes were cold, icy cold. ‘You have exquisite taste, Tally. Expensive, but exquisite.’
He held her there, heart hammering, cheeks burning as he lowered his eyes and examined the chain. Then the bartender brought his drink, and he released her. For a long moment he said nothing, only swirled the whiskey absently around his glass without tasting it, studying her as if she were something he had never seen before. Then he heaved a sigh and sat the glass down untouched. ‘As I said, you’re a sneaky girl, Tally Barnes.’
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