by Janet Dailey
At half past eleven, Bick walked into her office. Outside of a “Good morning” directed to the two men, he didn’t waste time with preliminaries. “Are you ready?”
“You’re early.” A shaft of fear went through her as Tamara mentally calculated how far the auditors would progress before she returned. Her heart thumped a little louder at the look in his vividly green eyes. It was at once possessive and persuasive, and utterly irresistible.
“A little,” Bick admitted indifferently. “You two can manage without Miss James for an hour or so, can’t you?” It was a statement that wouldn’t tolerate a negative reply. “I’m taking her to lunch,” he said, as if he’d done it every day of his life.
“Sure, we can manage,” Adam replied and arched his back to relieve muscles that were cramping from sitting in one position for so long. “We’ll be breaking for a sandwich in twenty minutes or so ourselves.”
Bick nodded and looked expectantly at Tamara. After fetching her purse, she walked to the door he held open for her. The warm weight of his hand was on the small of her back to guide her out of the building. Tamara was conscious of the curious looks she was receiving from her staff and wondered if they were envious or whether they thought she was buttering up the new boss.
When they were outside, Bick said, “I made reservations for noon.”
“Fine.” It didn’t occur to Tamara to ask where as he helped her into the car, since it didn’t matter to her. When she was settled in the passenger seat, he closed the door. She found herself missing the firm touch of his hand and envied the steering wheel that was taking her place.
With typical feminine vanity, she lowered the sun visor to glance at her reflection in its mirror and check her makeup. The blue of her eyes looked overly bright, the result of the excited confusion churning inside her. The summer dress of flowered silk was one of the most flattering ones she owned that was suitable to wear to the office. She was glad she had surrendered to the impulse to wear it, liking the way the style was designed to subtly accent her curves. Her lipstick had faded. Tamara would have freshened the mocha rose color, but Bick leaned over to flip the visor up.
“You couldn’t look lovelier,” he stated and started the car.
The husky pitch of his voice warmed her blood. It didn’t matter whether he meant it or not. Just for a little while, Tamara succumbed to the temptation to be a woman and forget the problems and responsibilities that had denied her the chance these last three years. Circumstances had made her suppress her own sexuality, but Bick was so definitely male that he made her recognize it. She reveled in the sensations it aroused.
Hugging the feelings inside her, Tamara let her sparkling gaze wander out the moving car window to the rawboned skyline of Kansas City shining under a high, prairie sun. They were entering the country club district, where trees abounded and the streets were adorned with fountains and statuary.
The fountains were a harmony of sight, sound, and movement. Bubbling water rushed to spray its song over a rearing horse, caught motionless in a symphony of powerful lines and perfect symmetry. Its conquering rider clung to its bare back under the deluge of the fountain’s shower. The sight of it and its circle of statues were all reflected in the rippling pool of water that embraced it.
“More fountains than Rome, more boulevards than Paris—what more could a city have?” Tamara murmured.
“Yes, the City of Fountains … and vastly underrated,” Bick agreed somewhat absently.
Tamara had never been to the restaurant Bick had chosen. It was not surprising considering the subdued elegance of its rich wood paneling and linen-covered tables. When she had been dating, most of her escorts had not been able to afford places like this.
A black-uniformed headwaiter greeted Bick by name when they entered. “Good day, Mr. Rutledge.” The man bent slightly at the waist. “A table for two or will others be joining you?”
“Miss James and I are lunching alone,” Bick informed him, using her name as if to reinforce her status as someone special. His downward glance roamed possessively over her features as he added, “If anyone attempts to join us, I will cheerfully tell them to get lost.”
If her breath hadn’t already been disturbed by his caressing look, his statement permanently disrupted it. The waiter gave her an assessing glance before he bestowed a smile of approval on Bick.
“Of course,” he agreed, and moved to enter the dining area, leading them to their table. “This way, please.”
He showed them to a table in a secluded corner of the room. He pulled the table away from the bench seat so Tamara could sit facing the rest of the dining area. Instead of sitting opposite her, Bick slid onto the cushioned seat beside her. The solidly muscled flesh of his left thigh and hip burned through the thin fabric of her dress to electrify her nerve ends. Her shoulder rubbed his arm as she opened the menu the headwaiter had given to her. The hunger Tamara felt had nothing to do with food. Bick recommended the luncheon steak and she accepted his suggestion.
Bick ordered for her when the waiter came. “Would you care for a cocktail before lunch?” the waiter inquired.
“None for me, thank you,” said Tamara.
Bick declined also, but ordered a liter of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Two glasses?” the waiter asked. “Yes,” Bick replied without consulting her.
Wine, dim lights—all that was missing was soft music, Tamara thought, and experienced a sudden need to dispel the intimate atmosphere.
“You mentioned yesterday evening that there was something you wished to discuss with me, Mr. Rutledge,” she reminded him.
“Did I?” An eyebrow arched with mock blank-ness. “And the name is Bick. Bickford Taylor Rutledge is too much a mouthful for anyone to say.”
In her mind she was already on a first-name basis with him, but Tamara pursued her original topic rather than acknowledge the permission he had given her. “I presume you wanted to discuss my position under the new management.” Or did he already know something about the money?
“How do you feel about the merger?” he asked.
“Surprised,” Tamara admitted after an initial hesitation. “Who is going to be in charge now that Mr. Stein has stepped down? Will you?”
“No. I have already selected a business manager to fill the position. He’ll be taking over Monday.”
“That was a rather foolish question on my part, wasn’t it?” she murmured self-consciously. “Naturally you’ll be at the corporate offices, running everything.”
“That’s right,” Bick agreed blandly. “Would you like a position there? If you worked there, it wouldn’t be at all uncommon for us to see each other every day. I can arrange to have you work on my personal staff, if you like.”
With an effort, Tamara concealed the fact that his offer had shaken her. “I wasn’t angling for a promotion.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you were. Would you be interested?” he challenged.
Tamara attempted to joke her way out of an answer. “Would you be chasing me around a desk all day?”
When her half-laughing glance lifted to encounter his, her breath was taken by the green intensity of his gaze. “Would you be running?”
Her throat worked convulsively, but she couldn’t manage to squeeze an answer out. The waiter returned to provide a welcome distraction as he poured the wine for Bick to sample before filling the two wineglasses with the ruby-red liquid.
Although she hadn’t tasted a drop of liquor in more than three years, Tamara leaned forward to take the glass in both her hands. She crossed her legs to elude the searing contact with his thigh and made another attempt to steer the conversation to a less disturbing channel.
“This morning Adam and I were discussing the most efficient way to transfer the—”
A thumb and forefinger captured her chin to turn it toward him, his touch effectively silencing her even before Bick rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “No business discussions,” he stated, and watched the liberties his thumb was taking
with a glint of envy. “This is strictly a social lunch.”
“It is?” Mentally Tamara was trying to decide if that was good or bad, but she seemed incapable of making the definition.
“Yes.” Bick released her chin to take hold of her hand. “You have very nicely shaped hands,” he observed as his fingers absently stroked the back of the one he held. “No rings. No bracelets. No necklace. Don’t you like jewelry, Tamara?”
She’d sold every piece that had any value, but she gave him the same excuse she’d given her mother. “I’m allergic to it,” she lied.
“Allergic to gold?” An eyebrow lifted in amused surprise.
“I think I’m allergic to the alloys they use in it,” she shrugged.
“What about your watch?” His gaze slid to her left wrist.
“A leather band and stainless steel back,” Tamara explained. “Very utilitarian.”
“What do your male admirers give you for presents?” he questioned with a narrowed look.
Tamara was reluctant to admit that she had none because she wasn’t sufficiently prepared to go into the long explanation that would entail. “Fortunately, I’m not allergic to flowers.”
The waiter arrived to serve their food and Tamara was able to withdraw her hand from his clasp. The steak was excellent, but she spent more time playing with it than she did eating it. Her attention kept wandering to the man sitting next to her, the inherent strength in his large hands, and the gleaming darkness of his chestnut hair.
She sipped at her wine, but barely drank half of it. There was enough intoxication in the moment without adding more. If she ever needed to think clearly, this was the time.
Chapter Four
When the waiter had removed their luncheon plates, he had suggested dessert, but Tamara had asked for only coffee, as had Bick. With the meal over, Bick had rested his arm along the back cushion of the bench. While he had begun asking her opinion on nonbusiness-related topics, his hand had drifted onto her shoulder.
It had been easy for Tamara to talk to him up to that point, but it had become difficult for her to disassociate herself from the knowledge of his touch. When she had leaned forward to discreetly elude it, his hand had merely slipped down to the back of her ribs. In a somewhat absent fashion, he caressed her shoulder bones and let his hand wander down her spine and curve around the side of her rib cage, his fingertips brushing near the swell of her breast. He was wreaking havoc with her senses, not to mention her heartbeat.
Tamara started to say something and forgot completely what it was. She stared into her coffee cup, empty now. “It’s very difficult to make intelligent conversation when you’re touching me like that,” she informed him with stiff candor.
He chuckled softly and let his fingers tighten on her ribs. “You surely don’t believe that I’m only interested in your mind,” Bick chided in deliberate provocation. “How do you think I feel? It’s impossible to sit beside you and not touch you. In fact, it’s difficult to sit here and not do more than that, Tamara.”
A quiver of pure pleasure went through her at the huskily disturbed way he spoke her name. When she turned to look at him, he dragged his gaze from her lips. She was captured by the virile, passionate look in his eyes and swayed toward him. His head bent a fraction of an inch.
“Your check, sir,” came the discreet murmur of the waiter.
Bick moved abruptly away, removing his hand and swearing under his breath. He scrawled his signature across the bottom of the tab and thrust it to the waiter. Then his gaze stabbed Tamara.
“Shall we get out of here?” he suggested with barely concealed impatience.
“Yes.” After the embarrassing reminder that they were in a public place, Tamara had stolen a glance at her watch. It was already well past one o’clock, which meant she had considerably extended her lunch hour.
Pushing the table away from them, Bick rose first and helped Tamara out from behind the table. As he guided her out of the restaurant, his hand remained firmly clamped on the side of her ribs so that she was constantly being brushed against his length. He even maneuvered the door so they could walk through it together, as if he was determined not to let her out of his reach for a second.
Tamara sensed a coiled tension about him that she could appreciate. Her own nerves seemed to be wound as tightly as a spring. He walked her briskly to his car, helped her into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and walked around to climb in on the driver’s side.
Once inside, Bick reached for her and hauled her unceremoniously into his arms. His mouth took possession of her lips and banished all her defenses, demanding that her mouth open to the invasion of his. He strained to hold her closer while her hands slipped inside his jacket to seek the support of his hard body. Nerve centers exploded under the probing, penetrating fire of his kiss. Tamara was dazed by the mad excitement pounding through her veins when Bick finally brought a halt to the relentless kiss and trailed his mouth across her cheek to her neck and ear.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do that ever since I walked into your office this morning.” The ragged edge to his voice reassured Tamara that she wasn’t the only one aroused to the point of pain.
When she opened her eyes, she was blinded by the glare of the sun bouncing off the polished hood of the car. It returned some of her sanity and her hands pushed against his chest in mute resistance to his teeth nibbling at her sensitive skin. He lifted his head for an instant to let his eyes devour her face.
“My house isn’t far from here. Shall we go there?” As he asked the question, his firm lips moved to tease the corners of her mouth, making them tremble for his possession.
Tamara breathed an affirmative answer against the intoxicating warmth of his mouth before a cold splash of responsibility cooled her ardor. “No.” She took back her initial agreement and pulled away from him. “No, I have to get back to the office.” How could she have forgotten that Adam was doing the audit at this very second? “And … and you undoubtedly have appointments this afternoon.”
“So speaks the sensible, professional Miss James,” he taunted with malicious sarcasm as his fingers bit into her neck. “Who the hell cares? I’m the boss. I’m giving us the day off. Appointments and work be damned.”
She stiffened at his veiled insult. “That isn’t fair, Bick.”
His fingers relaxed and slipped away as he took a deep breath and raked a hand through the copper lights glinting in his dark hair. “No, it wasn’t. And you are right. It’s business before pleasure.” The grudging admission was low and taut. “Your kisses don’t exactly arouse the sensible side of a man’s nature.”
“Neither do yours,” Tamara retorted, still feeling defensive.
“Really? You turned it off pretty easily,” Bick accused.
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. “Believe what you like,” she said curtly, and squared her shoulders against the seat to stare straight ahead.
His hard gaze bored into her for several seconds before he turned the ignition key to start the motor. It was a heavy, oppressive silence that dominated the atmosphere on the incredibly long ride to the office. Tamara felt crushed by it, but didn’t know how to ease its weight.
When Bick braked the car to a stop in front of the building, her hand unerringly found the door handle. Before she could slide out of the car, his fingers were gripping her elbow.
“I’m sorry.” Bick ground out the words as if he’d never said them before. Tamara remained poised on the edge of the seat, the door open, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “I am sorry!” he repeated angrily. “Is it so wrong that I wanted to be with you, that I wanted to spend an entire afternoon with you? I lashed out at you in frustration. That was wrong and unfair. And I admit it. And I’m sorry.” He spelled it all out in concise, angry words. “Will you accept that?”
Tamara sensed it was the closest he had ever come to humbling himself. It soothed the hurt he had inflicted. She turned her head to look at hi
m over her shoulder. “Yes.”
With a groan, he leaned across the seat to press a hard kiss on her lips. Before it could develop into something deeper, Bick straightened. “You’d better go before I decide to forget to be sensible.”
That desirous light in his green eyes had her spirits soaring into the clouds as she stepped from the car and hurried into the building. If Bick wanted her that much, if he cared that much, then surely everything would work out better than she could ever hope.
This feeling of confidence made it hard for Tamara to be unduly concerned about the continuing audit that afternoon. She tried to keep her feet on the ground, but she kept floating off. The only question mark in her mind was when she would see Bick again.
That was answered when she left the office at quitting time. As she turned to walk to the bus stop, a car pulled up to the curb. Tamara needed only one glance to recognize the car and the driver. She slid into the passenger seat, her heart skipping beats at the way Bick automatically leaned over to give her a quick kiss of greeting. Then he was turning the car into the traffic flow.
“Where would you like to go tonight?” He gave a sidelong look that was guaranteed to make her bones melt.
But it was his question that made Tamara swallow in apprehension because she knew what her answer had to be. “I’d like to go out to dinner with you, but I have to go home.”
“Are we going to go through this again?” Bick sighed in irritation.
“I’m sorry, but I do,” she insisted quietly.
Bick didn’t argue as he concentrated his attention on the rush hour traffic, but Tamara knew the discussion wasn’t over. He was waiting until he could devote all of his energies to changing her mind. She only wished she could let him.
In front of her house, he stopped the car and turned in the seat to face her, draping one arm over the steering wheel. “All right. Now I want you to explain why you can’t come out with me tonight.” His mouth was compressed into a thin line that said her explanation had better be a good one.