A MAN CALLED BLUE

by EC Sheedy

  Blue smiled in memory.

  The world according to Thomas Bludell, Senior, small town pharmacist, and big-hearted philanthropist. Blue set his wineglass on the table and idly twirled it by its stem, thinking of his father. He'd been dead over a year now, and Blue still missed his quiet eyes with their clear view of fife. "Recognize the difference between greed and need, son," he'd said, "and you'll be a happy man."

  Blue drank some wine and gave a silent toast to the single parent who'd raised him. Haven't got it all figured out yet, Pop, but I'm working on it. And he knew, for his father, that was enough.

  A hand briefly touched his shoulder. Simone. Blue stood immediately.

  "Blue, I'd like you to meet Gus Hallam." She indicated the man standing next to her, then turned back to Gus. "Blue is Nolan's replacement. He'll be doing the initial financial analysis on Hallam Porcelain."

  Blue extended his hand, made a quick assessment. Tall, thin, impeccably dressed. Maybe forty. Pavement gray eyes, sunlamp complexion—and salon fingernails. Not a beer-with-the-boys' type.

  "Blue. Unusual name," Hallam said, cool and cordial.

  Blue reclaimed his hand. "Better than the alternative," he said without explanation.

  They were interrupted by a woman of notable proportions. "Gus, sweets, what table are we at? I want to sit down. I've been shopping all day and my feet are killing me." With that she lashed herself to Hallam's arm. Her hair was the color of one of those swatches you saw in drugstores. If it had a name, Blue guessed it would be something like, Sunrise Shock or Red Scream.

  "I think we're sitting here, aren't we, Simone?" Gus asked, nodding toward the table Blue had risen from.

  "I believe so," she answered, turning her attention to the flame head. "Please, sit down, Miss...?"

  "Shandra. Shandra McQuaid."

  "Yes. Please sit down if you're tired. I know how draining shopping can be." She shot a glance at Blue. When he half-smiled, she didn't return it. Come to think of it, she hadn't smiled at him since they'd met. He resolved to correct that—and soon. Blue pulled out a chair for the shopworn Shandra and settled her in.

  "Why don't we all sit down," Hallam suggested. "Surely, Josephine—and dinner—will be along shortly." When they were seated, the man with the overworked tuxedo and his wife joined them. He turned out to be the eleventh earl of something or other and an influential sponsor of Anjana's business interests in England. Blue had played in the corporate park long enough to know the importance of this type of connection.

  Blue heard whispering behind him. It quickly turned to a hum.

  "Who's that?" Shandra asked, nodding toward the door.

  Simone shifted in her seat and leveled her shoulders. "That is Josephine Doucet, Shandra."

  "Your mom?"

  Simone's mouth compressed as if she were containing an inappropriate smile. "Yes. My mother."

  Blue glanced around the elegant room. Every eye in it focused on Josephine's entrance.

  She was a striking woman. Taller than Simone and not so delicate-looking. Her hair, no doubt once as dark as her daughter's, was now heavily streaked with white. Oddly, it didn't age her. Blue knew she was nearing sixty, but she sure didn't look it. Women half her age couldn't pull off wearing the clinging black dress she had on.

  Josephine said something to her escort, who immediately lifted a swirl of silvery fabric from her shoulders and handed it to a waiting attendant.

  God, the guy was young!

  "Surprised?" Simone's level gaze met his.

  "Does it show?" he answered.

  "Josephine surprises everyone. I wouldn't expect you to be any different."

  "I expected her to be older maybe, but that wasn't what I was thinking."

  "What were you thinking?"

  He leaned close to her ear. "That the daughter's much more beautiful than the mother."

  Obviously it wasn't what she wanted to hear. She drew away from him. "Don't, Blue," she said.

  "Don't what?" He leaned back in his chair.

  "Don't hit on me."

  It wasn't an order, more of a plea. It made him feel as though he were a wave and she a storm-battered shore. "That wasn't a hit, Simone," he said, keeping his voice low. "It was a compliment. A sincere one. You're a beautiful woman, and I—" he shrugged "—I'm an appreciative man."

  "Then appreciate I'm your boss for the next three weeks, and keep personal remarks to yourself." The boss lady was back in spades.

  "Is there a rule against admiring your boss?"

  "There's a rule against overstepping your position."

  "And you decide when I take that step?"

  "Yes," she said tersely, adding a haughty lift of her chin.

  Oddly, Blue wasn't angry, but that chin lift got to him. He'd had enough of Simone Doucet, CEO and business titan—but not nearly enough of the woman herself. Time to upset the status quo, he decided. Past time. This little tiger needed taming.

  "Then..." He paused. "I guess I'll have to quit. Somehow I can't see a future for me with Anjana Enterprises."

  He had the satisfaction of watching her mouth open. He liked the effect. She glanced quickly around the table, before doing one of those hissing whisper things. "You can't quit."

  "Why not?"

  "I told you why not." She was still looking around and still whispering.

  "Ah, you mean your hard-nosed threat to give Nolan his walking papers." He shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't buy it. Not anymore. You're too damned fond of the guy and you know it. Besides, there's no one better suited to your particular needs—able, intelligent employee and safe escort."

  "I said I'd fire him if you don't do your job, and I will," she blustered. "Don't underestimate me, Blue."

  This time Blue picked up on the bluff. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart, but it wouldn't hurt you to heed the same warning." He started to rise. It was his turn to bluff, because he didn't want to go. He wanted an even playing field, and weeks of acting the toady to Simone was a far cry from that. He was half out of his seat before she caught his arm. "Sit down. Josephine's coming this way. We'll sort this out later."

  He hesitated and her grip tightened. He watched her close her eyes. "Please, Blue. Please sit down."

  He sat.

  Josephine arrived at their table in full sail. Again Blue, this time along with the other men at the table, stood. While most women were quick to tell a group of men, standing awkwardly at a crowded table, to take their seats, Josephine did not. She simply greeted each in turn. Blue came last.

  "Simone, who is this attractive man?" Her words were complimentary, her gaze cold—and suspicious.

  "Thomas Bludell, Josephine. He's that... friend of Nolan's. You remember, I mentioned him when we spoke earlier today?" Simone looked edgy.

  "Ah, yes." Her eyes, coolly assessing, perused his face. It was like being touched by metal probes. Josephine Doucet radiated an elemental power. Her gaze met his with a force born of total self-assurance.

  "Well, Thomas, I hope you're half as competent as our Nolan. He's a very efficient man."

  "Please call me Blue, Mrs. Doucet, and as for filling Nolan's shoes—" he shot a glance at Simone "—we'll have to see about that, I expect."

  "Indeed." She hesitated the barest of moments."The name? Blue. Allmonde Industries?"

  "You have a good memory." He'd left Allmonde five years ago.

  "Infallible." Her gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "When Allmonde was in trouble, I made an offer to buy the company. Their board decided to hire a turn-around expert instead." She nodded at him. "A man called Blue. Not a name you forget." Her smile iced over. "So you see, you cost me an acquisition."

  "Unwittingly, Mrs. Doucet," he countered politely.

  "Uh-huh, of course, but please, call me Josephine, all my friends do. Enemies, too, for that matter."

  Blue frowned, unsure of her meaning, but she gave him no time to respond.

  She turned to the men still standing around the table like abandoned totem p
oles. "Sit down, gentlemen. After Henri and I have said our hellos, we'll join you for dinner."

  She sailed off, not bothering to introduce the young man at her side, who followed her dutifully as she toured the room.

  When they took their seats, Simone immediately began an unusually animated conversation with the man on her left. She looked flushed, and in Blue's opinion was working overtime to avoid his gaze. He picked up his glass. He wasn't looking forward to an evening across the table from Simone's mother. He had the distinct impression she neither liked nor trusted him. But then neither did her daughter.

  * * *

  Later that night, when she and Blue returned to Eaton Square, Simone sincerely wished she could delay her conversation with Blue until the following morning. Sleep, she craved sleep. But she could hear Josephine as if she were in the room. "Never put off a confrontation, Simone. It's a sign of a weak executive." Her weary soul stuck its tongue out at that, while her tired feet kicked off their shoes.

  Blue had been perfect tonight, attentive, polite, charming—amusing. He'd certainly attracted Shandra's attention. There was nothing more powerful than the scent of available man—to some women. She wasn't one of them.

  Their table had been aflutter with females all night. The man could use a dimmer switch, she thought sourly.

  By the end of the evening, she'd almost forgotten he'd quit, but he'd reminded her on the drive home. Damn. Now she had to deal with it.

  Beating back exhaustion, she dropped her sweater and evening bag on one of the Hepplewhite cabriole chairs in the foyer, then, hearing Blue quietly close the front door behind her, walked quickly to the library.

  So he'd quit. It shouldn't matter, she knew that. There were lots of executives at Anjana who would jump to take his place. Josephine did hire the best. The trouble was Josephine had hired all of them. They were her clones. Simone didn't like working with any of them—and, damn it, the decision to acquire Hallam Porcelain should be hers—all hers. A chance to prove herself, finally take the reins of Anjana fully into her own hands. She was fed up with having her every move bird-dogged by Josephine's crew, her every step reported. With Nolan that wouldn't happen. Nor she guessed, with Blue. She needed him.

  Weariness burrowed deep into her shoulders as she walked across to the liquor cabinet. A fleeting memory of Blue's strong hands massaging her neck and shoulders drifted through her mind. Her skin flushed to warm.

  She poured herself a scotch and went to stand at the cold fireplace. God, what an evening. She hated company dinners, and now she had to face Blue. She turned.

  He was leaning in the doorway, tieless, the top two buttons on his tucked-front dress shirt undone. A trace of beard roughened his lower jaw. He looked tired, too, she thought, and no more ready for this confrontation than she was. She took a drink of scotch, hoping it would burn in some resolve. He stuffed his tie in his jacket pocket.

  "It's not a good idea to use scotch as courage," he said, crossing his arms, but not moving an inch from the doorway.

  "If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." She took another burning swallow of scotch. "Until then keep it to yourself."

  Blue left a long moment of silence before saying, "You're a real pain in the butt, Tiger. Did you know that?"

  "And don't—"

  "—Don't overstep my position? We've been through that. I quit, remember?"

  She set her glass of scotch on the mantel and, still facing it, rubbed her temples. This wasn't going the way she'd planned. She wanted him to stay, but if she couldn't order him to, how could she get him to do it? Just ask, dummy. It's your only option.

  She swung to face him, struggling to keep her features composed, her expression closed. He cocked his head, looking at her with undisguised interest.

  "Look," she started. "I'm not good at this—" she drew in a breath "—but I'd like you to stay. It's important to me." She let the breath out and waited.

  He didn't speak.

  "Twenty-one days. That's all I need. Please," she added, working to keep her voice strong and not to plead. She picked up her glass.

  He still didn't speak. She watched him push away from the door and walk toward her. In the dim light of the library, his easy masculine gait took on an unnerving sensuality. He joined her at the fireplace, took the drink from her hand, and looked down at her. He touched her cheek, so lightly she scarcely sensed it, before putting her unfinished drink on the mantel.

  He nodded toward the glass. "It doesn't live up to its reputation for giving courage, false or otherwise."

  "Will you please not—" she stopped, weary of sharp words and sham. He was right and she knew it. "I don't really drink all that much," she finished faintly.

  "I know. You scarcely touched your wine tonight. So why now, with me? What are you afraid of?"

  She didn't answer. He reached to touch her again and she stepped aside, an inner sensor alerting her to danger ahead. Danger that for the first time in years, since Harper left, tempted and enticed her. It had been so long since she'd been held in a man's arms.

  A few steps from him, she faced him. He had one elbow on the mantel, his stance and his expression a study in casual contemplation. Tonight, during dinner, she'd noticed that same look in his eyes when he glanced her way. Each time she'd looked away, feeling light-headed and gauzy, and hating herself for it.

  "I'm not afraid of you, that's for sure," she said, with more force than feeling.

  "Good. Because I don't bite," he said, letting a slow grin soften the angles of his straight beard-darkened jawline. "Unless, of course, a lady asks me to."

  "I'm not," she said, her tone softer than she intended.

  "Yet," he added with irritating calm, then downed the last of her drink. "But I live in hope."

  "You're avoiding my question." And you're controlling this conversation, she thought. For some reason, she didn't mind.

  "Twenty-one days, huh?"

  She nodded.

  "I have to admit the job has a few perks. One of which would be smelling that perfume of yours every day. But—" He set the empty glass back on the mantel, but held it, gazing down at her.

  "Go on. I'm riveted."

  "A few years ago, I made myself a couple of promises. The first was never to waste a minute doing work I didn't like—and analyzing financial data for the purpose of corporate mergers falls squarely into that category." He grimaced.

  "And the second?"

  "To waste no time at all in the company of people I don't like."

  "And you don't like me." The hurt in his words scraped her bones. Not that she cared.

  He ignored her question. "Come to think of it, there was a third promise."

  "I can't wait to hear it," she said, keeping her tone carefully dry.

  "I promised myself I would never work for a woman I wanted to take to bed, which is what I very much want to do with you." His gaze rested on her, true and unswerving.

  The man hadn't moved from the mantel. They were still at least three feet apart. How then could his words bump and careen through her senses with the force of a blindfolded elephant?

  "You don't like me, but you want to go to bed with me."

  "Yeah. It's a guy thing."

  Growing uncomfortable under his gaze, Simone stumbled on. "And that's all your promises?"

  He thought a moment. "Yup. That's about it."

  "You're nothing if not honest." She turned, took a step away, then turned back, determined not to let him see the effect his words had on her. "But I still want you to stay."

  Blue moved then, closing the distance between them and grasping her by the upper arms. "I know you do. I think you'd want me to stay if I'd just admitted to being a specialist in corporate embezzlement. The question is why?"

  He held her tighter now, and his nearness cut her breath. She labored to inhale air and calm. Her skin burned under his hands, and the last of her strength melted away under his eyes. Still his gaze questioned.

  "Why, Simone?" he asked,
his voice low and demanding. "You scarcely know me."

  Chapter 4

  Struggling for the upper hand, and control of her unruly nerves, Simone calmed herself and answered. "It's not complicated. You're good at your work, have the experience I need, and Nolan recommended you. Isn't that reason enough?" She hoped the words came out strong and direct.

  "Anjana's a big organization, there must be a hundred ambitious whiz kids with computers who could do this job with their eyes closed. I repeat—why me?"

  She tugged away from his grip, turned her back to him, and walked four safe steps away. He'd asked a question that, if answered, would lay bare a cache of insecurities she chose neither to name nor acknowledge. Maybe she was held together by bailing wire, but a smart woman didn't display her weaknesses and needs to men—the sex most likely to trample them on their way to the quickest exit. And Blue defined the word man.

  Too much man, she thought, unable to deny his easy sexuality, or the primal undertow she found harder and harder to fight. She didn't have the energy for another battle. Battle? She came near to laughing aloud. Controlling Anjana may be a battle, and Josephine a trial, but Blue? Blue, to any woman in her right mind, shouted opportunity—hot and golden.

  She cut off that pointless line of thought. Blue was waiting for an answer, so she'd give him one. According to Josephine, business was about winning, and winning at the moment meant Blue staying—and not trotting out her personal ghosts and goblins to make him do it.

  She leaned against the pale yellow silk of the sofa, forced herself to calm. His hands were planted on his hips; much as they'd been when she'd first seen him standing on the tarmac outside her plane, a hank of hair covered half his forehead and shadowed the rest. His detective eyes, as she'd come to think of them, were also in shadow, their vivid blue lost in the night-shaded room.

  She took a steadying breath. "Okay, I'll level with you. I'm uncertain about this Hallam business. And you're right. There's no shortage of computer cowboys and bean counters in Anjana, but this project is—" She stopped, uncertain how to express herself, not wanting to explain her relationship with Josephine. How could she when she didn't understand it herself?