Once a month or so, top-level managers would meet with clients and go over various complex financial matters while enjoying a splendid view of the Charles River and drinking expensive coffee from bone china cups.
Associates were invited to participate in the belief that brilliance was contagious, and that soon they'd be every bit as smart as the current top-level managers. The fact that those managers had no intention of ever leaving, or allowing the newly minted brains to advance in the company, was deemed irrelevant.
In the three years Livvy had been there, only one manager had left and that was because he'd had a mid-life crisis involving a stripper and the tabloids. Boston was still, in spite of itself, a conservative puritanical town, and such things were considered inappropriate.
Apparently his wife had agreed and sued the pants off him. The company had politely turned down his request to provide legal representation, and what had happened after that, Livvy didn't know.
She walked down the quiet passageway and nodded at the elegant woman guarding the enclave of power. "Hi Marielle."
"Olivia." The woman nodded, her dark red hair pulled into a sleek twist and her emerald suit flawless against her perfect complexion.
Livvy envied her the calm confidence and then realized it was probably a corporate necessity. "Are they ready?"
"Just getting settled. You're right on time. You can go on in." She flashed a quick smile that was both friendly and illuminating.
Behind that professionally smooth facade was an incredibly beautiful woman. But thoughts of her faded from Livvy's mind as she pushed open the polished wood door and stepped into the sunlight.
It was everything a top office should be--floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the river and Cambridge that could be featured on postcards for tourists. Especially now with the morning light flooding in.
The table was massive, polished to a sheen that whispered of aged mahogany, and surrounded by deeply tufted leather chairs. Several were occupied and she recognized the heads of two departments and an assistant from a third.
She nodded cheerfully at the quiet "Good mornings" and sat next to the most junior attendee whom she knew slightly. "Hello Harry. How's married life?" She'd attended the pre-nuptial bash the office had thrown for him a few months before.
He grinned at her. "Fabulous. Just fabulous. Thanks for asking."
Then the door opened again and two men walked in.
The others rose, so Livvy followed suit, looking at the older man who wore power every bit as comfortably as he wore the suit that had never seen the inside of a department store. Unmistakably hand-tailored, it was the most gorgeous navy pin-stripe Livvy had ever seen, and the choice of a rose pink tie was both daring and perfect. GQ does corporate America.
It wasn't until they were all seated again that she had chance to look at the second man.
And froze.
It was Dane.
"...to introduce Mr. Dane Lowell, our newest client. And before you ask, yes he's one of those Lowells. If you were in any doubt, I will simply say you should visit his Beacon Hill home. Fantastic Victorian mansion." The man smiled enviously. "He's got some interesting ideas about portfolio diversification we're going to take a closer look at..."
"Of course, Mr. Hart."
Fractions of the conversation impinged on Livvy's brain but even the knowledge that the Big Boss was here, in a pink tie, couldn't quite overcome the shock of seeing Dane again. And he was a real Lowell, not from Lowell.
She knew the old New England rhyme..."And here's to good old Boston, the land of the bean and the cod. Where Lowells speak only to Cabots and Cabots speak only to God". Talk about your obscenely rich Boston Brahmin...
She gulped and clenched her hands beneath the table, feeling her nails bite into her palms and clinging to the tiny pain as an anchor for her self-control.
He was speaking now, his voice every bit as deep as she remembered, his face every bit as handsome.
"I appreciate the chance to meet with all of you. As you know my company is in the Marketing business, so I'd like to offer a small thank you to you all for being here this morning." He reached beneath the table and dug into a box, pulling out some lovely leather-bound folder type things. He rose and placed one in front of each manager with a polite word or two. His offering was greeted with delight and compliments from the recipients.
Then he reached Livvy. "And this one is part of our newest ladies' line. I hope you, Miss Olivia, will find it agreeable?"
The heavily ornate embossing on the cover glowed in the sunshine as he placed it on polished wood in front of Livvy.
"I...er..." She felt the color flooding her cheeks. She'd never expected to see him again. He'd been her fall from grace; her sinful fantasy made flesh, and was supposed to be her untouchable memory for her old age.
And yet here he was.
"Open it." He smiled at her, his expression friendly and quite unreadable.
She gently unzipped the folio, opening it to reveal...her carefully-folded pantaloons.
Under cover of the ongoing conversation, Dane leaned close and quietly murmured in her ear, "You left these behind."
She looked up into his eyes.
She'd lied through her teeth to Cora, not willing to reveal the feelings she'd surrendered to, simply because they scared the crap out of her.
"You're very kind, Mr. Lowell."
His eyes were heated, his lips--the ones she knew could tease and arouse--curled into a little private smile. "Check the note pad. We're very proud of its design."
She did as he suggested, trying not to let anyone else see that there was lingerie in her folder. The notepad was beautifully decorated--and had one word scrawled on it.
Tonight.
Livvy licked her lips and glanced back at Dane. There was only one thing she needed to say, only one answer she could give.
"Yes."
About The Author
Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain to editors that her spelling errors aren't really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra "u" is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it's not a widely held belief, so she'd like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won't see much of it in her stories.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris' Saint novels, Sahara's new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra "u", though!) Life in New England became complete with the publication of her first novel just after the birth of her son, and over two decades later she's still writing.
This is her first stand-alone self-published story and she's looking forward to many more. Being freed of any restraints has opened doors--not just for Sahara but also for many of her writing colleagues. She believes it has widened the range of books available to readers and is a win-win situation for everyone.
To find out more about Sahara and her writing, please drop by her website at
www.saharakelly.com
She has quite a few ebooks available from various publishers. There are also some older releases that she has edited and re-issued at a greatly reduced price. To find these books, simply Sahara's page here at Smashwords.
Any books with the "An SK Private Label Story" logo line on the cover are original works not published elsewhere.
Available now from Smashwords:
Seduced by the Sun God
by Sahara Kelly
A story of time-travel, state-of-the-art technology and
Ancient Sumerian Gods
Excerpt:
It had to be the worst hangover she'd ever had. Her head was throbbing to the point of agony, and her stomach was upside down and threatening to come out of her ears if she moved. She was scared to moan, the sound might kill her.
Suddenly a gentle hand laid a cool soft cloth on her forehead. Thank God. She must be
in a hospital. Her addled thoughts worked through the equation...Merlin, the lab, some kind of explosion and - hospital.
Relaxing, she sighed with pleasure as the cloth stroked its way across her face and down her neck onto her naked breasts.
Whoa. Naked breasts?
What the hell kind of hospital was this? Very carefully, she raised one eyelid. She shut it again just as carefully.
There was a half naked woman next to her bed.
This was really weird. Annie thought for a few moments, and decided to risk both eyelids this time.
Bad move.
There were other women near her bed and they were completely naked.
A moan seemed appropriate at this point.
"Relax, Noble One, all will be well." The cloth resumed its soothing trek over her body, and Annie clenched her eyes shut against the absurdity of it all. "I know you are awake and probably feeling quite dreadful, but if you could just sip some water, you'd do much better."
An arm worked its way behind her and raised her slightly, and a cool cup pressed against her lips. In spite of her reservations, she drank, hesitantly at first, and then thirstily as the cold water slipped down her parched throat.
She lay back and finally opened her eyes. "I'm heavily medicated, aren't I?"
It was the only option she could imagine as she gazed slowly around her. Her headache was receding, but it felt lousy enough to completely preclude the possibility that she was dead. Dead people didn't get thumping migraines.
Nor did they open their eyes onto a scene right out of a Hollywood epic.
Tall pillars soared to the ceiling of the room in which she lay. Mosaic tiles decorated just about everything, and a breeze was blowing gently across her bed. A warm breeze that smelled - different.
She turned her head and gasped.
There was no window next to her, just an opening in the wall framed by long panels of gauzy fabric. But it wasn't the lack of a window that stopped her heart for a moment or two. It was the scene beyond that froze her in her tracks.
"Oh shiiiiitttt..."
All tan and gold and brown, a huge ziggurat dominated the horizon, its steps covered with lush foliage. Decorations sparkled and glittered from the walls, and there seemed to be a lot of people walking up and down the enormous staircase leading to the entrance.
Palm trees surrounded it and were scattered all over the gardens nearby. Her view outside was framed by a shrub with some kind of brilliant white flower on it and a man leading a camel strolled down the street outside the house. The heat of the day made the distant views shimmer, the sky was cloudless, and Annie had never seen anything that looked less like her home.
"Where the hell am I?"
Why not find out the answer to that question by reading Sahara Kelly's
"SEDUCED BY THE SUN GOD"
available now from Smashwords.
Letting Off Steam Page 5
