by Diana Palmer
“Connor...” she whispered.
“You want me. I want you,” he said at her ear. “Let’s get out of here!”
Emma was desperate to get away from him. She had no pride, no sense of self-preservation. She wanted what he wanted. Her body ached to know him, to lie with him, to be under him...
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the brunette said harshly as she came back with Connor’s drink. “You can’t imagine how the two of you look!”
Emma flushed and jerked away from Connor.
“How do we look?” he asked Ariel with a rakish grin. “Jealous, honey?” he teased.
The brunette glanced from Emma’s flushed, embarrassed face to Connor’s taunting one.
“Yes, I’m jealous,” the brunette muttered.
He chuckled. He let go of Emma and turned toward the brunette. “Then come show me,” he said huskily. “Got my drink?”
“Yes, darling. Here it is.” She thrust it into his hands, disconcerting him. Emma eased things into them. Ariel didn’t have a clue how to deal with a blind man. But he had to put on a good act. He could imagine how Emma looked. He knew that he was much harder for people to read, even at close quarters.
“Dance with me,” he told Ariel, and slid an arm around her and pulled her close while he took a large swallow of the whiskey and felt it sting on the way down. He could have gone through a bottle at the moment. Emma was that potent.
Emma turned away as Ariel pressed herself even closer to Connor. “Why, darling, you’re so hungry!” She laughed, her voice sultry.
“Starving.” He chuckled, and moved with her to the music.
Emma slipped away from the party and into her room, sitting on the foot of her bed, shivering. She was appalled at how easily he’d controlled her.
She had to get herself together. He hadn’t meant it. It wasn’t even personal, and that was the most sickening thought. He didn’t like other men flirting with her, and he was showing his dominance. Emma loved birds. She spent her life watching them. It was the same principle as what birders called “pushing” with doves. Male doves used it to control their mates around other male doves. It was natural. But it felt uncomfortable between a man and a woman.
If Connor had meant the things he said, if he’d really been jealous and he wanted her that much...
But he hadn’t. He was only showing her that he could control her—not only in working hours, but after them. He was making a public statement that she was his possession. Which meant hands off as far as other men were concerned.
Her face burned, like her temper. He had no right! She should march right back out there and dance with Cort Grier and dare Connor to do anything.
Sure, she thought with a sigh. That was Ariel’s sort of tactic. It just wasn’t Emma’s, as much as she might have liked it to be. And if she started something with Cort, he might mention her to Cash. She couldn’t risk having anyone know that Emma’s father had a ranch in Texas, especially Connor.
She dangled her feet from the high bed with a sigh. If only she could just go to bed and plug her ears to the music coming from the living room. If only. But Connor would miss her and send someone to get her. She was working, as he’d reminded her. No matter how much it hurt to see him with Ariel and know they were lovers, she had no choice if she wanted to keep her job. He probably knew how much it hurt her. After all, her emotions were not easily concealed, and he knew how she reacted to him.
She got off the bed, fixed her face, checked her hair and reluctantly went back into the living room.
* * *
Ariel came looking for her. The older woman was wearing a very contented smile. “Connor wants to see you,” she said. “There are some notes he wants you to take down. He was very angry that you’d run off somewhere.”
“All right,” Emma said, without looking at the other woman.
“As if he’d want you,” the older woman said with a disparaging laugh. “He told Cort you were homely, and he didn’t mean it in a nice way. You aren’t even pretty. Not many men would find you interesting. Especially not one of the richest men in the world. You’re just poor white trash.”
Emma just looked at her. She didn’t say anything. Her expression was more of pity and sorrow than of anger.
It made the other woman so uncomfortable that she walked off without another word.
Emma made her way through the crowd of partygoers to Connor, her heart in her shoes. Nothing like having the truth rammed in your face to change your perspective on life, she thought philosophically. She’d been dreaming if she thought Connor would find anything about her attractive except her body.
“I found her, darling,” Ariel said with a purr in her tone, curling under Connor’s shoulder.
Connor’s face was hard. “Cort went missing when you did. Were you luring him into your bedroom?” he asked with icy sarcasm.
“I haven’t seen Mr. Grier,” Emma said softly. “I had to go to the bathroom.”
Connor was almost vibrating with frustration. Just the sound of her voice filled him with desire. He wanted her so much. More than he wanted anyone since his first marriage, so long ago. She’d been engaged. She knew the score. If she was keeping him at arm’s length, it couldn’t be for any religious reason, despite her often quoted moral principles. She wanted something from him. That had to be it. She was bargaining with her body. It made him furious.
“Matt Davis has some figures on the mining consortium he wants to buy into, along with Cort Grier. I’m interested in it myself. Go and talk to him and let him give you the cost estimates and stock projections he’s come up with.”
“Yes, sir.” Emma wouldn’t have dared tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about. She hoped Mr. Davis was a kind man who wouldn’t gallop through all sorts of numbers without explaining what he was talking about. Connor did that sometimes, and he was impatient when Emma had to stop and ask him to translate it.
“Tell him you don’t know anything about finance,” Connor added reluctantly, “so he won’t go too fast for you.”
“I will, sir.”
“And stop calling me sir, damn it!” he snapped.
“Yes...” She swallowed, aware of the brunette’s amusement. “I will.”
“Go on,” he muttered, pulling Ariel close as the music started up again.
* * *
Emma found Matt Davis to be elderly, kind and patient.
“You don’t know a lot about this, do you, young lady?” he asked when he’d helped her get his facts and statistics into some order that she could type up later.
“No, sir, I don’t.” She laughed. “I’m very grateful to you for being patient. Mr. Sinclair can be... Well, he sometimes goes a little fast for me when he’s dictating.”
“You haven’t worked for him long, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“He has a secretary at his headquarters office in Chicago,” he replied. “Antonia. We call her Tonia. She’s been there for twenty years, knows the business inside and out. Have him give you her number, and call her if things get too much for you. She’ll help. She’s got a kind heart.”
“I do know about her,” she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t have dared asked him for her number tonight. I’m afraid my ears wouldn’t withstand the request.”
He chuckled softly. “Gives you a hard time, doesn’t he?” he mused.
“I’m afraid so. I’m sure it’s mostly my fault. Until now, the dictation I took was always in the form of letters and—” She caught herself before she blurted out “fiction manuscripts” and gave herself away. “Well, what I did wasn’t financial stuff.”
“Connor loves numbers. Always did. He loves the marketing people. He loves cost projections and sales estimates, things like that. He handpicks his tech reps. He wants young people,
people who think outside the box, who are innovators. He’s thinking of going into aerospace, space shuttles, things like that.”
“Wow!” she said softly. “I didn’t know. He never talks about it. Well, why would he? I mean, I’m just an assistant.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll take that with a grain of salt,” he mused as he sipped his drink.
Emma didn’t understand. “Sir?”
“You didn’t see him while you were talking to Cort Grier. I thought he was going to explode. He’s quite possessive of you, isn’t he?”
Emma, flustered, searched for words.
Matt Davis saw more than she realized. He became serious. “He isn’t a man who wants a settled future. He’s dated many women since his wife died. He was very young, and he’s cloaked himself in the illusion that it was the greatest love ever.” He shrugged. “She was a rounder, like that saucy brunette he’s parading around the dance floor right now. Her family had money, but not like his. She loved life in the fast lane, and she married him more for what he had than who he was. I’ve never mentioned it, and you mustn’t. But he’s feeding himself on illusions.”
“He said he hated children. She died in pregnancy. He blamed the baby.”
“She died because she was a foolish, young woman,” he returned. “She knew the risks. She talked Connor into going to some romantic primitive island where they could be alone. When complications arose, there was no help. He’s blamed himself for years. That’s why he doesn’t want children. He uses the baby as his excuse for avoiding commitment. But the truth is, he doesn’t like being reminded that the trip was as much his choice as hers. It’s guilt that makes it hard for him to leave the past behind.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You see deeply.”
He nodded. “I’m old,” he said, smiling. “I’ve lived hard, and I’ve learned a lot in my life. Connor is a fine man. He’s running away from himself, with women like that party decoration he’s squiring about. But she’d only last as long as the money did, just like the other handful that came before her.” He was watching the brunette with cold eyes. “She’s the worst kind of opportunist.”
Emma bit her lip. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing about her.
He looked down and saw that expression. He laughed. “Not you, young woman,” he said softly. “You’re the sort who would go into battle with her husband. Did you know that Libbie Custer lived with Colonel George Custer right on the battlefield during the Civil War?”
“No! But isn’t it General...?”
“The General part was a brevet promotion that he got on the battlefield. His actual rank when he died was Colonel.”
“I don’t know much about him,” she confessed. “But his wife sounds very interesting.”
“My grandmother was from Michigan, and she actually knew Libbie. The Custers lived near her family home. She always said it was her claim to fame.” He chuckled. “I have autographed copies of every book Libbie wrote. She lived through some fascinating times during her travels with her husband. Good reading.”
“I’ll have to check those out.”
“She was far more competent than she’s made out to be. Not a pretty wallflower at all. She was a woman with grit.”
“I can see why, if she lived on the battlefield with her husband!”
He smiled. “You should get out there and dance. The party’s winding down. You’ve done enough work for one night, haven’t you?”
She grimaced. “Mr. Sinclair wouldn’t like that. He’s already said that he doesn’t want me mingling with the guests.”
Mr. Sinclair was jealous as hell, was what Matt Davis thought. But he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he went over his figures again with Emma, so that she’d have them down precisely when she transcribed them.
* * *
The band was packing up. Connor looked odd. Worn. Ragged. But his temper hadn’t calmed a bit when he told Emma she could go to bed.
“Just in case you wondered, Cort Grier’s on his way to the airport,” he told her with a cold smile.
Ariel was still hanging on his arm, her head against his broad shoulder. “Too bad, dear,” she told Emma with taunting eyes.
“He was a very nice man,” Emma said involuntarily.
“Nice?” Connor asked, scowling.
“Very nice. He told me about West Texas and his ranch.”
Connor seemed perplexed. Nice. Emma hadn’t been impressed by the cattleman, who drew women in droves everywhere he went? It surprised him.
On the other hand, he was still trying to forget the way she felt in his arms. He couldn’t get Nassau out of his mind. Her response had driven him mad. It had been the longest, most anguished night of his life. She’d tricked him. He hated her for that. It was cheap. Somehow, it was unlike Emma. She was straightforward. She didn’t play games like all the other women in his life.
Nevertheless, he didn’t like his body’s immediate reaction to even her lightest touch, and he was smarting because he couldn’t control it. For the first time in his life, he was at the mercy of his own raging hormones, and he didn’t have youth as an excuse.
“I’ll want those notes you got from Matt Davis transcribed first thing in the morning,” he told Emma curtly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Make sure the band has a check and that the caterers get the mess cleaned up before they’re allowed to leave.”
That was more Marie’s duty than Emma’s, but he was obviously bent on making as much work for her as he possibly could. Maybe he thought Cort Grier might suddenly fly back and ask to stay the night.
The thought amused her, but it wasn’t worth her job to voice it, or show any humor. “Yes, sir,” she said instead.
“Have Barnes make sure he’s hired enough limos to get my guests to the airport in the morning in time to catch their flights,” he added.
Emma was making notes on her iPhone, the one he’d purchased for her. So they were leaving tomorrow. About time. Thank God! “I will.” He could have just asked Barnes, but that would make less work for Emma.
“Make sure that damned chair in my office hasn’t been accidently moved again,” he added curtly. “I meant what I said about the woman losing her job.”
“I know that, sir. I’ll make sure.”
“What chair is this?” Ariel, being sidelined, made sure he knew she was still there.
“Someone in the cleaning crew moved my damned chair around in the office. I tripped and almost fell over it.”
“Careless, dear,” she said to Emma. “You should watch when you’re cleaning things.”
Emma started to tell her that she wasn’t the cleaning lady, but Connor beat her to it.
“Emma is my personal assistant,” he said shortly. “She doesn’t do cleaning.”
“Oh. I must have misunderstood. Sorry, dear.” The words were only on her lips, certainly not in those cold, cobra eyes.
Emma didn’t answer her.
“Go to bed,” he told Emma. “We’ll start early tomorrow, so don’t think you’ll get to sleep in.”
“No, sir,” Emma agreed meekly.
Her complacence seemed to infuriate him. “Go on, then.” He turned to Ariel. “We can have a nightcap. Everyone else has gone to bed, so we’ll have the living room to ourselves.” His voice was almost purring.
“How delightful!” she whispered huskily.
Emma turned and went into her room, red-faced and furious. Connor had sent the brunette to her room the other nights she’d been here. Now, it seemed, he had something besides sleeping on his mind.
She couldn’t bear the thought of that glittery brunette wrapped around him like a body stocking. She couldn’t bear it!
Tears ran down her cheek. She couldn’t stop them. They were hot and wet and copious.
She got up to find a tissue. There were voices outside the door, loud enough for her to hear inside her room.
“Now that your tedious little secretary has gone to bed, we can have some fun.” Ariel was laughing. “Are you hungry, lover? Oh, yes, you are!”
He laughed, too. “My secretary is just temporary. She’d never manage to handle anything more complicated than correspondence, and she lives in some dreamworld of her own. The sooner she’s gone from here, the happier I’ll be.”
“Poor girl, are you going to fire her?”
“Sooner or later,” he muttered. “I don’t want to talk about Emma. She’s the most boring woman I’ve ever known. I want to talk about you, sexy. Come here...”
Emma felt her heart drop. Boring. Lives in a dreamworld. Couldn’t manage anything more complicated than correspondence. Going to fire her.
The phrases ran around in her mind like rats on a treadmill. But far and above those cold insults were the sounds of kissing right outside her bedroom. She couldn’t bear it!
She went into her bedroom and closed the door, drowning it out. She couldn’t stay here another day. She had to leave. It was going to hurt, but it would only be worse the longer she put off the decision.
Connor didn’t want her. She’d known it, of course she had, but it hurt to have it put so bluntly, and in front of that brunette who wanted nothing more than what was in his wallet. Just the same, he was taking her to his room. He did it deliberately, pausing by her door so Emma would know.
Well, let him wallow with his special woman. Emma wasn’t going to take it anymore.
She got down her suitcase and started packing.
Nine
Emma waited until she was certain that she wouldn’t be seen. She carried her suitcase to the study, where she penciled a note that Marie could read to Connor. With it, she left last week’s uncashed check. She asked Marie to tell him that she’d forfeit this week’s check as well, so that she could leave without working notice. She said she was sorry. She didn’t dare say why she was leaving.
