by Amii Lorin
"Sell you my stock," she replied dully. Then anger took over. "Jud, you know very well I won't do that!"
She moved to get up and his hard hands came down onto her shoulders, holding her in her chair.
"Wait, hear me out."
It wasn't a request, it was an order. From the boss to the assistant. Anne threw him a mutinous look, but she made no further move to rise.
Jud went on the prowl, back and forth, around his desk, while Anne sat, her back straight as a yardstick, hands clasped tightly on her lap. Finally he came to a stop in front of her, fists jammed aggressively on his hips.
"I've got a deal in the works," he stated flatly, "A very large deal. It would mean a leap forward for this company. So far it's on simmer, but I know I can pull it off. It will give this company new life and we need it. But to do it I have to have control."
He stopped, waiting, his eyes hard and steady on hers, as if willing her to give him what he wanted.
Anne squirmed under that intense stare, longing to give him anything he wanted, knowing she dared not.
"What do you mean, we need it?" Anne began carefully. "We're not in trouble, our profits are good."
"We're stagnating." Jud's tone challenged her to deny his word. "With the rate of inflation our profits have remained static for the last few years. I've gone over the books, Anne. The old man was letting it drift. You can get away with that only so long. Nothing remains static, and the handwriting is on the wall for this firm. If we don't move forward, we'll slip back and once that starts, forget it."
Anne stared at him, unwilling to believe him, yet convinced he was right. If she had learned nothing else about him over the last month, she had learned one thing: In business matters Jud was thorough. But one point bothered her.
"All right, if you say we must make this deal, whatever it is, I believe you. But why must you have complete control? For all intents and purposes you are the head of the company. You have run things since the first day you stepped into this office. Why must you have a majority to close this deal?"
Jud sighed, then patiently, as though he were explaining something to a slow-witted child, he proceeded to enlighten her.
"First of all let me briefly outline what this contract would entail: Expansion, new machinery, a bigger work force. With what this company wants we'd need some new, innovative designers. They know what they want. It would be our job to produce the finished product."
As Jud warmed to his subject, Anne could actually feel the excitement building in him. He had taken the bit between his teeth, now he was all set to run with it.
"We can do it, Anne," he finished forcefully. "I know we can do it." He paused then added softly, "And I want it."
"You still haven't explained why you must have my stock."
He frowned, grimacing. "I would have thought that was self-evident. They won't go with me."
"They," Anne asked softly, "being the twins?"
"Who else?"
He turned away abruptly, his fingers raking through his gold-kissed hair. His tone, his actions, every taut line of his powerful body screamed his disgust at her.
"But why?" Anne cried, almost frightened by the restless, charged aura that surrounded him. "It would be to their advantage too, wouldn't it?"
"Hell, yes," he spun on her with very much like a growl. "But you are and have been aware of their attitude. They are in open revolt. So far in the short amount of time they have spent in the plant, they have made it their business to learn as little as possible about its actual workings. Oh," he snarled, "they have gotten to know a lot of people, have made a lot of friends. They are charming and easy to like, when they want to be. And the employees feel flattered that Judson Cammeron's sons have gone all out to be friendly." Jud's voice grew even thicker with disgust. "But, dammit, Anne, charm and friendliness won't keep the plant running, nor does it scrape together the payroll. In short, Anne, I have talked to them. And they've given me a loud, resounding no. Or, as our so charming Troy put it, 'We're doing fine as we are. Let well enough alone.' "
She should have known without asking. She really should have known. She was, as Jud had pointed out, very well aware of her brothers' attitude toward him. She was also aware of their ignorance in business matters. She had the very uneasy feeling that simply by asking she had set a match to a very short fuse. Keeping her voice low in an effort to dampen some of the fire raging inside him, she offered, "I'll talk to them. Make them see it would be advantageous to everyone if they went along with you."
"Terrific," he snapped sarcastically. "Problems solved. Dammit, Anne, they informed me—smugly—before they left to go back to school, that they will not be home again until after graduation. What the hell do I do in the meantime?"
Anne felt her own anger stir. Who did he think he was talking to? Did he think she was that stupid?
"You negotiate, as you damn well know," she snapped back. "Graduation is only a few weeks away. I promise I'll speak to them at the first opportunity. There's more than enough time."
"And if there isn't?" Jud jibed. "What will you do then?"
He is deliberately pushing, trying to force a commitment from me, playing the odds that I don't know exactly how long a deal of this kind can take to close. Fighting down her mounting anger, Anne arched her eyebrows, widened her eyes innocently and smiled sweetly.
"Cry?"
Jud acknowledged defeat with a quick, rueful grin.
"Okay, you win. I was pretty sure you knew your job, but I had to take the chance." He shrugged, his voice took on a no-nonsense edge. "But I'm not taking any chances with this contract, Anne. You had better be able to convince those two airheads of this, because I meant what I said last night. I'm through playing games. If they insist on fighting me I'll chew them up and spit them out."
The weeks that followed dragged interminably. Not since she'd been a little girl waiting for Christmas had Anne remembered time moving so slowly. She rehearsed and re-rehearsed what she'd say to Troy and Todd, and each new argument she came up with seemed more ineffectual than the last.
She fretted and worried and tried to hide from everyone, including herself, the deep, empty longing that enveloped her whenever Jud was away, which was most of the time. He had, he said, meetings to go to, conferences to attend, his New York office to check out and people to see. Including Lorna? Just the thought of the redhead twisted through Anne like a bent blade. Lord, she asked herself at least every other day, if she was like this now, what would she feel when he left for good? That eventuality didn't bear thinking about, so she didn't. Instead she concentrated on the twins, her work, her mother, the weather. Anything, anything but the pain in store for her.
But time did, as it always does, move forward and the day finally came for Anne and Margaret to drive upstate for Troy and Todd's graduation exercises.
Jud had been in New York for the last four days and when he sauntered into the dining room as Anne was finishing her breakfast she was so surprised she nearly choked on her toast.
"When did you get home?"
"Early this morning," he grunted.
Anne studied him from under her lashes as he walked to the swinging door to the kitchen and asked Mrs. Davis for orange juice, toast, and a pot of coffee. Then she quickly lowered her eyes to her plate when he turned back to the table. He looked tired and harassed and in a very bad humor, but even so, he was the best thing Anne had seen in close to a week and her eyes devoured him hungrily.
He was quiet until after Mrs. Davis had placed his breakfast in front of him and swung out of the room again; then he asked in the same low grunt, "What time are we leaving?"
Try as she would, Anne could not keep the astonishment out of her voice.
"You're going with us?"
As they had the day he came home, his eyes went over her with slow insolence, his expression putting her firmly in her place.
"My dear Anne," he purred silkily, "I think I had to remind you before that Troy and Todd are not
your exclusive property. At the risk of repeating myself, they are my brothers, too. And, yes, whether you approve, or not, I am going with you. Or rather you are going with me, as I'm driving."
"The Beemer?"
"No, I drove the Navigator back. I thought it might come in handy if the twins want us to lug some of their junk home for them. That's why I didn't get back last night. I cancelled my plane reservation and left New York soon after midnight."
Anne wasn't sure she could believe what she'd heard. Jud explaining his actions to her? He must be even more tired than he looks, she reasoned.
"I didn't know you had a Navigator. Or isn't it yours?"
The minute the words were out Anne wished them unsaid. She had no right to pry into what was and was not his and she waited for his verbal slap down. Strangely it didn't come. Instead, Jud refilled his coffee cup, leaned back in his chair, took a sip, then, with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth murmured, "Yes, Anne, it's mine. It's a gas guzzler of course, so I don't drive it very often. Most of the time it just takes up space in the parking garage at my apartment building. I've considered either selling it or bringing it here, but I haven't decided just what I want to do with it." He paused, then added seriously, "You wouldn't want to use it, would you? That car of yours looks like it has about had it. You're welcome to it, if it takes your fancy."
Tired! The man must be near unconsciousness. Unable to resist taking advantage of his sudden mellowness, Anne teased, "No, thank you. But if you want to keep it here and drive it yourself, I'll gladly run the BMW for you."
"You like the Beemer?" Pale brows went up in question.
"Of course I like it," Anne laughed. "It's a super hunk of machinery, and you know it."
"All right, I'll leave the Navigator here and use it myself." He shrugged. "You can have the Beemer."
He meant it! He really meant it!
"No! Jud, really, I couldn't." Flustered, Anne's words tripped over one another. "I didn't mean—I mean I was only teasing—I couldn't take your—"
"Anne, be quiet," Jud sighed. "I know you were only teasing. But I wasn't. I don't trust that heap you drive."
Anne opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with a snap when he chided, "And don't go all moralistic on me. I'm not making you a gift of the car, simply putting it at your disposal. The car will be here, you have my permission to use it, that settles it."
"That settles what?"
Margaret followed her question into the room, her eyes studying Anne's flushed cheeks before swinging to Jud.
"I've just been telling Anne that since I brought my other vehicle back with me, she may as well make use of the BMW, retire that pile of scrap she drives."
"About time too," her mother agreed promptly. "I've been after her for over a year now to buy a new car. I don't think the one she has is entirely safe."
"Mother," Anne sighed in exasperation, "I told you I'll get another car when I can afford it. My car is not all that bad; it passed inspection, you know. Besides I can't use Jud's car, I'd be too afraid of something happening while I had it."
"Don't be silly, dear," Margaret brushed aside her argument. "You are an excellent driver and I really think you should accept Jud's offer."
Anne fumed and stared icicles at Jud, who sat back lazily in his chair, a look of smug complacency on his face.
"Mother," Anne breathed angrily.
"Now, Anne, please don't go on about this. As Jud said, it's settled." The subject closed as far as she was concerned, Margaret calmly poured herself coffee.
Simmering, not daring to look at Jud, afraid that if she did and he still wore that self-satisfied expression she'd throw something at him, Anne spoke through clenched teeth.
"What time would you like to leave, Mother?"
Margaret glanced casually at her wristwatch, then answered calmly, "In a half hour."
"A half hour!"
Two outbursts, one male, one female, as both Anne and Jud jumped out of their chairs. As she went out of the room, Jud at her heels, Anne heard her mother laugh softly.
"Do hurry, children. We'll have to stop for lunch on the way, and you know how I dislike rushing through a meal."
Unbelievable, Anne thought in wonder, as she rushed up the stairs. Apparently even her mother was not immune to the electricity Jud generated, or to his brand of humor either,
"Anne."
Jud's voice stopped her as she reached her door. Anne turned, impatient words hovering on her lips, but all that came out was an angry "Oh," for she saw a set of car keys dangling in front of her face, and two amber eyes glittering with steely purpose.
"Why don't you give in gracefully, Anne? Take the keys."
He is so sure of himself, Anne raged inwardly. So damned confident he's won.
"You know what you can do with your keys."
Spinning around, she grasped the doorknob just as his other arm shot out and his hand was placed flat, fingers spread, on the door panel.
"You're not getting in until you take the keys." His voice was a quiet taunt. "Better hurry, Annie, time's a-wastin'."
She didn't want his damned car. She didn't want anything from him, but the one thing he couldn't give her. Her anger way out of proportion to the situation, Anne turned, sputtering, "You—you have no right insisting I use your stupid car.
“You have no right insisting I do anything. Take your hand away and let me ... Oh!"
His blond head was lowered, and his lips, very close to hers, murmured, "There is only one way to calm a stormy woman."
Her protests were smothered by his mouth, in a kiss Anne felt certain he had meant to bestow lightly. But suddenly he groaned deep in his throat and his arms crushed her against the hard length of his body, his mouth fastened greedily on hers, demanding a response she had no will to refuse.
If only time could stop right here, right now, Anne mused dreamily, allowing her arms to coil up and around his neck, her fingers to slide possessively through his golden mane.
Anne could have remained locked within his arms for the rest of her life, but the old grandfather clock, which had stood in the foyer for as long as she could remember, struck the half hour and brought Anne to her senses.
Pulling away from him, she husked, "All right, I'll take your damned keys. But will you please let me go, we've only a few minutes."
His arms seemed unwilling to release her, his eyes held a strange, moody look and his face was a study in conflict.
"Anne, Annie—wait—I . . ."
Sure he was going to apologize, and not wanting to hear it, Anne pushed gently against his chest.
"Jud, please. We have got to get moving. Mother will have six fits if we are not downstairs when she's ready to leave."
Right on cue, her mother's voice floated up the stairs to them.
"Anne, Jud, why are you standing around the hall talking? Do you realize what time it is?"
With an impatient grunt, Jud dropped his arms, grimaced and strode down the hall to his room.
Much to Anne's surprise, the drive upstate was pleasant and in the soft leather seats of the luxurious Navigator, very comfortable.
At first conversation was minimal as Anne made a pretense of admiring the scenery, Jud concentrated on his driving, and Margaret, ensconced on the back-seat, sifted through the small stack of mail she'd picked up from the hall table as they left the house.
"Oh, Jud, here's a note from Melly," Margaret murmured after some twenty-five minutes of total silence. "She says that as Franklin is doing so well now she'll be able to come up for the twins' celebration."
Melly was Melinda Cammeron Stoughten, Judson Cammeron's twin sister and Jud, Troy, and Todd's only aunt, which was one more than Anne had.
"Yes, I know," Jud answered quietly. "I spoke with her a few days ago. I was going to tell you, but it slipped my mind,"
"How is Franklin, really, Jud?" Margaret asked anxiously. "It was so hard on Melly to lose her—" she faltered, then went on, "her brother, so
soon after waiting through that horribly long operation on Franklin, being unsure for days if he'd live. I know that it tore at her heart not to be able to attend Judson's funeral, but it was impossible for her to leave Franklin at that crucial time."
"Yes, it was a hard time for her." Jud's voice had gentled to a loving softness. "I was with her the day before the funeral and she was in pretty bad shape. As you know, like a lot of twins, Dad and Mel were on the same wavelength."
Turning her head to stare out the window at her side, Anne fought to control her trembling lips, the tears stinging her eyes. She had become resigned to him referring to his father as the old man, even though her mother still winced when he did, but now, not only had he said Dad, he'd said it in a tone that revealed to her some of the pain losing his father had inflicted. Anne ached for him, for the right to comfort him, and she ached for herself too. His expression had been so tender, so full of loving warmth. If he could look like that for a much-loved parent and aunt, what would he be like with a woman he was in love with?
Anne blinked rapidly as an errant thought stabbed her mind. Was Lorna the recipient of his loving glances? She had seen no evidence of it while the beautiful redhead had been in the office, but that meant little. Both Lorna and Jud were too intelligent not to be circumspect in a business atmosphere.
Jealousy, pure and simple, consumed every fiber of Anne's being and along with it an emotion both alien and frightening. Hate—ugly, soul-destroying hate for Lorna—tore at her mind so viciously she had to clamp her lips together to silence a snarling moan.
This can't be happening to me, her mind screamed in protest. I can't let this happen. I feel like I'm losing my mind and I can't bear it. What I feel for him can't be love. Love is supposed to be a tender emotion, overflowing with compassion and understanding. If I loved him, really loved him, I'd want his happiness more than anything else, even if that happiness could only be achieved with someone else. But I don't feel that way,she cried in silent anguish, what I feel is totally selfish. I want to be the one he reserves his most loving glances for; I want to be the one he hurries to when he leaves his office, and I want to be the only one he can't wait to have in his arms, in his bed.
