He smiled. “My legal people say otherwise, Angelica.”
She stiffened. “What did you call me?”
“Angelica. That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but…” But what? Why should the sound of her own name so surprise her?
Maybe it was because it was months since anyone had used it. The men who worked for her had flatly refused.
“We couldn’t do that, ma’am,” they’d said.
But she couldn’t let them call her Miss Gordon. The male-female barrier was artificial and counterproductive. Every book that dealt with the psychology of leadership made that clear.
Eventually, one brave soul had addressed her as A.H. The nickname had stuck. Emily had adopted it and Angelica had even come to think of herself that way. Now, to hear her name on Cade’s lips…
Wasn’t there some pagan superstition that said you were in jeopardy if the enemy learned your name?
“Well? Is Angelica your name, or isn’t it?”
Angelica looked at Cade. Stop being dumb, she told herself sharply, and she nodded.
“It is.”
“Good. At least we agree on something.”
Cade rose and began walking around the cramped office. He frowned at the stack of mail on Angelica’s desk, ran his finger over the computer printouts that hung like torn wallpaper from the printer in the corner, finally paused beside a bank of file cabinets. He peered at the labeled drawers, then pulled one open.
“Where do you keep your current inventory listing?”
Angelica’s chair squealed in protest as she shoved it back.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Is this it?” he said, taking a folder from the drawer.
She snatched it. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing—”
“Not me, sugar. I’ve been on the up and up since I walked in here yesterday.”
He reached past her and took out another folder, but Angelica grabbed it from him, too.
“Cade,” she said through her teeth, “I have a busy schedule this morning, and—”
“You don’t have any kind of schedule this morning.”
“That’s nonsense! Did Emily tell you that? Because if she did—”
“She didn’t have to. I looked at your appointment calendar.”
Color flamed in Angelica’s face. She turned, slapped the file folders on her desk, then put her hands on her hips.
“You have two minutes to walk out that door,” she said coldly. “After that, I’ll call the police and tell them you’re trespassing.” Her smile was quick and chill. “And—before you ask—the phone lines are working today.”
Cade wanted to laugh, but the woman looked as if she’d slug him if he did. And then he’d be in real trouble, because he knew he’d retaliate by picking her up, turning her over his knee and giving her the paddling she so roundly deserved.
Besides, Grant had warned him. Be cool, be subtle and find out what you can.
He took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t come here to quarrel. I came for information. You made a statement yesterday, and—”
“And you want proof.’’
His eyes narrowed. She sounded so composed. Was there proof? Had two crazy old men hacked out a memorandum that would give Landon’s legal department ulcers for the millennium?
“Yes,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face, “I do.”
Angelica nodded. She turned, walked around her desk and sat down.
“My father and yours had a verbal agreement.”
Cade gave her a tight smile. Landon’s legal eagles might still end up with ulcers, but at least he’d been prepared for this.
“Really,” he said, his face expressionless. He watched her for a long moment but she didn’t stir or even blink. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why would my father have agreed to such a foolish restriction?”
Angelica bit her lip. Why, indeed? It was a good question, an excellent question. Sooner or later, she’d have to come up with an answer. For the time being, all she could do was bluff.
“I’ve no idea,” she said politely. “But then, figuring out your father’s motives isn’t my problem.”
A muscle knotted in Cade’s jaw. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Angelica permitted herself a small, self-satisfied smile. “I don’t have to do anything,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
“No?”
“No. If you decide to contest my right to remain in charge of this company—”
“If I decide to contest it?”
Cade’s voice sounded soft, almost silken; only later would she realize that it was neither, that it was, instead, dark with menace.
“Why, yes,” she said, almost pleasantly. “If you should choose to contest my right—”
Cade came around the desk so fast that all she could do was gasp. He bent to her, clasped her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.
“This is my company, and don’t you forget it. As for your story that there was some kind of verbal agreement…” He smiled coldly. “Hell, sugar, that doesn’t mean a damn. It’s nothing but a bold-faced lie!”
Angelica stared at him, fire blazing in her eyes. “I refuse to dignify that remark with an answer!”
“What’s the matter, sugar? Afraid of the truth?”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Don’t call you what?”
“Sugar,” she said with ice in her voice.
His smile was taut and mirthless. “Why not? Does it offend your lamebrain feminist agenda?”
“Listen here, you—you bully—”
“Me? A bully?” Cade laughed, but his eyes were chill. “Hell, I think I’ve been more than civil, all things considered.”
“Goodbye, Cade. We have nothing more to say to each other.”
His hands tightened on her, until she could feel the press of each finger.
“You know what I think? I think you’d label any man who stood up to you a bully.”
Angelica laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding! You come strutting into my office as if you were some—some jackbooted storm trooper and order me out as if I were just a poor little female and then you get annoyed when I call you what you are?” She tossed her head. “What’s the problem, Cade? Don’t you know what to do with a woman like me?”
It was a stupid thing to have said, she knew that as soon as she’d said it, but it was too late. Cade laughed and his arms went around her.
“Hell,” he said, “I know exactly what to do with a woman like you.”
She cried out as his mouth dropped to hers. Her hands came up in defence and fisted against his chest but he only drew her closer.
“Stop it,” she said fiercely, twisting her face from his, “stop it, do you hear me? The only thing you’re proving is that I’m right, that you are a bully—”
His mouth covered hers again as he spun her around and trapped her against the desk. His hands went into her hair, pulling out the rubber band that held it at her nape, and coppery curls spilled into his waiting fingers.
Cade twisted the strands around his hand and kissed her harder.
Angelica began to tremble. She wanted to push him from her, to hit him and tell him he was everything she despised…
Oh, but the feel of his mouth on hers! The feel of that hard, powerful body, the thought of the callused hands on her soft, expectant flesh, the honeyed surrender that would be possible with a man like him…
Cade took her face in his hands. “Open your mouth,” he said, in a voice thick with passion. “Let me taste you.”
Liquid heat shot through her blood. With a soft whimper of mindless submission, she gave him her mouth, parting her lips to the thrust of his tongue, letting him fill her with his taste. Her hands opened; she spread them over his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt, measuring his thundering heartbeat.
Cade drew her jacket from her
shoulders, trapping her within its soft folds. He bent his head and pressed his lips to her throat while he whispered her name, and then his hands moved lightly over her sweater and cupped her breasts. Angelica gave a startled cry as she felt his hands on her. Blindly, she moved closer to him, her nipples tightening and budding against his seeking palms, her body aching for the hardness of his arousal…
The door slammed open. “A.H.,” Emily said, “I really am sorry to bother you and Mr. Landon, but—”
Time stood still. Angelica caught a glimpse of her secretary’s frozen face, and then Cade swung toward the door, blocking Angelica from view.
“Yes?” he said, so calmly she knew, without question, that everything that had just happened had been a deliberate, cold-blooded reminder of exactly who held the power here.
“Uh—uh…” Emily gulped audibly. “It’s not important. I, uh, I just wanted to—to tell Miss Gordon that—that I was going to take my lunch hour early today.”
“That’s fine,” Cade said, very coolly. “In the future, please check with me first.”
Emily nodded, then slipped out the door. As soon as it closed, Angelica spoke.
“You wasted your time,” she said coldly. “Nothing you can do will convince me that you’re in charge, not that—that disgusting demonstration of macho power or that remark you just made to Emily.”
Cade looked at her. A moment ago, he’d thought he might have found a real woman inside Angelica Gordon. But she was nothing but a cold-blooded, headstrong machine, driven by the need to succeed at any cost. As for Gordon Oil—she would rather ruin it than admit she couldn’t run it.
London, and Dumai, would have to wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE was no sign of Cade the next day but Angelica wasn’t deceived. Maybe she’d scored some points in a verbal skirmish, but the war was far from over.
By late morning, after she’d taken her dusty copy of Management Psychology from the shelves and scanned the chapters, her dream of even a small victory had faded. Going head to head with a man like Cade Landon was just playing his game.
And he had all the aces.
Angelica closed the textbook, leaned her elbows on her desk and propped her head in her hands.
“I knew that,” she muttered wearily. “I knew that, but I let myself be drawn into an argument anyway.”
Damn! If that was the effect the man had on her—if he could get her so blazing angry that she forgot everything she’d ever learned—she was never going to be able to pull off this stunt.
She knew what had to be done. She had to be on her guard, keep from giving him any more chances to confuse her and push her around. The trick was to stay one step ahead of him, to seem to exercise her own power before he had the opportunity to prove his.
The intercom buzzed. Angelica picked up the phone.
“A.H.?” Emily’s voice was hushed. “It’s Mr. Landon.”
Angelica looked at the copy of Management Psychology and touched it gently.
“A.H.? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Emily,” she said with studied calmness. “Of course. Tell Mr. Landon to come in.”
“I didn’t mean he was here, A.H. I meant that he’s on line one.”
Angelica nodded and steeled herself for the sound of Cade’s voice.
“Put him through, please.”
Emily cleared her throat. “He, uh, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“He doesn’t?” Angelica straightened in her chair. “What does he want, then?”
“He, uh, he wants me to fax some stuff to him at his hotel.”
“Stuff?” Angelica said carefully.
“Yes. Purchase orders, contracts, bills—that sort of thing.”
Angelica’s mouth thinned. “Well, you can tell Mr. Landon that he can take his requests and shove them…” She paused, swallowed hard and glanced at the psychology textbook sitting on her desk. “…and shove them into his briefcase,” she finished lamely.
“Uh-huh.”
“And Emily—I’m glad you had the presence of mind to check with me before doing anything.”
“Well, I would have, of course—but, actually, it was Mr. Landon who suggested it.” Emily gave an embarrassed little laugh. “He said that although he has complete authority, he wanted you informed before I followed through on his order. As a courtesy, you know?”
Angelica took a steadying breath. “Fax him whatever he wants,” she said. “Just keep a list of the items you provide him, please, so that I know exactly what—”
“Oh, sure. He already told me to do that, too.”
Angelica sprang up from her desk, knocking Management Psychology to the floor in the process.
“Thank you,” she snarled, and slammed down the phone.
A couple of minutes passed. Angelica sighed. She picked up the book, dusted it off and put it back on her desk. Then she stepped out of her office.
“Sorry, Emily,” she said. “I let my temper get the best of me for a couple of minutes.”
Emily shrugged. “You’ve been under a lot of stress, A.H. I understand.”
“I hope you do. That man, that Cade Landon…”
The telephone rang. Emily picked it up, listened, then put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“It’s the bank,” she whispered, and handed the phone to Angelica.
“Mr. Carruthers,” Angelica said warily. “How nice to hear from you. If this is about the installment that’s due on that note—”
But the call had nothing to do with the overdue payment. The banker explained that there was a Mr. Cade Landon in his office.
‘‘He seems to have the necessary authority to see copies of your bank statements, Miss Gordon. I, um, I thought you might wish to be made aware…”
Angelica put her fingers to the bridge of her nose and pinched lightly.
“Yes, I understand,” she said evenly. “Thank you for calling.”
By late afternoon, the phone was ringing off the hook. Emily’s throat rasped and Angelica’s head was pounding. The little office had never been besieged with so many calls before.
Apparently, Cade was putting in appearances everywhere, meeting with Angelica’s subcontractors, with her messenger service, with the small and large firms that supplied her with parts for the pumps and paper for the office and every damned thing in between.
Angelica looked at Management Psychology,still sitting on her desk but now buried under the seemingly endless list of files Emily had faxed to Cade.
Stay calm, she told herself. Don’t lose your cool. Be accommodating and businesslike and wait for the right moment to show him the graphs and pie charts and computer printouts that will surely make him understand why it’s going to take time to turn things around here.
At five, Emily announced that she was either coming down with the worst cold of her life or losing her voice completely. She was going to go home, brew a pot of tea and climb into bed.
“A good idea,” Angelica said wearily. “I think I’ll head straight for bed myself, pull the covers up over my head and sleep till—”
“Just be sure and set the alarm clock first.”
Angelica spun toward the door. Cade was standing there watching her, just as he had the first time she’d seen him, except this time his expression was grim.
“I’m off,” Emily said, her voice a hoarse squeak. She shot Angelica a quick smile and scurried past Cade, out the door.
“Well,” Angelica said, forcing a smile to her lips, “what a surprise, Cade. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have asked Emily to prepare coffee or—”
“I didn’t come here for coffee.”
Angelica’s smile wavered just a little. “No, of course not. But you’ve had such a busy day, I thought—”
“Tell me something, lady. Is there anybody in Dallas you don’t owe money to?”
Angelica swallowed hard. Be calm, she told herself, just be calm.
“I know it must seem that way,” she said ca
refully, “but that’s only because you’re not familiar with the oil business. If you were aware of its special problems and needs, you—”
“You’re up to those gorgeous eyes of yours in debt, sugar. Are you aware of that!”
Gorgeous eyes? Cade frowned. Why in hell had he said that? Dammit, his brain was probably fried, thanks to the hours he’d just spent staring at column after column of red ink.
Not that the woman had noticed his nonsensical slip of the tongue. She was too busy trying to control her temper. Her creamy skin was turning the same color as her hair, and the breasts she seemed so intent on disguising under yet another boxy suit jacket were rising and falling so quickly that it looked as if she’d just broken the record for the mile.
“I’m carrying some debt, yes. But—”
“But,” Cade said, “you’ve got half a dozen charts and printouts to explain the reasons for it.”
Angelica frowned. “Emily didn’t tell me you’d asked for copies of my audiovisuals.”
“Copies of your…” Cade began to laugh. “Damn, but that’s good! Your audiovisuals, hm? Oh, I like that. I like that a lot.”
Angelica’s spine stiffened. The desire to slap the arrogant grin from his handsome face was almost overpowering. She turned on her heel, walked to her desk and began stuffing things into her briefcase.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d get to the point. Why are you here?”
“Suppose I said I’ve come to give you one last chance to admit the truth, that there never was any verbal agreement between your father and mine? What would you say to that?”
“I’d say you were wasting my time and yours. Now, if that’s all you want—”
Cade’s hand dropped on her shoulder. Angelica caught her breath in surprise. He was such a big man, yet she’d never even heard his footsteps as he crossed the room. But she could feel him behind her now, feel the faint brush of his hard body against hers, the pressure of his fingers as he turned her toward him.
“You do know how to push a man, sugar,” he said softly.
She looked up. His eyes were narrowed, the irises enormous and black within narrow bands of deep blue. A smile so dangerous it made her pulse quicken tilted across his mouth.
An Indecent Proposal Page 6
