Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12

by Various Authors

  “Answering your question.” Daniel waved him away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You want to go over the sales report now?”

  Daniel stood up and flexed his shoulders. “Nah. You take care of it. Let me know if there’s anything I need to worry about.”

  Cullen stood with him. “You sure?”

  “You’re a good sales manager. I ever mention that?”

  “Dad?”

  Daniel rounded the desk and clapped his son on the shoulder. “No. You’re a great sales manager.”

  “You okay?”

  “Not really.” He urged Cullen toward the door. “But I’m working on it.”

  Cullen looked at him strangely, but allowed himself to be ushered into the reception area.

  As Cullen left, Daniel stopped beside Nancy’s desk. “Can you do a little research for me?”

  She picked up a pad and pen. “Of course.”

  “Find some comparable-size companies and see if anybody has family leave.”

  “Family leave?”

  “For sick kids and stuff.”

  Nancy gazed at him.

  “Time off. When your kids are sick, or your parents have medical appointments.”

  “Is this about Guy Lundin?”

  Daniel smiled. “I definitely hired you for your brain.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” she said.

  Daniel turned. Then he turned back. “How’s your family?”

  She squinted at him, hesitating for a second. “They’re fine.”

  “Your kids are…”

  “Sarah’s nine and Adam’s seven.”

  “Right. They like school?”

  Nancy blinked. “Yes.”

  Daniel nodded. “That’s good.” He tapped his knuckles on her desk before turning to walk back into his office.

  Sarah and Adam. He’d have to make a note of that.

  He eased down into his chair again and picked up his phone. He had Amanda’s office number memorized now, so he dialed it directly.

  “Amanda Elliott’s office,” Julie answered.

  “Hi, Julie. It’s Daniel.”

  “I’m not supposed to put you through.”

  “Yeah, I figured that.”

  “You wanna bribe me?”

  Daniel chuckled, liking Julie better and better all the time. “What’ll it take?”

  “Some more of those gold foil chocolates Amanda brought in.”

  “They’ll be on your desk in an hour.”

  “Amanda can speak with you right away.” The line clicked and went silent.

  “Amanda Elliott.”

  “It’s me.”

  Silence.

  “I took your advice today.” He waited.

  “What advice?”

  Bingo. He’d have put money on that line working. “I’ve ordered a review of family leave provisions for the employee manual.”

  “Ordered?”

  “Okay. I asked my secretary to look into it. Her kids’ names are Sarah and Adam, by the way.”

  “You had to find that out, didn’t you?”

  “I think the important point here is that I did find that out.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you credit for that.” There was a smile in her voice.

  He jumped at the opening. “Go out with me again, Amanda.”

  “Daniel—”

  “Anywhere you want. Anything you want. You name it.”

  “This is not going to work.”

  Panic surged in the pit of his stomach. “You can’t know that. We don’t even know what we’re doing, where we’re going. If you don’t know what this is, how can you know that it won’t work?”

  “You ever thought of becoming a litigator?”

  “What’s your gut telling you, Amanda?”

  “My gut?”

  “Your instincts. You’re the one who’s big on instinct and spontaneity. Forget logic—”

  “Forget logic?”

  He slowed himself down. “Go with emotion on this one, Amanda. If I can take your advice, surely you can take it, too.”

  Her voice went soft. “That’s not fair, Daniel.”

  He matched his tone to hers. “Who said anything about fair?”

  She sighed. “Anywhere I want?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A picnic. At the beach.”

  “Sunday at five.”

  She hesitated for another couple of heartbeats. “All right.”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  “No limo.”

  “I promise.”

  To be fair, Amanda had only specified that he couldn’t use a limo. Too bad she hadn’t thought to ban helicopters.

  The chopper set them down on the helipad of the Carmichael estate on Nantucket. The Carmichaels were in London, but they’d given Daniel permission to use their private beach. And apparently they’d offered their staff, as well, or else Daniel had hired staff specifically for the occasion.

  It was on the beach. And there was food. But that was where the resemblance to a picnic ended.

  A round table had been set up on a flat stretch of sand between the lapping waves and the rocky cliffs. A white tablecloth flapped in the light breeze, held down by flowers, hurricane lamps, crystal and fine china. A maître d’stood at attention, and he appeared to be wearing a Secret Service headset.

  Daniel pulled out one of the padded chairs and gestured for her to sit down. “I asked them to time the entrée for sunset.”

  “This is a picnic?” As soon as her butt hit the cushion, the maître d’ sprang into action.

  He muttered something into his microphone then laid her napkin across her lap.

  “We’re starting with margaritas,” Daniel said, sitting down across from her.

  “Margaritas?” asked Amanda.

  “I hope you like them. If not, I can arrange—”

  “I like them just fine. But, Daniel…”

  “Yes?”

  “This isn’t a picnic.”

  He glanced around. “What do you mean?”

  “A picnic is fried chicken and chocolate cake on a blanket, battling ants—”

  “I think we can skip the ants.”

  “—maybe cheap wine in paper cups.”

  “Now you’re just being ornery. People drink margaritas on beaches all over the world.”

  “At resorts. They don’t bring a blender to a picnic. Where would you plug it in?”

  “Who brought a blender?”

  “That’s how you get margaritas.”

  “The bartender is making them in the house. Now relax.”

  At that moment, the bartender appeared with two frosty lime margaritas in hand. At least Amanda thought it was the bartender. Perhaps Daniel had also hired a cocktail waiter.

  Daniel thanked the man, who then withdrew back up the wooden stairs to the house.

  Amanda took a sip of her margarita. It was delicious. It just wasn’t rustic.

  “We’re starting with a shrimp Creole appetizer,” said Daniel.

  “Stop trying to impress me.” She hadn’t come here to see Daniel’s money at work. She’d come here to see Daniel.

  He sat back. “This is a date. Why wouldn’t I try to impress you?”

  Maybe it was time to tell him she was a sure thing. She smiled to herself. Before this night was over, she was going to fight her way through to the real Daniel, then she was making love to him.

  “What?” he asked, watching her smile.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I was wondering about the employee manual.”

  “Nancy did a terrific job researching. We’re putting forward a proposal to Dad.”

  “You’re going to offer family leave?”

  “We’re going to propose it.”

  Amanda took a sip of the tart margarita. “What made you change your mind?”

  “About looking at my employees as people?”

  She nodded.

  “You did, of course.”

  She felt a
warm glow. “Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you. You push and prod and poke and probe—”

  “You make me sound so appealing.”

  He grinned. “You are rather relentless.”

  “So are you.”

  “Hey, I gave up.”

  She stilled. He made an interesting point. Daniel had sincerely tried to understand her perspective, whereas she hadn’t budged a single inch.

  The rhythm of the waves increased and a group of gulls called on the air currents high above.

  Amanda flicked her hair out of her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head and revived her smile. “Nothing. Tell me about the CEO competition.”

  “What about it?”

  “Are you going to win?”

  Daniel shrugged. “We’re coming up fast on Web site subscriptions.”

  “There are four months left.”

  “But Charisma always has a strong December.”

  Amanda nodded, toying with the stem on her frosted glass. “Will you be disappointed if you lose?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Of course. I play to win.”

  “I know. But ego aside—”

  “I don’t have an ego.”

  Amanda laughed. “Oh, Daniel.”

  He looked genuinely confused. “What?”

  “You mean to tell me having the job is more important than winning the game?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s the same thing.”

  She shook her head, flicking her hair again as the breeze freshened. “It’s two completely different things.”

  “How?”

  Another uniformed waiter appeared with their appetizer.

  After he left, Daniel asked his question again. “How?”

  Amanda took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to say. “Take off your jacket.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  When he didn’t move, she stood up and walked around to his chair. As she reached for his lapels, storm clouds rumbled on the distant horizon.

  He pulled back. “What are you doing?”

  She grasped his jacket and tugged it over his shoulders. “I’m peeling away the layers.”

  “The layers?”

  “To get to the real you.”

  “I think that’s metaphorical. And I am the real me.”

  She tugged on his sleeve. “How do you know?”

  He finally gave up and shrugged out of his jacket. “Because I’ve been the real me my entire life.”

  Amanda went to work on his tie. “What does the real you want?”

  He looked straight into her eyes. “You.”

  Okay. That was a good answer. “I meant professionally.”

  “I want to be CEO. Why is it so inconceivable to you that I want the top job in a company where I’ve worked my whole life?”

  She released the knot in his tie and pulled it from around his neck. “Because I think people, your family, have been putting things in front of you for forty years and then telling you you’re supposed to want them.”

  “Like what?”

  She dropped the tie on the table. “For starters? Me.”

  He looked to his right and then to his left. “I don’t see my family urging me on here.”

  “I meant after high school.”

  He pulled her into his lap. “Hey, that was just you and me on prom night. Nobody told me to want you.”

  “They told you to marry me.”

  “You were pregnant.”

  “They told you to come back to the family firm.”

  “We needed the money.”

  “They told you to stay on this continent.”

  Daniel snapped his jaw shut. “I stayed for you.”

  She shook her head. “You stayed because they told you to stay. Whose idea was it for you to marry Sharon?”

  “Mine.” But he flinched, then went quiet.

  “Whose idea was it for you to try for the CEO position?”

  Daniel stared at her.

  “What do you want, Daniel?”

  Thunder boomed closer this time, and lightning flashed in the darkening sky as the first fat drops of rain hit the sand.

  Daniel turned to the maître d’. “Have them bring out the canopy, Curtis.”

  Amanda jumped up from Daniel’s lap. “No!”

  “What?”

  “No canopy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Layers, Daniel.”

  He peered at her. “Are you, like, clinically insane?”

  She leaned closer. “Can you send that man away?”

  “Will I be safe alone with you?”

  “Maybe.”

  He hesitated, and another thunderclap echoed against the cliffs. “You can go inside, Curtis. We’ll be fine.”

  Curtis nodded and headed for the staircase.

  “So, we’re going to stay out here and get wet?” Daniel asked.

  “Yeah. Life’s messy. Get used to it.”

  “Can I put my jacket back on?”

  “No.”

  “You want it?”

  The rain began in earnest, and Amanda spread her arms wide. “No.”

  “Dinner’s ruined,” he pointed out.

  “We’ll order pizza later.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Now?” She climbed back into his lap, wrapping her arms around his dampening shirt and slicking back his wet hair.

  This was Daniel. This was real. This was what she’d been waiting for.

  “Now,” she said, “we make love.”

  Ten

  Daniel stared at Amanda’s wet hair, her clingy blouse and her loose chinos.

  He’d pictured this moment, pictured it a million times. But there was always a bed, satin sheets, champagne. “Here?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed, kicking out her legs. “Right here.”

  “You’ll get cold.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He glanced at the yachts moored in the bay. “Somebody might see us.”

  “They’d need a telephoto lens.”

  “Yeah.” As if that had ever been a deterrent.

  “Afraid you’ll end up on the cover of your own magazine?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda.”

  “Kiss me, Daniel.”

  He gazed at her moist mouth. It was tempting. Boy, was it tempting. “You’ll get sand stuck to your butt.”

  “My butt will survive.”

  He wanted this to be memorable. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted this to be a moment she’d cherish. “Can we at least go inside?”

  She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his mouth. “Not a chance.”

  Her lips were cool and damp and sexy as hell.

  “Amanda,” he groaned in protest.

  “Here and now, wet and wild, cold and sandy, risking yachting voyeurs.” She kissed him again, longer this time, deeper, their lips warming to each other.

  “I don’t remember you being like this,” he mumbled before initiating the next kiss.

  “You weren’t paying close enough attention.” She plucked at the buttons of his shirt.

  Losing track of the argument, he returned the favor, separating the fabric of her blouse and sliding his hand beneath it. “Oh, yes, I was,” he breathed, inhaling deeply. “I remember every square inch of your skin.”

  “Every single one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to see them again?”

  He spared one more worried glance at the boats bobbing just offshore. It was getting pretty dark. If he spread his coat behind the skirt of the tablecloth, her modesty would be well protected.

  Curtis wouldn’t let any of the staff come back down unless Daniel called for them.

  “Yes,” he answered, making the only possible decision. “Oh, yes.”

  Amanda pulled back, shifting so that she straddled his lap. The
n she gave him a saucy, mischievous grin and slowly peeled away the wet fabric of her blouse, baring her breasts.

  Lightning flashed, and her alabaster skin glowed slick in the white light.

  His world stilled. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed one breast, then the other, tasting her delicate skin, testing the texture with his tongue, drawing out the moment, second after exquisite second. Her skin was as sweet as he remembered. He used to crave her taste, revel in her scent, count the minutes until he could hold her and become one with her.

  The raindrops clattered, and the waves roared onto the shore. The thunder rumbled the very earth beneath them, but he blanked out everything but the gorgeous woman in his arms. Her skin was slick and wet, and impossibly smooth. Her murmurs of encouragement stoked his desire.

  He couldn’t stop holding her, but he had to make love to her. He finally stood, lifting her with him and holding her close. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she burrowed her face in his neck, lips suckling, tongue laving his sensitive skin.

  He lowered her feet to the sand, kissing her deeply as he flicked his coat out on the wet beach.

  She stepped back, peeling away the rest of her wet clothes, and the lightning flashes gave him tantalizing glimpses of her naked body—her rounded breasts, the tight pink nipples, her smooth stomach and the dark triangle that led between her legs.

  Every muscle in his body grew taut, and he reached out a trembling hand to cup her hip.

  It was like the Boca Royce pool, only better than the pool. Her curves were wet and smooth and ripe, but this time he could touch her. He could hold her. He could make the world melt away between them.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, slowly drawing her toward him. His arms wrapped around her naked body, and raw lust overtook his system. There was something incredibly erotic about a naked woman on a dark, windswept beach. For a split second he wondered why they’d never done this before.

  Then, impatient, he laid her back on the blanket of his coat, shucking his clothes, following her down, putting them out of the wind, behind the protection of the tablecloth.

  She smiled at his nakedness, her gaze caressing his entire body. Then she reached for him, twining her fingers in his damp hair, cupping his face and urging him down for a long, searing kiss.

  The raindrops practically sizzled against his heated skin. She was the sexiest, most amazing woman alive, and it was all he could do to keep from taking her in the next five seconds.