by Julie Cannon
Tate carried herself with an ease that said she was comfortable with herself in any surroundings. She obviously knew her smoldering sensuality made more than a few heads in any room turn. Victoria almost choked when she actually thought about Tate sexually. She never had fantasies like this during business dealings. In fact, she never had thoughts like this when she wasn’t working. Something was definitely wrong with that scenario, she realized.
“Would you like to join me?” Victoria asked Tate, who seemed as surprised at the invitation as she herself was.
“Better the enemy you know?”
“Something like that,” Victoria replied, a little breathless. She moved her folder off the chair next to her and tapped on the seat, indicating for Tate to sit down.
The waiter appeared out of nowhere and took Tate’s drink order. When he left, Tate concentrated her full attention on her and Victoria felt the effect. The sounds of the restaurant diminished, the lighting became sharper, her senses more focused. The feeling shocked her, and she took another sip of her drink to give herself a minute to regain control.
Tate asked after her drink arrived, “What would your boss say if he saw us sitting together?”
“That I was learning more about the competition.” Victoria tossed the question back at her. “How about yours?”
“Who was that beautiful woman you were having a drink with?” Tate replied smoothly.
Victoria touched her fork, a nervous gesture. “Really?” she asked skeptically.
“Actually, he’d say something crude, but the gist would be the same. And you are a beautiful woman.”
The way Tate said beautiful woman made Victoria feel every bit a woman. She hadn’t thought of herself as feminine lately, or even female. She was all about work, work, work, without a minute to herself in weeks. She liked to pamper herself on Sundays by visiting the spa for a full-body massage, facial, and manicure. It had been months since she’d seen the inside of the salon. She didn’t need the pretense of perfect hair and makeup, but lately even the sexy lingerie she wore under her business suits wasn’t doing the trick. The woman in her was flattered, the businesswoman slightly annoyed that Tate was hitting on her.
“Thank you,” she managed to say without sounding too affected by the compliment. “I understand you work for Clayton Sumner.” It was both a statement and a question. Victoria’s heart tripped when Tate smiled and chuckled softly. It tripped again when Tate pinned her eyes.
“And I understand you work for Edward Hamacher,” Tate countered. Tate held her gaze. “He’s a first-class prick.”
Victoria wasn’t sure she heard Tate correctly. Had she just called the chairman of her board a prick? Her face must have given away her confusion.
“You heard me correctly, he’s a prick. I went to college with his daughter, and if he’s anything like he was as a father, he’s, well…” Tate didn’t need to finish her comment.
“Really?” Victoria was surprised at how easily Tate voiced her opinion on her business without regard to the potential consequences.
“Really. His daughter hated going home on the weekends. He would summon her, and she knew he would cut her off immediately if she disobeyed. He never hit her or anything like that, but he had control over her that made me sick.”
“I’d rather not talk about Edward, if you don’t mind. He is, after all, my boss.” Victoria wanted to hear more but didn’t trust this woman and certainly didn’t want to give the impression she agreed with her. Even though she did.
“Fair enough. How do you know Braxton’s wife?” She had obviously noticed his comment to Victoria at their first meeting.
“I played volleyball for UCLA. His wife, or actually his girlfriend at the time, played for Stanford. We beat them for the NCAA Championship.”
“Ouch. I hope he doesn’t hold that against you.”
The waiter hovered, waiting to take their dinner order. Tate looked at Victoria hopefully. “Did your invitation include dinner or is this just a drive-by chat?”
Victoria weighed her options. She could eat alone for the umpteenth time this month or allow Tate to remain and get to know her better.
“If you’re hungry, you’re welcome.”
“Okay. What are you having?” Tate easily changed the subject.
Victoria hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu, but she had been craving pasta when she came in. Now she wasn’t hungry for anything except Tate, whose charm and physical magnetism captivated her. The attraction between them was so strong Victoria would have to be on her toes not to let herself fall into it.
She focused on her menu, acutely aware of Tate looking at her over the top of hers. “I think I’ll have the stuffed shells. You?” She lifted her eyes and kept her gaze steady.
“I feel decadent tonight.” Tate hesitated and her eyes changed to a smoldering green. “I’m having the chicken Alfredo. Heart attack on a plate. I’m going to live on the edge.”
Victoria had the impression that Tate more often than not lived a little dangerously. She seemed to embrace life unabashedly—took what she wanted and left nothing behind. Victoria shuddered, then flexed her shoulders in a weak attempt to disguise her reaction.
“So, Victoria. May I call you Victoria?” Tate asked politely. Victoria nodded. “What do you do when you’re not trying to buy companies?”
The bread had arrived and Victoria cut off a piece. “I run one,” she replied, spreading butter over the warm bread.
“So I gather. Besides that? What do you do for fun?” Tate tore off a chunk of bread and popped it in her mouth all in one motion.
“Fun?” Victoria asked, feeling as if she had never heard the word before. Actually she had lost her train of thought when Tate’s mouth opened and she spotted her tongue just before she closed it with the bread inside.
“Yes, you know fun? The things you do when you’re not working?” Tate tore off another piece of bread and leaned back in her chair. “Please don’t tell me all you do is work? All work and no play makes you a dull girl.”
Victoria opened her mouth to say something caustic, but changed her mind when she saw amusement glinting in Tate’s eyes. “I’m not a dull girl,” she replied emphatically.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Wanna skip all this pretense and just go back to my room?” Tate propositioned her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Pulse pounding in her ears and throbbing between her legs from Tate’s blatant advance, Victoria was somehow able to reply. “And why would I want to do that?”
The waiter delivered their meal and Tate took a bite of her dinner. “Mmm,” she moaned, then looked directly at Victoria. “Just like I wanted it. Sinfully delicious.”
Victoria was speechless while Tate took another bite, then said, “Because we’re attracted to each other and I think we could have some fun. I know I would.”
Victoria went from mesmerized to stunned that Tate was actually proposing that they have sex. They were fighting for the same company. Why in God’s name did she think Victoria would roll over, for lack of a better phrase, and jump into bed with her? Did she look desperate or lonely or simply stupid?
Wanting to slap the smug expression off Tate’s face, Victoria stabbed her pasta instead. It would not be in her best interest to piss this woman off, however much she wanted to. She decided to play along instead, knowing she would never have sex with Tate.
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“No complaints that I’ve heard. Why? Have you heard something?” Tate pretended to be fearful of her response.
Tate was charming in a rogue kind of way, with her quick wit and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She was very attractive, her face free of flaws except a tiny mole on her jawline. Her neatly shaped eyebrows were raised in expectation of Victoria’s answer to her question. “Do I look like the kind of woman who would kiss and tell?”
“That’s another reason why we shou
ld hurry and have dessert in bed. Because you won’t kiss and tell.” Tate’s eyes were smoldering, like embers reflected from the soft candlelight in the center of the table.
Victoria squeezed her legs together under the safety of the long tablecloth, which did little to assuage the throbbing that was distracting her from thinking clearly. But that only made the feeling worse. She resented the way her body was betraying her.
“As tempted as I am, I’ll try to restrain myself.” She was tempted; very tempted. Jeez, Victoria thought. Didn’t I just say there was no way I’d have sex with her? God, this woman is a magnet.
Tate laid on the charm that Victoria imagined had won over more than a few hesitant women. “Ah, come on. Live a little.”
Victoria reached down deep in her conscious self for control. “I’m quite happy with my life right now, thank you.”
Tate pressed her leg against Victoria’s. “You sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
Oh, there’s plenty you can do to change my mind, but I have too much to lose for a night of sex, even if it is with you. She forced an upbeat smile. “Nope, not a thing.” She was certain Tate saw right through her.
Chapter Nine
The coffee was hot and Tate burned her tongue. Shit! Another thing I didn’t need. Along with a sleepless night she’d stubbed her toe on the doorjamb on her way to the shower this morning—all because she couldn’t stop thinking about Victoria. She had arrived at Braxton’s regional headquarters early, hoping to have a few minutes alone with Victoria. She woke up this morning wanting to see her, and even though she was excited she was also troubled. She would do anything to learn more about Victoria’s plans to acquire Braxton, including flirting and flattering her. Her first impression of Victoria had drastically changed, and Tate was surprised to find her intelligent and oddly attractive.
Their dinner had ended too soon, and when Victoria jumped into a cab after paying the bill, Tate felt alone. It was ridiculous. She was in one of the largest cities in the world. She went back into the restaurant but this time sat at the bar drinking until she got herself together enough to go back to her hotel room. It was as empty as she knew it would be, and when she did sleep she dreamed of Victoria.
Victoria entered the conference room, accompanied by at least eight other people. She was wearing tan slacks with a navy double-breasted blazer over a pale blue blouse, and the jacket brought out the color of her eyes. Her hair was gathered in the back like Tate had always seen it. Except for last night, she thought.
Last night Victoria’s hair was down and Tate had fought the urge to run her fingers through it. It had looked like wheat blowing in a field and Tate swore she could smell the fresh scent wafting across the table. She had moved close to Victoria when she held the door of her cab. When she slid by her and into the cab, Tate inhaled the deep fragrance. She smelled it now from all the way across the room.
Everyone around the table introduced themselves, and after two hours of slides, charts, and graphs, Braxton stood and led them out of the room. Tate let Victoria go first, which gave her a prime view of her backside rather than Braxton’s.
Victoria’s clothes fit perfectly, accentuating her curves without calling attention to them. The alligator skin of her flat-heeled shoes gleamed under the bright lights. Today her hair was held together by a wide blue clip that Tate knew she could easily unfasten with one hand. Tate was so engrossed in watching the sway of her hips she almost ran into the back of one of Braxton’s men when he stopped, but caught herself before she made contact.
Victoria was listening intently to the man who had introduced himself as the head of engineering. She stood up straight, which was unusual for a woman of her height. She hadn’t slouched even a little when she shook hands with all the men this morning. Tate found it amusing that all of Braxton’s staff members were men, and two women were vying for their company, one of them taller than everyone there. They probably had no clue that they both were lesbians. What were the odds?
Victoria swung her gaze at Tate, who gave her best yes-I-was-looking-at-you smile. She wasn’t embarrassed to be caught. A woman should find it flattering when another woman wanted to look at her. Especially when Victoria’s expression was so transparent. Victoria glanced away, but not before Tate saw an answering look in her eyes. Tate grinned and continued to keep her eyes glued to Victoria, but now she paid more attention to what the man in front of them was saying. Even if she got Victoria into bed, she still needed to get this deal.
*
Victoria had just settled in the backseat of the taxi, exhausted after the endless tour of the facility. She heard a knock and saw Tate motioning for her to roll down the window. Against her better judgment she did. She had fought the urge to stare at Tate all afternoon, especially once she knew Tate was doing so. She felt, rather than saw, her eyes move all over her body, and it was particularly unnerving that Tate stayed behind her the entire day. The bottom of Victoria’s jacket fell below her ass, but Tate was probably picturing it just the same. Victoria felt thoroughly ravished and Tate hadn’t laid a finger on her.
“Hey, I thought we might grab some dinner. Strictly personal. We can talk about the weather, politics, or religion. That should keep the conversation lively.”
Victoria was tired of battling the urge to fight her attraction to Tate, but she couldn’t give in. There was too much at stake, and their tour of the facility today strengthened her belief.
“What, no discussion about sex?” Victoria’s father had always told her that you should never discuss sex, politics, or religion because you would never get the other person to change their view. As soon as the word was out of her mouth she wanted to pull it back in. Tate’s eyes lit up.
“I’d rather have it than talk about it, but if you insist.”
Tate’s smile transformed her face. Her perfectly straight teeth were white, and the dimple in her left cheek that Victoria hadn’t noticed before made her look much younger. Like she needed any help in that area, Victoria thought.
“Hey, maybe we could combine the two. You know, kill two birds with one stone, multitask, or whatever you’d like to call it,” Tate added.
“Inappropriate is what I’d call it.” God, she hated sounding like a prude. “But thanks anyway. I’m on my way to the airport.”
Tate looked as if she would try to cajole her but must have thought better of it. Instead she said, “Okay, but if you change your mind I’m at the Hilton on Michigan Avenue. Anytime is fine. I usually don’t go to bed until late. Unless I have a reason to.”
“Well, I won’t be your reason.”
Victoria told the cab driver to take her to O’Hare airport. Good God, Victoria. You act as if you haven’t had sex in years. Take your head out of your crotch and get with it. This is the biggest deal of your life and you’re thinking about a woman. And a young one, at that. Tate was more than ten years younger than she was, which was too much of an age difference at this stage of her life. She hit herself on the forehead. Snap out of it. Stop thinking of her as a date, or a potential lover. She is not, cannot, and will not be any of those. She repeated her statement to herself until she stepped out of the cab.
Chapter Ten
Victoria checked into her Phoenix hotel well after midnight. She could have taken a flight the following morning but always preferred to get to her destination as early as possible.
After a quick shower she logged on to her e-mail. As usual she had over a hundred messages in her in-box. Was there a technological devil that caused the messages to reproduce the longer they were unread? She sorted them by sender and read the ones from her staff first. Most were simply FYI or minor, but the note from Claire was cryptic and she frowned as she read it. Their major banker had made an appointment to meet with her and Claire late next week. As Victoria typed her reply she knew the banker wouldn’t bring good news.
The pressure to ink the Braxton deal was enormous. In addition to their shareholders, thousands of people d
epended on Drake for their livelihood. The loss of revenue would impact the companies they purchased products and services from if they lost Drake as a customer, and the downstream effect, the loss of treatment options for their patients, was what kept her up at night. She could not fail. People would die, and she couldn’t live with that fact on her conscience.
The alarm clock screamed at five fifteen, and Victoria rolled over, eyes grainy from lack of sleep, and cursed the time difference between Phoenix and New York. Three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, but she had a conference call with one of Drake’s suppliers soon. It was another in a long line of calls containing assurances that Drake was solvent and would continue to pay their bills on time.
She crawled out of bed at the knock on her door. After verifying through the peephole that it was room service with the coffee she had pre-ordered, she unlatched the chain and swung open the door.
Ninety minutes later, dressed and sipping her fourth cup of coffee she followed the directions that the soft, melodic voice from the rental car’s GPS system provided. The research arm of Braxton was located on a sixty-acre tract at the northern edge of the Phoenix city limits. If the calm voice hadn’t told her to make a left in a hundred feet, she would have missed the subtle sign that indicated the road to the facility.
Saguaro cactus, paloverde trees, and creosote bushes surrounded the two-lane road carved out of the middle of the desert. As she drove she admired the beauty of the desolate terrain. Instead of dull and lifeless, it soothed and almost overwhelmed her. The power of nature to overcome drought and extreme heat made her feel insignificant.
Braxton was waiting for her in the cool lobby of the building. They chatted for a few minutes before Tate arrived and they received visitor badges, then let the buxom security guard check their briefcases for unauthorized cameras.
