by Julie Cannon
“Jesus Christ, Clayton, I said I’d get it and I will. Stop treating me like I have shit for brains.” Tate had never spoken to him like this and it caught both of them off guard. She was suddenly tired of fighting for everything, including the respect of the old man who was glaring at her. She thought she had earned it by now, but obviously she was mistaken. Not risking another outburst, she strode out of the office a little quicker than she had entered it.
Tate was still fuming an hour later, furious with herself for letting her emotions dominate her discussion with Clayton. Calm and coolheaded were the words she used to describe herself when it came to business. Calculating, cold, and heartless were what others called her. Her senses were overloaded after her night with Victoria, she rationalized. Yeah, that was it. She was groggy and exhausted from lack of sleep. She wasn’t thinking clearly and let her mouth run before she engaged her brain. Bullshit.
No matter how sensible or logical her excuses sounded, Tate knew they were crap. She couldn’t stop thinking of Victoria before and after she had had sex with her. Just when she thought she had Victoria figured out she surprised her. When she thought she knew what she was thinking, she would say something altogether different. When Tate expected a certain reaction, Victoria gave her just the opposite.
Early evening traffic in Atlanta was miserable as her cab crawled uptown to her favorite steakhouse. She’d earned it, she thought, and tapped her fingers impatiently on her thigh. She was still put out over her conversation with Clayton and needed to calm down before she did something stupid. Like sleep with Victoria? How much more stupid could you get? After she left Victoria she had gone back to her apartment to change for her meeting with Clayton. She barely had time to get her lust for Victoria back under control before she entered the old man’s office.
She had fully intended to tell Clayton what she had learned about Drake that would destroy any chance they had of getting Braxton, but his attitude toward her squelched all desire to share her information. She would do it on her own, Clayton Sumner be damned. With the information she had dug up as well as what Joni had given her, Tate could bring Drake to its financial knees with one phone call. Drake was hemorrhaging money. All she needed was to drop a discreet bug in Victoria’s investment banker’s ear and it would be over. Drake’s stock would tank, her money source would dry up, and Tate could sweep in and buy Braxton for substantially less than its real value. It was as simple as that. But Tate had an even better idea that had been dancing around in her head for a few days.
She looked up when the waiter brought the check, barely remembering that she had eaten dinner. Out of habit, and based on the itemized bill, she must have ordered the shrimp-and-steak combination. She licked her lips and tasted just a hint of garlic from the sautéed mushrooms.
Tate sipped the wine that remained in her glass. The restaurant was quiet and she gathered her scattered thoughts. Unfortunately she didn’t know what to do with them. She had never experienced this sense of unease, almost like a constant state of anticipation. The deal for Braxton wasn’t to blame, even though the logistics and negotiations were unusual. She could get Braxton, but was simply waiting until she made her move. She had been in this position more times than she could remember. She was born for this, had trained for this, had gloried in this. So what was going on?
She paid the check and walked out into the cool night. “What in the hell am I doing? I’m acting like a lovesick puppy, for God’s sake,” she said out loud. “Jesus, Monroe, get it together.”
At that moment she realized Victoria was throwing her off-kilter. Victoria fascinated her and she was continually trying to figure her out. But it wasn’t the business side that was causing her restlessness. It was the woman herself. Somewhere along the line she had fallen for Victoria Sosa and fallen hard.
Chapter Seventeen
Tate was seated at the table when Victoria arrived. She was surprised that she had been able to persuade Victoria to meet her for dinner, and when Victoria walked across the room, she was glad she had. She stood as Victoria approached, her pulse quickening in response to their night together. She knew every inch of her body—the way she felt, the way she smelled, the way she cried out her name. Tate took a deep breath to get her body back in control.
While she had waited for Victoria to arrive, Tate wondered what Victoria would do when they saw each other again. Would she kiss her hello, would she carry on a normal conversation as if they hadn’t spent hours in the most intimate, compromising, and pleasurable positions? Would Victoria be able to look her in the eye? Tate didn’t want to give her the chance to set the mood so she took her hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’m glad you could make it. You look beautiful.”
Victoria had chosen a deep blue silk suit with a cream-colored turtleneck peeking out from under the jacket. A silver brooch of an abstract design winked at Tate from the left lapel.
“Thanks,” Victoria replied, and sat down in the chair to Tate’s left.
“Would you like something to drink?” Tate asked as the waiter headed their way. It was Saturday night and the restaurant was busy. She had pre-tipped the waiter to keep his attention focused on them this evening.
Victoria looked at her wineglass as if deciding whether to have a glass or not. “No, just water with lemon for me.”
The thick carpet and oversize furniture muted the noise of the restaurant. They were tucked back into a corner that offered them more privacy than the other patrons. Tate had specifically requested this table when she called earlier and made reservations. What she had to say to Victoria required it.
After they placed their order Tate struggled for something to say. Her ability for small talk had always been minimal at best, but sitting next to Victoria after what they had done together two days ago made her mind mush. Was it only the day before yesterday? It felt like much longer.
She studied Victoria’s profile. The candlelight flickering in the center of the table cast a soft glow on everything in the booth. Victoria didn’t need any help to look beautiful. Her hair was up and her face, though slightly drawn, was still striking.
“You don’t look very happy to be here,” Tate said, commenting on the frown creasing Victoria’s forehead.
Victoria finally looked at her and her scowl deepened. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the best of moods this evening. Lots on my mind…” Her explanation was weak.
“Anything you want to share?”
Victoria fiddled with her knife, seeming to think about the offer. “Maybe later.”
Their food came and Tate was finally able to make conversation, but Victoria’s answers to her questions were short and often didn’t invite further exchange.
“Would you like to take a walk?” Tate decided to have the serious part of their discussion outside instead of at the table.
Victoria agreed, and within ten minutes Tate had paid the bill and they were walking down the almost-empty sidewalk.
“I have a proposition for you,” Tate said, then wanted to pull her words back when she saw Victoria’s frightened expression.
“No, not that kind of proposition,” Tate replied quickly, finally laughing for the first time that evening. “Well, maybe later,” she added, repeating Victoria’s earlier comment, and grinned. “It’s a business proposition.”
This time Victoria’s expression was wary.
“Now hear me out,” Tate said. “I want Braxton. I don’t need to tell you that, but what you don’t know is why. If I get this deal, Clayton Sumner will hand over the reins of Sumner Enterprises to me. I’ll control one the largest companies in the world. And I want you by my side.” Tate hadn’t prepared to say it quite that way, but what the hell. It was the truth.
“What?” Victoria stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Tate stood directly in front of Victoria and repeated her statement. “I want you beside me. Imagine it, Victoria, what we could do. There would be no stopping us, the money we could make, the businesses w
e could own, the empire we could build.” Tate was excited at the prospect and didn’t even try to hide it in her voice.
Victoria shook her head several times. “What?”
“Victoria, I’m going to get Braxton and then I’ll bring in Drake as well, or what’s left of it, and you can still run it if you want to. But you’re better than that, Victoria. You could write your own ticket at Sumner. You and I will be on the cover of every major business magazine in the world.” Tate fanned out her arms as if panning a billboard.
“Tate, I don’t want—”
Tate took Victoria’s hands in hers. “Victoria,” she said calmly. “We’re good together. We could be great if you’ll give it half a chance. We could work together and be together. How more perfect can it be?”
Victoria pulled her hands away from Tate and stepped back. “I don’t want to be with you, Tate, certainly not in business. You and I look at things very differently and there is no way—”
“Okay, we don’t have to work together that closely. You can do your own thing at Sumner and I’ll do mine.” She was prepared to counter every argument Victoria threw at her. She would wear her down eventually.
“Tate, you don’t understand.” Victoria’s voice rose. “I am not going into business with you nor will I be your lover.”
“What?” It was Tate’s turn to be confused.
“I have a company. I’m not looking to have another, particularly Sumner Enterprises, and especially not with you. I am working hard to get Drake back on its feet again, not sell it out for a quick buck and gobs of power. That’s not who I am. And I’m also not looking to be a part of a power couple, as you phrased it. Been there, done that, and not interested in doing it again. I don’t know where you ever got the idea that I’d be interested in Sumner. Clayton Sumner is a sleaze, and I wouldn’t work for him if he offered me the last job on earth. I’d never even consider it.”
Victoria’s words stunned her. What had she just said? How had she misread her so badly? Did their night of sex cloud her mind to reality? She thought they were good together and, as she said, would be even better together.
“Look, Tate. That night was wonderful for me. I, I’ve never experienced anything like it, but it doesn’t change who I am or what I want out of life. I want Drake to survive and grow. I want to be with a woman who treats me as her equal in life, not as a business partner. I have no desire to compete against a company for the attention of a woman. I won’t do it. I don’t care who she is,” Victoria stated firmly.
Tate didn’t know if she was simply stunned, embarrassed, humiliated, or all three. She wanted to lash out at Victoria for making her look like a fool. She wanted to crush her and her silly happily-ever-after dream. Anger burned inside her, and if a man hadn’t bumped into her as he passed, she might have done something she would have regretted later. Instead she clenched her teeth.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Victoria. Sex had nothing to do with it. That was all it was—sex. Nothing more.” She drew a breath to try to calm her nerves. “Since you’re such an independent woman, Victoria, I’m sure you can see yourself home,” Tate managed to choke out before she spun on her heel and walked away.
Victoria moved from the middle of the sidewalk and sat down on a bench that circled a tall pine tree. What in the fuck just happened? She had agreed to meet Tate, intending to tell her that what went on between them would never occur again. But her plan seemed immaterial after the bombshell Tate had just dropped. What had she done to give Tate the impression she would be interested in being in business with her? Clayton Sumner was a shark and his company the feeding pool. As soon as she learned of Tate’s involvement in the Braxton deal she did her research on Sumner Enterprises and questioned their business ethics and their integrity.
She didn’t think Tate was the kind of woman who believed that simply because Victoria had fallen into bed with her, she would fall into anything else with her. It was just sex, for God’s sake. Tate had even said so herself. It wasn’t as if they were in love. They hardly knew each other. Sure, they had spent three weeks together, often sixteen hours a day, but that was business, not a relationship.
She definitely wasn’t interested in being a power couple. That’s what happened with Melissa, and she would never agree to such a relationship again. Power wasn’t a word she wanted associated with her professional life and certainly not her personal one.
After she tipped the valet and slid into the driver’s seat of her car, she drove home like a robot and held her breath as she pulled into her driveway. She didn’t expect to see Tate’s car but was still more than a little relieved when the only thing in front of her house was the soft light from the porch.
She fixed a tall glass of scotch, took off her jacket, and dropped onto the sofa. Kicking her shoes off, she extended her legs until they lay on top of the coffee table. She lolled her head back and wondered how her world had gotten so off-kilter so fast. One minute she was a successful CEO and the next she was asked to ditch her company and run off to be on the cover of Forbes with her young lesbian lover. Was this what her life had become? If she kept it up she could be on The Jerry Springer Show and flaunt her low-class existence for the entire world to see. She was better than that and she knew it.
Chapter Eighteen
Tate was everywhere. In her dreams, her thoughts, even with her in the shower, metaphorically, of course. Victoria had refilled her glass four times before she went to bed last night, and her head was barking at her for doing so. Slowly she sipped her coffee and ate a piece of toast as the fog cleared from her brain. As it did, the one thing that became clear was that she felt more for Tate than she thought she did.
She had known she was curiously attracted to her the moment they ran into each other in the lobby of the Braxton building, but she had tossed her reaction off as simply that—a natural attraction to a beautiful woman. She attributed her awareness of Tate to their constant togetherness forced on them by Braxton. Who couldn’t help but be aware of a business adversary sitting across the table and beside her all day? Especially one as alluring as Tate. She told herself she was listening to the questions Tate asked instead of the sound of her voice. She convinced herself that she was watching what Tate was looking at during their tours and not the shape of her mouth or the color of her eyes.
Who was she kidding? There was more to it than that and after that night they were together, she could no longer deny it. She had to face it, put it in its proper perspective, and move on. She was in no position to get involved with Tate personally and certainly not professionally. But damn if she didn’t make her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.
Tate grabbed life with both hands and lived it. She was aggressive without being domineering and rarely, Victoria guessed, took no for an answer. It wasn’t just the fact that she was younger, although that was probably some of it. Tate had a maturity level that belied her age. The sex was the best she had ever had but certainly not enough for an enduring relationship. It was the total package that interested Victoria.
Victoria threw a load of clothes in the wash, grabbed a bottle of water, and opened the French doors that led out to her patio. She settled into one of the lounge chairs and stretched her legs out in front of her again. She relived the past few months mentally, but her body reminded her of the last few days. She really didn’t know that much about Tate other than what she had gleaned from the Internet and a few well-placed sources. But what was indisputable was that Tate made her feel alive again. What was she going to do about it?
*
“Tate, Victoria Sosa is here to see you.”
Tate froze at the name of the woman her administrative assistant said was waiting in her outer office. Victoria? Here to see me? What does she want? Probably to tell me again in no uncertain terms that she wants nothing to do with me, Tate thought in the second it took her to find her voice. She didn’t want to see Victoria. One humiliation was enough; she didn’t want or need another.
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“She said it’s important.”
“I’m sure it is,” Tate muttered under her breath. “Show her in, and if she’s not out of here in ten minutes, come in and make some excuse for me.” Tate braced herself.
She was in no way prepared for her reaction when Victoria walked through the door. She wore a navy jacket over tan slacks and a pale blue shirt. Her hair was pulled back, and Tate realized she really liked it that way. Her gaze was steady as she strode into her office with purpose.
“Victoria, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Tate greeted the woman who had rocked her world. When she hadn’t heard from Victoria in a week after her disastrous proposition, she thought Victoria was lost to her forever. She indicated for Victoria to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?” By now Tate was intrigued by what Victoria had to say. Had she reconsidered Tate’s proposal from that night? Was she here to take her rightful place next to Tate on this throne? She doubted it. Tate sat back in her chair, waiting impatiently for Victoria to reveal why she was here.
“It’s about Braxton.”
“I’m sure it is,” Tate said, not even trying to hide her sarcasm.
“Tate, please.”
“Please? Please what, Victoria?” Tate moved out from behind her desk. “Please let me have Braxton? Please don’t take Drake away from me? Please don’t put hundreds of people out of work?” She stared at Victoria, suddenly furious. She had embarrassed and humiliated herself because she had fallen for this woman, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake again. She reverted to what she knew best, sarcasm and aggression. Victoria looked as though she had been struck, but then her face filled with anger.
