Green Fire

by Stephanie James

  The man blinked in surprise but recovered quickly and turned to take Joel’s order. Joel ignored him. “What else are you going to have, Shelley?” he prodded.

  “Just the salad, thank you.”

  He stared at her. “Just the salad! Are you joking? I take you to the best restaurant in the area and you order just a salad? Don’t be ridiculous!” He put out a hand and plucked the menu from her grasp. Then he turned to the waiter. “We’ll have the pâté maison with French bread, the hearts of palm and pine nut salad, the snapper en papillate, wild rice and the spinach soufflé. For dessert,” he continued with a hard look at Shelley’s stricken expression, “we’ll have the chocolate fondue with strawberries.” He handed over the menus without taking his stern gaze off Shelley. “Just a salad,” he muttered chidingly.

  “You have no right to play the masterful type when it comes to the issue of my food,” she hissed in a barely audible voice.

  An engaging grin replaced Joel’s condemning look. “Does that mean I can play the masterful role when it comes to other issues?”

  “Stop teasing me. I happen to be on a diet,” she explained austerely.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll burn off lots of calories trying to save Ackerly Manufacturing,” he shot back dismissively. “Besides, you don’t need to diet. I like you the way you are.” The blue eyes moved with satisfaction over her figure.

  “What you think of me hardly matters,” she replied aloofly, warming under the impact of that glance. “What counts is what you think of my plans for Ackerly.”

  “So tell me how you’re going to stop the slide into bankruptcy,” he prompted agreeably. Too agreeably, Shelley thought. Nevertheless, she launched into a synopsis of her plans.

  “The first rule in this land of crisis management is to nail down all the cash. Ackerly will have to reduce overhead, push collection of receivables, sell off inventory and turn assets into cash.”

  “And put off creditors indefinitely,” he added helpfully.

  “Not indefinitely,” Shelley protested. “But we will have to plan a different payback schedule.”

  “Hasn’t Ackerly got bank loans to worry about, too?” Joel asked as the pâté arrived. He spread the rich stuff onto a slice of French bread and pushed it into Shelley’s hand.

  “Yes, unfortunately.” She stared helplessly down at the pâté.

  “Are you going to ask the bank to defer collecting its money the way you’re asking me to do?” he inquired in amusement, spreading pâté on a chunk of bread for himself.

  Shelley sighed. “I’m approaching you because I don’t think I’ll be able to convince the bank to lay off.” The thought was depressing enough to make her take a bite of the pâté and bread. God! It was good.

  “I see.” Joel watched the delicious morsel disappear neatly into her mouth and smiled with approval.

  “Does that smile indicate you’re willing to go along with my plans?” Shelley asked hopefully, unconsciously taking another bite of the pâté.

  “Keep talking,” he murmured, not answering the question.

  And she did, all the way through the pâté, the salad and the wonderful snapper. By the time the fondue pot full of chocolate and liqueur arrived, Shelley was beyond thinking about the food. She simply ate with complete pleasure, concentrating mentally on building her case for the salvaging of Ackerly Manufacturing. Joel listened with flattering attention, but for the life of her, she couldn’t be sure what he was thinking.

  “And if you pull this off successfully, you figure you’ll be on your way to setting up your own consulting firm?” he concluded as he clipped the last strawberry into the melted chocolate and bit into it

  Shelley nodded, not wanting to get into an extended discussion of that side of the matter. She didn’t like being called a hustler.

  He swallowed the strawberry and nodded decisively. “Okay, Shelley Banning, you’ve got yourself a deal. Under the terms I outlined this afternoon.”

  Startled by the unexpectedly quick capitulation, Shelley stared at him, lips slightly parted in astonishment, before she rushed to accept the offer.

  “Thank you, Joel. The terms are acceptable. Ackerly Manufacturing will be most appreciative, I assure you.”

  “I don’t give a damn about Ackerly’s appreciation,” he informed her smoothly as he got to his feet and put out a strong hand to guide her out of her chair. “You’re the one I’ll be holding personally responsible for the success of your scheme.”

  “Me!” She shot him a covert look.

  “You. Let’s go back to your place and work on that puzzle.” He smiled dangerously down at her wary expression. “Naturally, I’m going to hold you accountable for the success of this deal,” he explained patiently. “You don’t think I got where I am today by being a nice guy, do you?”

  “Do I hear a threat buried somewhere in that sentence?” she demanded spiritedly as he helped her into the Maserati.

  “The trick to handling threats, Shelley, is to pretend you’re not the least intimidated by them,” he advised helpfully as he turned the key in the ignition and backed the sleek car expertly out of the parking space.

  “Another pearl of wisdom from an older and wiser hustler?” she drawled, aware she was letting herself be drawn into his banter but unable to resist. Sure of his agreement, she was suddenly in a very good frame of mind. She had accomplished what she had set out to do today, and she was now free to proceed with her plans. The future promised a great deal, and she was not about to let his teasing threats alarm her at this juncture.

  “I’m full of such pearls of wisdom.” He chuckled softly. “Want to hear some more?”

  “I don’t think so. The evening is too nice to spoil with lectures.” She rolled down the window to inhale the warm desert breeze as the Maserati sped through downtown Phoenix.

  “Pleased with yourself, hmmm?” He slid a speculative glance across at her profile.

  “As pleased as you probably were with yourself when you pulled off the real estate deal with that huge California conglomerate a few months ago,” she allowed easily.

  “You know about that, huh? I didn’t realize it was public knowledge.”

  “I did a little checking into your business life before I approached you this afternoon,” she admitted negligently. “I wanted to know what I was tackling before I tried to talk you into my plan.”

  “Wise of you, honey, very wise. Did you check far enough, I wonder?”

  “Far enough to find out what?” She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him not to call her “honey.” She didn’t want to inject any animosity into the rather enjoyable atmosphere that was now filling the car. Well, if he did it again, she would say something polite about the presumption. When you were this satisfied with yourself, you didn’t want to go out of your way to be rude to others, she thought with an inner smile. The success of the evening was as pleasant to her senses as the dinner had been.

  “Never mind,” he purred blandly. “I’ll see to it that you find out whatever you need to know about me as we go along.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to choose between inviting him into her home or bidding him good night on the doorstep. When she stepped over her threshold, Joel was right behind her, closing the door behind them very firmly.

  “A glass of cognac before you leave?” she offered calmly, not really alarmed by his quietly growing aggression. There was, after all, nothing she ought to fear. And she had been expecting a pass, hadn’t she?

  “Thought you’d never ask.” The hard line of his mouth curved upward whimsically as he faced her.

  “I’ll be right back. Have a seat” She kept it light, easy, very polite. Two business associates sharing a drink to salute the dose of a deal. Her step as she moved off to the kitchen was firm.

  He was sitting at the glass-topped puzzle table when she returned with the snifters of cognac. Two of the carved, straight-backed, Spanish-style chairs had been drawn up to it, and he rose with an unconscious grace to
seat her in the one across from him.

  “I can’t help wondering if it’s doing business with me which has put you in such a charming mood or the fact that you ate a decent meal tonight,” he said, inhaling the aromatic fumes of the cognac as he held the rounded glass cupped in his hands.

  “Please don’t mention the food!” she begged, eyeing him across the rim of her glass. “You were wicked to lead me into the path of temptation like that”

  “How long have you been dieting?” he asked, grinning.

  “Most of my life,” she groaned wryly. “It’s a never-ending battle. Oh, look, here’s another piece of sky.” Bending forward slightly, she slipped the interlocking piece into place with satisfaction. “This is a tricky one because some of the sky is almost the same color as the water.”

  “Tricky, all right” He nodded solemnly, fingering a piece of gondola.

  “Now don’t make fun of my choice of amusements just because you’re more accustomed to the flash and dazzle of those video games!” She glanced around for another chunk of sky, already getting caught up in the peculiar addiction of finding just one more piece.

  He was watching her, not the scene of Venice, but she determinedly ignored his intent scrutiny. Still, the blue fire in his eyes was sending out a tangible heat that she could feel throughout her senses. Here comes the pass, she thought. Just be cool and calm. You can handle it

  But he threw her off balance a little by picking up another piece of the puzzle and inserting it into place. It fit snugly and perfectly, and Shelley’s eyes followed the deliberate movement of his fingers with a curious fascination. Strong, working hands, she found herself thinking as she toyed with the little bit of an arching bridge in her palm. The hands of a man who had worked his way to success, not the hands of a man who’d had everything given to him on a silver platter.

  “It fits,” he noted quietly, reaching for another piece.

  “Yes,” she agreed faintly, forcing her eyes away from his fingers and searching out the right spot for her tiny portion of bridge. The iced-watermelon tint of her nails contrasted with the gray stone she was sliding into place. For some reason, it was a little difficult getting the piece to lock into position even though it was an obvious fit.

  “Here, let me.” The heavy, dark satin of Joel’s voice was a barely murmured whisper as he gently took the puzzle piece from her fingers and pressed it into place with a tiny click. “It’s an oddly satisfying feeling when the fit is perfect, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes flew instantly to meet his, seeking double meanings and innuendoes, but he merely smiled and picked up another piece. Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the notion that there was an underlying sensuality in the way he had locked the bit of puzzle into place. It was her imagination, she thought nervously. Perhaps she shouldn’t have any more of the cognac.

  Taking a grip on her unwinding thoughts, she tugged them back into tine and chose another section of bridge with a practiced eye. He watched for a moment as she deftly placed it, and then he slid the one he was holding in beside it, fitting the small tongue on his piece into the curved opening of hers. Again, the faint frisson of sensuality trickled along Shelley’s nerves. Uneasily, she withdrew her fingers from the table and folded them in her lap as she searched for the next portion of the bridge.

  Joel sipped his cognac and quietly toyed with a bit of water. When Shelley located another section of the stone bridge and settled it, he slipped his segment of water into the space just beneath the gracefully arching structure. Shelley’s lashes fluttered briefly as she experienced a strange mental flash of standing on the stone bridge in the picture and staring down into the dark, mysterious depths of the water. Letting Joel make love to her would be every bit as dangerous as plunging headfirst off the bridge into the deep waters of the canal.

  Now where the devil had that thought sprung from? She had absolutely no intention of letting Joel Cassidy carry her off to bed, and in all honesty, he showed no overt intention of even trying to do so! What was the matter with her this evening? One watermelon-colored nail tapped on the glass top of the table as she hunted for another section of puzzle.

  Together they slowly built up the canal scene. A lingering silence hung over the room as the pattern took shape, and it wasn’t only the pattern of the puzzle itself that was forming, Shelley was ultimately forced to realize. The pattern of the way Joel was playing the game was becoming just as obvious.

  “Wouldn’t you rather work on another section of the picture?” she finally asked tentatively as he once again waited until she had inserted a piece before he reached across to add one that fit snugly into hers.

  “I wouldn’t dream of trying to branch out on my own so early,” he drawled softly. “I’ll follow your lead for a while.” He pressed the piece firmly into place, filling the groove that had been carved in the one she had found. Filling it completely.

  Shelley tore her gaze away from the sight of his fingers moving with such sureness and care. Maybe what she needed was more, not less, of the cognac, she decided, lifting her glass.

  “Joel?”

  “Yes, Shelley?” He wasn’t looking at her, his shimmering blue gaze following her fingers as she selected another piece.

  “It’s getting late. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me about our business agreement before you leave?” Yes, that was the right note to strike, she congratulated herself. Firm, with the beginnings of dismissal threading through her words. She snapped the segment of water into position with subtle decision. The time had come to send him home.

  “No, there’s nothing else we need to discuss concerning our business venture. Not tonight” With unerring accuracy, he had already located the segment of water that connected with the one she had placed.

  Her fingertips were still hovering above the canal when he moved to slowly, deliberately insert his piece. His hand brushed hers as he locked the bit of puzzle into place, and Shelley caught her breath as he abruptly snagged her fingers.

  Her widening eyes met his across the table as he held her hand gently captive.

  He smiled, a beguiling, infinitely promising, very masculine smile. “There’s really nothing else to discuss, is there? When the fit is perfect, there is no need for words. Let me show you how well we go together, Shelley Banning.”

  Joel got to his feet in a slow-motion movement that drew her inevitably up beside him. This was it, Shelley told herself fleetingly. This was the seduction attempt she had been expecting. All she had to do was disengage herself and show him the door. All very polite, light, controlled.

  But he was already sliding his hands along the black silk of her sleeve, and she could feel the faint roughness of his palms. The sensation was somehow different, compelling, binding. Before she could sort out the tingling impressions, he was folding her close, wrapping those strong, sure hands around her and forcing her gently against him, firmly into place.

  Joel’s mouth came down on hers even as he fitted her to his body, and the kiss, like his touch, held a strangely compelling quality. Shelley knew she should break it off and send him away, but a part of her insisted on sampling a little of the exploring, probing caress.

  Her palms flattened against his shoulders, a small, steadying action meant to keep her from losing her balance. She would only stand here in the circle of his arms for a little while, Shelley promised herself. Just long enough to taste the promise in him.

  “Shelley?”

  Her name was a husky growl against her mouth, a male query to which he wanted only one reply. She would not give it. Instead, Shelley remained mute, and the lack of a verbal response seemed to provoke him into an escalation of the sensual assault Joel’s tongue began to probe the line of her lips, toying with the corner and then sliding wetly along their fullness to the opposite side. The strong fingers on her back found the sensitive base of her spine and pressed, urging her lower body into the cradle of his hips.

  The intimate contact revealed his boldly risin
g desire, and the knowledge flashed in warning along her senses. But even as she tried to steady herself against his shoulders and make some effort to put a little distance between them, Joel’s palms slid farther down, to the rounded curve of her derrière. She felt his fingers sink luxuriously into the shape of her, and the material of the white skirt provided minimal protection.

  The audacious caress brought a moan to her lips. The sound was half a response and half a protest, but he wasted no time trying to analyze it

  “Oh!”

  The instant her lips parted on the soft cry, he was seizing the opportunity, plunging deftly inside to find the warm dampness of her mouth. Shelley’s eyes shut tightly against the reality of the passionate invasion. She didn’t want to think about what all this meant, not yet The palms with which she had tried to maintain her balance were moving softly on the material of his jacket now, seeking the shape of his shoulders. When his tongue found hers, the iced-watermelon nails curved abruptly into the fabric she had been smoothing.

  As if that were the signal he had been waiting for, Joel moved, bending to lift her easily into his arms.

  “Joel, no, I won’t let you…” Her words were cut off as he closed her mouth once more with a kiss that he didn’t break throughout the process of carrying her across the champagne-colored carpet to the deep-cordovan-brown couch.

  Shelley knew a swirling sense of vertigo as he lowered himself to the cushions, settling her across his thighs. His lips never released hers.

  Joel held the drugging kiss a moment longer, and then, with a hungry groan, he broke it off to begin a nuzzling exploration of her throat Shelley gasped as his palm began simultaneously to glide over the curve of her hip and up toward the fullness of one breast

  “Shelley, I want you,” he rasped against the exquisitely vulnerable skin just behind her ear.

  “Joel, no,” she protested weakly, compulsively turning her face into the safety of his chest. “It’s—it’s too soon, and we hardly know each other, and we’re not”—she gulped for breath—”we’re not exactly each other’s type.”