by Susan Crosby
“I’ll bet you’re sisters,” the man said.
Scarlet met Jessie’s gaze. She looked startled, but Scarlet smiled. “Coworkers,” she said.
“I’m Rich.”
“Money doesn’t matter to me,” Jessie said sincerely.
Scarlet grinned. “I think he means his name is Rich. That’s Jessie. I’m Scarlet.”
“I know who you are,” Rich said to Scarlet, his hand resting on the back of her bar stool, almost touching her. “I saw your picture in the newspaper with Zeke Woodlow.”
Scarlet angled closer to the bar. “That was an impersonator,” she said, trying to make light of it. It had actually been Summer, dressed in Scarlet’s clothes, made to look like a groupie. Scarlet held up her empty glass to the bartender.
“I’ll get that,” Rich said to the man.
“No, thank you.” She decided she didn’t want this guy around, after all. She caught Stash’s eye, then tipped her head slightly toward Rich. Stash headed her way.
“Mon petit choux,” he said, nudging Rich out of the way to kiss her, a little longer than was necessary for the ruse, Scarlet thought, wondering what John was thinking of the scene. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, ma chérie,” Stash continued, nuzzling her neck.
“Don’t do it again.” She leaned into him as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Rich was resourceful, however, and undeterred. He turned his attention on Jessie. “May I buy you a drink, um, Jenny?”
Jessie used her little straw to swirl her ice, then she slipped the straw in her mouth and pulled it out slowly, getting his attention. “You know, Rich, I believe my daddy would get a kick out of you.”
He looked ready to swagger. “He would?”
“In fact, he has a saying that would fit you to a T. He’d say, ‘That poor Rich. He’s got nothin’ under his hat but hair.’”
Scarlet had to set her drink down before the contents sloshed over the sides. Jessie’s handling of Rich showed she wasn’t quite as naive as she sometimes seemed.
“Bitch,” he said, low and furious. “You—”
Stash moved but was blocked by John, who snatched the glass out of Rich’s hand and thumped it on the bar next to Scarlet’s. “Time to find a new watering hole, partner,” John said, clamping a hand on his shoulder.
Rich glowered, but he left without comment, just a surly look.
“Are you okay?” John asked Jessie.
“I’m fine. Actually, it was kinda fun.” She grinned.
Scarlet waited for him to turn his attention on her, but he said good-night and left. She watched him walk out the door, cross in front of the window and disappear. Only then did she look toward the corner where he’d been seated. Three women sat there.
“He had been alone,” Stash whispered in her ear.
Scarlet tried to calm her nerves. She didn’t know what to think about John. Was he mad? Jealous of Stash? Hurt?
She decided to change her outward mood since even Stash had picked up on something he shouldn’t. “Thanks for the rescue. But, mon petit choux?”
“My little cabbage.” His eyes twinkled. Jessie laughed.
“I know what it means.”
“It is an endearment.” He lifted a loose strand of hair over her ear. “Perhaps you ladies have had enough excitement and would like to have dinner now. I have kept the table for you.”
Scarlet decided if she didn’t take some time to think about John and how to handle what had just happened, she would probably do the wrong thing—like go after him. “I’ve worked up an appetite. How about you?” she asked Jessie.
“I could use a big ol’ rib eye myself. There’s nothing like dispatching a preening bull to give me an appetite.”
Scarlet smiled. She was glad they’d gone out together. Glad she’d gotten to know Jessie better. “Would your father really have said something like that?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s full of ’em.”
“What does he do?” Stash asked as they reached their table.
“He’s a cattle rancher.”
“Do you rope and ride?”
“About as easily as breathing,” she said.
His brows raised. “I have never before met a cowgirl.” He asked a passing server to bring two menus.
“I’m going to use the restroom first,” Jessie said to Scarlet then headed toward the back of the restaurant.
Scarlet hoped Stash wasn’t going to comment on John’s behavior, but she should’ve realized she wouldn’t be that lucky.
“So. Your sister’s fiancé.”
“Ex-fiancé.”
“And you.”
“No. Just in the same place at the same time.”
“T’es menteuse, toi.”
“I’m not a liar.” Technically, they weren’t together. They were just enjoying each other’s company briefly.
“He did not take his eyes off you from the moment he saw you.”
She wished she had a menu to hide behind. “I have no control over John’s actions.”
He only smiled. “Bryan would want me to tell you your meal is on the house.”
“He’s my favorite cousin,” Scarlet said sweetly.
Stash grinned and walked away.
Much later Scarlet and Jessie shared a cab home. Scarlet lived only a few blocks from Une Nuit and was dropped off first. Jessie continued on after thanking Scarlet profusely for the amazing night.
Scarlet headed up her stairs, questions running through her head. Should she call John? Was he angry? Was it better just to leave it alone for now?
She turned the landing of the third floor and spotted John leaning against the wall by her door. She slowed, studying his face, trying to guess his mood. She wanted to see him flash those dimples, but she didn’t think there was much chance of that. He looked…single-minded.
He didn’t move an inch when she approached. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she put her key in the lock. “What would you have done if I’d brought someone up with me?” she asked mildly, her heart pounding.
“Discouraged him from going inside.”
Scarlet opened the door and went in, leaving the door open but not inviting him. He came inside and shut the door.
She tossed her purse on an entry table then crossed her arms. “What do you want, John?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Short of that, what else?” The game, the words, excited her. She sensed he knew it, too.
“You ignored me.”
“You ignored me, too,” she said. It had confused her, angered her, that he’d spoken to Jessie at the bar but not her.
“You were cozy with Stash. I didn’t want to interfere.”
“Stash and I flirt with each other. It’s nothing.”
“I’m not telling you what to do or not to do. We don’t have an exclusive relationship.”
That hurt. Even if it lasted only the month, she’d thought it was exclusive.
“Well, fine, then. Because I don’t explain myself to anyone.” She turned away, not having a clue what to do next, just that she couldn’t look at him.
“Look,” he said, coming closer, touching her shoulder.
She pulled away.
“This is not going the way I envisioned,” he said, frustration in his voice. “I just wanted to clear the air before tomorrow night. I don’t think I could have even a pretend date with you with tonight hanging over us.”
“What is ‘tonight’ to you? Why are you angry?”
“You think it was easy watching you flirt with that jerk at the bar, then again with Stash? And you knew I was there. I know Jessie told you. Were you trying to make me jealous?”
She spun around. “The jerk came up on his own,” she said, breaking her own rule about not explaining herself. “I sort of encouraged him because I thought he might work for Jessie. Then he showed his true, sleazy colors and I beckoned Stash to come over. I flirted with Stash so that there wouldn’t be a scene, but the jerk was also stupid and thin
gs got out of hand, anyway. Stash is a friend. That’s all.”
“You could’ve beckoned me,” John said quietly.
He was hurt? That was what his problem was? She closed her eyes for a moment. Since he was being honest with her, she could do the same. “I hadn’t turned around at the bar. I didn’t know if you were on a date. I didn’t want to know.”
“I would’ve come to your rescue regardless.”
“Your date would’ve been unhappy about that.”
He set his hands on her shoulders. “Why would I have taken a date to Une Nuit? You told me you were going to be there. Why would I do that to you?” He didn’t wait for answer. “What kind of man do you usually go out with that you would think me capable of such rudeness?”
“Obviously a different kind of man. I’m working on changing that, however.”
She saw him relax.
“I don’t intentionally hurt people, Scarlet. I am civilized.”
Maybe on the surface he was. He’d been raised well, raised to be civilized. But at moments like tonight and during their private tryst in the country club conference room, he wasn’t completely civilized. She liked that about him. She loved that about him. She’d fallen in love months ago with the kind man who’d been so good to Summer, but now she’d fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with this fascinating man who was more primal than she’d expected, more intriguing, more complex. She liked that he’d been waiting for her when she got home, wanting to clear the air, even if the answers to his questions weren’t what he wanted to hear. She liked that he faced things head-on.
She laid her hands on his chest and looked him in the eyes. Words didn’t come, however. After the longest thirty seconds of her life, he lifted his hands and pulled out her hair clip, letting her hair fall around her face, then combed it with his fingers. He cupped her head, moved toward her. She suddenly wished she’d kicked off her shoes so that she could rise up on tiptoe to meet him. The idea made her smile.
“What?” he asked.
“You make me feel so…female.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Is that a good thing?”
“No one has made me feel like that before.”
“Again, is that a good thing?”
“Yes.”
“How have you felt before?”
“I don’t know. Equal. Or sometimes even dominant.” She didn’t want to tell him more, didn’t want to give him ammunition for teasing her. She just knew she felt different with him.
“You’ve been plenty dominant with me.” He was still holding her head, keeping her close. His breath dusted her face. His beautiful dark brown eyes were filled with tenderness and need.
She smiled wider. “Not in comparison.”
“Ah.” He brushed his lips over hers once, twice, once more. “You make me feel different, too.”
His mouth finally settled on hers, his tongue seeking hers. She wound her arms around him.
So much for resisting each other.
With a sigh she gave in to her needs, not attempting to stop the urgent sounds that rose from within her, which seemed to arouse him more. He pulled her close, slid a hand over her rear, tugging her against him, letting her feel his need. She moved her hips against him, and his kisses turned almost violent. He fisted her hair and tipped her head back, ran his tongue down her neck, his fingers frantically opening the belts and buckles on her jacket then shoving the jacket off her, hearing it land with a quiet thud. She was starved for him, had never wanted like this before, as if she could die if she didn’t have him inside her immediately.
He fumbled with her zipper, then her skirt joined her jacket, leaving her in a sheer black bra, thong and boots. Her nipples were so hard, they hurt.
He took a step back to unbutton his shirt, dragged the tails free.
“When I’m ninety I will remember this,” he said, low and harsh.
She hooked her hand in his waistband and brought him closer, wanting him, needing him. She knelt before him, pressed her mouth to his fly, his hard need flattering and exciting. She reached for his belt buckle—
The phone rang.
“The answering machine will get it,” she murmured, placing both hands on him, watching his head fall back as she traced the length and breadth of him through the fabric.
Second ring.
He dragged her up, flicked open her bra and sent it flying.
Third ring.
He cupped her breasts, thumbed her nipples, sucked one into his mouth.
Fourth ring.
“We’re not home. Leave a message,” came Scarlet’s own voice from the nearby machine.
“Hi, it’s me!”
Summer.
John became like a statue.
“You must be out having fun. Maybe I’ll call your cell after this. Haven’t talked to you for a couple of days, and I’m missing you. Although not too much,” she added with a laugh. “Scar, I can’t tell you how happy I am. How incredible Zeke is. You’ve got to fall madly, passionately in love. You do. It’s…it’s indescribable.”
John straightened, stepped away. He shoved his shirt into his pants. His eyes met Scarlet’s. She felt naked, clear to her soul. She couldn’t read his thoughts. He guarded his expression.
“Zeke, stop. I’m talking to my sister.”
In the background came the rumble of a deep voice, but the words weren’t clear.
John scooped up Scarlet’s jacket. She turned around, letting him help her put it on. She tugged the edges together before she faced him again.
“I guess I won’t call you on your cell, after all. I have something else—” Summer laughed “—to do at the moment. I’ll catch you later. Bye. I miss you.”
Scarlet didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t joke about it—it wasn’t the least bit funny. And making light of it wouldn’t sit well with either of them.
As a reminder of the predetermined parameters of their risky relationship, it had a powerful effect. Resistance was the key. This time they needed to try harder.
Maybe her disappointment and fears were in her eyes, though, because John laid a hand tenderly along her face. She covered it with her own.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked.
She nodded. She wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to see him, be with him.
He left with no kiss, no hug. Just a long, thorough, final look at her in her jacket, thong and boots.
For the first time in her life, she wished she didn’t have a sister.
Eight
S aturday refused to pass by with any kind of speed. Scarlet picked out what she would wear on her Woo U date, pressed it, chose jewelry, then looked at the clock. Noon. She had hours and hours to fill. Normally she would spend her free time sewing, but not now. She was too keyed up, plus today was glorious, clear and crisp. She decided to walk the three miles to the EPH building and work out in the company gym.
At the gym Scarlet pushed herself until every muscle burned, then she showered, wrapped up in a towel and settled in the sauna. She wished she could say that she’d been able to block John from her thoughts, but she kept seeing the look on his face—or the nonlook—as Summer talked to the answering machine, and how quickly he’d left.
Not that she would’ve wanted to make love after that, either, but—
No but. There was nothing either of them could’ve done differently. Fate had intervened. For a moment—just a moment—she’d even thought they might have a chance for a future together.
The sauna door opened, and Fin came in. She was entitled to use the private executive section but hadn’t chosen to. The four siblings being put through the wringer for the CEO job were straining to keep their familial ties, but it was more of a competition now than a family unit.
“Good workout?” Fin asked as she sat a few feet from Scarlet.
“I pushed myself hard. I needed it. Hadn’t been here for a couple of weeks. I’m sure I’ll pay for it tomorrow, though.”
“I just had a massage fr
om Magda. See if you can catch her before she leaves.”
Scarlet stuck her head out the door, caught an employee passing by and made her request then sat again.
“I’m glad to see you taking care of yourself,” Scarlet said to her aunt. “I worry about you. Everyone’s worried about you.”
“It’s only a year out of my life. I’ll manage. After I win, I’ll take some time off.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
“Did you go home last night or sleep on the couch in your office?”
“Office,” she said lazily. “Everything going okay with the new project?”
“Everything’s great.”
“It’s comfortable working with John?”
“It’s fine.” Scarlet didn’t want to get into it with Fin. “It’s business.”
“And how’s the new intern working out?”
“Good. Jessie’s got the eye, Fin. I think you should seriously consider keeping her on. She’ll land someplace. Might as well be with us rather than with a competitor.”
The door opened. “Ms. Elliott, Magda says if you can come now, she can give you forty-five minutes.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there, please.”
She scooted close to her aunt and tapped her arm, making her open her eyes. “We all want you to win, Aunt Finny. But we all want you healthy when you do.”
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
Scarlet made sure an attendant knew not to let Fin stay in there for more than fifteen minutes. She would undoubtedly sleep, and could easily end up in the sauna for hours without anyone knowing.
An hour later, exercised, steamed and massaged, Scarlet headed for the elevator, feeling utterly relaxed. She would go shoe shopping, she decided. It would help her pass the time.
“Ms. Elliott,” said a gym attendant, running to catch up and sounding frantic as Scarlet waited for the elevator. “Your grandfather would like to see you.”
To her credit, Scarlet didn’t groan, but thanked the young man and hit the up button. If she hadn’t taken time to indulge herself with a massage she would’ve been long gone by now. She sighed at her bad timing.
Scarlet had been to the twenty-third floor surprisingly few times in her life, and not at all since she’d been working at Charisma. Her grandfather’s office was furnished in an old European style, like The Tides and the Manhattan town house, with antiques that he and Gram had collected on their travels. The familiarity should’ve helped to make her feel comfortable, but it never had, not when the man himself was present.
