“Not a bad idea.” He paused for effect, hoping to jolt her. “You think I could get away with posting an office rule about skirt lengths, perfume, cleavage, and…Susan, can women find skirts that don’t fit like bathing suits?”
“What? Are you serious?” He ran his hand over his hair, enjoying her look of consternation.
“Yeah. Some of those skirts can almost pass for a bathing suit. I’m still getting used to it. You know, when I first came up here, I thought those women were coming on to me.” She frowned, raised an eyebrow and slowly shook her head. Maybe he’d get a strong reaction to that.
“Didn’t the girls at Duke University wear short skirts?”
“All I ever saw them in was jeans, unless they were going to a formal dance, and such occasions only arose once or twice a year. And back home in Wallace, well, to tell you the truth, nobody there bothers about fashion. Most people are just trying to make a living, barely getting by.” She hadn’t moved away from him and she looked agreeable, so maybe she’d forgiven him, though he didn’t know why that was necessary. He pinched her nose, testing the water.
“Grady and Grace are downstairs, honey, so I’d better go. Can you have dinner with us this evening. I want the two of you to like each other.” He watched in astonishment as her lips drooped in the most regal pout he’d ever seen.
“Don’t jump to any conclusions, because we’re not back together…I mean, we haven’t solved anything.”
“Aw, honey, don’t be like this. I’m suffering. It’s been weeks since you kissed me.”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s been three days.”
He laughed. “So you’ve been counting them. Come on, sweetheart, give in. You know we’re going to get married and besides, if we don’t, we’ll spoil Grace’s perfect record.”
Her eyes widened and an expression of amazement blanketed her face. “You’d get married so that Grace can continue to say she’s never been wrong?”
He saw that her thoughts had gone beyond their conversation to an issue of greater depth and substance, and he took her fingers in his own.
“Not by a long shot. I want you to be my wife, Susan. I want to laugh through life with you. Grow old with you. I want to see my babies at your breast.” His hand moved to her shoulders and caressed her gently. “I don’t want this with any other woman. Tell me what you want of me, and I’ll do it. I won’t give you up. Not now. Not ever.”
“August, we’re in my office. We can’t talk or…”
“Or what?” he whispered. “Do you want to kiss me? Do you?”
“August, we can’t…I mean, people don’t act like th…”
Her trembling lips invited his mouth and he gave it to her. Tasted her sweetness, reveled in her soft womanliness. He had needed her so badly. Her lips opened for his tongue and he knew he should ease off, but he needed more. He crushed her to him, and her every movement told him that, in seconds more, they’d both be out of control. He couldn’t risk full arousal in her office, so he broke the kiss as gently as he could and stepped away from her.
“Can’t you see that we belong together? That nothing we say, think, or do interferes with what we feel for each other?”
She moved close to him and buried her face in his neck, catching him off guard by the sudden vibration of her shoulders, and he realized, to his stunned amazement, that Susan had begun to cry.
“Sweetheart, what is it? Tell me,” he pleaded with her, but she said nothing and her sobs increased.
“All right. You’re coming with me, if I have to carry you out of here in my arms.” Lord knows, it wasn’t comical, and he’d better not laugh, but she should have known that the idea of being taken out of her office in his arms would dry Susan’s tears. She’s the consummate professional, he thought with pride.
“Come on, baby, you’ve had enough stress for one day.”
“You’re not supposed to protect me in here,” she grumbled, though she allowed him to tie her scarf around her neck and wrap her in her coat.
“I know,” he agreed, “and I’m not doing that, either. I’m just speeding things up, since Grady and Grace have been waiting almost half an hour. You ready?”
She locked her desk, nodded and, to his delight, smiled at him as she pushed the intercom and told Lila, “I’m leaving early. I have to do some shopping.”
“May I see you for a second before you leave?” her secretary asked. Susan agreed, wiped her eyes carefully and led August to Lila’s office rather than through her private door to the hallway.
“What did you want?” Susan asked her. To her amazement, Lila’s gaze locked on August, and her swift glance from him to Susan suggested that what she wanted was an introduction. Summing it up quickly, Susan asked where she was when August entered her office unannounced while Craig and Oscar were there. An efficient secretary did not allow a man’s easy smile to distract her from her duties and to give him special privileges. The young girl’s obvious embarrassment was sufficient, and her answer cemented it.
“He said you knew him, so I didn’t buzz.” As gently as she could, Susan reminded her of the office rules. Then, she introduced them.
“Miss Benson, this is August Jackson, my fiancée.” Empathy for her secretary flashed through her when the girl’s face sagged and flushed with humiliation. She couldn’t help wondering how often women were attracted to August’s stunning good looks and charismatic personality only to have their hopes dashed upon learning that his regard held politeness, nothing more. She could have been in their shoes, because she, too, had fallen for him almost on sight.
When they reached the lobby, Grace walked toward them rapidly, a scowl on her face.
“Half an hour in that cab in this freezing weather could have been the death of me,” she fumed.
“We were getting things straightened out,” August explained. “Where’s Grady?”
“In my car where he’s probably got rigor mortis by now,” she grumbled, walking toward the door.
“Not Grady. My brother is a survivor.” Happiness for August buoyed Susan’s spirit, as she listened to the pride in his voice. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the brothers’ striking resemblance, and when she remarked on it, Grady explained that they looked like their father as he remembered him.
“When is your sister, Ann, arriving,” Grady asked her. “Grace tells me she sees her in my future.”
“Of course, she’s in your future,” Susan told him, gainsaying what she figured would be Grace’s next crusade. “She’s supposed to be my maid-of-honor. Don’t let Aunt Grace ordain your life.”
“She was right on the beam with us,” August defended Grace.
“Not yet, she wasn’t,” Susan interjected. “We haven’t gotten things straightened out, and I don’t want her working her charts on my sister.”
“I don’t work charts. It’s already there, I just figure it out. And you’ll see that I’m never wrong. No matter how many obstacles you two put in the way and how many excuses you give each other, you’re getting married at the scheduled time.”
“And your charts are never wrong,” August added, winking at Susan.
She watched his lips begin to curve and tried to shift her glance, but couldn’t. A warm bloom drifted up his cheeks until it reached his eyes and burst into a sparkling gleam. Without thinking, she reached for him, and her heart hammered wildly as he embraced her, pulling her into his strong arms, and nestling her head against his shoulder.
Grady, who had glanced to the back seat, whispered, as though not to disturb them. “I’m getting my tux pressed, Grace,” he said.
“You go on and do that, you hear,” Grace advised. “My charts ain’t never before showed two people so well suited, and my second sense shows me what’s going to happen. I tell you, Mr. Grady, they’re a perfect match. And you mark my word and start off on the right foot with my other niece, Ann, ’cause she don’t take no foolishness.”
Susan stirred against the haven of August’s chest. S
he wanted them to reconcile, to find a way out of their dilemma. She didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t relent. She felt the moisture on her cheeks and brushed it away against the fabric of his coat. When she’d joined the firm, that bastion of male chauvinism, the women who worked there, all in secretarial or clerical positions, had told her she wouldn’t make it to the top. She’d worked twelve-hour days, sacrificed friendships, had no love life, had given herself completely to the job. And she’d done it, because her male colleagues had challenged her every move and decision, and the more they heaped on her, the more determined she was to succeed. She’d made it because she’d outshone them all. And all of them knew it. But would she have to sacrifice August in order to reap the rewards? She couldn’t bear to think of his dropping out of her life. Their telepathic wires must have connected, she decided, because he gathered her closer and brushed his lips over her forehead.
“Grace, drop us off at Susan’s place and take Grady on to my apartment.” He handed Grady his door keys. “I’ll be there eventually,” he told him. “And don’t worry about house security. If you speak and keep walking, Blake, he’s the doorman, won’t know the difference.”
Susan primed herself for battle. August’s voice had taken on a steel-like edge, and she knew he intended to bring to bear every argument he could muster in order to win his case. And her legal experience wouldn’t help her, because he’d appeal to her emotions, to her heart rather than to her intellect. He moved in on her as soon as he’d closed her door and hung up their coats.
“What were you crying about?”
She would have moved past him into the living room, had he not blocked her way.
“Let me have my privacy, please, August. You don’t have to know everything.”
He moved closer, letting her sense his powerful male aura and smell the heat that leaped out to her. She backed away. If she was going to win him on her conditions or on their mutual terms, she couldn’t allow him to take possession of her. She needed her wits.
“Why were you crying in your office, Susan? You sobbed in my arms, and I want to know why.”
She hated lying, but he hadn’t given her a reason to tell him why she’d suddenly hurt so badly, why the pain still stabbed at her, nearly drawing her into a depression. She raised her shoulders, stepped back, and looked into his eyes.
“I’m still mad at you for expecting me to play around with my career, maybe even give it up, after I’ve worked so hard for it.” She wasn’t angry, but how else could she deflect his interrogations?
“No such thing. I never said you had to give it up, I just said I didn’t want our six-week-old babies to be left with a nanny.”
She knew there were alternatives. She could leave her milk at home for the babies, or they could be bottle fed. Many mothers did that. She could bring them to work with her, too, though she could imagine the treatment that would get her from Craig and Oscar. But why should she have to do any of that? Most every time she and August had reached an impasse on a crucial issue, August had had his way. Not this time. They wouldn’t stand a chance of living in peace unless he learned to compromise. And he could start learning right now.
“If I did what you want, I’d have to stay home,” she said. She looked down at the floor, because he’d already started to go for the jugular with his jacket open and his hands in his pants pockets to display his perfect physique, and that curve had begun around his lips. She steeled herself.
“That’s a supposition, honey. You just want to fight, when you ought to be kissing me. Come on, baby.” His arm stole around her waist, his fingers caressed her, the smile reached his eyes, and he pulled her to him. Her breath caught in her throat when he tilted her chin up.
“Were you crying because you want to marry me, and you thought you’d have to give up your job?” His voice softened, dropped to a whisper. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.
“Honey, what is it?” He held her at arm’s length. “Baby, you can’t do this.” He drew her back into his arms, took a crumpled handkerchief from his pants pocket and tried to dry her tears, but the more he wiped the more she cried.
“I…I’m…I hate m…m…myself when I cry.” She fought to control the tears, ashamed of herself for that moment of weakness. “I’m s…s…sorry, August.”
“For crying? Sweetheart, that proves just how unhappy you are. I know that crying isn’t your style. Now, you’re going to tell me why. Your partnership contract isn’t the issue, and you know that. In the first place, it’s against the law to deny parental leave, and second, that rider is flagrant discrimination against you as a woman. We only have to tell Craig that we’ll go to court, and that would be the end of it. He’s a lawyer, too. So what is the problem?”
Her gaze took in his gentle, caring visage. She had never emptied her soul to anyone, and that was what he asked. Frustrated, she turned away.
“Were you sad because you care for me? Can’t you tell me?”
“Oh, August. August.” She tried to stop the trembling of her lips, and he held her closer steadying her, and gazed into her eyes, weakening her knees.
“Do you care for me? Do you love me?”
She didn’t notice the unsteadiness of his voice or hear the uncertainty. Her mind focused on the question and his audacity in asking it.
“Why do you think you have the right to question me about that? You asked me to marry you. I don’t remember hearing you say anything about love.” She watched him brush his hand over his hair and frown, as if he couldn’t understand what she was talking about.
“Love and marriage go together. At least, that’s what I always thought.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” she huffed. “Just ask half of the married couples in this country.”
He glared at her. “You’re a genius at getting off of the subject. I’ll stay here all night if necessary until you tell me why you’ve been crying. Now, Susan, don’t start that again,” he said, when laughter bubbled up in her throat.
“You’re welcome to spend the night. I’ve been telling you that since right after we met. You’re…”
He threw his hands up. She exasperated him. But, Lord, he didn’t see how he could live without her.
Grady’s challenge to him flashed through his mind. Would he want to be away from his job for six months? In his mind’s eye, he saw her heavy with his child, pictured her grappling with the pains of birth and shook his head slowly, as compassion enveloped him. After all that, why should responsibility for their babies’ care rest on her? What had he been thinking about? An idea formed, and he knew he’d found a way out of their dilemma.
“If you cried about staying home from work till our babies are six months old, stop worrying. That’s not a problem.”
Susan could feel her eyes stretch their limit. “It’s not?”
“You heard right. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to hire a consultant to plan a child care program at Pine and Jackson. We’ll have to buy a car, which I’ll hate, but our babies will go to work with me, and you can visit on your lunch hour or whenever it suits you. If they’re sick, the one of us who doesn’t have a court case or some other emergency will stay home with them, or we’ll take turns. What could be fairer than—”
She flung herself into his arms. “August. Oh, darling. Love. I’m so happy.” Joy filled her to overflowing, and she wondered if her pounding heart was out of control. She clung to him, sobbing and laughing. Her ribs ached from his tight hold on them, but she didn’t care. She threw back her head and laughed.
“Look at me, Susan.” Both the tenor of his voice and his somber gaze told her that he had never been more serious.
“Why have you been crying today? Before you answer, remember that when I asked you to marry me, I promised that I’d always be here for you, no matter what. I keep my promises. Can’t you trust me?”
She looked at him and let him see all that she felt.
“When you were scolding Craig, I realized how much I love you, and it
frightened me, because I knew that, if you refused to compromise, we’d never get married.”
“What did you say?” August stared at Susan. He wanted her to love him, needed it as he needed water and air, and he couldn’t count the times he’d told himself that she did love him. He’d prayed that she would. Was he dreaming, out of his mind, or…
“August, it isn’t easy for me to stand here and pour my heart out when you—”
“Did you say you love me? Did you?” He heard the tremors in his voice and ignored them. He didn’t care about pride. “Yes or no?”
She nodded, and he breathed. Breathed and lifted her from the floor and whirled around and around. He couldn’t help shouting. He wanted to scream, to open the windows and tell east-side New York that his woman loved him. He felt her fingers ease down his cheeks and her thumb brush his bottom lip, and he rested her feet on the floor. Then, he asked her again.
“You really love me, honey?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. He gazed into her eyes, saw the love shining in their depths, and dizzying currents of sensation bolted through him.
“Baby,” he breathed and brushed her lips with his own. Her sweet mouth, pliant, submissive and eager, asked for more, and he crushed her to him. The feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest and the quest of her parted lips for his loving sent his heart into a rapid trot, and he trembled violently against her. But her embrace tightened, and she pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth. In spite of his efforts at control, he rose against her in full readiness and shivered when she pressed his buttocks to her. Never had he wanted a woman so badly. His body told him to take her then and there, but his heart and head reminded him that it was not the time, that he’d promised her a trip to paradise. At the moment, he wouldn’t be able to give her five minutes of careful attention. Slowly, he brought them out of their emotional high.
“You’re an expert at criminal law,” she said, pronouncing the words a little too distinctly, he thought. “What’s the penalty for carefully premeditated murder?”
Yes, I Do Page 29
