“Professional help?”
“Therapy,” Philip explained gently.
“I don't think counseling would do me much good, Philip.”
“Nonsense. It's just what you need to help you deal with your inability to respond sexually and your failure to achieve a climax.”
Letty felt herself turning red with humiliation and anger. “Philip, please.”
“I'd be happy to attend therapy sessions with you, of course. As I said, we're a couple. We need to face these things together. In a way, I suppose one could say it's my fault we're in this situation. I should have insisted on the counseling right at the beginning when I first realized you needed help. Instead, I foolishly allowed my own frustration to build up to a flash point.”
“I'm going to hang up now, Philip.”
“Out of desperation, I took consolation where I could.”
“Good-bye, Philip.”
“Letty, in a way I did it for us.”
“Good grief, Philip. You expect me to buy that?”
“You must not hang up.”
“Why?”
“I told you, we've got to talk.”
“I don't like talking about our relationship, Philip. It's too depressing.”
“I understand that,” he said soothingly. “We'll deal with it slowly. I realize you're under a lot of stress at the moment because of your inheritance. Your friend Connie at the reference desk told me all about your great-uncle leaving you his company. She said you actually plan to run it personally.” Philip chuckled. “That's quite a responsibility, Letty.”
“Yes, it is, isn't it? I'm hoping to use my new responsibilities as a form of sublimation. It's cheaper than therapy.”
Letty hung up the phone. She frowned, wondering what Philip had meant about her secretary failing to put through his calls. There had to be some mistake. She would worry about it tomorrow. Joel would be arriving at any minute.
The doorbell chimed. Letty hurried out of the kitchen. She went down the short hall and opened the door to find Joel waiting with a bottle of champagne in his hand. The label was that of a Northwest winery that was unfamiliar to her.
“Doesn't smell like sushi,” Joel said.
Letty relaxed and smiled back. It was going to be all right. He was here, and he was no longer annoyed with her. She felt inexplicably giddy and unaccountably nervous.
“Just a little something I whipped up using green gelatin and lima beans,” she said glibly. “You can do the most amazing things with green gelatin. Add marshmallows and you've got dessert. Add some of that bacon-flavored cheese that comes in a tube and you've got hors d'oeuvres. And of course there's just no limit to what you can do once you start working with hamburger and green gelatin.”
Joel's eyes narrowed. “I do believe you're pulling my leg, Ms. Thornquist.”
“I do believe I am, Mr. Blackstone. What I've actually got in the oven is lasagne made with some wonderful fresh spinach I found in the Pike Place Market on the way home.”
“Sounds terrific. Why don't I come on in and open the champagne?” Joel suggested gently.
Letty realized she was blocking the doorway. She stepped back quickly. “Yes. Please. Come in.”
“Nice place.” Joel's eyes swept over the interior of the apartment, taking in the sweeping view of Elliott Bay.
“Thanks.” Letty closed the door behind him. All of a sudden her new abode, which had seemed so spacious earlier this afternoon, felt small and very crowded. She started for the kitchen. “I'm still unpacking, of course, but I should be completely settled in another couple of days. I got the phone connected this afternoon.”
“Is the rain bothering you?” Joel followed her into the kitchen and set the champagne on the counter. “We've had a lot of it lately.”
“Heavens, no.” She opened the oven door again and bent over to double-check the lasagne. “I love rain.”
Joel laughed softly behind her, as if at some private joke that only he understood. “I had a hunch you'd say that.” There was a muffled explosion as the cork came out of the bottle of champagne. “Got a couple of glasses?”
“Here.” Letty closed the oven door and handed him two stemmed glasses from the nearest cupboard.
Joel poured the champagne and picked up the glasses. He handed one to her, his eyes steady. Letty shivered under the raw energy she sensed in his gaze.
“You know,” Joel said thoughtfully as his fingers grazed hers, “if I had any sense, I wouldn't start this.” He bent his head and brushed his mouth lightly, teasingly across hers. “God knows things are complicated enough as it is.”
Letty's mouth fell open. He had kissed her. As casually as you please. He had just up and kissed her. She stared at him from under her lashes, half afraid of what she would see. The energy in his eyes was not only raw, it was sexual. That was why it was sending these chills of anticipation through her.
Letty knew she was out of her league. A man like this would expect so much more from a woman than she could give. It was time for a dose of good old-fashioned midwestern common sense.
“You're right. Things are complicated,” she said breathlessly. “If you think it would be best for us not to get involved in a social friendship outside of business hours, I'll certainly understand. I know it probably isn't a very good idea. I wasn't sure if you would even come here tonight.”
“Letty…”
“I hope you didn't accept the invitation because you thought you had to, what with me being the boss and all. I mean, I consider you a friend as well as a co-worker, but I wouldn't want you to feel compelled to socialize with the boss.”
He silenced her by the simple expedient of putting his fingers against her lips. “Letty, have you ever done any juggling?”
“No.”
“Then we're both going to have to hope I know what I'm doing.” He took his fingers away from her mouth and kissed her again.
Hard.
5
Letty set down her glass of champagne with shaking fingers. She took a deep breath and put her arms around Joel's neck. She kissed him back.
Hard.
It was glorious. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She felt wild, unchained, free. A jolt of unfamiliar energy swept through her. She recognized it instantly as pure, undiluted passion.
Her glasses fogged up. That had never happened when Philip had kissed her. It had never happened when anyone had kissed her.
“I'll be damned,” Joel said against her mouth. His voice was hoarse. “I was afraid of this.” There was a clink as he set his champagne glass down beside hers.
Letty felt herself being crowded back against the counter. One of Joel's hands was cradling the nape of her neck. His other hand was braced against the tile behind her, supporting both of them as he leaned into her. Letty was amazed at how heavy he was. He enveloped her the way a Thornquist Gear down jacket did. The warmth was astonishing. She felt hot all over.
Letty gasped when she felt Joel's leg slide between hers. He brought his knee up slowly and deliberately so that she was, for all intents and purposes, riding his muscled thigh. The fiery intimacy of the contact left her dazed and disoriented.
Her neat camel-colored flannel trousers proved to be totally inadequate protection against the heat of Joel's thigh. It burned through the denim of his jeans, through the wool fabric of her pants, and scorched the vulnerable softness between her thighs.
Letty knew she was still fully clothed, but she felt as if Joel had stripped her naked.
Joel's thumb moved along her jawbone, tracing the shape of her as if he intended to sculpt her face. Letty heard him groan deep in his chest. His thigh pressed more firmly against her, forcing her legs wider apart, lifting her up off the floor. She clutched at his shoulders, and his tongue slid into her mouth.
Panic seized her.
“Oh, my God, Joel. Joel, wait. Stop.” Panting for breath, she used the grip on his broad shoulders to force her head up and away from his. She ope
ned her eyes and stared at him through tilted, steamed-up lenses. She found herself gazing straight into the heart of a blast furnace.
Everything was happening too quickly. She knew she had started this with her invitation to dinner, but it was all moving far too fast. She had to get a grip on herself and the situation. Time to slow down and let her glasses unfog.
“Letty?”
“The lasagne.” She gave Joel a shaky smile, aware that her breathing was much too quick and shallow. “It's done. Got to get it out of the oven. Now.”
“Sure. Wouldn't want dinner to burn.” Joel smiled slowly and eased her down so that she was standing on her own two feet again. He lowered his lashes, briefly shielding his gleaming tawny gaze. When he lifted them again, the fire in the furnace had been banked.
Letty nearly collapsed when he took his hand away from her neck. Excitement pounded through her. She felt as if she had just had a very close call, and part of her was disappointed that disaster had been narrowly averted.
There was plenty of time for things to happen between her and Joel, Letty thought as she grabbed two pot holders out of a drawer. If it was truly meant to be, then it would happen. No need to rush.
She noticed she could see clearly again.
Letty staggered to the oven and jerked open the door. A cloud of aromatic steam refogged the lenses of her glasses.
“Letty?”
“Yes?” She busied herself hauling the lasagne out of the oven. The pan weighed a ton. She wondered if doubling the recipe had been a mistake. But Joel was a large man who obviously needed a lot of fuel to maintain his phenomenal energy level. She had not wanted to run out of food tonight of all nights.
“I think I'm going to like being a mentor,” Joel said softly.
She set the pan down with a clatter and turned to face him. He was watching her with an intensity that both alarmed and thrilled her. “I want to make something clear, Joel.”
“Let me take a wild guess.” His mouth kicked up at the corner. “You don't want to rush things, right?”
She laughed with relief. “Right. I wasn't sure how you felt. I wasn't certain if you were as interested in me as I was in you. I wondered if my imagination had gone wild or something.”
“Now you know, don't you?”
She searched his eyes. “Do I?”
“I'm interested.” He picked up his glass of champagne and leaned back against the counter. “Very.”
Letty drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “yes, well, so am I. But where I come from we do things a little more slowly.”
Joel flashed her a grin. “You're not in Kansas anymore.”
“I'm not from Kansas,” she retorted. “I'm from Indiana.”
He held up a palm. “Fair enough. I'll try to remember that and make allowances.”
“There's something else I think you should know right up front,” Letty continued firmly.
“I'm listening.”
“I'm not interested in any one-night stands or short-term affairs.”
“Neither am I. Too messy and too dangerous.”
She toyed with a pot holder. “If we—you and I, that is—if we start something, I want it to be because we both believe we've got a future together. Joel, this is very awkward. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”
“Yeah, I understand all right, Letty. You want to know if my intentions are honorable. It's a little early to ask me that, isn't it?”
She winced at the note of laughter in his voice. “It's a little too early for a lot of things.”
“I thought you came out here looking for passion and adventure.”
“Yes, well, somehow I wasn't expecting to find it quite so quickly,” she admitted.
Joel laughed and put her glass of champagne back in her hand. “Don't worry, we'll do this on your schedule. After all, you're the boss.”
That thought soothed her frazzled nerves. She was the boss, Letty repeated to herself. She had started this, and she would control it. She would test the waters cautiously. She would learn in due course if this man really was the one.
“To us and to Thornquist Gear.” Letty raised the champagne glass to her lips.
“Right. You, me, and Thornquist Gear.”
She sent him home early that night, and he went reluctantly but without a fight. Letty was smiling as she crawled into bed. She lay gazing happily at the neon-lit rain coming down outside her window.
Everything was going to work out beautifully here in Seattle. She had made the right move. She was going to find all the things that had been missing back in Indiana.
The next morning Letty sat at her desk on the fourth floor of Thornquist Gear and gazed out the window. Her thoughts went back to the phone call she had received from Philip.
Not just his call but something he had said during the call bothered her. Something about trying to reach her for several days. Letty made up her mind. It was time to confront her secretary.
She reached out and punched the button on the intercom. “Arthur, will you come in here for a moment, please?”
“Yes, Ms. Thornquist.”
The door opened a moment later, and Arthur hurried into the room. He nervously adjusted his tie and blinked frantically. “What is it, Ms. Thornquist? Is something wrong?”
“Sit down, please, Arthur. I want to talk to you.”
Arthur's eyes widened as he sank into the nearest chair. He clutched a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. “Please, Ms. Thornquist, you're not going to send me back to Accounting, are you? I know I was promoted to executive secretary too quickly. I did warn Mr. Blackstone that I didn't have all the skills you would expect, but he said it would be all right. And I am trying very hard. Honest, I am.”
Letty smiled reassuringly. “I believe you, Arthur. I have no complaints about your skills.”
“Thanks. That's relief. I thought maybe you were mad or something.”
“I'm not angry, but I do have a couple of questions. First, have you been receiving phone calls from a Professor Philip Dixon?”
Arthur brightened. “Yes, ma'am. Several of them. And I've been handling them just the way Mr. Blackstone told me to. I've explained to Mr. Dixon that you could not take the calls. Mr. Blackstone said you didn't want to be bothered.”
“I see.” Letty tapped her pen on the desk, thinking swiftly. “Did Mr. Blackstone give you any other specific instructions about how to handle your work in this office?”
Arthur began to look alarmed again. His blinking speed increased rapidly. “Yes, but I've been doing exactly what he said when he briefed me on my duties for you, Ms. Thornquist. I swear it. When in doubt I always check with Mrs. Sedgewick.”
“What, exactly, did Mr. Blackstone tell you to do?”
“He said I was to route all requests to see you through his office. He said he would deal with them until you were settled in here at Thornquist Gear. He also said I was to let his secretary know if there were any problems. In addition, he made it clear he wants to be kept informed of everything that happens here in your office.”
“Does he really? How thoughtful of him.” Letty grimly recalled Joel's short lecture on making certain the staff knew who was in charge around Thornquist Gear. Apparently he had gone out of his way to ensure that.
“Did I do anything wrong, Ms. Thornquist?”
“No, Arthur. You followed Mr. Blackstone's orders very well.” Letty forced a smile. “But it will no longer be necessary to shield me from routine matters such as phone calls and requests from the staff. I'm quite settled in now. You may consider Mr. Blackstone's orders rescinded.”
“What does that mean?” Arthur gave her a cautious look. “Rescinded?”
“It means they are no longer in effect.”
Arthur coughed discreetly. “Does, uh, Mr. Blackstone know that?”
“I shall inform him myself,” Letty said grimly. “In fact, I will do so immediately.”
Arthur appeared only partially relieved by that informati
on. “All right. Could you also tell Mrs. Sedgewick?”
“Mrs. Sedgewick?”
“She's a very forceful woman,” Arthur explained uneasily. “I just want to be certain she understands I no longer have to get everything approved through her.”
“I will explain matters to Mrs. Sedgewick,” Letty assured him.
Arthur relaxed a little more. “What about those calls from Mr. Dixon?”
“Let me know whenever Professor Dixon calls, and I'll decide for myself whether or not I have time to talk to him.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Arthur got to his feet, blinking. “Is that all?”
“That's all for now, Arthur.”
Letty sat back in her chair and waited for the door to close behind him. Then she picked up one of the computer printouts that littered her desk. She had not requested this particular printout. It had apparently been mistakenly attached to the last stack of data she'd managed to get from one of the computer operators in Accounting. She studied the figures for a long time before she got to her feet.
Carrying the printout under her arm, she left her office and went down the hall to Joel's lair.
“Is Mr. Blackstone around, Mrs. Sedgewick?”
Mrs. Sedgewick, the imposing dragon who guarded Joel's outer office, looked up. She was a strong-boned woman of indeterminate years whose gray hair was permanently frozen into a bouffant curve. “He's in his office, Ms. Thornquist. I'll let him know you're here.”
“Do that,” Letty murmured.
Mrs. Sedgewick spoke into the intercom. “Ms. Thornquist is here to see you, Mr. Blackstone.”
“Send her in.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sedgewick.” Letty paused, her hand on the doorknob, “Oh, by the way…”
“Yes, Ms. Thornquist?”
“Arthur Bigley is now fully trained, and he and I are starting to function together as a team. He will no longer require assistance from you, and you need not concern yourself with directing his activities. Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Sedgewick?”
Perfect Partners Page 8
