by Day Leclaire
“We’re looking into it,” Sable assured him, hoping to end the discussion before it turned acrimonious. She shot Cornelius a speaking look, willing him to pick up on her cues and change the subject.
With a quick nod of understanding, he cleared his throat, speaking hastily. “Next we have—”
“Hold it. I’m not finished,” Damien cut in. “And we’re not moving on until I’m satisfied with your answers. What are you doing to correct this situation?”
“First we have to find the cause,” Sable explained. “Once we know why the condition exists, we can take steps to correct it.”
“Thank you, Madam Chairwoman, but that’s apparent even to me.” His sarcasm made her wince. “What does this Matheson have to say?”
“Nothing,” she replied, her patience beginning to wear thin. “Yet. As I explained, he’s looking into it.”
“Not to my satisfaction, he isn’t,” Damien’s immediately retorted. “Did we lose the account because of poor workmanship, inferior materials, cost overruns? What?”
His heated gaze passed over the other board members. To Sable’s chagrin, none could meet his eyes, every last one of them becoming engrossed in reading his notes. Damien swore beneath his breath and for the first time that day she shared his feelings. It was hard to respect a board that couldn’t answer such basic questions.
“I’ll explain the urgency of the situation to Matheson,” she said, in the hopes of easing the situation. “I’ll speak to him today.”
“You do that.” His gaze clashed with hers, his eyes reflecting his contempt. “I paid a hefty sum for my stock in Caldwell’s. I’m not about to sit back and watch my investment go down the tubes due to your shoddy business practices. I want some answers and I want them now.”
“I told you. Matheson’s working on it,” Sable tried again.
A muscle jerked in his cheek, a sure sign he was struggling to keep his fury in check. “Then he’ll work harder. I want a preliminary report from him tomorrow and a comprehensive analysis on my desk by the end of the month. I also suggest that at our next board meeting each of the department heads attend and present reports on their projects and clients in person. I want them available to answer any questions we might have.”
What he really meant was any questions he might have, Sable realized. She didn’t bother protesting. It would be pointless. He was like a river in full flood, sweeping any opposition aside with stunning force. While she’d been busy dwelling on the past, he’d waited for the perfect moment to take control of the meeting. And from long experience she knew nothing she could say or do would wrest that control from his grasp.
The rest of the meeting proved as much. He directed the discussions, questioned everything and demanded exhaustive responses. And he cut through the pomposity, forcing the board members to focus on the facts. To Sable’s secret amusement, the more recalcitrant of them soon learned that Damien didn’t take opposition well. A few choice words tossed in their direction and they fell swiftly into line.
It reminded her of the old days when they’d worked side by side, days when observing him bending antagonistic boards to his will had filled her with an intense admiration and excitement.
Days long gone.
Throughout the meeting, his challenging gaze came to rest on her with increasing frequency. Was he daring her to protest? Daring her to resist his blatant appropriation of her position? If so, he’d have quite a wait. This wasn’t the time. She’d choose her own battlefield. And when the chance came to thwart him she’d seize it with both hands. In the meantime, she’d sit back and watch. Watch for the best opportunity and try and figure out his next move.
“That’s the last of it,” Cornelius announced, relief palpable in his voice. “Sable?”
“If there’s nothing further, we’re adjourned,” she announced.
Several of the board members thrust back their chairs and stood with alacrity. Sable took her time. Making a final notation, she straightened her papers and slipped the file folder into her briefcase. She sensed Damien’s approach, though she refused to look his way. Her lack of response didn’t deter him. He planted a hand on her shoulder, his long fingers sliding over her silk jacket and probing the delicate bones beneath.
“Let’s go,” he stated without preamble.
She attempted to slip from beneath his hold, but he didn’t release her, and reluctantly she glanced up, her cheek grazing his hand. The accidental touch sparked an unexpected flash of heat, catching her by surprise. The reaction must have surprised him just as much, for his grip tightened reflexively, his fingers biting deep.
“You want to leave?” she asked, her voice low and husky.
“Yes.” His hold eased, his thumb pressing into the taut muscles along the nape of her neck, massaging the tiny kinks.
She relaxed despite herself, the slow, unrelenting caress provoking a response she’d thought long dead. Hoped was long dead. She didn’t want him touching her, didn’t want to feel the heady rush of emotions that his touch inevitably wrought. She wanted to hate him, not— Her eyes widened.
“We can’t go.” She hurried into speech. “There’s a board luncheon after the meeting. We’re expected to attend.”
He shook his head. “Not today. I’m sure everyone will understand that you and I have important matters to discuss. Private matters.”
She tensed beneath his hand. “I didn’t think there was anything more for us to discuss. You’ve made your desires perfectly clear.”
“Have I?” An enigmatic smile played about his mouth. His fingers drifted upward to stroke the side of her neck and the sensitive area just beneath her jaw. Then his hand fell away, leaving her strangely bereft. “You’re so certain?”
She caught the thread of amusement running through his words and stirred uneasily. Was she wrong? Were the requests he’d made here today only the beginning? What more could he want? She thought of Kyle. Fear, fierce and primitive, shot through her. Her heartbeat quickened, racing with the desperate, instinctive need to protect her child from harm.
“Damien?” she whispered through numb lips. “What now? What more could you possibly want?”
“The only way you’ll find out is to come with me.” He inclined his head toward the board members clustered in the far corner like a flock of broody hens. “Make our excuses and let’s go.”
She hesitated. “Go where?”
“To my office.”
She longed to refuse his request. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a request. It was an order. She debated arguing but, knowing Damien as well as she did, it would prove pointless. He was a man accustomed to getting his way, no matter what it took. Besides, if she wanted to discover what more he expected from her, she’d better take his orders for the time being.
“Give me a moment,” she capitulated with as much grace as she could muster. She joined Cornelius and made her excuses for her abrupt departure. His lack of surprise told her the change of schedule wasn’t entirely unexpected.
“Be careful,” Cornelius muttered in an undertone. “I don’t know why, but he has it in for you.”
“You’ve noticed?” she retorted drily. “You’re right, of course. And I’ll be very careful.” Not that it would do her any good. Gathering up her briefcase, she returned to Damien’s side. “I’m ready,” she announced, though it was a blatant lie. She doubted she’d ever be ready for what he had planned.
He didn’t reply, simply opened the door and waited for her to walk out of the conference room. She turned automatically in the direction of her office and he fell in beside her. “Will I need my briefcase?” she asked.
“No. I prefer to keep it casual.” He opened the door to her office and followed her in. “We’ll have lunch and see if we can’t hash out the finer details between us.”
She shot him a speculative look. The finer details of what? She dropped her briefcase on her desk and turned to leave, but he didn’t seem in any hurry. Instead he wandered through her domain, examinin
g the few personal pieces she kept at the office. He paused by her credenza and frowned, picking up a lopsided clay vase painted in brash primary colors—Kyle’s last birthday present to her. He turned to face her and she stiffened, waiting for the inevitable questions, waiting for his keen intellect to reach what seemed to her such an obvious and logical conclusion.
He flicked the wilted zinnias that drooped over the lip with his fingertip. “Either you’ve acquired a liking for primitive art or you’re showing unusually poor taste.”
“I like it,” she retorted, fighting to sound normal. “Isn’t that the most important consideration when it comes to acquiring art?”
“Not according to the investors I know.” To her intense relief, he returned the vase to her credenza, his attention drawn to the simple gold-framed photo pushed to the back of the odd assortment of knickknacks. He picked it up, a bitter smile twisted his mouth. “Ah. The dearly departed husband. What the hell did you ever see in him?”
“He was kind.”
“Kind?” Damien’s mouth curled. “He was an insipid fool who fell apart at the first sign of trouble.”
“Leonard was a wonderful businessman,” she insisted, leaping to her late husband’s defense.
Damien didn’t bother to conceal his contempt. “His father was a wonderful businessman. Leonard wouldn’t have known a blueprint from a spreadsheet. In the few short years he managed the Caldwell empire, he lost everything his father had built up except the construction company. And if good old Lenny had lived, he’d have lost that, too.” His expression turned savage. “Instead, his wife has that honor.”
She paled at the threat. “Why, Damien? Why did you go after him? Was it because of me?”
“What the hell do you think?”
So it was. She’d suspected as much, but she’d hoped against hope she’d been mistaken. Guilt ripped through her. Hawke Enterprises and Caldwell’s had always been rivals, each a huge conglomerate that spread into all phases of construction and development. At one time their rivalry had been a friendly one, but all that changed shortly after her betrayal and her marriage to Leonard. With methodical calculation Damien had stripped the Caldwell empire of every holding except the construction company, bringing the Caldwell family to the brink of ruin.
And it was largely her fault.
She’d met Patricia Caldwell at a trade show and they’d struck up a friendly conversation. Of course, she’d been Patricia Samson then. And Sable had never once connected Patricia Samson, older friend and mentor, with Patricia Caldwell, cut-throat rival. Sable had paid for that small mistake. And if Damien’s threat was anything to go by, she’d continue to pay.
She took a step back, staring at him as though she’d never seen him before. “I can’t believe your vindictiveness,” she whispered in an appalled voice. “You’d cripple Caldwell’s in order to get at me?”
He tossed the photo on her credenza, his amusement a vicious thing. “You think I took Leonard down just because of you?”
“You didn’t go after him until we married,” she retorted defensively. “What else should I believe?”
He stalked closer, towering above her, his fury barely held in check. “Correction. I didn’t go after Leonard until you stole for him. He made the first move. All I did was finish the game.”
“That isn’t how it happened! Why won’t you believe me?”
“You try my temper,” he informed her through gritted teeth. “Caldwell admitted everything, even if you won’t. If he couldn’t stomach a fight, he shouldn’t have started one. And neither should you.”
“Stop it, Damien!” she insisted with sharp-edged impatience, her anger rising to match his. “You keep accusing me of stealing from you and I keep telling you it wasn’t deliberate. I’m guilty of trusting someone I shouldn’t have, of exercising poor judgment, I admit it. But I’m not guilty of theft. Never that.”
He folded his arms across his chest, his expression carved into hard, taut lines. “When did you start playing games, Sable? Or is lying one of your talents, now?”
“Patricia was a friend—”
He approached, crowding so close that she could scarcely breathe. “Such a good friend that you handed her the Anderson account. Then you thought, what the hell? And you gave her Zepher and his chain stores, too.”
She didn’t know why she bothered, but she had to try to convince him one final time. “I didn’t know she was Leonard’s sister. She was married at the time—”
“And let’s not forget that little venture I’d planned for Martinique. They all went to Caldwell’s thanks to you.”
“Samson. She said her name was Samson. How was I to know she was related to Caldwell’s?”
Before she realized his intention, he snagged her arm, slamming her up against him. “A year’s work! I lost a full year’s work. And you? You ended up married to the president of the competition. Now tell me firing you was unjust, that going after Caldwell was out of line.”
“I was indiscreet, I admit that,” she conceded, fighting his hold. “But I swear to you, it wasn’t deliberate.”
He encircled her waist, tugging her into the cradle of his hips. “You saw a chance for a bigger prize. You put yourself on sale to the highest bidder. And Caldwell paid the price. Marriage in exchange for insider information, isn’t that the deal you worked out?”
“No!” She strained away from him, desperate to convince him, more desperate to escape his touch, to escape the unbridled heat of his body. “No, I swear I didn’t betray you. Not like that.”
“Cut the bullshit, Sable!” One hand snaked up the length of her spine to the back of her head, his fingers thrusting deep into her hair. “The other execs at the company told me you were the one, but I didn’t believe them. It couldn’t be you, I said, and I’d prove it.”
She shook her head, tears leaping to her eyes. “I didn’t know what she intended. I swear, I didn’t know.”
“So we set a trap. Did you ever figure that out? I gave you false information. Imagine my surprise when Caldwell came in just below that bid. That fictitious bid. I guess Lenny was even more surprised when he lost the contract. Did he ever blame you? He couldn’t have, since he married you anyway.” His voice dropped, his words harsh with fury. “And now, my sweet, it’s time to reap your reward for selling me out.”
She froze, the fight draining out of her. “What do you want?” she whispered apprehensively, her hands splayed across his chest.
“I want you to sell me your shares of Caldwell’s.” His smile terrified her. “But, more than that, I want you back in my bed.” And with that he lowered his head and took her mouth in a fierce, plundering kiss.
Chapter 3
Damien’s kiss was merciless. His mouth crushed Sable’s with a dominating force, filled with ruthless male aggression. Shocked to the core, she didn’t even think to struggle. Not that she could have. He held her with one powerful arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers biting into her hip and clamping her against the taut, muscular length of him. His other hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to give him complete access to her mouth. And he took full advantage of that access.
He parted her lips, invading the silky warmth within, ravaging with a skill she hadn’t experienced in five long years. He knew her so well, knew how to drive her insane with light, teasing caresses, how to rouse her to a fever pitch with deep, passionate strokes, how to carry her so close to the edge that she could only cling to him, pleading desperately for more.
She surrendered, moaning deep in her throat, and in that instant the kiss changed. His embrace felt no less forceful, but now he used his familiarity with her to wring a response she was helpless to suppress. They’d always shared an intuitive sense of each other’s needs, had used that perception to turn their lovemaking into a joining of monumental proportions. The knowledge that their connection still existed finally shattered her control. She could no more resist him than the tide could resist the pull of the moon.
“I have no choice,” he muttered against her lips. “And neither do you.”
He kissed her again and this time she opened to him. It was as though a thousand suns joined as one. A liquid heat burned through her with white-hot strength, flooding her with an explosive desire. For too long she’d suppressed her needs. She’d put herself second for the past five years, playing the various roles demanded of her. Mother. Nurse. Businesswoman. But Damien cut through to the heart of her, to the woman smoldering just beneath the surface, setting free the passions she’d kept so carefully in check.
With Damien she could embrace the most feminine part of herself, physically, mentally, spiritually. Sexually. She refused to simply give what he demanded. She took, with deep kisses and soft caresses, that drove him right up to the edge.
After an eternity, he eased his mouth from hers. But he didn’t release her. His breath fanned her face, hot and rapid. “Did you respond like this to Caldwell? Tell me you married him for love and not money, Sable. Tell me you aren’t a thief. Look at me so I can see the expression in your black eyes when you pervert the truth.”
She bowed her head, his words knifing through her with surgical precision. Their kiss, such a wondrous connection for her, was just a means to slip beneath her guard. Why hadn’t she realized? She should have known. “You bastard,” she whispered. “Haven’t you done enough to me, without this?”
His hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. She’d always thought of him as a sophisticate—clever, polished, worldly. But in that instant all she saw was raw male savagery beneath a tailored suit.
“Did Caldwell even know what he was missing? Somehow I doubt it. But you knew. How was it, Sable? How did you feel when he touched you, kissed you, made love to you? How did it feel to sell yourself, body and soul?”
