by Francis Ray
“The circulation of the newspa—”
“Are you suggesting that every reader of the newspaper is looking for a home of this caliber and is in a position to purchase one?”
“Of course not, but the important thing is that people saw it,” the woman rushed on to say.
“Seeing and buying are two very different things,” Sierra finished. “Car manufacturers advertise every day in multiple media for a very good reason. It’s been proven that it takes the consumer at least three repetitive times to see something before it sticks. When had you planned for two and three?”
“I-I—”
“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping to hear.” Sierra tossed the newspaper on the desk. “A Navarone property is a first for Texas, thus giving Dallas prestige. By now every major newspaper in the state should have run a story on Navarone Place, and if you couldn’t have gotten one, you should have paid for it. Magazines like Architectural Digest or Southern Accents should be waiting with bated breath to come in and photograph the homes of the first residents.”
“I’ve got plans,” Char defended.
“Let’s hear them.”
“I—” Once again the woman faltered.
“Ms. James, your performance is inexcusable and unacceptable. I mean to make Navarone Place the premiere residence not only in Dallas but in the country. To do that, I need an advertising company with the contacts, motivation, and intelligence to get the information out. Can you produce or do I need to make a phone call that you’re not going to like?”
“I’ve been busy with other projects.”
“Excuses won’t cut it with me. What I want, what I demand, are results. Tell me one reason why this conversation shouldn’t be over.”
Her lips began to tremble; tears streamed down her cheeks. “Father will kill me if I mess up this account.”
“Don’t tempt me, Char.”
SEVEN
“If I had known you were taking care of it, I wouldn’t have called,” Sierra said from behind the desk.
Blade couldn’t tell if she was upset with him or not. Bob Fulton, head of Fulton Advertising Agency, had just left with his chastised daughter and promised to have a marketing plan on Blade’s desk by ten the next morning. “I wasn’t pleased any more than you. I had Fulton come over to discuss it. While we were talking, I received a phone call from Martin. He was concerned about you.”
“So you rushed to my rescue.” Clearly miffed, she slapped a notebook on her desk.
“That will be the day. Actually, it was Fulton who insisted that we come down. Char was clearly having trouble with the account. I like the old man, but I won’t allow anything to stand in the way of the success of Navarone Place.”
“If her father knew that, why let her continue on the project?”
“She’s his only child, his legacy. He wants to leave the business to her,” Blade said slowly. A legacy was something he would never have, but he understood the need. “I’d better get back to work.” He walked to the door. “Don’t be upset with Martin. It wasn’t so much that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself as it was that he didn’t like the condescending way she talked to you. He was so angry I could barely understand him.”
“She won’t be so flippant the next time we meet.”
He debated only a moment. “Fulton is going to handle the account personally from now on. Char is out.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Your doing?”
“I liked it even less that she talked to you that way.” He opened the door. “Can you meet with us in the morning? I’d like your input.”
She tapped her pen on her desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like Jacques and Dominique Falcon-Masters there as well. She’s a fabulous photographer. I want her and Jacques to work together to see what they can come up with. You and your design team have created a fabulous place that needs to be shown.”
“I agree. We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight.” He’d worked that reminder in nicely.
Her lips tilted upward. “Afraid I might not come otherwise?”
Nothing much got by Sierra. He almost smiled. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Crossed mine, too.” She pulled her appointment book from the corner of her cluttered desk. “Tell Martin the meal had better be fabulous.”
Blade’s eyebrows lifted. “Knowing Martin, he’d probably say that was the only kind he cooked.”
Her mouth twitched. “Get out of here.”
Sierra forgave Martin long before dinner. Jenkins knocked on her door less than thirty minutes after Blade left with the chef’s peace offering, a crispy calamari salad that delighted her taste buds. She’d called after the first incredible bite. Men had that irksome quirk that made them protective of women. She’d gone back to work looking forward to dinner and being with Blade, another protective male.
Martin might listen and back off, but Blade would do as he pleased. He’d bend only to a point. The same went for her. A showdown between them, both strong willed, was inevitable. And when it happened, it was going to be a doozie.
Sierra barely kept the smile from her face as Blade, Martin, and Jenkins met her at the door. “Quite a welcoming committee.”
“You’re ten minutes late.” Blade took her arm as if afraid she’d leave.
“Talking with my family.” Pierce and Brandon hadn’t wanted to hang up on the three-way after she told them about her dinner date with Blade. Pierce had suggested room service. Brandon quickly took up the cry. Since they communicated on her cell phone all the time, they didn’t know she had moved out of the hotel. Sierra didn’t think it was a good time to tell them.
“I told them you were coming,” Jenkins said, looking pleased. “You’re too well mannered not to have called and canceled.”
“I’m glad someone has faith in me.” She looked pointedly at Blade.
“I have faith in you. I just don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said, leading her through the great room, the two men following.
She had to smile at that. “My brothers have the same problem.”
“Glad to know I’m not in this by myself,” Blade said.
Jenkins stepped around them and opened the double doors to the terrace. “Martin will serve the first course directly. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you, Jenkins.” Sierra took the seat Blade held. The intimate table was a short distance away from the outdoor fireplace. A sloped lounge chair was in front as if waiting for two lovers to lie on it and enjoy the night and each other. Heat flushed her face on imagining her and Blade there. Perhaps she should have listened to her brothers.
“What’s the matter?” Blade stared down at her with a bottle of sparkling water in his hand.
“My brothers wanted me to eat in my room.”
“What do you want?”
She lifted her glass with a steady hand. “As I said, I’m still trying to figure that out.”
After filling her glass, Blade took his seat just as Martin came through the door Jenkins was holding open. Martin quickly served and left.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Stop tempting me. “I’ll let you know.” She bowed her head to say grace. When she lifted her head, she looked straight into Blade’s gaze. He studied her with blatant appreciation. Perhaps she should have said a prayer for herself.
“Did you get moved in all right?” he asked, picking up his fork. Perhaps food would quench one appetite while he tried to control another.
“Yes, thank you.” Sierra’s fork hovered over her salad. “When I went over after lunch, the maid, Val, had already unpacked everything. I can definitely see the appeal of just arriving with things already in place, but then you already know that feeling.”
“Yes, but I never thought of it as a draw to residents.” He liked that, besides a beautiful face and irresistible body, Sierra had a sharp mind. Too sharp at times in evading him, but he was determined to change that.
“That’s because you’re
so used to it.” She speared a grape tomato. “People don’t pay attention to something unless it disrupts their routine. The draw of Navarone Place will be that it will do everything to make their life there pleasurable.”
She had certainly disrupted his routine. When he finally broke through her resistance, “pleasurable” would be too tame a word to describe their sexual encounter. “Go on.”
She bit into the tomato with relish, then straightened abruptly. “‘Navarone Place—Dreams immersed in reality.’ No, needs work as a slogan.”
“I’m sure it will come to you.” Just as you will come to me, he thought. “Here’s Martin with the next course.”
“Peppercorn-crusted filet of beef with horseradish mashed potatoes, baby vegetables, and caramelized glaze,” Martin said to her, then to Blade, “minus the green peas. Enjoy.”
Blade noticed immediately that Sierra wasn’t eating. She usually dove into her food before Martin turned away. “What’s the matter?”
Biting her lower lip, she glanced at the terrace doors, then leaned forward to whisper, “I don’t like green peas or cooked carrots.”
Blade instantly stood and reached for her plate. “I’ll have—”
She grabbed the plate. “No. It would hurt his feelings. I guess I could eat them this time.”
“Sierra, I’m not going to allow you to eat food you don’t like when it’s so simple to have Martin fix it.”
She got that mutinous look again. “Not allow me?”
“Would you want a dinner guest to eat food they didn’t like?” he asked.
She sighed. “No.” She caught his arm as he passed. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to be.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. He saw the surprised pleasure in her eyes, on her face. “Stop worrying.”
In less than a minute Blade was back with a fresh plate and Martin. Martin, if anything, was even more captivated by her because she’d wanted to eat food she didn’t like just so she wouldn’t hurt his feelings. “I can’t abide brussels spouts or asparagus.”
“Me, either,” Sierra confessed with a sheepish grin.
“Are there any other foods I should know you don’t like?” Martin asked patiently.
“That’s about it.” Sierra accepted the fork he handed her. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Dessert is triple chocolate cake.” With a small dip of his head, he was gone.
“Thank you, too,” she said as Blade took his seat. “I hope your food isn’t cold.”
He spread his napkin in his lap. “I’ve eaten cold food before.”
Sierra picked up her knife. “But I wasn’t the cause of it.”
His mouth quirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He continued speaking at her stare. “As I said, you’re a hard woman to forget.”
She easily recalled his statement. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She did know she wasn’t going to dwell on it. “How is the resort in the Mexican Caribbean going?”
“Ahead of schedule.” He bit into his meat. “It’s beautiful there. Peaceful.”
He almost looked relaxed for the first time since she’d met him. She wanted that peace for him. “Please tell me more.”
“Located in the Mexican Yucatán Peninsula, Navarone Riviera Maya will be a luxurious haven of sophisticated design, innovative amenities, with unsurpassed personalized service,” he told her. “In this place, steeped in ancient history, surrounded by sugar beaches and a forest so green it looks artificial, the occupants will be able to party or relax as the mood strikes.”
“But as here, you’ll have competition,” she said.
“I see you’ve done your research as usual, but we’re the best,” he said without arrogance. “We’ll provide one of the world’s great luxury escapes with carefree living at its finest. We’ll bring Navarone’s own uncompromising style and sophistication. Cancun International Airport is only thirty minutes away. Major cities like Dallas and Atlanta are less than three hours away.”
Nodding, Sierra picked up her drink. “That’s a great plus for businessmen.”
“Navarone Resorts and Spas will continue its success as the world leader in upscale resorts,” he said, and polished off his dessert.
“Can you dance?” Sierra asked as music drifted from the speakers on either side of the terrace. She placed her napkin on the table.
“What?”
She sadly shook her head at him. “Dance. Take me in your arms and move your feet without stepping on mine.”
“I have no difficulty with the first part.” He proved himself by standing and pulling her into his arms.
What had seemed like a good idea to Sierra now seemed fraught with dangerous, if tempting, possibilities. Their bodies touched from thigh to chest. Her senses reeled. “You’re not moving.”
“Sorry.” His mouth dipped to nibble on her ear, sending shivers over her.
“Blade.” She didn’t know if her breathless voice admonished him or demanded more.
“Moving.” His warm lips moved to the curve of her face, her lips, down the column of her throat. He apparently saw it as the latter.
She moaned softly, her arms going around his neck, her fingers in his hair. “Your feet,” she managed.
His feet moved and made everything better and worse. He insinuated one leg between hers, causing her to feel the muscle hardness of his body, the incredible heat. His mouth nibbled and pleased her as his hands pressed her closer.
She’d worn a strapless mid-calf floral dress. He dropped kisses on her bare shoulders that made her feel tingly and restless. His hands moved to just beneath her breasts, which felt full and achy with need.
Her breath caught, waiting; then his hand cupped her, his thumb raking across the tight bud of her nipple. The sensation was exquisite, yet not enough. She wanted his hand, his hot mouth, on her bare flesh, ached for it. The thought had her jerking away.
He reached for her. She stepped back and held up her hands. “Wait.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“I know.” She drew in a calming breath, then another. “I think I should go to my place.”
“We haven’t discussed your plans for Dominique and Jacques in the meeting tomorrow.”
“It will have to be over breakfast.”
A wolfish expression crossed his face. “Works for me.”
Sierra batted his reaching hands away. “Stop that.”
“Easier said than done,” he admitted, his gaze narrowed.
“Tell me about it.” She quickly moved through the terrace doors before he could stop her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He was right behind, then in front of her. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you go downstairs alone, do you?”
Deliver her from stubborn men, especially one who looked ready to chew nails. He wasn’t happy with either of her decisions at the moment. “I’m perfectly safe, as you’ve pointed out.” She wasn’t sure she was safe from him.
“Sierra, this is not debatable.”
Even annoyed and unquestionably angry with her, he was trying to be a gentleman. Arguing would only prolong her stay. “All right.”
Blade was silent all the way to her door. Once there, she forced herself to look up at him. He wore the same grim expression he had on the terrace. “Thank you.”
“Good night,” he told her, with none of the warmth she knew he was capable of giving.
“Good night.” Hating that the night had to end with him upset, she unlocked her door, went to her bedroom, and picked up her cell phone.
As she’d expected, her family had called. They were all worried about her association with Blade. With good cause. He made her body burn for his, made her forget everything but the powerful passion in his arms. She couldn’t have let things go any further and still be able to return her family phone calls as if nothing had happened.
Her family had stopped her as effectively as if they were in the room with her. She ju
st wasn’t sure whether she appreciated it or not.
The next morning Sierra decided she wasn’t going to be a coward. She’d have breakfast with Blade as planned and find a way to get him in a good mood … if he hadn’t already forgotten about last night.
Just because after talking to her family she had had a difficult time falling asleep didn’t mean he had. He probably slept like a log. She rang the doorbell of his penthouse and waited.
She wasn’t wearing the new black silk Dolce & Gabbana fitted dress, which clung lovingly to her body, to look good for Blade. She always wore her new purchases within the week. What was the sense of buying an outfit you loved, only to stash it in your closet?
She’d almost made herself believe her rationalization about the dress until Jenkins answered the door instead of Blade. There was something in Jenkins’s serious face that warned her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“Mr. Navarone is unable to meet with you for breakfast, but will see you here at ten in his office.”
“Where is he?”
Jenkins frowned. “He’s in his office off the library. But perhaps you should see him later, as he requested.”
Sierra ignored the warning. “Could you please show me the way?” He hesitated. “Please.”
“This way.” He went through the great room, then down a golden lit hallway, stopping in front of a recessed door. “Are you sure?”
“Please tell Martin to give us five minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door. The cypress-paneled room was lined with bookshelves crammed with books, paintings, shells. Roman shades were pulled on the double French doors on either side of the massive desk, allowing the bright morning sun to stream inside the masculine room.
Blade didn’t look up as she closed the door softly behind her. He had to know she was there, just as she always knew when he was within fifteen feet. He was just being stubborn, but then so was she.
“I told Jenkins to ask Martin to have breakfast ready for us in five minutes.”
