She made a face.
It was why he’d come after her and made her suffer the indignity of that kiss. That arrogant, I-am-the-Lord-of-the-castle-and-you-are-my-wench kiss, which, she knew, hadn’t been a kiss at all. It had been a stamp of dominance. Of humiliation. It had been Slade’s way of getting even, of telling her just what he thought of her—and it had almost worked.
Caught off guard, she’d been easy prey. That was why she’d let him get away with mauling her. Oh, if only she’d had time to make a recovery. Slapped him. Cracked him in the jaw. Better still, put her knee right where it counted.
Lara gave a deep sigh and reached for the telephone.
Amazing, the effect Slade Baron had on her. She was a woman who’d once bought a have-a-heart trap rather than send a rodent to Mouse Heaven, and now she’d spent the best part of the past two weeks lying in bed at night, drifting off to sleep while she thought of ingenious ways—painful ways—to dispose of the insufferable Mr. Baron.
It just infuriated her that she’d stood there and seemed to tolerate his kissing her. If only she’d had time to think. She wouldn’t have felt so helpless, wouldn’t have heard that roaring in her ears. She definitely wouldn’t have ended up clutching his jacket as if her knees had been threatening to give way…
Lara groaned.
Dammit, why lie to herself? Her knees had threatened to give way. Slade’s kiss had turned her inside out. All he had to do was touch her, and she forgot why she hated him. The macho arrogance. The pathetic male fear of commitment. Not that she wanted commitment from him or any other man but still, she’d never forget that smarmy little speech he’d made while she lay in his arms, all about how great it had been and how they’d have to try to get together sometime…
Lara shut her eyes.
Not that she hadn’t deserved it. What she’d done—sleeping with a stranger—had been wrong. Never mind her motives. It had been wrong. Cheap. Immoral. Ugly…
“Stop it,” she said sharply, and punched in the number for her home telephone. Mrs. Krauss answered on the first ring.
“It’s me,” Lara said. “How’s my guy?” She listened, smiled and felt her spirits lifting. “That’s lovely,” she said, and turned her back to the door. “Yes, please. Let me speak to him.”
She waited, and then her smile grew soft.
“Michael? How are you, sweetheart?”
“Ma-ma-ma,” nine-month-old Michael babbled, and Lara’s heart melted as she heard the voice of her son.
“That’s right, darling. It’s Mama. Have you been a good boy today?”
Michael babbled more nonsense sounds, and Lara laughed.
“I miss you, too, my love. I’m sorry I won’t be there to have dinner with you but I promise, we’ll have the whole weekend alone. Mmwah,” she said, making a kissing sound into the phone. “I’ll give you more of those when I get home. In the meantime, remember how much I love you.”
She hung up the phone, sighed with pleasure—and shot to her feet at the slow, mocking sound of applause.
“Isn’t that touching?” a voice drawled.
No, she thought, as she swung around, please, no…
Slade stood in the doorway, arms folded. Her traitorous heart gave a little kick she refused to acknowledge, even as she wondered how much he might have heard.
“Such a charming scene, Ms. Stevens. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.”
Stay calm, she told herself, just stay calm. “What are you doing here?”
“Who’s Michael?”
His voice was cold, his eyes flat. Her mind scrambled from thought to thought, like a mouse trying to escape from a maze. What had he overheard? And why, dammit, why should seeing him again make it so hard to draw a steady breath?
She fought for composure, found at least the trappings of it and looked straight into his eyes.
“I asked you a question, Slade. What are you doing here?”
“Why, Sugar. Is that any way to treat a colleague?”
“My door was closed. You didn’t even bother to knock.”
“I knocked. You didn’t answer. And your guard dog isn’t at her desk.” He moved toward her, his gaze locked to hers. “Now it’s your turn. Who’s Michael?”
Don’t back up, Lara told herself. Don’t let him intimidate you.
“He’s—he’s just someone I know.”
Slade laughed. “‘ miss you, too, darling,’” he purred. “‘You just remember how much I love you.” His mouth twisted. “Just someone you know, Sugar? Or another guest in your bed?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations. That was a private conversation. You had no right—”
“How many men have you been with? A dozen? A hundred?” Slade’s brows drew together. Hell, what was he doing? He’d come here on business, not to see this woman. What did he care, if she was getting it on with a guy named Michael? She could sleep with a battalion, for all he gave a damn. She could laugh with every man she knew, get that sweet tone in her voice with the entire male population of Baltimore…
“Dammit,” he snarled, and took the last few steps that brought them face-to-face, “does it turn you on, going from one poor sucker to another?”
“Get out.” Her voice trembled. “Get the hell out of my office!”
“Do us both a favor and cut the dramatics. There’s no audience to enjoy them.”
“Get out or so help me, I’ll have security throw you out!”
Slade smiled thinly. “Maybe you better call your boss first and see how he feels about that.”
“Mr. Dobbs employs me to deal with this company’s finances. He’d never expect me to tolerate your horrible accusations about my private life.”
“They’re not accusations, Sugar. They’re fact.” A muscle knotted in his jaw. She flinched as he reached out and ran his index finger over her mouth. “I can vouch for your morals, baby—or maybe I should say, I can vouch that you haven’t got any. I slept with you, remember? And we didn’t even know each other’s names.”
“You bastard!”
“Hey, I can’t help it if you don’t like hearing the truth.” Slade’s teeth flashed in a mirthless smile. “Unless banking isn’t what it used to be, I suspect old Ed’s eyes would pop once he heard the story. How you pick up strangers, go to hotels with them and have sex.”
Lara hissed with fury. Her hand arced through the air, but Slade caught her wrist and yanked her arm behind her.
“I don’t give a damn what you do, or who you do it with. It’s just that I have this thing about not wanting to take another man’s leavings. And now that I’ve had time to see you in action, I’m starting to wonder if you weren’t still some poor bastard’s devoted little wife when you slept with me.”
“You’re despicable! You’re the most horrible man I’ve ever known.”
“And I’ll bet you’ve known plenty.” His eyes darkened. “Which takes us back to square one. Who’s Michael?”
Terror raced through her but she didn’t so much as blink. “Michael is none of your business.”
“I don’t agree.”
He tugged her arm higher and she made a little sound in her throat. He knew the pressure was hurting her, that the only way she could lessen it was to move closer to him, and he asked himself, coldly, just what in hell he thought he was doing? He’d never hurt a woman in his life, never wanted to, but, by God, he wanted to do something to this one. Hurt her, the way she’d hurt him when he’d opened the door and heard her all but making love over the telephone to some son of a bitch named Michael. Kiss her, make her remember again how it was to be in his arms, with his mouth hard on hers.
She was close to him now, close enough so he could feel the softness of her breasts, smell the scent that had driven him half-crazy on that long-ago night. There was a look in her eyes that said she was either terrified of him or terrified of what he made her feel and he knew, with heart-stopping swiftness, that he could take her right now, just shove her back against the wall, push up he
r skirt, rip off her panties and enter her. And that she’d cry out in passion when he did.
Except—except, that wasn’t what he wanted.
He didn’t want to take her in anger. He wanted her to come to him, to give herself to him, to say—to say—
He let go of her wrist, took a quick step away. Lara watched as he turned his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell and she knew he was pulling in deep lungfuls of air, just as she was.
He’d almost kissed her. She’d seen it in his eyes, in the sudden angularity of his features. And if he had—if he had…
He swung toward her, his expression grim.
“My apologies, Ms. Stevens.” His tone was as flat as his eyes. “I have no right to sit in judgment on you. You can’t help what you are any more than the sun can help coming up in the morning.”
Lara stared at him. “You know, you’re amazing! You—you pick me up at an airport, seduce me, tell me it’s been nice and hey, maybe we’ll see each other around sometime and now you think you can lecture me?” She gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry, but I don’t see any difference between your actions and mine.”
“The hell there isn’t.” He moved fast, closing the distance between them, grabbing her by the shoulders and half lifting her from her feet. “You’re a junkie, lady. You need to drive a man crazy, make him say things he curses himself for in the middle of the night.” His hands dropped away from her and she stumbled back. “And if you want to sleep with any guy who catches your fancy while you’re involved with some poor sap named Michael, hell, that’s your affair.” His mouth twisted. “But I won’t play that game, Sugar. I don’t rustle another man’s stock.”
“The Baron version of the Golden Rule.” Lara laughed, though tears stung her eyes. “Honestly, I’m impressed. Such morality.”
“Just don’t come on to me again or you’ll regret it. You got that?”
“Me? Come on to you?” Her laughter was real this time, if bitter. “Which one of us just walked through that door and shoved the other against the wall?”
“I did not shove you against—”
“Give me a break, Slade.” Lara slapped her hands on her hips. “I’m not stupid. I know what you were thinking. What you wanted to do.”
“Yeah.” A knowing smile angled across his mouth. “And I could have, Sugar. You would have let me. Hell, you wanted me to do it.”
Lara flushed. “You flatter yourself,” she said stiffly.
“I believe in honesty. I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”
“I’m not going to get drawn into this. Let’s go back to the beginning. Why are you here?”
“I have a meeting with your boss.”
“What happened to Mr. Haggerty?”
“He couldn’t make it. And before that female brain of yours leaps to any conclusions, no, I had no idea I’d end up stuck with you. My appointment was with Dobbs. The first I knew you were involved was when I spoke to him a couple of hours ago, from the plane, and he told me he was going to be delayed.”
Lara nodded. There was no way out, not now. Dobbs wasn’t here, which made Slade her responsibility—a responsibility she could certainly handle, now that their animosity for each other was in the open.
“That’s right,” she said briskly. “He’s going to join us at the restaurant.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve arranged for a taxi. It should be downstairs any minute.”
“Fine.” Slade gave her a long, cool look. It took all her determination not to shuffle her feet.
“What?”
“I was just thinking how remarkable it was. That you look so businesslike, I mean. So—what’s that old-fashioned word, Sugar? Demure. That’s it. You look demure.” A smile curled over his mouth. “That’s sure as hell not the way you look when I touch you. You go all to pieces, in my arms.”
“You’re flattering yourself, if you think you turn me on.” She knew she was blushing but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of backing down. “As you so cleverly pointed out, I’m just playing a game. Why don’t you think about that, hmm?”
Her smile, she hoped, was the smug equal of his. Without another word, she strode past him to the door.
* * *
The captain at The Flying Fish smiled brightly when Lara asked to be shown to the Dobbs table.
“Of course, madam. Sir. This way, please.”
The table was outside, on a wide deck overlooking the harbor. The sky was still light but candles already flickered in a silver holder centered on the pale pink tablecloth. It was a romantic setting, not businesslike at all, and Lara paused on the threshold between the main dining room and the deck.
“Is there a problem, madam?”
“I just thought…Do you have a table inside? Where the lighting’s better?”
“I’m sorry, madam, but we don’t. If you’d care to wait in the bar for half an hour or so, we might have something free…?”
“No.” Lara shook her head and told herself to stop being a fool. “No, this will be fine.”
Once they were seated, their waiter offered menus but she declined.
“We’ll wait for the third member of our party to join us,” she said.
“Would you care to order drinks while you wait?”
She began to say no to that, too, and then she thought of what Edwin Dobbs would think about her efforts as hospitality, if she did.
“White wine for me,” she said briskly. “Slade?”
“A beer.” Slade flashed the waiter a smile. “Something dark, if you have it. I’ll go with your recommendation.”
They sat in silence for a moment or two. Then Lara cleared her throat.
“How was your flight?”
“Fine.” His eyes met hers. “No weather delays, no blizzards—”
“Very amusing. It was just a polite question.”
“Ah, I see. We’re going to play this scene with sophistication.”
“Only because we have to.” Lara’s eyes flashed. “Believe me, I’d much rather—I’d rather…”
“Shove me over the railing?” He grinned. “Feed me to the fishes?”
“They’d probably spit you out.” She folded her hands in her lap. “What happened to Mr. Haggerty?”
“Don’t you mean, what did I do to take his place? Shoot him? Chain him to the dungeon floor? Bribe him so I could have the sheer joy of seeing you again?” He reached for a bread stick and took a bite. “I hate to disappoint you, Sugar, but the simple fact is that Jack injured his shoulder playing racquetball this morning.”
“How unfortunate.”
“I’ll tell him you said so. Your warmth and concern will touch him as much as deeply as they touch me.”
“Your other partner could have come instead,” Lara said, ignoring his sarcasm.
“My oh my, you do think a lot of yourself.” Slade leaned forward. “What’s going through that head of yours? You think I sabotaged Jack and Teddy, too?” He sat back. “I told you, I came because there wasn’t any choice. Jack did in his shoulder and Ted’s in New York on business. That’s the reason—the only reason—I’m here.”
It was the truth, all right. No way, no how, no time would he have willingly subjected himself to another moment in this babe’s company. What man would, unless he got a kick out of being turned on and off like a lightbulb?
“As far as I’m concerned,” Lara said, glancing at her watch, “the sooner you’re gone, the better.”
“Darlin’, you’re breakin’ my heart. Are you saying you find my company boring?”
“I know this is going to be hard to get your self-centered brain to process, Slade, but there are things I’d rather do than sit here watching you munch your way through the bread sticks.”
“Like cuddling up to—what was his name?”
“What was whose name?”
“The latest man in your life. Michael. That was it, wasn’t it?”
“I told you, I don’t intend to discuss Michael. I don’t intend to talk abou
t my private life at all.”
“You’re the one who brought him into the conversation, not me.”
“Me? I never—”
“You were talking about all those things you’d rather be doing than sitting here, trying to be civil.” A muscle flickered in his jaw but he smiled and reached for his glass. “Had your evening with Mike all planned, did you? A cozy dinner for two, maybe? Am I right?”
“Yes,” Lara said, fighting the desire to break into hysterical laughter. She pictured Michael in his high chair, waving a spoon of mashed potatoes in the air, grinning at her through a carrot-puree mustache. “Oh, definitely. A cozy dinner was what we’d intended.”
“Do you live with him?”
“Yes,” she said, getting into the spirit of things, “yes, I do.”
Slade’s mouth thinned. “What was he doing? Waiting in the wings while you divorced your husband?”
Lara took a bread stick from the basket and bit into it. “That’s none of your business.”
“Does he know about me?” he said coldly, his eyes locked on hers.
No, she thought, oh, no. And he never would.
“Why should he?” she said with a puzzled smile. “You’re nothing to him.”
“Old Mike might disagree with that, if he knew what happens whenever we’re alone.”
“Nothing happens.”
“Is that what you call it, when you turn soft in my arms?”
“Dammit, Slade—”
“Do you do that for him, too? Melt, I mean. And make those little sounds when he puts his hands—”
Lara tossed down the bread stick and shot to her feet. “This is impossible!”
“Ms. Stevens? Is there a problem?”
Oh Lord!
Lara swung around and stared dumbly at Edwin Dobbs. He was smiling politely, but his eyes were cool and questioning.
“No,” Lara said quickly. “I—no, there’s—there’s—”
“Edwin.” Slade kicked back his chair and rose to his feet. “It’s good to see you again.”
Dobbs hesitated, then took Slade’s extended hand. “Slade.” His gaze went from Lara to Slade. “I’m, ah, I’m sorry to be late.”
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