by Anne Stuart
Now she knew better. She had a junior suite, not a full-size one. There was no view, and while everything was spotless, the little details were not quite top drawer. Apparently Ms. Winston, for all her flattering words, hadn’t thought Mary Ellen Murphy was worth the best. Maybe Mary Ellen wasn’t, but Marita was. And Laura Winston would soon learn her lesson.
These New Yorkers and their contempt for the people from the Midwest, she thought with a sneer. Of course she shared that contempt, but she hadn’t been impressed by any of the sophisticated big-city dwellers. She was on the verge of besting them all, of forcing them to pay through the nose for their stupidity. She’d felt their condescension, and every glance had rankled. She’d show them who was smarter, more ruthless than all of them put together.
And the best part of it all, the most delightful revenge, was that she no longer needed it. She had a few hours to spare, then she’d be gone, beyond their reach. And whenever she thought of them, she’d laugh.
Chapter Seventeen
It was raining. Laura stood in her apartment, watching the water streak and slide down the cracked glass panels, shielding the city from her eyes with a layer of tears. She snorted at her own melodramatics. There was nothing to cry about. Even one of the worst mistakes of her entire life had its positive aspects she’d always thought it. Well, to be completely truthful, it did have its messy aspects. But maybe, years from now, when she thought back on her brief liaison with Michael Dubrovnik, her thoughts would be fond ones. Particularly if she were sitting where she was now, still owner of the Glass House.
He wanted to talk to her, did he? That was the last thing she wanted. She knew without asking that she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. And she didn’t trust what might happen once they stopped talking.
Leaving her post by the window, she went back to the telephone and punched out her mother’s phone number. After a few moments she slammed the phone down again. Count on Jilly to disappear when Laura needed someone to talk to. She’d begun to have hopes, irrational ones, of course, that she and her mother might finally come to an understanding. Lunch had been more fun than any time they’d spent together in years. Of course, Jilly had spent most of the time talking about Peter McSorley, one of Dubrovnik’s middle-management executives, but she’d been attentive enough to Laura’s hesitant confessions. After all, if Jilly didn’t know about love and sex, she didn’t know who did.
“So this man spent the night with you, and you’re wondering if he’ll respect you in the morning?” Jilly had drawled sipping her way into the second bottle of Piper Heidsieck champagne.
“No,” Laura snapped, drinking too much herself. “I’m wondering if I have to worry about him coming back.”
Jilly shook her head. “Then why in the world did you go to bed together in the first place?”
“I don’t know,” said Laura. “Animal lust, I suppose.”
“It would take some man to make you feel animal lust, darling,” Jilly said with her usual candor. “I know what your problem is, but you aren’t going to want to hear it.”
“Go ahead. I asked for advice.”
“You’re in love with him. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have had anything to do with him. You’re too hard-headed.”
Laura looked at her mother in disgust. “I know that. Tell me something new.”
Jilly arched a perfect eyebrow. “I suspect he’s in love with you, too. Why else would Michael Dubrovnik be courting his sworn enemy?”
“What makes you think it’s Michael?”
“I’ve seen the expression on his face when he’s been cursing you. And I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t do the conventional thing. Therefore I put two and two together and came up with four.”
“It was a fluke. An accident.”
“How do two people spend the night together by accident?” Jilly countered. “In my years of experience I’ve never heard of it happening. Please enlighten me.”
“I need sympathy, Mother, not needling.”
“Darling, you have all my sympathy,” Jilly protested. “Any woman with the misfortune to spend the night enjoying herself prodigiously deserves pity.”
“Who says I enjoyed myself?”
“The fact that you spent the entire night with him. And that he isn’t in jail right now, charged with assault or whatever other nasty thing you could think of. I wouldn’t have put it past you to seduce him, just so you could charge him with rape. Your devotion to that damned building knows no bounds.”
“Yes,” said Laura, thinking of the choice she’d made earlier, turning down her perfect chance to stop Michael. “It does.”
“I really can’t give you any advice, darling. I don’t know enough of the details.”
“And I’m not going to give you any of them.”
Jilly’s face fell. “And here I thought we were becoming like a real mother and daughter.”
“That doesn’t include pillow talk.”
“I’ll tell you about Peter McSorley, if you tell me about Michael Dubrovnik.”
“Mother! You haven’t gone to bed with him already?”
Jilly shrugged. “I’m not cut out to be alone. Unlike you, I need a man to lean on.”
“So you aren’t going to be any help?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just not sure what you expect from me.”
“I’m not sure either,” Laura said, depressed. “I’ll call you tonight when I figure it out.”
But that evening Jilly wasn’t answering her phone. She was probably just out for cocktails and dinner, Laura told herself. Jilly could, if desperate, pour her own drink and make scrambled eggs, but that was as far as her homemaking talents went. Laura realized she’d just have to call her after the confrontation with Marita. After she’d either managed to avoid talking with Michael or survived it.
Frank and Susan arrived first, flushed, laughing, their arms around each other. Laura had no doubt at all as to what they’d been doing just before they arrived at the Glass House, but if she felt a pang of envy, she stifled it. By the time Michael finally arrived she’d worked herself up into a state of perfect calm and unconcern, a state that only slipped for a moment when she looked at the latecomer.
Michael was wearing jeans and a cotton sweater, the same clothes he’d worn the night before when he carried her upstairs to bed. He’d done it deliberately, she knew, wanting to remind her. She could see it from the glint in his eyes, the slight smile that curved his mouth. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was meeting with my lawyers.”
“I thought the papers were already drawn up,” Laura snapped. “Not that they’ll do you any good.”
“Testy, aren’t you?” he said mildly, taking the drink Frank was offering. “Don’t worry, this should all go off quite smoothly. And I had them draft another agreement. An extra one. It should be ready in a couple of days—I can wait that long for you to sell me the building.”
“You can wait till hell freezes over.”
Now his smile was unrestrained, and before she realized what he was doing, he’d reached out a hand and stroked her neck, withdrawing before she could slap him away. His fingers had been cool on her flushed skin, and she wished she could have leaned into them, let them touch her cheeks, her lips, her breasts.
“It’s twenty of seven,” she said, wiping any lingering erotic thoughts from her brain, though probably not before the too observant Michael had recognized them. “Are we going to stand around and have a cocktail party or go wait for our blackmailer?”
“Calm down,” Susan said, touching her arm. “We have Luis watching the front entrance, and the back one is blocked by the earth-moving equipment. He’ll call up the moment she arrives.”
“I don’t trust my doorman. He’s let other snakes in before without telling me.” She let her hostile gaze rest on Michael for a moment, but he only smiled in return, maddeningly pleased with himself. “Let’s go. The sooner this is over with, the better. I have things to do tonight.
”
“Yes,” said Michael, “you do.”
She ignored him. The four of them trooped down the flights of stairs to Steinberg’s offices, Laura’s high heels making a sharp, staccato ring on each step. As Frank and Susan moved ahead, Michael caught her arm, delaying her.
She tried to yank herself free, but as usual he was very strong. “Don’t you want to take off those shoes?” he said easily enough. “They’re making a hell of a racket, and I bet you won’t be able to run in them.”
“I don’t expect to run, and I don’t give a damn what kind of racket they’re making. I’m leaving them on. I’m at enough of a disadvantage around you. I’m not going to make myself four inches shorter besides.”
“I’m glad you think you’re at a disadvantage around me. Maybe then you won’t notice the effect you have on me.” Without another word he moved ahead of her, and she had no choice but to take up the rear, puzzling over his words. If he weren’t a despicable, manipulating snake, she might almost think he cared about her. That he was as floored by what had happened last night as she was. But that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
There was no sign of Marita in the empty office. The envelope of money that Frank had left earlier, compliments of Michael, was still there, untouched. “Do you think she’s changed her mind?” Susan whispered. “Maybe chickened out? Maybe she realizes we suspect her.”
“All the more reason for her to take the money and run,” Laura said. “She’d know that she wasn’t going to be making any money from assignments through Glass Faces. She’d have to cut her losses. Everybody hide.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Susan and Frank slipped into the inner office and a quiet giggle could be heard.
“Quiet in there,” Laura snapped, dropping her own envelope of play money on top of Frank’s.
“Yes,” Michael said. “Quit having fun.”
She glared up at him, but he still seemed infuriatingly unrepentant, even downright cheerful. “Why don’t you go out on the ledge and watch?” she suggested sweetly.
“In a thunderstorm?”
“It’s only a four-flight fall. You’d probably bounce off a bulldozer.”
“My bulldozers have been through enough. I’ll hide here with you.”
“No, you won’t—” But he’d already grabbed her and pulled her down behind the desk. There wasn’t much space between the metal furniture and the wall, and one side was blocked by a credenza. She had no choice but to sit there as Michael pulled her into his lap and wrapped his larger body around hers, but she was fuming by the time he threaded his arms around her waist. “This isn’t necessary,” she hissed.
“But it makes everything a lot more enjoyable,” he murmured into her ear. “I’ve missed you.” He began to nibble on her earlobe, ignoring the diamond stud that was in his way.
“Be quiet,” she said, trying to jerk free. Instead his teeth closed gently on her soft skin, holding her there, and she had no choice but to remain still, shivering both with frustration and a reluctant reaction that had nothing to do with anger.
Beneath her she could feel his arousal, and she squirmed against him.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “You’re only making it worse.”
“Pervert,” she whispered back.
“Actually I’m very healthy. It’s a normal enough reaction, especially when you’re around.”
“If you don’t shut up, she’ll hear us.”
“Not another word,” he promised, moving up his hands from her waist to cup her breasts through the loose cotton jumpsuit.
She tried to pry away his fingers, but his mouth was on her neck now, kissing her, and somehow she found her hands covering his, pressing them against her as she let her head fall back against his shoulder, giving him better access to the sensitive column of her neck. She was safe enough—what could he do in an office, with two other people and a blackmailer about to appear? She’d take what she could, enjoy it, and walk away with nothing more than a cool smile.
Of course, she hadn’t expected his hand to slip down the loose front of her jumpsuit and cup her breast through the thin lace bra. And she hadn’t expected him to unfasten the front clasp, so that her flesh spilled into his hand, warm and straining. She had to bite back the quiet little moan that threatened when he rubbed his thumb against her turgid nipple, and despite her best intentions she snuggled back against him as he unbuttoned the front of her jumpsuit, all the way down to her navel.
“Don’t...” she whispered.
“Sh.” It was a bare breath of a sound, one she decided she’d better obey. If he was taking unfair advantage of her by running one hand down her stomach while he still cupped her breast with the other, then clearly there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t risk warning Marita. All she could do was sit there, trapped in his arms, and feel her skin grow warmer, softer, more sensitive beneath his wicked hands.
His fingertips were toying with the edge of her lace bikini panties. She sucked in her breath in sudden dismay, but it only allowed him better access. Frank and Susan were in the other room, out of sight, out of hearing if she didn’t make a fuss, and probably equally absorbed in each other. She tried to jab him with her elbow, but he ignored it, his long, deft fingers reaching the heated center of her, delving deep.
Her strangled gasp reached no farther than her lips. Paralyzed, in shock, she sat there, and before she could gather her senses enough to fight him, the first, demoralizing tendrils of reaction began to set in.
He could feel her response and made a low, almost inaudible sound in the back of his throat, one of approval and encouragement, as he continued his shocking caresses. She whimpered ever so softly and turned to protest, but his mouth caught hers, silencing her as he stroked her.
With a shiver she pulled her mouth away, unable to look at him, unable to stop him, unable to do anything but sit there, wrapped in his body, and give in to the sensations that were pulsing through her.
Her entire body began to quiver. She was covered with a fine film of sweat, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and the pleasure he was giving her was so exquisite, she thought she might die from it. “Stop,” she whispered hoarsely, unable to bear any more. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” His voice was nothing more than a breath of sound on the still night air. And suddenly she did, biting her lower lip as her body convulsed in a reaction that was still too new. He held her tight, prolonging it, prolonging it so that she thought she might explode as tears poured down her face.
Slowly, tenderly he brought her back down, soothing her with suddenly gentle hands, his lips brushing the back of her neck, kissing away the tears from the side of her face, cradling her in the warmth and comfort of his arms. She wouldn’t have thought he could offer warmth and comfort, she thought dizzily, sinking back against him as he refastened her bra and began to button her jumpsuit. But he could, and she took it gratefully, and anything else he had to give.
She didn’t even notice the time pass. She felt boneless, completely relaxed in the shelter of his arms. If she was aware of the insistent hardness of his body beneath hers, she took a small, smug pleasure in it. This hadn’t been her idea, and if he was in torment, it was his own fault. And hers, she thought with rich, feminine pleasure. And hers.
“She’s not coming.” Frank’s voice broke through her dreamy abstraction, and she began to struggle out of Michael’s arms. He held her still for a moment, long enough to adjust his own clothing to partially disguise his condition, and stood with her.
“What time is it?”
“Eight-fifteen,” Frank said, his handsome face illuminated by the evening city light from outside, his voice rich with disgust. “If she hasn’t shown up yet, she’s not going to.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Instinct. She wouldn’t let all that money sit alone in an unlocked office building. She would have been on it like fleas on a dog. Something’s gone wrong.”
“Maybe it isn’t Marita,”
Laura suggested, hoping she sounded cool and composed.
“I’d be willing to take bets,” Michael said, tugging at his jeans. “What’s next? Laura and I can stay here while you two go out and reconnoiter.”
“No!” Laura’s strangled gasp startled everyone, including herself. “Why don’t we go upstairs and call her hotel? She might be in her room there, innocent of all this.”
“Sounds good,” Michael said. “Why don’t Frank and Susan go over there and give us a call back at Laura’s place?” He reached out and touched her mouth, and there was a trace of blood on his finger. “You’ve cut your lip,” he said, his eyes dark with further promise.
She jerked away nervously, hoping the others wouldn’t see her blush. “Why don’t we all go upstairs?” she suggested desperately. She didn’t dare spend any more time alone with Michael. She was close enough to surrendering everything, as it was. If he touched her again, her brain would be well and truly gone.
“Hush up!” Susan hissed. “I think someone’s coming.”
Everyone immediately dived behind the desk, a tangle of arms and legs and bodies, none of them daring to breathe. Michael had managed to end up directly on top of Laura, and though he scarcely moved, she could feel the insistent pressure of his arousal. She moved her face three inches, nuzzling it against his shoulder, and sank her teeth in.
“Shh!” Susan said sternly, as Michael yelped in pain.
They remained motionless for seconds, while Laura came to the miserable conclusion that her act of savagery had, if anything, intensified Michael’s desire. Then the door opened and a flashlight was trained across the room. “Miss Winston?” Luis’s voice sounded only slightly more nervous than they felt. “You in here?”
Laura could do nothing more than mumble as the other three climbed off her. “What is it, Luis?” she asked wearily, when she finally struggled to her feet once more.
“A messenger came by with a letter from Miss Murphy. I thought you’d want to see it right away.”
