Hot Shot (64 page)

Every division of the corporation is in jeopardy."

Paige looked up from the pattern she had been tracing on the table with the tip of her finger. "Suze, this is my fault. I'm hopeless at managing my stock. When I attend FBT

business meetings, my mind wanders; everything is so boring that I can't keep my thoughts focused. I never have the slightest idea how I'm supposed to vote. That's why I gave my proxy to Cal. And look what that led to."

"You didn't intend to hurt the company," Susannah said.

"But she did hurt it," Clemens interjected. "And neither Paige nor I want that to happen again. FBT has nearly three hundred thousand employees. Entire communities depend upon us. Many of the small towns where we have plants couldn't continue to exist if we closed down. And we're losing, Susannah. Everything is slipping away."

Paige leaned forward. "I want to give you my permanent proxy, Susannah. I want you to vote my shares."

"Paige, I appreciate the vote of confidence, and I want to help you, but that's one thing I can't do. It would be a direct conflict of interest. My board of directors would never permit it."

"They would if you resigned," Paul said quietly. "If you left SysVal, put your own shares in trust, and took over as chairman and CEO of FBT."

Susannah sat stunned. They wanted her to take control of one of the biggest corporations in the United States, to take her father's old position. A hand grasped hers under the table and squeezed. The solid comfort of that big hand steadied her.

Paul studied her with great seriousness. "FBT must regain moral credibility if it's to survive. Right now, you're the only one who can give it back to us."

Susannah shook her head. "I'm sorry. Truly I am. I'll help you any other way I can, but leaving SysVal is absolutely out of the question."

For the first time since he had come in to join them, Mitch spoke. "Susannah needs a few days. Let her have some time to think it over."

"I don't want time, I—"

"I don't think a few days will hurt," he said smoothly.

She wasn't going to get into an argument with Mitch in front of Paul Clemens, and so she nodded. "Very well. A few days." But even as she spoke, she knew that nothing in the world would make her leave SysVal.

She had no sooner gotten home that night than Mitch appeared at her door. He was still wearing his business suit, and he hadn't even loosened his necktie. As much as she had been anticipating this moment, now that it had come, she wanted to postpone it. The past month had been nerve-wracking, but as she stared at him standing on her doorstep, she finally admitted to herself that she had loved that primitive feeling of being sexually stalked by the man she loved.

How could the reality ever match the expectation? Mitch would be a good lover, but in her heart of hearts, she didn't believe that he would be a great one. He was too neat, too proper. As she gazed into his face, her stomach began to feel queasy. What if she shocked him? What if he liked women who were more restrained in the bedroom?

"I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I can't invite you in. I've got a bad headache."

"You've got a yellow streak," he replied.

She slammed the door on him and went into the living room, where her hands trembled as she snatched up a magazine she had no intention of reading from the glass-topped coffee table. Why did she have to be such a sex maniac? As passionately as she felt about him, she would never be able to hold herself back. When he found out what she was really like, he would probably run from the house in terror. Maybe he'd send her a memo.

FROM: Mitchell Blaine TO: Susannah Faulconer SUBJECT: Inappropriate Bedroom Conduct…

He walked into the living room and pocketed the key she had given him when she'd moved into her new home in mid-August.

"I want that key back," she said.

"No, you don't."

She stared at the lushly printed draperies Paige had picked out for her. She loved him so much and she wanted everything to be perfect, but this was real life, not a fairy tale.

Remembering that they had something other than sex to discuss, she took a seat on the couch. At least she could postpone the inevitable a bit longer. "I'm not leaving SysVal."

"I don't think you have a lot of choice, Susannah."

"Don't say that!"

He sat down next to her and leaned back into the soft cushions. How could he be so relaxed when she was so uptight? "Somehow I can't picture you living the rest of your life with the fate of three hundred thousand people on your conscience," he said. "Not to mention all those small towns."

"I don't belong at FBT. It's old and stodgy and conservative."

"True. And it's been badly mismanaged ever since your father's death."

"You know as well as I do that they only want me as a figurehead. They'll expect me to use Paige's proxy as a rubber stamp for the majority opinion. Those men don't have the slightest intention of giving me any real power."

Mitch chuckled. "And aren't you going to have a wonderful time showing them the error of their ways?"

She switched tactics. "I don't have a college degree."

"I've got three of them. You want one?"

She tried another path. "I want to have a baby."

His face softened. "Do you? That's great. That is really great. I hoped so, but we haven't talked about it."

"We haven't talked about anything!" She jumped up from the couch. "Don't you understand? The president of SysVal can definitely be pregnant. At SysVal anything is possible. But can you honestly, in your wildest imagination, see the chairman of FBT

breastfeeding through a board meeting?"

"Not the old FBT." He smiled, rising to stand next to her. "But the new FBT? The one with an updated product line, a streamlined management structure. The one with onpremises child care. Ah, Susannah…"

For a moment they let the vision sweep over them. It was a vision of a new corporation, one with a strong moral center and a commitment to the world it served. A corporation for the twenty-first century.

He took her hand. "You're thirty-two now, practically an old lady, and I'm thirty-eight.

SysVal is a company for kids. We have so many talented people working for us that we barely know what to do with them. Let's get out of their way and let them run with it for a while."

"We both can't just walk out. That's impossible. And I'm not going to FBT without you.

Our relationship aside, you're the best marketing man in the business."

"I'll stay at SysVal until the new team is in place and the board members' nerves have steadied. Then I'll join you."

He tilted up her chin with his fingers, and his eyes were soft with the depth of his feelings for her. "I love you, Susannah. Oh, God, I love you so much. All those years, watching you married to Sam. Sometimes I thought I was going crazy."

"I know, Mitch. Oh, my darling, I love you, too."

He dipped his head. A warm, hard mouth settled over hers. His big hands splayed over her back, ran up along her spine, tangled in her hair. His mouth was open, his kiss deep and aggressive. It was a man's kiss, a kiss that gave as well as took. Her breasts crushed flat against his chest as he pulled her closer. She accepted his tongue and gave him her own while she wrapped her foot around the leg of his trousers. He clasped her head between his big hands. It felt so right to be kissing him, so perfect to be in this solid, respectable man's arms. Oh, yes, she had been absolutely right to put little boys behind her.

His hand slid down over her breast. "Time's up, sweetheart," he said hoarsely. "I've been going crazy. I can't wait any longer."

At the touch of his hand on her breast, her nervousness came back in a rush. He was a good kisser, but kissing was only part of it. "Mitch, I'm not sure…"

He drew back and studied her for an agonizingly long moment. Then he tilted his head toward the hallway. "Upstairs, Susannah," he said quietly.

He didn't realize how important this was. He didn't understand that what happened next—

or didn't happen—could put a shadow over everything. "Mitch, we may have some difficulty adjusting to—"

"Now."

She spun around and stalked away from him, marching toward the front staircase as if he held a gun at her back. Sometimes she hated engineers. She really did. Her shoes slapped on the carpeted treads. Since her fears weren't quantifiable, Mitch simply refused to recognize them. Everything had to be rational. The man didn't have one speck of intuitive power in his entire body.

She stomped into the bedroom and kicked off her heels. She could hear him behind her, moving at his customary unhurried pace, as if he were on his way to a staff meeting. As he came into the bedroom, she whirled around. "If this is a disaster, don't you dare blame me!"

He stared down at the carpet and shook his head. "I was going to try to be a nice guy about this, but I can see that's not going to work." He lifted his head and glared at her.

"Get out of those clothes, Susannah."

She was so tightly strung that her temper snapped. "You go to hell!"

"That does it." He reached for his necktie and yanked at the knot. "I was going to be a nice guy. Not come on too strong. A little moonlight. A few roses." He tossed his tie down on her pretty bedroom chair and threw his suit coat on top of it. Standing there in his shirt-sleeves, he splayed his hands on his hips and let his eyes roam over her as if she were a slave girl placed before him for his inspection. "Apparently, I have to remind you that you've been bought and paid for."

Her heart jumped into her throat. Oh, Lord, he was playing with her. The game wasn't over. A surge of love and desire rushed through her as she realized that he understood how she felt after all. Her tension dissolved. She lifted her chin and pursed her lips in disapproval. "I was not bought."

"Money exchanged hands," he said flatly, stripping off his shirt. "You were bought. Now get out of those clothes so I can get you warmed up."

The man had no shame. She walked over to the bed and slid down on it. Then she drew her legs beneath her and gave him her most smoldering look. "No need to warm up something that's already hot."

For a moment she thought she had him.

He recovered quickly.

"Coming from you, that kind of comment doesn't surprise me at all." His undershirt joined his shirt in a pile on the floor. She swallowed hard at the sight of his chest, already anticipating how it would feel beneath her hands. He kicked off his wing tips and removed his socks. "You may fool other people, Susannah, but don't forget that I have three college degrees and I'm not so easily misled. Beneath that prim exterior of yours, you like it wild. And that's exactly how you're going to get it." In one strong motion, he whipped his belt from the loops of his trousers and snapped it in the air. "You're going to get it wild."

Oh, Lord… And she had been afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep up with her.

"Get up on your knees and take that dress off right now," he ordered.

Yes, sir. Oh, yes, my very dear sir. She scrambled to her knees and began working feverishly at her buttons. While she worked, he actually had the nerve to slide the length of the belt back and forth in his hand. The sparkle in his eyes almost ruined the effect, but it was still wonderfully menacing, and she was going to kill him if he laughed. Imagine being tied to this incredible man for the next forty years. Her lover, her friend, the other half of herself.

Still, she knew it wasn't good for him to get too full of himself—especially after everything she'd let him get away with these past few weeks. She had a little surprise in store for Mr. Macho. No stuffed shirt in a pinstriped suit was going to call her prim and get away with it.

Opening the last of the buttons, she stripped the dress over her head, revealing the deliciously naughty undergarments she had put on that morning in a fit of nervous anticipation—the soft peach demi-bra and panties, the matching garter belt and stockings.

Mitch's black leather belt fell to the carpet. "That's more like it," he said huskily. He didn't take his eyes off her as he pulled down his trousers.

Susannah swept her gaze along his muscular thighs and then burst out laughing. Mitch was wearing the tiniest pair of black zebra-striped briefs she had ever seen on a man.

She fell back into the pillows and hooted. "How long have you been wearing underwear like that?"

"For a while."

"Do you mean to tell me that during all those endless presentations we've sat through together, all those boring budget sessions, you've been wearing underwear like that?"

"I could ask the same question." He lowered himself to the bed beside her and lightly snapped a peach-colored garter.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his hair, pulling him down beside her. "Sometimes I don't wear anything at all," she whispered.

He groaned and gathered her into his arms. His mouth opened over hers as he gave her a ferocious, demanding kiss. Before long, their naughty underwear dropped to the floor.

As they explored the secrets of each other's bodies, their skin grew sleek with sweat. But they had waited so long for this moment that neither wanted it to end too soon, and they prolonged it with gentle warfare.

"You'd better be good," he growled.

"They don't come any better."

"We'll see about that."

Each fought for supremacy—first one rolled on top, and then the other. She bit his shoulder; he retaliated with a nip at the curve of her bottom. She entangled him in the covers and ran from the bedroom. He caught her on the stairs and tossed her over his shoulder to carry her back. Their behavior was disgraceful, woefully inappropriate for people in their positions, but no one was around to point that fact out to them.

He dumped her on the bed and sprawled on top of her, catching handfuls of her hair in his fists. She arched her back and penetrated his mouth with her tongue. His hands roamed her body and found its secrets.

When they could stand their fierce love play no longer, she opened her legs and he cradled himself between them. As he poised to enter her, she looked up at him with her soft eyes.