Sweeter Than Revenge (7 page)

The cavelike, windowless office, barely bigger than a walk-in closet, had apparently been given over to storage. Labeled banker’s boxes stacked three deep covered most of the floor and pressed-wood desk. A clear plastic bin filled to the top with cords and wires graced one corner. Three trash cans on wheels and several ugly metal file cabinets took up most of the remainder of the floor space.

Maria gaped.

Only when she looked closely did she see that one postage-stamp-sized patch of desk was relatively uncluttered. On it sat an ancient computer with a huge, flickering screen, so old it probably still needed punch cards. A clunky black phone, no doubt personally made by Alexander Graham Bell two centuries ago, sat next to it. A folding card table chair—unpadded—completed this little slice of heaven.

“I know it needs a little work,” David said with exactly as much sincerity as a used-car salesman trying to unload a 1965 Dodge Dart, “but I think you can make it work.”

Frozen, she blinked, but the view didn’t get any better. It was inconceivable that this grungy little hovel occupied her father’s elegant, impressive offices. She felt as though she’d made a trip to the White House and discovered a Port-O-Let down a side hallway. Her office was ugly, filthy and quite possibly a health hazard. Nothing in there should be touched without the use of thick rubber gloves. No, strike that. Nothing in there should be touched, ever.

Outrage choked the words in her throat and her cheeks burned with repressed fury. She wanted to stomp her foot. She wanted to curse David Hunt and his progeny for generations to come. She wanted to storm out of this sweatshop and to hell with David, her father and her inheritance.

She did none of those things.

Taking a deep, centering belly breath—thank God for yoga—she manufactured a smile and plastered it on her face. David Hunt would not have the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d gotten to her again. Oh, no, he would not.

“It’s perfect,” she told him.

None of the other account assistants were around by the time Maria was ready for lunch, so she ran down to the café in the lobby, grabbed a salad and brought it back to her desk to eat. It bothered her a little that no one was kind enough to ask the firm’s newest employee to lunch, but she hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to be friendly or reach out to anyone.

Besides, she had such a long list of things to be upset over that something as trivial as being snubbed for lunch didn’t even make the top ten.

She’d just drizzled dressing on her salad when Ellis materialized at her door. “Hello, Sugar.”

Maria’s appetite vanished. There he was, the architect of her so-called career and the man who’d handed her over to David on a silver platter. She scowled. “Hi, Daddy.”

He pulled a sad face. “Are you going to hate your old daddy forever?”

“Probably.”

“How’s work?” he asked, propping a hip on the corner of her desk because there was nowhere else for him to sit.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” she said, glaring. “Fine.”

Her pride wouldn’t let her complain about this lousy office in Outer Mongolia, or that no one in the office wanted to eat with her, or that she had a two-foot-high stack of documents that she needed to file, a task that would probably take the rest of her natural life, or that David hated her with a virulence not seen since the days of the Hatfields and McCoys.

“Made any friends?”

Dropping her head to stab her salad with a plastic fork, she shrugged.

“You tried?”

She didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” was all he said, but somehow the quiet reproach in his voice was worse than ten lashes across the back with a whip. “You’re setting yourself up for a long year, Sugar, if you’re not going to try.” He got to his feet and headed toward the door. “We’re going to talk some more tonight about you being an hour late this morning. And you’d better start reaching out to David if you want your money. I don’t think he’s any too impressed with you right now.”

Well, he was certainly right about that,Maria thought as she watched him go. David had made his feelings for her, or lack thereof, perfectly clear on more than one recent occasion. Reaching out to him seemed like a doomed idea, about as likely to succeed as herding cats.

But she could remember a time, not so long ago, when she hadreached out to David. When she’d bridged the gap between them, he’d looked at her with unspeakable warmth in his eyes, and she’d thought she was the luckiest woman in the world. She didn’t want to remember, but she did.

The day she realized she couldn’t live without him.

Chapter 7

It’d been a month since David Hunt materialized in her living room and caused her known world to collapse, and she hadn’t laid eyes on him since that day. Every day, for thirty days, she thought of him every waking moment and dreamed of him most nights. She couldn’t understand what had happened to her. Why did she feel such an overwhelming attraction to him—and why wasn’t it purely physical? Why did she want to know everything about him? Who was he? Where had he come from? What had he done with his life up until now? What did he want to do with it? Did he think of her?What did he think of her?

Her father constantly sang David’s praises, which only tortured her. No one was smarter, a harder worker, more promising, more humble, moreworthy. When Ellis mentioned what brilliant thing his protégé had done that day, Maria wanted to beg him to be quiet, but she never did. Instead she pressed her father for details about the man who obsessed her. It was agonizing, hearing about this wonderful man but never seeing him, but not agonizing enough to stop asking about him.

Every day she’d come home and dress for dinner, praying David would finagle an invitation from her father and reappear because he couldn’t stay away from her.

He never did.

On the thirty-first day, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Before lunch, she called the office and verified what she already knew—that her father had taken a day trip to Chicago, and wasn’t there. Then she put on her prettiest red sundress and went downtown.

Luckily, Jane wasn’t at her desk to ask what the heck she was doing there with Ellis out of town. The cubicles were mostly deserted because it was lunchtime, but she somehow knew David would be in his office—the formerly empty one next to her father’s. She was right.

He sat in his shirtsleeves at the desk, utterly engrossed, working on something or other at the computer. Wrinkles of concentration creased his forehead. Just out of his line of sight, she stood in the doorway and watched him for a long time. Her stomach clenched with the irrational need—yes, need—to touch him, to smooth his brow, to know what held his concentration with such intensity.

Finally she worked up the courage to knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called without looking to see who it was.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but—”

His head whipped up the second she spoke, as though he recognized her voice. He stared at her with a wide, stunned gaze that scanned her from head to toe and then flew back to her face.

“Maria.”

She tried to do a thousand things—to smile, to say hello, to make a joke—but couldn’t.

Jumping to his feet, he came around to her side of the desk but stayed well away from her. “Come in.”

Belatedly she recovered some of her senses and her power of speech. “I’m sorry to bother you—”

“Don’t be.”

“—but I was wondering if you’ve seen my father. We were supposed to have lunch today, but I don’t see him and—”

The funniest look crossed his face. Strained, intent, hopeful, surprised—she couldn’t possibly define it. “He’s in Chicago,” he said softly.

“Oh.” Trying to look suitably disappointed but not devastated, she let her face fall. “I guess he got his dates mixed up.”

He paused. “I guess so.”

They studied each other while her heart thundered and she willed him to meet her halfway, to give her some sign, no matter how small, that he wanted to spend time with her.

“Well,” she said finally, turning, “I should let you get back to work—”

“Wait.” Reaching a hand out to stop her, he took a hurried step forward, apparently realized what he was doing and then stopped. For a few seconds he didn’t seem to breathe. “I haven’t eaten, either.”

Overwhelming relief and happiness—the kind that patients surely feel when test results come back negative and mothers feel when reunited with lost children—flowed through her and erupted in laughter. He laughed, too, and her life felt complete.

“Well, then,” she said, on firmer ground now that she knew he returned her interest, “why don’t I take you to lunch?”

“I dunno,” he said, snatching his jacket from a chair, rolling down his sleeves and pulling it on. “On the one hand, I never say no to free food. On the other hand, I never let a woman pay. What should I do?”

“I can see you have a very rigid moral code. I’ll take care of that right away. I’m a bad influence.”

“I’d pieced that together.”

Some reflex, as natural as sneezing when her nose itched, made her reach for his hand and also made him give it to her. Their laughter died the second her flesh slid against his. Several things came to her at once. This thing between them, whatever it was, was much more powerful than she’d thought. She wasn’t ready for it, but she wouldn’t deny it, either. She couldn’t. She would make love to him. She would let him do whatever he wanted to do with her.

Everything she felt—maybe more—was reflected in his wide, dark eyes.

The heat in his shocked gaze was too much. Hastily turning away, she tugged on his hand, pulling him after her, afraid and excited as she’d never been in her life.

“Maria.” The muscles of his arm tightened and his hand flattened against her, low on her quivering belly. Jerking her back, he roughly pressed up against her, molding her back to his front.

. perfect fit.

Oblivious to the office bustle outside his door, not caring if anyone—or everyone—saw them hidden in the corner of his office, she trembled against his hard body and covered his warm hand with her own. Her breathing accelerated to a pant. She felt his face sink deep into her hair and the hot humidity of his breath as he inhaled.

“You smell like lemons.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His fingers flexed, bringing her up hard against his straining arousal. She stifled most of her moan.

“Why did you come down here?” he demanded, low, against her ear. “Don’t lie again. I heard Jane on the phone with you earlier. She told you Ellis was in Chicago. Youknew he wasn’t here before you came down and pretended to look for him.”

Denying it seemed pointless. “I came because it’s been thirty-one days since I saw you and I couldn’t make it to thirty-two.”

Cursing, he slid his splayed fingers up her torso, until his thumb rested in the valley between her throbbing breasts, where her heart hammered. His fingers stopped just under her breast, torturing her.

“Don’t play games with me, okay? You don’t ever have to play games with me. Just tell me what you want. Tell me.”

For emphasis, he nipped her earlobe, and she cried out.

“I want this, David.”

His answer was a thrilling, earthy groan. Leaning her head to the side, she gave him access to her neck and squirmed against him. He took full advantage, nuzzling and tasting her.

“I think about you every second, Maria.Every second.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Not because I didn’t want to, if that’s what you’re thinking. Where’s…George?” he growled, and she felt the muscles in his jaw work as he strained to spit the name out.

“Singapore. Business.”

“For how long?”

“Six months.”

“What kind of fool leaves you for six months?”

Pulling away from his possessive, caressing hands was tricky, like escaping from a wonderful octopus, but she somehow turned to face him. They kept a tight hold on each other’s hands and forearms, neither wanting to let go.

“George wants to marry me.”

An immediate and complete transformation changed his face into a scowling mass of flashing eyes, flared nostrils and sneering lips. He waited, tense and unmoving.

“I told him I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

The breath left his lungs in a long, serrated whoosh.“Don’t think?”

“I want to get married,” she told him. “I’m just not sure George is the right man for me.”

Something in her face must have given away her girlish hopes and dreams, because his expression softened and he cupped her cheek in his palm. He blinked several times and she could tell he was gathering his thoughts, trying to convey his message in the most diplomatic way possible.

“Maria,” he began gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “I hope you’re not, you know…I’m not at a point where I can…”

The words she didn’t want to hear trailed off, but his unspoken warning remained, like a hand fisted around her heart, squeezing hard:I’m not ready for a big relationship, I’m only here for the summer, I’m still in graduate school, don’t build your dreams around me, I’ll break your heart.

For one second she wanted to cry, but then she pushed her dark thoughts away. All of that was beside the point. For right now, for this moment, he was here, with her, and that was enough. They were together, and there was something powerful between them that had to be explored. The rest she could deal with later.

“David?” she asked, turning her head to kiss his palm. “Are we ever going to lunch?”

He studied her, as though to make sure she was okay and ready for whatever was going to happen—or not happen—between them. Finally he seemed satisfied. Taking her hand, he raised it to his mouth for a gentle kiss across her knuckles and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he lowered her hand between them and leaned down to cover her mouth with his own. The deep, urgent, incinerating kiss left her dazed and swaying lightly on her feet. His lips were firm but indescribably tender, and he tasted vaguely of something minty. Whimpering, she leaned into him, but he drew back, nuzzled her lips, and teased her until she felt the moisture flow, hot and thick, between her thighs.

“David, please,” she murmured, not entirely certain what she was begging for, but knowing she had to have it.

He stilled. When she summoned the strength to open her eyes all the way, she found him studying her with glittering brown eyes that managed to look intense and sad and happy all at the same time. Once again he pulled her hand up to his mouth and, smiling now, kissed the backs of her fingers.

“Let’s go to lunch.”

Lunch,Maria thought, snapping out of her thoughts. She needed to eat lunch.

Though she wasn’t the least bit hungry, she choked down a few bites of her limp salad, determined to keep her strength up for the second half of this unforgettably awful day. She finished up, tossed the trash in the bin, and decided she may as well hook up her laptop before she began the monumental task of trying to clean out Oscar the Grouch’s office.

“Need any help with that?”

Scowling, Maria looked up from the snake’s nest tangle of computer cables to find Kwasi standing in her doorway and watching her with an expression of puppy dog hopefulness. Relieved that she could pawn this technological mess off into his capable hands, she smiled gratefully. But then his expression became rapturous, as if Josephine Baker had showed up and started to do her half-naked banana dance for him, and she had second thoughts.

“Um,” she said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want his help—she did—or that she much cared whether one more man in the world had a crush on her—she didn’t. No. The problem was that she knew there’d be hell to pay if David found Kwasi back here. David would falsely accuse her of nefarious behavior, she’d get angry, and the already ugly situation between them would go from bad to worse. More trouble was something she could definitely do without right now.

“Well,” she told Kwasi, “I think I can manage—”

Too late. Kwasi had already hurried over, sank into the chair and gone to work on the cables. Taken aback, Maria got out of his way, went to the door and scanned the hallway for signs of David. Seeing none, she decided that if it would make Kwasi happy to set up her little computer, she would not stand in his way.

“Thank you so much, Kwasi.” Sitting on the edge of the desk nearest him, she watched as he plugged in various cables. They all looked exactly alike to her, but he seemed to know which one went where.

“My pleasure.”

He hit a button and the computer made the delightful beep that told her it was alive and well and reporting for duty. Maybe she ought to know more by now about how to set the stupid thing up, but why would she? Daddy had a wonderful computer with a huge flat screen in his home office, and was happy to let her borrow it for all her online shopping needs. With Kwasi around, she felt certain all her office computing needs would also soon be met.

Kwasi stood and stared down at her, smiling a nervous little smile that did not bode well for interoffice relations. “So,” he said. “How about a drink after work?”

Caught squarely on the horns of a dilemma, Maria floundered around for a tactful answer. On the one hand, the sting of rejection and her solitary lunch still hurt. She was tired of being treated like a working girl Typhoid Mary—eyed and avoided by most everyone in the office. Her coworkers apparently weren’t quite sure how to treat the boss’s daughter, and had therefore elected to punt the ball by ignoring her.

On the other hand, she didn’t need to have Uri read the stars for her to know a big blowup was in her immediate future if David got wind of her spending time with Kwasi.

“Why don’t we get a group together,” she suggested. “We can go to the little pub around the corner—”