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She yanked the sweater higher on her shoulders— the plunging neckline was a little too…plunging. “This sweater’s not even made from materials known in the natural world.”
“Did you remember your mantra?”
You’re a femme fatale.
“Yeah, I tried it. The mantra stinks.” Annabelle clicked the pen again and obliterated the mantra with a few more ink swipes.
“Did you arch your back?”
“He thought I had a backache, for crying out loud. He’s probably looking up the name of a good chiropractor in his Rolodex right now.”
Silence greeted her from the other end of the telephone line. Annabelle suppressed a groan. Katie was rarely silent. It meant trouble. Annabelle in trouble. Since meeting in the second grade, Katie had been devising “brilliant” ideas that usually backfired with Annabelle getting the blame. In school it was detention, last year it was a weeklong rash from a sunless tanner. On her face.
“I just had a brilliant idea. It’s time to bring out the big guns,” Katie finally said. “Is there some way you can lock him in the supply closet with you?”
“He’d spend the whole time devising a way to buy out the door company and take over the management.”
“I’m not so sure it would work. That was the old Wagner Achrom.”
“True.” Annabelle sat a little straighter in the chair and eyed the doorknob. That lock appeared pretty flimsy, a good safety net if she— “No, forget it. Former corporate raider or not, he’d figure a way out. Besides, I did everything but recline naked on my desk.”
“Now, that has possibilities.”
A quivering in the small of her back propelled her forward in her chair. “Out of the question.” If she didn’t stop this line of thought right now, Katie would have her convinced greeting Wagner wearing nothing but high heels and a tie, à la Pretty Woman, was a fabulous idea.
Annabelle pushed her glasses down lower on her nose and rubbed her eyes. “There has to be another way for him to finally notice me.”
“You ever heard the phrase ‘You’re pumping a dry well’?” Katie asked.
“Of course I’ve heard it. We’re in Oklahoma.”
“Well, you should have paid attention to it ’cause, sister, the well’s done gone dry. And I’m not sure it had much juice to begin with.”
Annabelle swiveled her chair toward Wagner’s door. No molding, no scrollwork. Just hard wood. Like Wagner. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Well, of course I’m right. Although sometimes I still think there may be something there. Remember how he was about your car?”
“He was probably only worried that his daily agenda wouldn’t be typed and sitting on his desk.”
“Now, girlfriend, you did that to yourself. It’s one thing making a man dependent on you. It’s quite another when you rig the outcome without making damn sure he knows he can’t live without you.”
She glanced at his closed door. “You’re right. I’ve created a monster.”
“Men.” Katie didn’t need to say another word. That one said it all. “Okay, I’ve got it,” she said.
Annabelle’s stomach muscles clenched in apprehension. No telling what this “brilliant” idea would involve. Probably her walking a tightrope from her desk to the copy machine in nothing but a thong and a smile.
But still, her curiosity had her wondering. “What?”
“A great new plan for this afternoon. Write this down—Nothing is more seductive than food.”
“What?”
“Actually, this is brilliant. A picnic. I can see it now. The birds and bees doing their thing. His head in your lap as you feed him grapes. That’s a very sexy food, by the way.”
“May I remind you we’re in the middle of December?” Annabelle glanced outside the large glass window lining the waiting area. “The sun may be shining right now, but how long is that going to last?”
“All right. All right. Then have it on the office floor. In fact, I like that idea better. He has that nice, long leather couch in there, too. See what we can do when we brainstorm together?”
Annabelle glanced from the black leather couches in the small waiting area to the chrome and steel of her desk and file cabinet. The office of Achrom Enterprises was designed to evoke confidence and professionalism. Not picnics. Certainly no grapes. “That would be inappropriate in the office. Besides, he’s not the picnic type. For that matter, neither am I.”
Katie sighed heavily. “Really, as smart as he is, I don’t see why he hasn’t realized you’re perfect for each other. I’ve never met two squarer people.”
“I resent that remark.”
“You resemble that remark. The picnic idea will work precisely because he’s not the picnic type. It will knock him completely off balance. And personally, I think throwing him for a loop is long overdue.” Katie exhaled expectedly into the phone. “Look, we can forget the whole thing if you want.”
Annabelle worked the pen in her hand. “I want to give this plan a try. It’s time. I’m moving on with my life. I just stamped and mailed away my last loan payment yesterday. In four weeks I’ll have my degree.”
She glanced around the office she’d helped Wagner create. They’d begun with such dreams and high hopes. Now he faced a merger.
Sadness and a new anticipation mixed in her heart. With her loans to cover her father’s shady deals paid off and her finance degree in hand, she was finally free. Free to pursue her own dreams and goals.
“I can’t stay here—I don’t even want to. The only thing holding me back is him. He gave me a job when everyone else sent my résumé to the circular file, if not the shredder. He saw past my family name. He gave me a salary and responsibility, and he looks incredible in a suit.”
“You got me there.”
Annabelle’s gaze focused on Wagner’s hardwood door. “If it’s not to be, then I want to close the door firmly behind me and never look back.”
“Then work with me here. You don’t have much time before lunch. You still have that deli on the bottom floor of your building?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Then repeat after me. New mantra. You are a seductress.”
WAGNER SMILED and a twist of satisfaction curled in his stomach as he red-lined a point he wanted to clarify with Anderson’s front men, Smith and Dean.
Good try, fellas. Not going to work.
Did they think he would miss the clause virtually shackling him to Anderson’s side for the next ten years? He might have been out of the game for the last few years, but he still knew all the tricks. Hell, he’d invented some of them.
Red slashes marked the next two paragraphs for extinction, as well. The lawyer who drew up this contract obviously didn’t know Wagner’s cutthroat reputation. At the age of thirty, he’d earned millions of dollars for other people. Now some four years later, some punk associate thought he could outraid him. Not going to happen.
He’d been on the inside since his mom, in blind trust, sold the family home. He’d bought his first company with the proceeds, then paid his mother back threefold from the profits of selling that company in three separate pieces. Afterwards, he didn’t need to risk his own money, working instead for a top-notch investor’s group. For a while, he reveled in the money. Provided the kind of things his father had never been able to give to Wagner’s mother. Tasted the satisfaction of forcing out some of the very people who’d never given his father a chance.
His mother’s death showed how empty and shallow Wagner’s life had become. He’d made a boatload of money, but he had nothing of value. Now he’d only work for himself.
Although Wagner had stopped looking at companies as potential prey, that didn’t mean his hunter instinct didn’t ripple below the business suit and the trappings of small-business owner. He could spot a corporate raider sizing him up and setting a trap aimed to shaft him. Like any good huntsman, he knew how to circle around and cut the guy off before he could blink.
Forcing the smile from his face, he focused on the next page of the contract.
A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. Ms. Scott walked in carrying a large wicker basket and a champagne bottle. He surged to his feet as she approached. “What’s this?”
“We’ve both been working so hard and I wanted to celebrate.”
His gaze shifted to the marked-up pages of the Anderson contract. Hope of an easy merger with some shreds of his former glory intact faded each time he took the cap off his pen. He didn’t need a Vegas bookie telling him the odds were low on forging out everything he wanted from this contract. What he really wanted was to do the job on his own. “What’s to celebrate?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “The near completion of the merger and… my degree.”
Real joy for her success filled him. It was nice to see good things happen to people who deserved them. They shared a common background of dead-beat dads. He’d met Annabelle when he was at the top of his game and she was at her lowest: completely alone except for the debt her father left her. The man had stolen from his relatives and she’d vowed to repay every penny. Now with a balance sheet firmly in the black, she presumably was ready to start her life. His pleasure vanished, replaced by… apprehension? He straightened his tie and cleared his throat.
“You’ll make a wonderful financial counselor,” he said, dropping his pen. A touch of sadness tinged his happiness for her. She’d be leaving soon.
“I just need to finish the semester. Soon I will be helping people make better investment choices.” She leaned to the side, resting the basket on her hip.
Sprinting around the desk, he reached for the handle. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Her smile broadened as she handed him the basket, their hands brushing. She reached for the blanket on top of the basket, and with one motion shook it and let it fall to the ground.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She settled herself on the faded patches of the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her, giving him a clear view down her sweater. Her cleavage was, in a word, stunning.
He had to get her out of there. He had a merger to concentrate on, not…
“Thigh or breast?” she asked.
He gulped. Chicken. She was offering him chicken. Not her delectable body. “Both.”
Wagner sank to the floor beside her before he gawked further. This was her way to celebrate; she’d worked hard. If Annabelle wanted to sit cross-legged on the floor, he would let her. He owed her.
“I thought an indoor picnic would be nice. We both have to eat lunch. This way we don’t have to leave the office, worry about ants, and I can still answer the telephone if needed.”
Perfect sense. As always. He appreciated having Ms. Scott in the office. He’d miss her punctuality, level head and sense of order.
After pulling out two red ceramic plates from the basket, she began to lay out chicken salad and pasta. His stomach growled as the smell of warm bread hit his nose.
“Fresh from the bakery around the corner.”
She spread a liberal pat of butter on her bread with efficient movements. A little of the butter landed on her finger. She brought her finger to her lips, sucking the tip into her mouth.
Their eyes met. She’d caught him staring. “Butter?” she asked.
Oh, yeah.
“Wagner, would you like butter on your bread?”
He gave himself a mental shake. “No. Better not. Thank you.”
“Would you open the bottle?”
Reaching for the bottle, he tore the aluminum covering off with the ease of a man in familiar territory. In the past, he’d had many reasons to celebrate, but nothing to be proud of.
Stretching gracefully across the blanket, she placed his plate in front of his knee. Her fingers lightly grazed his leg. He felt the sensation through the wool material of his pants and he steeled his muscles not to react. Instead, he stared at her hands. He’d never noticed the fine bone structure of her delicate fingers and wrists.
Such slender hands to take on so much work. School, her job with him and he knew she did some freelance typing to lessen her considerable debt. His gaze moved upward. Such narrow shoulders to take on the burdens of her father. His eyes traveled to her mouth. Such sweet lips. Pink and full, demanding a man’s kiss.
His kiss.
Something strange and unusual tightened and swelled within him and his fingers pushed harder into the softness of the cork.
With a pop, the cork flew across the room and the bubbly champagne floated down the side of the bottle. Laughing, she handed him a flute.
He smiled as he felt its weight. “Plastic?”
“Couldn’t find glass.”
Eating on the carpet and drinking out of plastic champagne glasses was the other side of the planet from his caviar and Cristal days. Five years ago he could clear a path to the buffet just by walking through the room. Gourmet food on the finest china had awaited him.
Somehow he liked this better.
After carefully filling the two glasses, he handed one to her. Annabelle Scott had worked with him for so long, they meshed. But he could not remember ever having a meal with her or even being so close he smelled the tantalizing vanilla scent of her shampoo or noticed the tiny dimple in her right cheek.
Except once.
He’d forgotten that one. Until now.
Two months ago, they’d worked late into the night on a project proposal. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in the corner of his office. He’d only meant to bring her a cup of coffee so she’d be awake enough to drive home. Instead, he’d found himself staring at the way her hair curled around the soft curve of her chin. The seductive roll of her hips and the tugging of her breasts against the buttons of her blouse had jerked at his body. Pure temptation.
He’d walked away congratulating himself on not making the huge mistake of kissing her awake as his instinct first had urged.
The dimple appeared in her cheek as she slowly sucked in a coil of pasta.
A spiral of desire shot through his body. Wagner looked away. The food on his plate was a much safer place to stare.
Silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but after a few minutes, something propelled him to break it.
“How’s your back?”
Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion, then she smiled. “Oh, fine. Just needed to stretch a little bit. All that studying.”
A cold sweat blasted him on the back of the neck as she closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders. His gaze roamed to her breasts and he very nearly groaned. He grabbed the plastic champagne flute and downed his bubbly in one long swallow.
Then he coughed. “That’s not champagne.”
“No. I didn’t think alcohol would be wise in the middle of a workday. That’s sparkling plum cider.”
“Very…interesting flavor,” he said between coughing and trying to catch his breath.
