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“I’m out of here, I’m really sorry…” he said to the open bathroom door, figuring she was in the shower. “I’ll…er…”
He’d what? Call her later? They hadn’t even had sex, for pity’s sake. And now they weren’t ever going to see each other again. That thought caused a little sting, but he’d get over it. So what else could he say?
“Have a good conference,” he finished lamely and headed for the door. He looked out the peephole and then opened the door, peering out. Nobody in the hallway. He dug around in his pocket, found his room key and then made a break for it. He got in the room quickly and noticed immediately that the hotel-room phone light was blinking. He had a message. He decided to jump in the shower and get dressed first, before dealing with it. Odds were good it was somebody he didn’t want to talk to, anyway…or somebody it would stress him out to know he’d missed. He could just say that he’d slept in or something.
He thought back a minute, thinking of Sophie, naked on the other side of the wall.
Or something.
Finally, in a world’s record of getting cleaned up, he collected the message.
“Mark? This is Simone. I think something might be wrong with your phone. I’ve decided to call an impromptu staff meeting at nine this morning, and I want you there a few minutes early…. I think we need to talk.” A pregnant pause. “Yes. We definitely need to talk.”
Mark winced, then grabbed his briefcase. He wasn’t going to bring his laptop—Simone didn’t approve of them in meetings. He was almost out the door when he suddenly found that his phone was missing. He searched for it frantically, cursing a blue streak when it didn’t show up. He didn’t even have stuff out of his bags, for pity’s sake, where could he have…
He winced.
Sophie.
He took a deep breath, glanced at his watch. Eight-forty. He should leave in five minutes. He prayed that Sophie hadn’t rushed off….
He looked down the hallway again, as furtive as a spy, then knocked softly on her door. Then knocked louder.
“Just a minute!”
She opened the door. She looked…well, wet, to be honest, her toffee-colored waves pulled back in a ponytail that emphasized the classic lines of her face. She was wearing glasses, cute wire-rims. She blinked at him as she put an earring in her ear.
“Hi,” he said, and without waiting for an invitation, he dashed into her room.
“Um, hi. I’m in a hurry….”
“I can’t find my phone,” he explained, looking around. She’d done the same thing as he had—dug into her bags for clothes—but otherwise everything was as is. Except for the clothes she’d stripped off last night, which were still in a trail that led to the bed.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it….
“Listen, about last night,” she said softly.
“No worries,” he interrupted. “Really. We were both tired, we weren’t really thinking, it just seemed like a good idea at the time….”
“That’s not it.”
He looked up, finally. She looked near tears.
He tried not to think about how hot she’d been. How very, very much he’d wanted her. How much he still wanted her, come to that. She was amazing, sweet and sexier than anybody he’d met in a long time.
“It’s not that bad,” he said. “You didn’t…”
Before he could say anything else, she flew at him, and he felt that hot, mobile mouth of hers against his. And whatever strange craziness had come over him last night was back again with a vengeance. It wasn’t a fluke…wasn’t because they were tired, wasn’t because they were punch-drunk and lonely.
She still wanted him.
His hands clutched at the small of her back, dragging her up against him…. Then he pulled away. What was he doing? He had a meeting in minutes, and so did she, and what were they doing?
Besides, you still don’t have a condom.
“I still want you,” she breathed. “I know the timing’s lousy, and it’s probably not anything either of us should do anything about, I mean we’re professionals, and…” She stopped. “I’m babbling.”
“You hate that,” he couldn’t help but point out, with a smile, thinking of last night.
“The thing is, I would still love to make love with you. I just thought you should know that.” She shrugged, the blush on her cheeks owing nothing to cosmetics.
He reached out and kissed her back, hard, gratifying in the sound of her low moan. “You don’t even know how much I still want to make love to you,” he ground out finally. “But you’re right. The timing, the…”
“It’s crazy,” she said with a shrug. “In fact, it’s stupid. But if I didn’t tell you…well. I didn’t want you to think that I regretted it, or that it was a mistake.”
He was torn. It was stupid, potentially career damaging. As one of the few men in a women-dominated profession, it was dangerous. And it was definitely unprofessional. It would get around. Hell, rumors of him sleeping with women, that were completely unfounded, still surfaced from time to time. And with his promotion coming up…
He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right—we can’t.”
She nodded, looking for a moment completely dejected. “I’ll help you find your phone.”
He saw it suddenly, a silver object, half-hidden by the thrown-back comforter on the bed. “Here it is.” He grabbed it and knew he should be out the door, with his briefcase, finding Simone. But the problem was he didn’t want to go.
“Have a good conference,” she said, echoing his earlier lame goodbye.
He wanted to kiss her…reassure her that neither of them had made a mistake. Or better, tell her to wait for him…that after her meeting and his, after whatever else they had to do today, he’d sneak over and they’d make love till morning, damn the conference, damn everything else.
But he wouldn’t do that. And she wouldn’t, either. And they both knew it.
He held out a hand. She stared at it for a moment, then shook it firmly.
“It was nice meeting you, Sophie Jones,” he said, and regret drowned every word.
Then he turned and headed out the door.
SOPHIE GLANCED AT HER WATCH, then glanced back at the empty stage. After all her fuss to make the morning meeting, she now discovered that the meeting itself had been canceled and replaced with a press conference. Sophie was a bundle of nervous energy, since Mrs. Marion had left a message for Sophie specifically to sit up front at the event.
This could be the announcement we’ve been waiting for.
She was surrounded by tons of people, all sitting at the various tables set up. Marion & Co. had appropriated the second-largest ballroom, and she would’ve wagered that everyone at the regional trade show had abandoned their various booths to hear what was being said. Well, okay, the big companies, anyway. All the trade reporters were milling around. She would be able to tell them apart by the hungry, searching look in their eyes, if not by their press badges. They didn’t get paid much, poor bastards, but they sure did work hard for the money.
She realized she was glancing around to see Mark. Not that you’re at all eager to see him, her mind ruthlessly taunted her. She’d thrown herself at him briefly this morning, when she’d gotten her wits about her. She’d been disconcerted by finding a man in her bed, after all this time—and the first thing on her mind was the Marion meeting.
If only that had been on your mind before you invited him to sleep over last night, you idiot.
It was strange. Normally, she was all business. But she’d taken one look at gorgeous, godlike Mark McMann, and most of her sharp-hewn common sense had taken a flying leap out the window.
She shook her head. It probably wouldn’t hurt her reputation all that much, all things considered, to sleep with a competitor, but obviously it bothered him. Enough for him to rescind his really wonderful, beautiful, sexy offer from the night before.
The offer that she still would’ve loved to take him up on.
She closed her eyes, squinched them shut. No, no, no. Just move on, will you?
She saw Lily Hunter, Mrs. Marion’s second in command, crossing the stage, and sat up. The people who were making all that noise quieted, and they looked up expectantly.
She heard someone approach, turned…and saw Mark, looking out of breath. He smiled at her, and her irritation suddenly melted.
He really is beautiful, she thought. In a purely masculine way. Like a carved fallen angel.
She frowned, then pulled out the little notepad that she always carried in its little leather binder. She jotted down: “Fallen Angel. Maybe a new perfume? Or add to the new line of eye shadows?”
He sat down next to her, looking curiously at her note, then at her.
She simply smiled. They weren’t supposed to know each other, but here they were. And it wasn’t as if they were wearing matching T-shirts that said I Almost Slept With and arrows pointing to each other.
She smiled at the image, and he smiled back, then they both turned to the stage, where Abigail Marion strode, looking like a queen clad in her caramel-colored Yves Saint Laurent suit. She had a smile on her face, the one that seemed to say “I know something you don’t know.”
Sophie glanced at Mark. She wondered if he knew what was going on, but he seemed puzzled…and a bit more annoyed, she noted.
She squelched a smug smile. Not as annoyed as you’re going to be when you find out that a tiny company like mine has poached a huge account from a big company like yours!
Sure, she might be in lust with the guy. But business was business.
“I’m glad that so many of you could make it to this announcement, on such short notice,” Mrs. Marion said, in a rich, cultured voice. “I am also glad that the Southwestern Cosmetics Trade Show management let us have the ballroom so we could make this brief statement.”
You could hear a pin drop. Someone coughed in the back of the room, and Sophie could’ve sworn she felt everyone wince in unison. They were all riveted.
“Marion & Co. has been fortunate enough to have enjoyed significant growth in revenue in the past few years, dealing in exclusive luxury items for the most discerning shoppers,” she said. “We only offer the best products from the absolute, most exclusive providers. We offer several select brands, only the finest. Cosmetics has been one such area.”
Now, Sophie thought she could feel the whole room hold its collective breath. She could barely breathe, herself.
“We would like to partner with a cosmetics company to create a new house cosmetics brand…a partnership brand, if you would. It would still retain the cosmetic company’s name, and have a distinct identity. But it would carry the weight of Marion & Co.’s seal of approval. The distinct sub brand would only be available at Marion & Co…but I don’t need to tell you all what sort of a boost this would be.”
There was a buzz of frenetic chatter after this, as the thrum of commentary followed. It would be more than a boost—it would be an absolute windfall for whatever lucky cosmetics company M&C partnered with.
Sophie felt her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. This is it, she chanted in her mind. This is it, the chance we’ve been waiting for…
“After a private, relatively secret search, we have narrowed the field of competitors to two.”
Sophie’s eyes widened.
Wait a minute.
Two?
Whatever gossipy buzz had been traveling through the room ceased as all ears pricked up.
“First…Trimera International, headquartered in New York.”
Sophie saw Mark sit up a bit straighter, his eyes gleaming avariciously.
“And second…Diva Nation, from California.”
She could hear people muttering “Who?” after Diva Nation was announced. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to crow—and an equally powerful urge to make a break for her room before her incognita status disappeared. She got the feeling that by tonight, every single person at the conference would know exactly who she was and who she represented.
’Bout time!
“Congratulations,” Mark murmured to her, and she nodded, accepting it. His eyes weren’t gleaming anymore. Instead, they studied her…appraising, yet wary.
Mrs. Marion smiled at the shock wave she’d sent through the conference. She was obviously a woman who liked to push buttons, and cause a stir. “To these two companies, I am asking for a series of distinct proposal rounds. Your individual headquarters will be receiving the necessary materials by this afternoon. This brand will be rolling out by the end of next year. Thank you, all of you, for your time.”
With that, and with people clamoring out with questions, Sophie felt herself go numb.
“Who the hell is Diva Nation?” a woman next to her asked, sourly. “Mark…heard of them?”
“Yup,” he said, looking at Sophie. “They’re a sort of underground urban cosmetics brand, out of L.A.”
She blinked. She hadn’t told him that. He’d somehow…
Of course he knew. She grimaced, and quickly snatched up her things, grabbing her phone as almost an afterthought.
“Yeah, but who the hell are they?” the woman persisted.
Sophie didn’t wait to hear what his response was. She just made a beeline for the door.
Mark was right behind her, it turned out. She knew because of the cologne he wore…. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was really nice, and suited him to a T. “Wait up,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going,” she said quickly. “It’s now going to be a really chaotic conference for me.”
“You pulled off a coup back there,” he said, and admiration was obvious in his voice. “Did you know they were going to give you a chance at the account? When I gave you a ride?”
She glanced around. People were watching them. More to the point, they were watching him. Women couldn’t keep their eyes off him, which was hardly a shock. “I thought we weren’t going to talk business,” she said in a hushed, reprimanding voice.
“That was last night,” he murmured. “I think things have changed since then, don’t you?”
“They have changed,” she said ruefully. “Now, we’re direct competitors, not just rivals in the same industry. And we really, really need to not talk anymore.”
He was still following her as she walked toward the elevator bank. After they waited there in silence, he said, “I’m not stalking you. I’m only trying to get to my room.”
She drowned again for a second, wallowing in memories of last night…of the two of them. Of his earlier promise to make love to her all night tonight. “No problem,” she said, glad her voice managed to sound casual.
The two of them rode the elevator in silence, ignoring the gaggle of sales reps who surrounded them as they managed to get off on earlier floors, all of them commenting bitterly on Trimera getting chosen, and all wondering about Diva Nation. Sophie made sure that her arms covered her name badge. Finally, it was her and Mark alone, on the elevator, headed for the twelfth floor.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
She glanced at him. “Sorry?”
“Dinner. Tonight.” He sent her a sidelong glance that practically melted her heart. “I was sort of wondering. I mean, you’ve got to eat, I’ve got to eat….”
