Luring a Lady (11 page)

When he could wait no longer, he plunged inside her, a sword to the hilt.

She was beyond pleasure. There was no name for the edge she trembled on. Her body moved, arching for his, finding their own intimate rhythm as naturally as breath. She knew he was speaking to her, desperate words in a mixture of languages. She understood that wherever she was, he was with her, as much a captive as she.

And when the power pushed her off that last thin edge, he was all there was. All there had to be.

 

It was dark, and the room was in shadows. Wondering if her mind would ever clear again, Sydney stared at the ceiling and listened to Mikhail breathe. It was foolish, she supposed, but it was such a soothing, intimate sound, that air moving quietly in and out of his lungs. She could have listened for hours.

Perhaps she had.

She had no idea how much time had passed since he'd slapped his hand on her door and barged in after her. It might have been minutes or hours, but it hardly mattered. Her life had been changed. Smiling to herself, she stroked a hand through his hair. He
turned his head, just an inch, and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw.

“I thought you were asleep,” she murmured.

“No. I wouldn't fall asleep on top of you.” He lifted his head. She could see the gleam of his eyes, the hint of a smile. “There are so many more interesting things to do on top of you.”

She felt color rush to her cheeks and was grateful for the dark. “I was…” How could she ask? “It was all right, then?”

“No.” Even with his body pressed into hers, he could feel her quick retreat. “Sydney, I may not have so many good words as you, but I think ‘all right' is a poor choice. A walk through the park is all right.”

“I only meant—” She shifted. Though he braced on his elbows to ease his weight from her, he made sure she couldn't wiggle away.

“I think we'll have a light now.”

“No, that's not—” The bedside lamp clicked on. “Necessary.”

“I want to see you, because I think I will make love with you again in a minute. And I like to look at you.” Casually he brushed his lips over hers. “Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Tense your shoulders. I'd like to think you could relax with me.”

“I am relaxed,” she said, then blew out a long breath. No, she wasn't. “It's just that whenever I ask a direct question, you give evasions. I only wanted to know if you were, well, satisfied.”

She'd been sure before, but now, as the heat had faded to warmth, she wondered if she'd only wished.

“Ah.” Wrapping her close, he rolled over until she lay atop him. “This is like a quiz. Multiple choice. They were my favorite in school. You want to know, A, was it all right, B, was it very good or C, was it very wonderful.”

“Forget it.”

He clamped his arms around her when she tried to pull away. “I'm not finished with you, Hayward. I still have to answer the question, but I find there are not enough choices.” He nudged her down until her lips had no choice but to meet his. And the kiss was long and sweet. “Do you understand now?”

His eyes were dark, still heavy from the pleasure they'd shared. The look in them said more than hundreds of silky words. “Yes.”

“Good. Come back to me.” He nestled her head on his shoulder and began to rub his hand gently up and down her back. “This is nice?”

“Yes.” She smiled again. “This is nice.” Moments passed in easy silence. “Mikhail.”

“Hmm?”

“There weren't enough choices for me, either.”

 

She was so beautiful when she slept, he could hardly look away. Her hair, a tangled flow of golden fire, curtained part of her face. One hand, small and delicate, curled on the pillow where his head had lain. The sheet, tangled from hours of loving showed the outline of her body to where the linen ended just at the curve of her breast.

She had been greater than any fantasy: generous, open, stunningly sexy and shy all at once. It had been like initiating a virgin and being seduced by a siren. And afterward, the faint embarrassment, the puzzling self-doubt. Where had that come from?

He would have to coax the answer from her. And if coaxing didn't work, he would bully.

But now, when he watched her in the morning light, he felt such an aching tenderness.

He hated to wake her, but he knew women enough to be sure she would be hurt if he left her sleeping.

Gently he brushed the hair from her cheek, bent down and kissed her.

She stirred and so did his desire.

He kissed her again, nibbling a trail to her ear. “Sydney.” Her sleepy purr of response had his blood heating. “Wake up and kiss me goodbye.”

“'S morning?” Her lashes fluttered up to reveal dark, heavy eyes. She stared at him a moment while she struggled to surface. His face was close and shadowed with stubble. To satisfy an old craving, she lifted her hand to it.

“You have a dangerous face.” When he grinned, she propped herself up on an elbow. “You're dressed,” she realized.

“I thought it the best way to go downtown.”

“Go?”

Amused, he sat on the edge of the bed. “To work. It's nearly seven. I made coffee with your machine and used your shower.”

She nodded. She could smell both—the coffee and the scent of her soap on his skin. “You should have waked me.”

He twined a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the way its subtle fire seemed to lick at his flesh. “I didn't let you sleep very long last night. You will come downtown after work? I will fix you dinner.”

Relieved, she smiled. “Yes.”

“And you'll stay the night with me, sleep in my bed?”

She sat up so they were face-to-face. “Yes.”

“Good.” He tugged on the lock of hair. “Now kiss me goodbye.”

“All right.” Testing herself, she sat up, linked her hands around his neck. The sheet slid away to her waist. Pleased, she watched his gaze skim down, felt the tensing of muscles, saw the heat flash. Slowly,
waiting until his eyes had come back to hers, she leaned forward. Her lips brushed his and retreated, brushed and retreated until she felt his quick groan. Satisfied she had his full attention, she flicked open the buttons of his shirt.

“Sydney.” On a half laugh, he caught at her hands. “You'll make me late.”

“That's the idea.” She was smiling as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “Don't worry, I'll put in a good word for you with the boss.”

 

Two hours later, Sydney strolled into her offices with an armful of flowers she'd bought on the street. She'd left her hair down, had chosen a sunny yellow suit to match her mood. And she was humming.

Janine looked up from her work station, prepared to offer her usual morning greeting. The formal words stuck. “Wow. Ms. Hayward, you look fabulous.”

“Thank you, Janine. I feel that way. These are for you.”

Confused, Janine gathered up the armful of summer blossoms. “Thank you. I…thank you.”

“When's my first appointment?”

“Nine-thirty. With Ms. Brinkman, Mr. Lowe and Mr. Keller, to finalize the buy on the housing project in New Jersey.”

“That gives me about twenty minutes. I'd like to see you in my office.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Janine was already reaching for her pad.

“You won't need that,” Sydney told her, and strode through the double doors. She seated herself, then gestured for Janine to take a chair.

“How long have you worked for Hayward?”

“Five years last March.”

Sydney tipped back in her chair and looked at her secretary, really looked. Janine was attractive, neat, had direct gray eyes that were a
trifle puzzled at the moment. Her dark blond hair was worn short and sleek. She held herself well, Sydney noted. Appearance was important, not the most important, but it certainly counted for what she was thinking.

“You must have been very young when you started here.”

“Twenty-one,” Janine answered with a small smile. “Right out of business college.”

“Are you doing what you want to do, Janine?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is secretarial work what you want to do with your life, or do you have other ambitions?”

Janine resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “I hope to work my way up to department manager. But I enjoy working for you, Miss Hayward.”

“You have five years experience with the company, nearly five more than I do, yet you enjoy working for me. Why?”

“Why?” Janine stopped being nervous and went to flat-out baffled. “Being secretary to the president of Hayward is an important job, and I think I'm good at it.”

“I agree with both statements.” Rising, Sydney walked around the desk to perch on the front corner. “Let's be frank, Janine, no one here at Hayward expected me to stay more than a token month or two, and I'm sure it was generally agreed I'd spend most of that time filing my nails or chatting with friends on the phone.” She saw by the faint flush that crept up Janine's cheeks that she'd hit very close to the mark. “They gave me an efficient secretary, not an assistant or an office manager, or executive aide, whatever we choose to call them at Hayward, because it wasn't thought I'd require one. True?”

“That's the office gossip.” Janine straightened in her chair and met
Sydney's eyes levelly. If she was about to be fired, she'd take it on the chin. “I took the job because it was a good position, a promotion and a raise.”

“And I think you were very wise. The door opened, and you walked in. Since you've been working for me, you've been excellent. I can't claim to have a lot of experience in having a secretary, but I know that you're at your desk when I arrive in the morning and often stay after I leave at night. When I ask you for information you have it, or you get it. When I ask, you explain, and when I order, you get the job done.”

“I don't believe in doing things halfway, Ms. Hayward.”

Sydney smiled, that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “And you want to move up. Contrarily, when my position was tenuous at best last week, you stood behind me. Breaking into that board meeting was a risk, and putting yourself in my corner at that point certainly lessened your chances of moving up at Hayward had I been asked to step down. And it most certainly earned you a powerful enemy.”

“I work for you, not for Mr. Bingham. And even if it wasn't a matter of loyalty, you were doing what was right.”

“I feel very strongly about loyalty, Janine, just as strongly as I feel about giving someone who's trying to make something of herself the chance to do so. The flowers were a thank-you for that loyalty, from me to you, personally.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hayward.” Janine's face relaxed in a smile.

“You're welcome. I consider your promotion to my executive assistant, with the appropriate salary and benefits, to be a good business decision.”

Janine's mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon?”

“I hope you'll accept the position, Janine. I need someone I trust, someone I respect, and someone who knows how the hell to run an
office. Agreed?” Sydney offered a hand. Janine stared at it before she managed to rise and grip it firmly in hers.

“Ms. Hayward—”

“Sydney. We're going to be in this together.”

Janine gave a quick, dazzled laugh. “Sydney. I hope I'm not dreaming.”

“You're wide-awake, and the flak's going to fall before the day's over. Your first job in your new position is to arrange a meeting with Lloyd. Make it a formal request, here in my office before the close of business hours today.”

 

He put her off until four-fifteen, but Sydney was patient. If anything, the extra time gave her the opportunity to examine her feelings and make certain her decision wasn't based on emotion.

When Janine buzzed him in, Sydney was ready, and she was sure.

“You picked a busy day for this,” he began.

“Sit down, Lloyd.”

He did, and she waited again while he took out a cigarette. “I won't take up much of your time,” she told him. “I felt it best to discuss this matter as quickly as possible.”

His gaze flicked up, and he smiled confidently through the haze of smoke. “Having problems on one of the projects?”

“No.” Her lips curved in a wintry smile. “There's nothing I can't handle. It's the internal strife at Hayward that concerns me, and I've decided to remedy it.”

“Office reorganization is a tricky business.” He crossed his legs and leaned back. “Do you really think you've been around long enough to attempt it?”

“I'm not going to attempt it, I'm going to do it. I'd like your resignation on my desk by five o'clock tomorrow.”

He bolted up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your resignation, Lloyd. Or if necessary, your termination at Hayward. That distinction will be up to you.”

He crushed the cigarette into pulp in the ashtray. “You think you can fire me? Walk in here with barely three months under your belt and fire me when I've been at Hayward for twelve years?”

“Here's the point,” she said evenly. “Whether it's been three months or three days, I am Hayward. I will not tolerate one of my top executives undermining my position. It's obvious you're not happy with the current status at Hayward, and I can guarantee you, I'm going to remain in charge of this company for a long time. Therefore, I believe it's in your own interest, and certainly in mine, for you to resign.”

“The hell I will.”

“That's your choice, of course. I will, however, take the matter before the board, and use all the power at my disposal to limit yours.”

Going with instinct, she pushed the next button. “Leaking Mrs. Wolburg's accident to the press didn't just put me in a difficult position. It put Hayward in a difficult position. As an executive vice president, your first duty is to the company, not to go off on some vindictive tangent because you dislike working for me.”