The Perfect Kiss (7 page)

Anya bristled at the unfair assault. “This isn’t a ‘routine.’ You made me a business offer, and I gave you my answer last night and again this morning. It’s your problem if you can’t accept it.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” Zach countered. “You give me an answer that makes sense, and I’ll accept it without question. But this is crazy. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime. Other models would kill for a contract like this—”

“Then give it to one of those models,” Anya said angrily. “I’m sure there are dozens—hundreds even—more
than willing to say yes to your steamrollering charms. I’m just not one of them.”

Silence exploded between them. Zach’s eyes glittered coldly, reminding Anya all too clearly that ice could be just as dangerous as fire. She shivered, backing herself even more deeply into her corner.

A mistake. He leaned forward, rapidly closing the distance between them. Her hand went to her throat as her heart began to pound, pound, pound….

“I think I’m beginning to see.” His tone was low but deadly intense. “This is personal, isn’t it? It’s not the contract you object to so much, as me. Is that right?” Something flashed in his eyes, something that denied the frost in his tone.

Anya’s resolve stumbled for a moment. Then she lifted her chin in defiance. “Of course not. This is a professional decision, nothing more.”

“Is it?”

“Why do you find that so hard to accept? Am I threatening your business acumen?” Oh, why wouldn’t he listen to her? Why wouldn’t he take no for an answer? Anya moistened her dry lips, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

Then he surprised her with a slow smile, an action that seemed even more dangerous than his anger. “I don’t feel threatened by you at all, Anya,” he said softly. “Do
I
threaten
you
somehow?”

She moistened her lips again, feeling her blood heat with excitement. He was close, but she wanted him closer. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “You threaten me.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Her voice trailed off as she stared into his eyes. Prisms of light from the passing bars and restaurants flashed across
his face, making his features seem even more animated, more vitally alive. The ice in his eyes melted to liquid heat, and his expression deepened, became more intense. Anya felt her breath tighten in her chest. His hand on her arm felt hot, searing, like a brand. Her dark, hidden desires began to stir to life. Anya felt them rise up inside her until she trembled with contemptible need.

She had to get away from him. Dear God, she had to get away, because his eyes told her that in another minute he was going to kiss her, and that she could never allow. Because if he kissed her, Anya knew there would be no turning back from the inevitable.

“You threaten me…because you won’t take no for an answer.”

He laughed softly, the low sound thrillingly masculine. “Then don’t say no. Just tell me what you want.”

Anya swallowed, feeling the pull of his velvet coercion. He had no idea, she thought grimly. He had no idea what happened to men like him who wanted women like her. She steeled her resolve, tamped down the mounting excitement inside her.

The cab pulled to the curb in front of her darkened house. Anya opened the door, but before she could flee, Zach grabbed her arm. “Anya…”

For just a moment, she remained rooted to the spot. Their eyes locked. Then she withdrew her arm from his grasp and said very slowly, “All I want is for you to leave me alone. I have absolutely no interest in your business proposal—or in you. I see no reason why we should ever have to meet again.” Then she stepped out of the car, slammed the door, and ran up the sidewalk to the iron gate, slipping into the shadows without a backward glance.

* * *

Anya let herself into the house and leaned heavily against the wooden door, her heart hammering in her throat. Had
she convinced him? Would he go away now? Would he leave her alone?

Had she removed the threat to her safety?

She was quite sure she had. Even Zach’s determination wouldn’t allow him to continue the pursuit in the face of such a blunt rejection. His pride would demand he forget all about her. He’d choose a new model now, perhaps someone more beautiful than she. Someone with whom he might eventually fall in love, she thought with a bitter pang deep down in her heart.

Slowly, wearily, Anya climbed the steps to her bedroom. For long, silent moments she stood at the window and stared out at the cold, windy night. The aching knot inside her was despair, she realized. Despair that grew deeper and more complete with each passing year spent in the darkness.

Ten years had passed since she had first met Gershom in Bonn, since she had first been captivated by a darkness she didn’t understand. Ten years had passed in obscurity until Anya had begun to think she might actually be free of him. But ever since she’d met Zach Christopher, Gershom’s presence had been all around her, circling her like a jealous, demon lover who had come back to lay claim to his possession.

Anya sighed as she rested her forehead against the cold glass. What must it be like, she thought, to share a life with someone like Zach, to wake up in the sunshine with him every single morning? What must it be like to love someone selflessly and be loved in return?

Anya had never known real love, except from her grandmother, perhaps. And Cora’s house in the country had been the only real home Anya had ever known. Her parents had divorced when she was a child, and she had been shuffled back and forth between them, never really belonging in
either of their new lives or to their new families. As often as not, she had been left to her own devices in the city.

Then one summer Anya had been “discovered” on the subway returning home from school. Soon after, she’d been pursued by the top modeling agencies in the city. She’d quickly become seduced by the glamour and the attention. Her career had skyrocketed, and Anya had reveled in the adoration.

But all too soon she’d realized that the outpouring of affection for her was only superficial. Without her great beauty, no one would really love her at all. No one would want her.

That was why Gershom’s seduction had been so pitifully easy. He’d promised her eternal beauty, everlasting love, and Anya had been foolish enough to believe him. Her grandmother had just died, leaving her completely alone, and Anya, on her own in Europe at seventeen, had still desperately needed someone to cling to. Someone to love.

If only her grandmother had lived, Anya thought with an edge of bitterness. How different her life might now be.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to think about Cora. Anya closed her eyes and, for a moment, conjured up the image of wispy white hair and warm blue eyes, of soothing, careworn hands and soft, gentle laughter. For just a moment, she let herself experience the memory of basking in the comfort of loving arms.

The image flashed brilliant, then faded, like heat lightning in the dead of night.

And when it was gone, Anya felt lonelier than ever as she stared out the window, waiting for the next sunrise.

CHAPTER FIVE

Z
ach’s secretary held out a handful of pink message slips as he walked past her desk the next morning. He shifted his briefcase to the other hand and plucked the papers from her fingers without breaking stride as he headed toward his office.

“Get me some aspirin, will you, Edna? And a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t do coffee, remember? Besides, caffeine’s bad for a hangover. I’ll get you some orange juice.”

Zach gave her a beleaguered look over his shoulder. Edna knew him too well. He should have gotten rid of her years ago, he thought dryly. “You don’t do coffee, but you’ll get orange juice? What kind of cockeyed logic is that?”

“The same kind that directed me to leave a company I’d been with for more than twenty years to move over here with you, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Edna Nelson had been Zach’s secretary at Darrow Pharmaceutical. When Kathryn Christopher had persuaded him to accept her offer here, he’d convinced Edna to move with him. Sometimes, in spite of her imperious attitude, Edna seemed like the only friendly face in a den of hostility.

Zach wondered if there was even one person at Renee Alexander, other than Edna and perhaps his mother, who would be glad to see him succeed. He’d overheard more than one dire prediction of his inevitable failure.

But that was okay. That only served to make him more
determined than ever. Edna had told him once in her usual forthright fashion that it was his own fault, anyway. He did nothing to foster the support and loyalty of the employees.

“People like to be flattered, appreciated. You’ve never even brought me flowers in all the years we’ve been together. Of course,
I
understand you, but others don’t. Try a little finesse, Zach, instead of your usual bulldozer approach. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

Was that what Anya had meant last night when she’d referred to his steamroller approach?
Had
he come on too strong with her? Was that the problem?

“Julian Sindel called twice this morning,” Edna called to his retreating back. “And Evan Hawthorne is waiting in your office with Roland Sutton. Neither of them looks too happy.”

When did they ever? Zach thought with a grimace as he shuffled through his messages. They were a pair of doomsayers if he’d ever seen one. Roland was a member of the board of directors and had been the most vocal opponent to Zach’s appointment. He’d had his eye on the top management position, but Kathryn had obtained just enough support from the other members to overrule him. Sutton had been impossible to deal with ever since.

Evan, on the other hand, was a little easier to handle. He hadn’t been at the company all that long, so he didn’t suffer the deep-seated sense of loyalty some of the other executives did. No, his animosity wasn’t personal. It was simply that he had a very conservative approach toward advertising.

And conservatism could get you nowhere fast, Zach thought as he opened the door to his office. Which is exactly where Renee Alexander had been going for the past several years. Nowhere fast.

He nodded curtly to the two men seated in the oxblood
leather chairs as he took his own place behind the massive desk. His father’s desk. This office never failed to make Zach feel like an impostor. An interloper. However, he knew his expression gave away nothing of what he was feeling. He made sure of that. He always had.

“Gentlemen. What can I do for you this morning?”

“You can tell me what the hell is going on,” Roland Sutton growled without preliminary, tossing a folder across the desk toward Zach. “Do you know what this is?”

Casually, Zach glanced down, then back up. “I believe that’s my proposal for next season’s ad campaign.”

“You’ve allotted nearly three times as much for that campaign than was approved by the board. For a perfume that was shelved years ago! Look at the contract you’ve offered that model…that…Anya What’s-her-name. There is no bloody way in hell the board will ever authorize a contract like that. You must be out of your mind.”

The anger rushing through Zach made his head pound even harder. He cursed the Scotch he’d tipped last night. He wasn’t by nature a patient man. Even less so the morning after. He forced his fists to unclench as he faced Sutton across the gleaming expanse of marble. “How do you think Chanel signed Catherine Deneuve for their campaign several years ago? How do you think Este´e Lauder got Paulina as their signature model, or how Revlon got Cindy Crawford? You have to pay for quality.”

Sutton’s gray mustache twitched angrily at the corners. “A pretty face is a pretty face, Zach. Your father understood that. Your brother understood that. You seem to have a lesson to learn. We don’t throw money away like that around here. Every aspect of this business is carefully planned and budgeted, and there is no way you can ever justify the amount you offered that woman.”

Zach felt the anger inside him crawling upward, demanding
release. He leaned forward, meeting Sutton’s dark gaze. “Every ad campaign this company has launched in the last fifteen years has been totally forgettable. And being forgettable in the cosmetics business is like receiving the kiss of death.”

Evan Hawthorne cleared his throat and shoved the hornrimmed glasses up his nose. “Gentlemen, with all due respect, I believe we’re straying from the focus of our concern. Besides, Anya Valorian’s contract is a moot point. I talked to her agent this morning. She still isn’t interested in signing. We’ll have to find another model.”

“Did you up the offer like I told you to last night?” Zach demanded.

“
Up
the offer?” Sutton sputtered, springing to his feet. “Why, you must be crazy. Does William know about this?”

“I’m not accountable to my father—or anyone else,” Zach said quietly.

“We’ll see about that,” Roland thundered as he headed across the office. He paused at the door and glared at Zach. “You haven’t heard the last of this.” He turned on his heel and exited the office, slamming the door in his wake. The paintings on the walls shivered ominously.

Zach smiled grimly. He knew Sutton would go running straight to William. A blazing call from his father would be inevitable.

“Not to worry,” Hawthorne said, beaming. “We don’t need Anya Valorian, sir. I believe Mr. Sutton is quite right—the contracts you’ve offered her have been much too generous. I have with me here the portfolios of two other models I think we should consider. Both are very hot properties right now, and both are extremely interested in an exclusive, long-term commitment.”

Before Zach could interrupt, Hawthorne whipped out the
two leather-bound portfolios he’d placed beside his chair and laid them open on the desk in front of Zach. A brunette smiled up at him from one of the books, a blonde from the other.

“Diane Carson and Rebecca Townsend,” Hawthorne supplied. “Either of them would be excellent choices, and as I said, they’re both available right now.”

Zach glanced dispassionately at the images of the gorgeous young women. “Not interested.”