Chapter 8

She was so absorbed in the report she was reading that she failed to notice the disturbance going on in the outer office, not until her assistant burst in, a harried look on her face.

“Karen, what–”

“Mr. McBride–”Before she could finish the sentence, he came striding in. Collette sprang up from her chair as if she had been ejected, her wide eyes staring at the man who had consumed her thoughts every single day for eight days straight.

“Leave us.” His deep, authoritative voice had Karen scurrying out and closing the door behind her.

For a minute, they stared at each other in silence. His face was expressionless as his eyes wandered over hers.

“What are you doing here?” she finally spoke and hated that her voice was thin with fright.

“I think that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” He was standing just inside the doorway, and his tall, imposing figure draped completely in black made the room appear even smaller.

“Is it the recent ad–”

“Cut it out," he snapped.

Before she could respond, there was a discreet knock on the door before it was pushed open.

“Mr. McBride, I was told you were here. I am Babs–”

“I am here to speak to Ms. Sutherland. Alone.” He jerked his head toward the door, an annoyed look on his face. “If you don’t mind.”

It was not a request, and they all knew it.

“Of course.” With a curious look at Collette, who was still standing as if on guard behind her desk, Babs retreated and closed the door.

“You have no right–”

“Why have you been avoiding my calls?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.”

“You asked for a week, and I gave that to you. Now in my estimation, a week comprises of seven days. On the eighth day I waited to hear from you and when I didn’t, I tried calling you and you ignored me, forcing me to come and find you.”

“I didn’t want to see you.”

His eyes flickered at that. “Why not?”

She fiddled with something on her desk. “It was a mistake.”

“How do you figure?” His arrogant stance had her lifting her chin.

“I was sure you had moved on by now.”

He stared at her in silence for so long, she started to fidget.

“Well, you are wrong. I want to see you later.”

“That’s not possible.”

“My place or yours, you choose," he continued as if she had not spoken.

“Did you hear what I just said?” She wanted to stamp her feet in frustration. She also wanted to get him out of her office quickly before the staff started to speculate on his presence.

“I heard you and am choosing to ignore it. What time will you be through here?”

“None of your business.”

“What time?” he repeated in an implacable voice.

“I am not sure.”

“I will expect you at eight.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he took out a card and a gold-tipped pen and wrote on the back of it. When he moved toward her desk, she went rigid, her breath backing up inside her throat.

“That’s the address of my loft.” He placed the card in front of her, emerald eyes taking in her rigid posture. “If you are not there by 8:05 PM, I will come and find you, either here or at your place. If you continue to ignore me, I am going to make certain that everyone here knows we are sleeping with each other.”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

He wanted to blurt out the truth, but knew it was too soon. He had spent eight days agonizing over her and when she had not called as promised, it had filled him with so much despair, he had been unable to work.

“Because I want you," he told her instead. “Because that night in my office is still etched in my brain. Because I know we can be great together. I want to feel you naked in my arms. I want to make love to you with my mouth and spend an entire night with you.” He stopped abruptly as the familiar desire coursed through his body, making him hard.

“Be there, Collette. I am serious about finding you.” His voice was curt, and without waiting for her to respond, he turned and strode out.

She barely had time to compose herself and pick up the card before Babs burst in, fairly straining with questions.

“I told Karen to hold your calls for the next ten minutes. I figured that’s about how long we are going to need.” She plopped herself on one of the chairs and stared at Collette expectantly.

“Good Christ, he even smells expensive,” she added, sniffing the air. “And he seemed upset.” She shook her head. “No, not upset. He seemed determined about something. What was it?”

Collette had been desperately trying to come up with a plausible reason for Richard McBride to storm her office like that and had barely enough time to think of one.

“The- uhm– the article on Lenny Bolt, the last one.”

“About his illness and why he kept it a secret.” A frown touched Babs’ brow. “I thought it was a very endearing one and certain to have his fans weeping. I know I shed a tear or two. What did he say about it?”

Collette hated lying, but she had no choice.

“He said it was too sappy,” she improvised quickly. “He wanted more about Lenny’s work as an artist, less about his illness.”

Babs’ frown deepened. “I think he is wrong. Did he want you to write a retraction?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I finally convinced him that it was good for the company. I hadn’t run the piece by him before it was printed.” That much was true, at least.

Babs nodded. “Men like Richard McBride always want to be in control of the narrative.” She looked at her friend curiously. “When I came in here, I had the feeling there was something else going on.”

It took all her effort to appear nonchalant and clueless, but Collette managed it. “Like what?”

“Like–”Babs shrugged. “I hoped it was something of a romantic nature. Not that he looked the least bit like that. He appeared sort of determined about something.”

“He just wanted to set things straight.”

“Why didn’t he call? A man like him just doesn't pop up like that.”

“He said he was in the neighborhood,” she said swiftly. Shuffling some files on her desk, she gave Babs a pointed look. “Now I really had to get some work done. I am swamped.”

To her relief, the woman rose and made her way to the door.

“You have to admit that he is very hot. All that tall, imposing male sent my heart shivering. It makes one wonder what he is like in the sack.”

I don’t have to wonder, I know. Collette thought despairingly. And knowing has been driving me crazy for eight days.

“That’s highly inappropriate.” She said instead.

“Is it?” Babs mused as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Sagging back in her chair, she drew the first easy breath since he burst into her office. Picking up the card, she stared at the gold embossed words bearing his name and title and several phone numbers.

Turning it around, she read his bold scrawl. She knew where the loft was, of course, in that exclusive neighborhood that was home to several celebrities.

She also knew it was very private and out of the way. She was going to ignore his summons, naturally, because how dare he think he could just march into her office and demand that she present herself at his place, like one of his employees?

She had been aware of the missed deadline but had figured he would have moved on by now. She did not kid herself that a man like him would ever be interested in her. That night had been a fluke.

Yes, it was constantly on her mind, and she was having difficulty sleeping at night, but eventually, she would get over it. It would be dangerous and foolish to pursue a relationship with Richard McBride, nothing good can come of it.

So, when the seven days had passed, she had just gone about her day as usual. She had ignored his calls, thinking that he would get the message and move on to someone else.

She was also not going to admit to herself or to anyone else that seeing him just now had set her heart racing giddily. He looked great in black, the jacket molding his splendid broad shoulders wonderfully well. His green eyes did something funny to her insides and his expensive cologne was still lingering in her nostrils.

“I will just not go,” she whispered. “He cannot make me.”

Putting the card away, she buried her face in her hands and took a shaky breath.

*****

He left the office early, much to the surprise of his assistant and the rest of his staff. But he wanted to go home and prepare for her arrival.

He had issued her an ultimatum and had been high-handed and ruthless, leaving her with no choice, and he meant every word. Desperation had driven him to her place of work, and anger had propelled him into her office.

At the sight of her, it had been very difficult for him to remain aloof and just stand there. The plum-colored sweater dress molded her figure and highlighted the shape of her full breasts. His mouth had started to water at the sight of her nipples straining against the fabric.

It had taken some acute willpower for him not to march behind her desk and haul her into his arms. He had spent eight days in feverish, unfulfilled lust and was unable to sleep. No more, he vowed. He was not going to give her any more time. When he realized she was not returning his calls, he decided to go and confront her.

Now inside his loft, he examined the table he had instructed his housekeeper to set. He had not eaten anything aside from a club sandwich left on his desk by his assistant, and that had been in the early afternoon.

He wanted to just hustle her off to bed, but he would give her some time to replenish herself before. He had taken a shower and changed into casual sweats and a thin blue sweater.

He was also gearing up for her residual anger. She did not know it yet, but she was going to be spending the night, even if he had to tie her to the bed.

He smiled grimly as he walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink of scotch. He had fifteen minutes left to wait and see if she was going to come to him without him having to go and find her.

He would prefer her compliance. He had told her he would come after her, but he also had his pride, even though it had been taking a beating since he met her. He had never had to chase a woman the way he was chasing her. But then again, he had never had this many emotions or feelings for one either, and that made a big difference.

He was standing by his window, staring moodily into the glass, when he heard the bell pealing. At first, he stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering over time inside his chest. It took a second time for the doorbell to sound for him to put the glass away and rush over to disengage the alarm.

Making sure it was her, he pressed the button to release the door and watched as she walked toward the elevator that would take her straight up.

He was waiting for her at the door, and he was right in believing that she would have an attitude. Without a word, she brushed past him and stood in the marble foyer, waiting until he had shut the door.

He could also see that she was trying not to be impressed by her surroundings. His loft was one big open space because he despised enclosures of any kind. From where they were standing, one could see the large and sterile living room with the big fireplace where a fire was burning.

To the left, there was the kitchen and dining room. Quickly averting her eyes from the upstairs area where his bedroom doors were thrown wide open, she turned to look at him, her gaze frosty.

“I am here. Now what?”

“I’ll take your jacket.” Moving behind her, he slid it from her shoulders and took the key fob from her, depositing them both on an entrance table. “Hungry?”

“I am not staying.”

“I asked my housekeeper to prepare something. I am, in fact, starving.” Taking her arm, he propelled her toward the dining area. The first thing she noticed as soon as she stepped inside was how sterile everything was.

The place was breathtakingly lovely of course, but it was not much of a home as if he spent as little time as possible here. The furnishings were of the highest quality and there was even a grand piano in the living room, causing her to wonder if he even played.

She stopped at the chair and stared at the place settings, her mind veering crazily to another scene, the one in his office.

“We should get it over and done with.”

“Get what over and done with?”

Lifting her chin, she squared her shoulders and turned toward him. “I am assuming we are here to have sex.”

“We are here to spend some time with each other, and yes, eventually you will end up in my bed.” He was trying his best to be patient with her. “You don’t have to look like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“You threatened me! Forced me to come here under duress.”

“I might have done that, yes, but you were denying your feelings.”

“You know nothing about my feelings.”

“The meal is getting cold.”

“Does it matter if I am hungry or not?”

“Or we could skip the meal and go straight to my bedroom.” His expression warned her that she was trying his patience.

“I want to eat.”

Hiding a smile, he slid out the chair and waited until she was seated before going to take his seat. He served the meal in silence and reached for the bottle of wine. Twisting off the cap with ease, he poured the rich burgundy into two glasses and handed her one.

“How was your day?” His deep voice was pleasant, as if they were a normal couple having a meal at the end of a working day.

She stared at him mutinously as she cut into her lamb. “That bad?”

Ignoring the teasing note in his voice, she continued to keep stubbornly silent.

“Collette, this is only going to work if we come to an understanding.” “What understanding is that?” she asked with asperity.

“The understanding that I am not letting you go.” His mild tone belied the intense look on his face.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. You cannot mean to tell me that you want to have a relationship with me.”

“Why not?”

“You have so many women to choose from, and I am not interested in competing with anyone.”

“What makes you think you would be?”

Her stare said it all.

“You won’t be," he told her with quiet assurance.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Because I said it and I am a man of my word. Drink your wine.”

She only glared at him and continued eating.

Shaking his head, he reached for his own glass and took a sip, staring at her in that disconcerting way of his.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

She almost stamped her foot in frustration. It did not help that she was finding the hairs falling over his forehead somewhat endearing.

“Like what?” he repeated when she remained silent.

“Like– Like I am your next meal!”

His smile was wolfish. “I think that’s a given.” His eyes slid down her exposed throat to linger on her breasts, straining against the fabric of her dress.

“Do you know how difficult it was for me to stand inside your office and not leap across the desk and haul you in my arms? I spent eight days dying to feel your naked flesh against mine,” his voice had lowered, his face taut with passion. “I wanted to devour you. My God, do you know what you are doing to me?”

“I don’t care,” she lied. Her insides felt like Jell-O, and her resistance, if there had been any, to begin with, had crumbled. He made her weak with need, and her nipples were aching.

“Yes, you do.” His eyes drifted to her bosom, and he watched as the nipples were imprinted against the fabric. “Your flesh does not lie.”

“So, I want you, big deal.”

“It is a big deal," he concurred, eyes lifting to her face. “I am too old to play games, and I have this yearning for you that will not go away. Deal with it.”

She bristled at his tone. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you would be denying yourself of the pleasure we both experienced.” He leaned against the table, his eyes pinning hers. “That asshole who broke your heart back then, does not deserve another minute of your time.”

Her eyes flared. “And what about you? If I allow myself to fall under your spell, what will happen?”

“I will love you the way you deserve to be loved,” he said huskily. “I will spend every day reminding you of how valuable you are.” He rose and she dropped her utensils and went rigid.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

Pulling back her chair, he took her hands, forcing her to stand.

“I can’t do this. I am afraid,” she whispered hoarsely.

Her admission melted his heart.

“Tell me why, specifically,” he encouraged.

“Of being hurt. Of making another mistake.”

He drew her into him, arms coming around her waist.

“And I give you my word that will never happen. I will never do anything to hurt you intentionally. I need you, Collette.” He drew in a harsh breath. “Do you have any idea what it takes for me to admit that I need another person? It takes a hell of a lot because this has never happened to me before.”

He cradled her face between his palms. “Let me love you, baby. After you left the other night, I wanted to go after you. It took a hell of a lot for me not to.”

Her fingers curled into his sweater as he tilted her chin up. “Let me erase the past.”

“Richard–”

“That’s the first time you ever called my name. Do you know what that does to me?”

“I can’t–”

“Yes, you can.” He brushed his lips against hers and sent fire dancing up and down her spine. “Come to bed with me, sweetheart.” His lips rubbed hers open, and she sagged against him weakly. A cry escaped her when he swung her into his arms.

He did not stop kissing her, not even when he was ascending the stairs. His mouth plundered hers until she was clinging to him weakly. He walked into the large room with the king-sized bed set in the middle of highly polished board floors.

Setting her down, he hunkered down so that he could remove her boots. Her fingers gripped the Egyptian cotton sheets as he ran large hands up and down her silk stockings, fingers caressing her calves.

Pushing her dress up, he stared at the garter belt attaching the stockings and made a sound deep inside his throat.

Lifting his head, his emerald green gaze had her melting inside.

“All my fantasies come true," he whispered thickly. Unhooking the belt, he removed the stockings and spent time massaging her legs. Rising unsteadily, he pulled her dress over her head and felt his body tighten significantly as he stared at the sight of her wearing a scrap of silk and lace that barely covered her generous breasts.

“Sweetheart.” His voice was thick, his body shuddering. “What you do to me…”

Getting rid of his clothing, he joined her, stretching out next to her, and took his time staring at her.

“No.” He stopped her when she moved her hands to cover herself. “Please.” He unhooked her bra and eased it off her shoulders. “You are beautiful, and I just want to look at you.”