Deception

“This was his advertising deal originally, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Then almost as an afterthought, she added, “And so was the account that fell through with Conners, the independent producer,” in a voice filled with awakening.

She turned to Stacy, her eyes burning with purpose. “As soon as I inform Mark that the deal has been canceled, I want you and I to go over Mark’s files with a fine-tooth comb, as he puts it. I went over the books last week, and there are things that don’t make sense. I thought it was because I was tired but now I wonder…”

Stacy nodded, her sea-green eyes reflecting Terri’s concern. “I’ll see what else I can dig up from the logs,” Stacy added just as Andrea peeked her head in the door.

“Mark is here, Ms. Powers.”

“Tell him to come in, Andrea.”

Mark strolled in moments later, his light brown eyes shifting from one woman to the other. “Why the long faces?” He walked over to the water cooler and filled a paper cup.

“McPhearson canceled the deal,” Terri stated. She watched for his reaction.

“You’re kidding? I worked weeks on that deal.” He ran his index finger around the collar of his shirt.

She registered the move. “I’m sure you did.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we’ll have to do some rearranging of our finances.”

“Well, if you’d accept Steele’s proposal we’d—”

She cut him off. “What time is your flight to Detroit?”

“I have to be at the airport in an hour.”

Terri turned away, unable to look at him another minute. “Tell your folks I said hello. We’ll talk when you get back.”

“Fine!” Mark snatched up his notes and his briefcase and slammed out of the office.

Terri turned to Stacy. “As soon as he’s out of the building, I want you to pull his files. Everything.”

Hours later, exhausted and wanting to disbelieve what was in front of her, Terri closed the folders that Stacy had given her. The evidence was clear, and she had no alternative.

Slowly she got up from her desk, her heart heavy with regret, wondering what she could have done differently. She didn’t know. All she could do now was prepare for Mark’s return.

Stretching, her body aching with fatigue, she envisioned sinking into a steamy bubble bath, when a picture of Clint intruded on her thoughts. Her pulse raced at an alarming speed as she remembered the feel of his lips against hers… The part of her that wanted more wondered what it would be like to make love with him.

This was getting crazy, she thought, angry at herself for fantasizing about a man who definitely was not for her. She hadn’t heard from him since their dinner date, and the thought that he was playing games with her renewed her frustration and misgivings.

Gathering her purse and briefcase, she took her coat from the rack and began to leave the office just as the phone rang.

She started to let the answering service pick up the call but decided against it, thinking that it might be important.

“Terri Powers,” she answered by rote.

“Terri, it’s Clint.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Does he read my mind, or what? “Yes?”

“I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind.”

Me, either. Silence.

“How are you?”

If you only knew. “I’ve been better.”

“You don’t sound like yourself. Is something wrong?”

“I couldn’t begin to explain.” But she desperately wanted to. She wanted to feel his arms around her again, to hear his laughter, to taste his lips. But she couldn’t.

“Listen, uh, I’m really tired, Clint. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

“Maybe you should talk about it. That helps, you know.”

“Not this time.”

He wouldn’t be dismissed. “Why don’t I meet you? We could go for dinner or something. Maybe a drive.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting for her response.

“Clint, I really…”

“I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes. Wait for me, Terri.”

The next sound she heard was the dial tone.

Terri waited in quiet agitation for the elevator to reach her floor. Why was he doing this to her? A better question was, why was she doing this to herself? She knew perfectly well that Clint was not the kind of man to be taken lightly. What was more disturbing, he was the kind of man that fascinated her against her better judgment. That reality frightened her.

Finally the elevator arrived, and her heart raced as the metal box made its painstakingly slow descent.

She pulled her white cashmere coat tightly around her as a shiver jetted up her spine at the thought of seeing him. Maybe he wouldn’t be there, and she could just escape to the sanctuary of her apartment. Just like she’d been doing for months, hiding from the possibility of life as she once knew it—too frightened to take any more chances. But there was another part of her that longed to be fulfilled again, the part that hoped he’d be waiting.

The doors of the elevator opened on the lobby level. Terri stepped out, her head held high. Casually she looked toward the revolving doors. Her spirits sank when she realized that Clint was nowhere in sight. Fine!

She strode purposefully forward, anticipation replaced with annoyance. Why did it matter? she chastised herself, pushing through the revolving doors. This was probably just another game to Clint.

Her temper rolled to the surface as she stood on the windy corner to hail a taxi. She waved her hand at an oncoming cab. As it approached, the cab’s dome light flashed the off-duty sign.

Terri went livid, wanting to scream and cry all at the same time. That was the final insult of the day. She really didn’t know how much more she could—

“You weren’t going to wait?”

Clint’s voice seemed to massage her spine and unlock the tension that had gripped her. She turned toward the sound of his voice and looked up at him, the anxiety and frustration of the day brimming in her brown eyes. How easy it would be to just walk into his arms and let him soothe the aches away.

She remained immobile.

Something in the way she looked at him touched a hidden corner of his heart. He reached out and placed his large hands on her shoulders. “Terri, what’s wrong?” Concern softened his voice. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Terri blinked and swallowed back the lump in her throat. “It’s just the wind,” she answered with a calmness that surprised her.

“I got stuck in traffic,” he said by way of apology.

“Oh.”

Why did he suddenly feel like a little boy having to explain his misbehavior? The awkward feeling left him unnerved. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Can I at least give you a lift?”

She gave him a half smile and shrugged her right shoulder. “You could drop me off at my apartment. If you don’t mind.”

“No problem. My car is over—” He looked across the busy intersection to see a traffic cop sticking a ticket on his windshield.

“Hey!” he yelled as he immediately darted through traffic to the other side of the street. He snatched the ticket from the window, intent on making the offender eat it.

Clint strode over to the “brownie,” as they were dubbed by New Yorkers for their brown uniforms, and shook the ticket in his face.

“Listen, buddy,” Clint hissed, interrupting the officer from writing another ticket. “I was there for only a minute. What’s the deal with this ticket?” He checked his watch. “It’s five after seven. I can legally park here.”

“Not by my watch,” the brownie said, dismissing Clint.

“Your watch is wrong!” Clint stalked the officer as he moved to the next car.

“If you think so, then take it to court.”

The officer walked away, leaving Clint to throw daggers at his back.

Terri gingerly eased alongside of an irate Clint, fighting hard to stifle the giggles that bubbled in her throat. This was the first time that she had truly seen the cool, controlled Clint totally bent out of shape. Her only regret was that she didn’t have a camera.

“How much is it?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“Fifty damn dollars!” he spat, slamming his palm against the hood of the Benz. He looked at the ticket in disbelief, then across at Terri, whose face was contorting in silent hilarity.

“Go ahead—laugh,” he said, his own anger giving way to the ridiculousness of it all. A reluctant grin lifted one side of his mouth.

Finally, through tears and giggles, she pointed a finger at him, the laughter still bubbling over. “You should have seen the look on your face,” she said.

“You think this is all very amusing, don’t you?” he said, trying to sound threatening.

Terri wiped her eyes and took several deep breaths. “Actually I do. I mean, let’s face it, you can afford it.”

“Now that makes me feel a helluva lot better.”

“Well,” Terri offered, pulling herself together, “I guess the least I could do is treat you to dinner. After all, if you hadn’t come to see me, none of this—” she covered her budding smile with a gloved hand “—would have happened.”

“You know what?” He looked at her hard and braced her shoulders. “I’m gonna take you up on your offer.”

After a delicious meal in Chinatown, punctuated by con genial conversation, Clint drove Terri to her apartment building. The plush luxury of the Benz was like a soothing balm to her tense body. Slowly she began to relax, her voice a mere whisper when she spoke.

“I’ve always wanted to learn to drive a stick shift,” she said dreamily, “but it’s such a hassle with the stop-and-go Manhattan traffic.”

“I know what you mean.” He switched into Second gear. “But after living in England and driving on the open road, it became second nature to me. I love the feel of power,” he added, tossing her a searing look as he held on to the stick.

“I didn’t know you lived in England.”

“Yeah, for a while,” he said, wishing that he’d never mentioned that part of his life. Just the idea of her saying she wanted to learn to drive a standard drove the knife of guilt through his gut, painfully reminding him of his daughter, whom he’d left behind in the care of his sister-in-law, because he’d caused her mother’s—his wife’s—death.

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

“Hmm.”

Terri looked at him from the corner of her eye, in time to see the hard, dark expression that passed across his face. She decided not to probe and leaned back against the leather cushion of the headrest. Maybe some other time.

Where had all of the tension gone? As much as she was reluctant to admit it, she enjoyed being in Clint’s company. He made her laugh, he lightened her spirit. He was intelligent and witty, and he was undeniably sexy. Clint made her feel things that she hadn’t felt in so long. Only this time it was more powerful, more compelling. And she wanted it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts as he made the turn onto her street.

If she could have turned red, she would have been crimson. She felt certain that he could read her thoughts, and she felt suddenly exposed.

“Oh, just about some things at the office.”

“You never did tell me what was bothering you.” He pulled up in front of her door.

She looked at him, her voice softening. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

“If it affects you, Terri, then it matters.”

She fumbled with her purse. “It’s getting late. I—”

He reached for her, turning her to face him. “You keep running from me.”

His voice wrapped around her.

“Every time we get close, you run from me like a scared little girl.”

He gently stroked her face.

She held her breath.

“You’re a woman, Terri.” His eyes roamed over her, igniting her. “A desirable, sensual woman who I want in my life. But you have to give me a chance.”

Could he possibly mean what he was telling her? Or was this just a ploy? Maybe he was right. How would she ever know, if she never gave him the chance? Curiosity won out.

“Would you like to come up for a nightcap?” She smiled a tentative smile. “I think I have some fruit juice and chips.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Terri opened her apartment door and immediately stepped out of her shoes, instructing Clint to do the same. She grinned at his perplexed look.

“When you leave your shoes at the door,” she explained, “you leave all of the bad vibes behind you and just bring peace into your home.”

“Hmm…” Clint nodded, handing her his shoes “…sounds good to me.”

“Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable. You can hang your coat on the rack.” She pointed to the brass coatrack and headed for the living room. She turned on the CD player, and seconds later the music of Miles Davis blew a soulful tune in the background. Terri left Clint and went to prepare a platter of chips with a cheese dip and a bowl of pretzels.

“You have a great place, Terri,” Clint commented, admiring the ethnic artwork and handcrafted sculpture. Huge earthen urns sat majestically in corners, overflowing with fresh-cut flowers in some and arrangements of silk in others.

“Thanks,” she called from the kitchen, quietly pleased that he liked her taste. “Would you light a fire, please?”

“Sure.” He walked to the fireplace and got the fire going. Finished, he roamed over to her bookcase and saw that she had volumes of poetry as well as what appeared to be every espionage and crime story ever written. What a strange combination, he thought, more fascinated than ever.

Terri entered the living room and placed the tray of snacks on the smoked-glass table.

“I see you’ve found out my secret,” she said, walking up behind him. “I’m a closet poet with a murderous streak.”

“The poet part I don’t mind,” he answered jovially, “it’s the other half that scares me. Actually, as quiet as it’s kept, I read a lot of poetry. It relaxes me. Especially after a rough day.”

Terri’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?”

“Let that be our little secret.” He lowered his voice to a pseudo-whisper. “I don’t want to ruin my dubious reputation.”

Terri replied in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. Just don’t cross me,” she teased. “Come on and sit down. After I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for hours, I want you to eat every drop.”

Clint chuckled as he followed her to the couch.

“…So when I discovered that the books didn’t jibe, it made me do some additional checking. To make a long story short, I don’t like what I found.” She was still reluctant to tell him too much. The last thing she needed was his sympathy or for him to think that she was totally incompetent. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, Clint. This company means everything to me. I’ve sacrificed a lot and I’ve given a lot. All I expect in return is honesty and a good day’s work.”

Could he dare tell her that he’d embarked on his own investigation? Good sense told him to hold off revealing his suspicions. He had to be absolutely positive, first. His years in business had honed his instincts. He was certain that something was amiss at her agency. Tentatively he put his arm around her. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have a few things in mind,” she said, enjoying the weight of his arm around her shoulders. But she wasn’t sure she should divulge her plan.

Clint moved a stray lock from her face and tucked it behind her ear, pleased with the silky quality of her hair.

She looked at him and felt her heart lurch.

With painful slowness, he lowered his head, his eyes holding hers. The flames from the fireplace appeared to dance in her eyes.

She knew her heart was going to explode into a million little pieces as his mouth slowly descended to meet her own.

The contact was incendiary, and Terri was certain that she heard fireworks erupt in the background.

The velvet warmth of his lips gently brushed over hers, taunting, tempting her with what was to come.

And it came.

The fire of his tongue played across her mouth as he spread his fingers through her twisted mane, pulling her completely against his hungry mouth.

Instinctively her lips parted and the tip of his tongue played teasing games, exploring her mouth, sending jolts of current surging through her.

He moaned against her lips, a deep carnal sound that vibrated to her center. Terri felt the heat race through her limbs as his fingers traced the pulse that pounded in her throat.

She wanted to scream when he pulled his mouth away from her lips, only to plant wet, hot kisses across her face, down her neck. Then he let his tongue play havoc in her ear, and every fiber of her body ignited.

“Clint…” She trembled against him.

A tingle of excitement ran through her as his hand trailed down the curve of her back, pulling her closer, caressing her, causing her body to arch, her rounded breasts to press against his chest, and he knew he would go out of his mind.

“I want you, Terri,” he groaned in her ear.

His mouth covered hers again, his tongue slashing against hers, demanding, urgent.

Her arms tightened around his hard muscular frame. She stroked the strong tendons of his neck, the outline of his chest. She felt as if she was falling, spinning weightless through space, and she never wanted the feeling to end. But she knew it had to stop. The door to her past was still ajar, and until she could empty it fully, no one else could enter.

His mind spun in a maelstrom of confusion. What was he doing? This was not part of the plan for his life. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, to want her from the depth of his being. His body ached to be a part of hers. But he couldn’t do this to her. She was sure to think that he was just trying to romance her in order to get her to agree to the deal. He wanted her to want him for the right reasons, or not at all.

As if reading each other’s minds, slowly they pulled away—each trying to control the shudders that ripped through them.

“I…I’m sorry.” He stroked her cheek. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Clint,” Terri stuttered, breathless and in awe of what had almost taken place.

He gently pulled her into his embrace, fighting back the desires that wrestled to engulf him.

“I won’t rush you, Terri,” he whispered in a ragged breath. “As much as I may want to,” he added with a soft smile.

She touched his lips with her own. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Reluctantly he rose from the couch. “I’d better go.” He smiled mischievously down at her, mimicking an old Western movie. “I cain’t guarantee your honor, m’am, if’n I stay.”

Terri released a shaky laugh and stood up in front of him. She slipped her arms around his waist, looking up into his eyes.

“Then I’d say you’d better mosey on outta here, mister,” she teased, matching his parody.

He held her for a long moment, burying his face in her hair, his confusion complete. Then he released her.

“I’ll get your coat,” she offered.

At the doorway Terri felt ridiculously like a teenager on her first date. Her nerves rattled, and her heart was pounding so loud she just knew Clint could hear every beat.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

“I’d like that.”

Clint leaned down and brushed her lips. The contact was too brief and he wanted more. Pulling her into his arms he kissed her fully, her own desire matching his every rhythm.

He eased away. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He started to leave, then turned back. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve found another advertising agency to do the work. So now there’s no more business to interfere.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “This is purely personal. The rest is up to you.” He turned away, never looking back to see the expression of astonished relief spread across her face.

As if on a cloud, Terri glided back into the living room, a smile of contentment lighting her face as she replayed his final words. This is purely personal.

She changed the CD, replacing Miles Davis with Kenny G. Crossing the living room, she walked down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. Mechanically she turned on the tub water, adding her favorite bubble bath. Soon the herbal aroma filled the room, and her weary body nearly screamed for relief. Piece by piece she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the steamy water.

Terri sank into the tub, the bubbles coming up to her chin. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, and a picture of Clint sprang to life before her eyes—and she trembled.

His mouth seemed to caress every part of her body, kneading all of the aches away. A soft moan of remembrance filtered through her lips, and she silently wished that he was there with her.

She felt the slow, steady warming that spread through her body and knew that it had nothing to do with the steaming water. And she wondered what it would have been like making love with Clint. How soon, if ever, would she know?

After a fantasy-filled half hour, Terri finally curled up into bed, sinking into the comfort of the freshly washed sheets. She reached for the book of poetry she kept by her nightstand, determined to ease away the last vestiges of tension and images of Clint.

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, the ringing of the phone jarred her back to consciousness.

Annoyance replaced curiosity as she drowsily reached for the intrusive instrument.

“Hello?” she mumbled.

“Terri, it’s me, Lisa.”

“Lisa,” she groaned. “It’s late.”

“I know. But I got the info you wanted. I thought you’d be interested.”

Terri sat straight up in her bed. Please let it be good.

“Your Mr. Steele is, anonymously, one of the biggest individual benefactors that the Gateway Foundation has.”

Chapter 5

The morning sun was barely up in the sky when Clint rose from his bed. He’d spent a torturous night, reliving what almost was. More times than he cared to count he’d reached for the phone to dial Terri’s number. Each time, halfway through dialing, he’d hung up. The next move was Terri’s. He’d put his cards on the table.

Pulling on a terry-cloth robe he padded across the bedroom and opened his dresser drawer. Rifling through his possessions, he pulled out a cutoff T-shirt and an old pair of shorts. Crossing to the closet, he selected a navy blue sweat suit and a pair of sneakers. Usually a brisk run around the park revitalized him and cleared his head.

An hour later he lay sprawled across his king-size bed, drenched in perspiration from his morning jog. His frustration was still alive and well.

Staring up at the stucco ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head, a slow smile of acceptance spread across his face. Terri was under his skin to stay, and no amount of jogging was going to change it.

Terri strode down the office corridor, looking neither left nor right. How could she have been so narrow-minded and gullible to be taken in by rumors and speculation? She should have gone along with her instincts in the first place. She smiled ruefully. There was no way that her senses could have been that far off base if they went into crisis every time she thought of Clint.

She closed her office door with a thud, tossing her briefcase on the desk, her coat shortly behind.

Her head ached from the hours of reading she had done after Lisa’s call. She’d forced herself to go through as many of the reports that she’d gotten from the library as she could before she’d fallen asleep. That, compounded with the company ledgers, was enough to keep her head spinning for weeks. But she had work to do, and it would begin with a process of elimination.

She reached for the phone and dialed Stacy’s extension.

Stacy picked up on the second ring.

“Stacy Williams, here.”

“Stacy, I need you in my office in an hour. In the meantime I want you to pull the accounting records for the past six months and compare them to the figures we came up with last night.”