Читать книгу Deception - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 7

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Sultry was the only word that stroked all of Clint’s senses when the distinctly feminine voice, coated with just a hint of a Caribbean accent, pervaded the low rumble of male conversation.

“Terri.” Her vice president, Mark Andrews, looked up and rose in greeting, as did his client Clinton Steele. “We were just going over Mr. Steele’s proposal,” Mark added, slipping back into his discarded charcoal-gray suit jacket, in an effort to camouflage his surprise at her unannounced return.

Terri stood in the doorway, taking the moment to assess the man who towered head and shoulders above the six-foot-tall Mark, and was in sharp contrast to Mark’s light cocoa complexion.

Clinton Steele’s reputation preceded him, and from all appearances he confirmed Terri’s image—from the expensive tailor-made suit to the formidable persona. But maybe it was those eyes. They seemed to have a way of mesmerizing you, she thought, feeling herself pulled into the bottomless inky pools that seemed to dance with dangerous lights. But then a flicker of something deeper flashed through those coal-black orbs. An involuntary shudder ran up her spine. Then just as quickly the look was gone and replaced with what Terri believed to be condescension.

She’d seen that look before. Most men were either intimidated or mystified by her ethnic appearance, as though she either withheld or could unlock some great ancestral secret. Her shoulders straightened as she walked into the room.

Clint was immediately taken aback by the quiet power Terri exuded. Her shoulder-length, glistening ebony dreadlocks were not what he perceived to be the coiffure of the cosmopolitan woman. Rather hers was the image of a woman awakened to their nubian ancestry and determined to flaunt it in the most exotic of displays. Her obvious sense of cultural pride intrigued, yet put him off, his own sense of roots having been buried beneath years of equal-opportunity rhetoric, stirring only periodically into the light.

The instant observation, combined with her cool appraisal of him, rubbed him the wrong way and nudged him off balance. His thick lashes lowered to shield his eyes, and his jaw involuntarily tightened.

Mark moved from around the table and stood between Terri and Clint, breaking through the tension-filled silence.

“Terri Powers, this is Clinton Steele, CEO of Hightower Enterprises.”

Clint stretched out his large hand and enveloped Terri’s petite one.

“Mr. Steele,” Terri responded with a slight incline of her head, observing his perfectly clipped nails.

For one crazy moment Clint wanted to say, “Your Majesty,” and he knew that if he opened his mouth, he’d say something equally ridiculous.

As a result he held her hand a moment longer than necessary, and Terri felt the tingling warmth spread through her fingers and glide up her arm. The sensation nearly caused her to snatch her hand away, but her inherent good manners interceded. Slowly she removed her hand, letting it fall casually to her side.

Terri raised her eyes to meet Clint’s, and he quickly discovered that they were a fascinating shade of brown that seemed to darken or brighten with the play of light from the window.

“I’ll leave the two of you to get acquainted,” Mark interjected into the torrid air. “I’ll be back shortly, and we can go over the details.” He quickly exited the office, leaving Terri and Clint to face each other.

“I understand that we have business to discuss,” Terri said, her low melodic voice again caressing him.

He watched her graceful movements as she moved to a leather chair at the head of the long oak conference table. Her sheath of golden linen barely shadowed the curves beneath, Clint realized with a twinge in his loins. He took a seat to Terri’s right.

“Mark has informed me that you’re interested in using our advertising services to promote your…new cable stations, Mr. Steele.” She folded her hands in front of her.

Did he detect a note of sarcasm in her voice or was it just his imagination? “That’s right.” He rubbed a hand across his bearded chin. “Your agency comes highly recommended from everyone here in New York. And from all that Mark has told me so far, I believe Powers Incorporated will do an excellent job.”

Clint leaned back in his seat and boldly surveyed her sculpted mahogany features, letting his eyes drift down her long neck to the tempting V in the front of her dress.

Terri felt a hot flush spread throughout her body from the intensity of Clint’s appraisal. But she would not let his daring looks distract her.

“I’m sure that Mark also told you that I’ve been out—” she swallowed back the memories “—away for the past three months?” She raised a naturally arched eyebrow in question.

Yes, and what happened to cause that haunted look in your eyes? “He mentioned it.”

Why did his voice seem to pump through her like an overactive pulse? “I’m sure what he didn’t tell you, Mr. Steele, is that I have very firm beliefs about who I do business with.”

The hairs on the back of Clint’s neck began to tingle. “Don’t we all?”

“In other words, Mr. Steele, I would appreciate it if you took your business elsewhere.”

Clint’s eyes creased into two dark slits. He leaned dangerously forward and the scent of his cologne raced to Terri’s brain, quickening her heartbeat.

His voice lowered to a deep rumble. “Let me get this straight. I’ve been working my butt off in negotiations with your partner—” he pointed an accusing finger at Terri “—and now you’re gonna tell me you don’t want my business?”

Pure unadulterated anger flared in his black eyes and hardened the velvet voice. “What in the hell is going on around here? Is this some kind of game?”

“Had I been here, Mr. Steele,” Terri answered calmly, not intimidated by the vehemence in his voice, “these talks would not have gone beyond the first phone call. Mr. Andrews is well aware of my policies. I’m sure that his…oversight was not intentional. However, my decision stands.”

Terri rose regally from her seat, and Clint had the overwhelming sensation of being dismissed like a common errand boy by this very self-centered, arrogant—

“I’m sorry,” Terri said gently, the soft sincerity of those two simple words mysteriously calming his fury. “I’m sure that this inexcusable situation has cost you a great deal of time and energy. I only wish that I could offer more than an apology.”

Why did even her refusal sound so pleasant to his ear? “Have you at least looked over the proposal?” Clint found himself inexplicably yearning for her approval. The revelation pissed him off, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I’m certain that it will be a great campaign.”

“I have looked it over. However, there’s—”

“Is it money? You don’t think it’s adequate?” Now she was annoyed. Why did they all think that money was the answer to everything? What about integrity?

“This has nothing to do with money,” Terri answered, forcing a steady calm into her voice. “It wouldn’t matter if your offer were ten times the amount. It’s you, Mr. Steele, that I have the problem with. You and your business practices. I cannot in good conscience allow this company to be associated with Hightower Enterprises.”

Clint felt as if all the wind had been kicked out of him. All of his work, his sacrifices, his dreams and accomplishments, came to a grinding halt with just those few callous words. Did she have any idea what he’d been through…did she…? Slowly he shook his head. Of course she didn’t. No one did. That was the way he’d wanted things. Now, for the first time, he was paying for that choice.

Clint rose from his seat, looking at her with a mixture of regret—that she’d fallen prey to the things that had been said about him—and disappointment. He’d begun to look forward to working with this tempting woman against all of his reservations.

Terri held her breath as Clint’s powerful body rose and spread before her. His dark blue suit fit the massive shoulders and long, muscular legs to exquisite perfection. She dared to steal a glance at the short wavy black hair that capped his proud head. For one dizzying moment she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands across it.

Had this been any other time…other circumstances…maybe… But she still had wounds to heal, emotions to mend, and unfortunately the darkly handsome Clinton Steele represented everything that she had grown to resent.

Terri extended her hand and the warmth of his grip shot through her again. Steadily her eyes held his.

“Perhaps my director of promotions, Stacy Williams, can give you some referrals, Mr. Steele. I could—”

“Believe me, you’ve done enough already.” He shook his head, looked at her from beneath silken lashes, a sheepish grin tipping his lips. “I mean, I’m sure that I can find another agency.”

Terri nodded her head and made a move to turn away. Clint’s intentionally intimate tone stopped her.

“Regardless of what you may think of me, Ms. Powers, I still feel that you’re the…that your agency is the best one for the job. If we can’t be business associates, at least let’s be friends. You can call me Clint.”

The radiance of his smile washed over her like morning sunshine. Her heart thumped.

“Thank you for the compliment. However, in reference to your last statement, I must apologize again. Our association ends here, Mr. Steele. Good day.”

She turned and walked from the office, leaving a fuming Clint and the heady scent of her kush body oil lingering behind.

Stepping out into the corridor, she forced her breathing to slow down to normal. What had happened to her in there? Taking a deep breath, she continued down the hallway, just as Mark left his office, to the conference room. Terri stopped short.

A feeling of disaster spread through Mark. “How did it go? I think this is one great deal, Terri,” he said a bit too enthusiastically.

Terri glared at him. “We’ll talk later. Right now I think you’d better soothe Mr. Steele’s ruffled feathers. There’s no deal, Mark. Understood? When you’re through, I’ll see you in my office.”

She turned on her heel, leaving Mark to throw daggers at her back. She’d screwed him. Dammit!

Quickly Mark made his way down the hallway and rushed into the room just as Clint was putting the last of his notes in his briefcase.

“Clint,” Mark began apologetically, spreading his hands in a plea. “I had no idea that she was going to react this way. I can assure you that everything was set,” he lied. Actually, he had no idea that she would return to work three weeks early. He’d planned to have this deal signed and sealed before she returned.

Clint threw him a glowering look over his shoulder.

“I just need some time to talk with her,” Mark added. “I’m sure I can get her to—”

Clint turned to Mark. “I don’t beg for anything, Andrews. Boss lady has her reasons—fine. The hell with her. You should have known better than to waste my time.”

“Listen, Clint,” Mark implored, grasping at straws, “Terri’s just being difficult. She’s probably on a hate-all-men campaign. She’s recently divorced, and she lost her baby. Today’s her first day…”

Mark’s voice droned on as Clint absorbed the implications of what was being said. My God, what she’d been through was enough to floor anyone. Yet she’d stood there resolute and determined, only once letting emotion seep through that picture-perfect demeanor. His defenses weakened. How could you not admire a woman like that? He felt that he understood her. He knew all too well about pain and loss. That part of him wanted to soothe away the hurt that still lingered behind those mysterious brown eyes.

The snap of Clint’s voice cut off Mark’s litany.

“Try to see if you can get Ms. Powers to change her mind, and keep me posted.”

Mark hid his surprise behind a wall of conversation. “I won’t disappoint you, Clint. This deal is important to me, too.” You just don’t know how much.

Mark’s calculating mind went into overdrive. He’d have to pull this off and soon, or… No. He refused to think about the possibilities.

“Will you be attending the reception tonight at Tavern on the Green for the producers?” Mark asked.

Clint picked up his briefcase. “I hadn’t planned to. Why?”

“Well, I’ll talk to Terri again. I’ll be escorting her tonight. Maybe she’ll be in a more receptive frame of mind,” he concluded, giving Clint a sly grin.

Clint pursed his lips, considering what Mark had said. He generally shied away from formal affairs, believing them to be frivolous. But if it gave him the chance to see Terri again, he’d make an exception.

“I never confirmed my invitation,” Clint said slowly, “but I don’t think it should be a problem.”

“Great. So I’ll see you tonight.”

Clint reluctantly shook Mark’s hand and strode purposefully from the conference room.

There was one thing that bugged Clint more than anything else—a brownnose. And Mark Andrews fit the bill, he thought, as he waited for the elevator. But there was something else about Mark that disturbed him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. At least not yet. But he would. Maybe he’d just let Steve check him out.

Terri plopped down onto the overstuffed, cream-colored couch that stood against the far wall of her office. Waves of apprehension swept through her. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was the stress of first-day jitters or the eruption of buried feelings that Clinton Steele had inadvertently dug up.

Adrenaline pumped through her limbs, forcing her body into action. She sprang up from her seat and paced the floor, crossing and recrossing the earth-toned-print area rug covering the parquet floor. Absently she stroked the polished wooden artwork and the array of greenery that adorned strategic locations throughout the tropiclike office. Clinton Steel disturbed her. There was no other word for it. Without effort, he’d made her think and feel things that she’d promised herself she’d never fall prey to again. Her husband, Alan, had been enough.

Terri shut her eyes and wrapped her slender arms around her waist as if to ward off some unseen attacker, momentarily reliving the months of agony. The knocking on her office door jarred her back to the present.

She spun toward the door, blinking back the visions to focus on Mark standing in the doorway.

She cleared her throat. “Mark. Come in.” She took a seat behind her desk.

“I think you’re making a big mistake here, Terri,” Mark began as he crossed the room and sat down, handing her a stack of documents to be signed.

She gave them a cursory glance and turned her attention back to Mark. “You know perfectly well how I feel about Hightower Enterprises.”

“Your opinion is archaic!” he snapped. “You left me in charge, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of running things around here. At least give me the courtesy of believing that I know what I’m doing. Do you honestly think that you can get anywhere in this world being a Goody Two-shoes? Be for real, Terri.”

Slowly she rose from her seat, her anger shielded behind her veil of serenity.

“You seem to have forgotten that this company is where it is today because we have values—whether you believe them to be legitimate or not.” Her eyes locked onto him.

Mark heaved a sigh and ran a finger around his shirt collar. Alienating her was not the answer. “Listen,” he said, forcing calm into his voice, “at least think about it. Three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at. Maybe this one time we could make an exception.”

“I doubt it. But I will give the proposal the benefit of another look.”

Mark’s hopes lifted. “That’s all I ask.” He headed for the door, then paused. “Do you still want me to pick you up this evening?”

“What? Oh, I’d almost forgotten. Yes, thanks. Is eight o’clock good?”

“I’ll be there,” he said, opening the door.

Watching his hasty departure, Terri realized that something was very wrong.

The swish of Terri’s black satin-and-chiffon gown blended delicately with the soft music and laughter that wafted from the ballroom.

Mark, clad in an elegant-fitting tuxedo, dutifully took Terri’s elbow and escorted her down the carpeted corridor of Tavern on the Green. Stopping briefly to check Terri’s stole, there were many who gave them a second look as the two made their way down the hall.

Bowing his close-cropped curly head, Mark whispered in Terri’s diamond-studded ear, “Are you ready for your grand entrance?”

“No way,” she whispered back as they neared the open ballroom. “And don’t you dare leave me, Mark Andrews,” she threatened. “You know how self-conscious I get in crowds. You’re going to take your share of wet kisses and damp handshakes like a man,” she teased.

“Thanks, I can’t wait,” he answered drolly, rubbing his index finger across his mustache.

At the entrance Terri was awestruck and took a moment to absorb the magnificence of the glittering room. Crystal chandeliers, lit by hundreds of candles, gave the room a dramatic, effervescent shimmer. The round dinner tables were covered with gold linen tablecloths, and crystal goblets stood as the centerpieces. The enormous buffet table was laden with every delicacy imaginable, the aromas taunting the senses.

The main ballroom opened out onto two huge rooms that led to enclosed balconies, giving a sweeping view of New York City. Complementing it all was the array of designer gowns and tuxedos that moved with the wearers like a second skin.

Mark felt Terri momentarily stiffen as the patrons turned to look at them as they stood in the archway. He gave the hand that held his arm an encouraging pat.

“Are you ready?”

Terri gave a tiny nod. Taking deep breaths and putting on their best smiles, they made their entrance.

Within moments Terri was separated from Mark and swept up in a flurry of greetings. Between hugs, handshakes and rapid-fire conversation, Terri tried to peer over the sea of heads to locate Mark.

Finally she spotted him on the far side of the crowded ballroom, apparently in deep conversation with a striking-looking woman.

With her hopes of imminent rescue dashed, she continued to make conversation and field questions about her next endeavor.

“So, what’s next, Ms. Powers?” asked Gordon Burke of Columbia Studios.

“This current project with the McPhearson Group and the networks will take up a great deal of time and energy,” Terri confessed. “But I do have some proposals that have been submitted for our consideration.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” asked a reporter from the Times.

“I don’t think that would be fair to my prospective clients,” she said, flashing an indulgent smile. She knew when she was being put on the spot, and her standard response was always a sure out.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Mark was finally standing alone. Seeing a way out from the probing questions, she made her excuses.

“If you all will excuse me—” she lifted her chin in the direction of Mark “—I see my partner over there.” She made her getaway, breathing a sigh of relief.

Shaking a few hands and giving smiles of acknowledgment along the way, she eventually made it across the packed room, only to be greeted by a look of pure enjoyment from Mark.

“You think this is all very funny, don’t you?” Terri asked, twisting her full lips.

Mark smiled broadly. “Why, of course. Where else could a single man have the opportunity to be entertained by so many fabulous single women?”

“You are behaving yourself, aren’t you, Mark Andrews?” she warned with a sparkle in her nut-brown eyes.

“That all depends on what you mean by behaving.” He grinned and took a sip from his wineglass and wondered where Clint was.

Terri tapped Mark playfully on the arm while walking around him to the buffet table.

On the far side of the room, Clint made his entrance, accompanied by his vice president, Melissa Taylor. His six-foot-plus height cut an exquisite figure, bedecked in a black Armani tuxedo.

His arrival instantly caught Terri’s attention, and an inexplicable heat rushed through her body. Her eyes were drawn to him like a magnet, totally oblivious to the shimmering female form that stood at his side. Terri quickly looked away. When she furtively looked back in his direction, she was shocked, yet thrilled, to find that his eyes were locked on her, openly assessing her, even as his stunning companion clung possessively to his arm.

He gave an almost unnoticeable nod of acknowledgment in her direction.

Flustered by the intensity of his stare, she nodded back and silently prayed that she wouldn’t humiliate herself by dropping her food all over the thick carpet.

Holding on tightly to her plate, and with as much grace as she could summon, she walked across the room to her table, not daring to look back. Yet somehow she felt those warm eyes burning through her exposed back.

Clint had zeroed in on Terri almost immediately, and he couldn’t help but admire the way the black gown seemed to float over her slender body. Or how her deep brown skin glowed radiantly, tantalizing the viewer with teasing peeks of bare flesh as the dress flowed with her movements.

He had an almost uncontrollable desire to run his fingers through the locks of ebony hair that she’d wrapped magnificently on top of her head. Unconsciously he squeezed his companion’s arm to stifle the urge to touch her. There was no way that he could deny the instantaneous attraction he felt toward Terri. The powerful sensation unnerved him. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. He’d always been attracted to women like his wife, Desiree. Women who were needy, women who… Desiree was dead, he reminded himself. And it was his fault.

“Is something wrong?” Melissa asked, sensing the change in Clint’s mood.

“No. Nothing’s wrong,” he answered offhandedly, as they moved into the center of the room.

Melissa cut her eyes across the room to where Clint’s gaze rested, then back to him in time to catch the look of longing in his eyes. “Why don’t we find a table and get something to eat? I’m starved,” Melissa said, a bit put off.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later. There are a few old friends that I want to speak with first.”

He gently eased her arm from his and crossed the floor, quickly engaging himself in a group discussion before she had a chance to protest.

For several moments Melissa stood alone, disappointed. Her hope of spending an elegant evening with Clint dissolved. But it was rare that she allowed her true feelings to show. And right now she needed something to soothe her injured ego. Putting on a practiced smile, she straightened her bare shoulders and began to do what was second nature—making men’s heads turn.

Terri made a valiant effort to focus on the food in front of her while keeping up with the conversations of the movie executives that flowed abundantly. But her mind kept wandering back to Clint. What was he doing here? She dared not ask her dining companions, knowing that her true interests would be obvious. Perhaps she would have a chance to find out before—

“Would you care to dance?”

The rich rumble of the voice seemed to shimmer down her spine and arrest her heart. Instinctively she knew it was him and was almost afraid to look up. But the large warm hand gently held her shoulder, and a surge of heat swam to her head, clouding her judgment.

She turned to look up at him and the most devastating smile assaulted her, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

Terri felt hypnotized by the intensity of his dark, heated gaze. She didn’t know whether or not she had even answered him before she was gently eased onto the dance floor. In a matter of seconds her body was pressed next to his as he artfully moved with the slow, pulsing music of the band.

The scent of his cologne enveloped her senses, and she felt an overwhelming urge to snuggle closer to the hard lines of his broad frame. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, like pieces of a puzzle, each dip and curve matching the other, she mused. How long had it been since she’d been held in a man’s arms?

Why did she have to feel so good? Clint wondered, his mind running in circles as he held her slender waist in one hand. He wanted to pull her fully against him, but dared not. He was sure that his untimely arousal would be evident.

The music drew to a conclusion, but he continued to hold her, searching for something to say, not yet ready to let her go.

She looked inquisitively up at him, a tentative smile lighting her face.

Finally he found his voice. “Can I get you something from the bar?”

“A glass of tonic water with lime would be perfect.”

The melodic cadence of her voice floated to his ears. It almost didn’t matter what she said as long as she would continue talking.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the bar. “Two tonic waters with lime,” he instructed the bartender, his eyes never leaving Terri’s face.

Clint handed her the glass. “So we meet again,” he stated, his eyes boring into hers.

“I wasn’t aware that you would be attending.”

“It was a last-minute decision.” He took a sip of his drink, and his voice dipped intimately. “You look fabulous.”

Terri lowered her eyes at the unabashed compliment.

“I hope there won’t be any acceptance speeches tonight,” he added, rescuing her from her apparent uneasiness.

“No,” she breathed, thankful for the change in topic, “not tonight. This is more of a who’s-who gathering than anything else, Mr. Steele.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “My friends call me Clint. I wish you would.”

“You seem to have a lot of those,” she commented.

He grinned slyly, his eyebrow lifting. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

A hot flush of embarrassment seared her cheeks.

“Don’t be uncomfortable,” he said smoothly, as though reading her mind. “I’ve been watching you, too.” His eyes trailed over her curvaceous form, and she felt her heart begin to race.

“So where is your escort—boyfriend…husband?” he probed in the hope that she would reveal or confirm what Mark had said.

Terri smiled, melting Clint’s heart. “Sorry, none of the above. I came with Mark, who seems to have vanished. What about you? I thought I saw you with someone earlier.”

He knew good and well that she saw him, but he was more than happy to play along. At least there were no stray boyfriends or husbands to contend with. “That was my business associate, Melissa Taylor, who seems to have made quite an impression on Mark.”

Terri followed Clint’s gaze across the room to see Mark and Melissa laughing intimately.

“Mark does have a way with women,” she stated, a wry smile tilting her lips.

“Let’s dance,” Clint suggested in a low, urgent voice, taking her hand before she could deny him.

“I catch a faint accent in your voice,” Clint whispered in her ear as they moved easily across the dance floor. “It’s absolutely delicious.”

Terri’s pulse fluttered. “Barbados,” she answered softly.

“Hmm,” he hummed into her hair. “Don’t ever lose it.”

The hours seemed to float away as Terri and Clint became enamored of each other’s company. They talked of the places that they had traveled, the current economy and its effects on business. But whenever Terri directed questions to Clint about his line of work, he was subtly evasive.

“Let’s not talk about work.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Not tonight. I’d rather hear about you.”

“There’s really not that much to tell,” she breathed as they walked side by side out to the balcony. “I came to the States when I was eight. I went to New York University and studied advertising and public relations. My business has been in existence for five years. That’s basically all there is.”

“I find that hard to believe. There has to be some life behind all of those facts and figures.” He smiled encouragingly at her.

Terri stiffened. “I suppose there is,” she said softly, “but I don’t care to discuss it.” She turned her head toward the skyline, wishing that the pain would somehow go away.

He raised a hand to touch her, wanting her to know that he’d be willing to listen, but he knew that she wouldn’t give in. At least not yet.

“I know we got off to a bad start this afternoon,” he began, pacing his words and her reaction. “I’d like the opportunity to change that.”

Terri turned to him, the haunted look in her eyes stunning him with its intensity. She absently ran her hands down the sides of her gown, and Clint’s insides went haywire with the motion. He forced himself to look at her eyes instead of those delicious hips.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean,” he said, taking a step closer, “I want you to see the real me.”

“Why would that be important?”

“Because it’s important to me,” he stated simply.

Terri swallowed and placed her hand on the balcony railing. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “What is it that you think I need to know?”

“That I’m not such a bad guy—and that I’m sure you’ve heard and read a lot of things about me that aren’t true.” He leaned against the railing, inching closer to her. “I’d like to correct that.”

“Is this account that important to you?”

“It has nothing to do with the account.”

“Your ego, perhaps?”

The implications riled him, but he remained unruffled, realizing the truth of her words. He chuckled and ran a hand across his beard in a sensuous motion that rushed through Terri in waves.

“You do have a lovely way of stepping on a person’s ego,” he answered lightly.

Terri lowered her long, sooty lashes and gave in to a grin that Clint wanted to kiss away. “Believe me, it’s not my intention.”

“That’s good to know.” He leaned closer. “Can we just forget about business for a minute?” Terri nodded.

“I’d like to get to know you—outside of the office.” His steady gaze held her, and she felt her pulse begin to pick up its pace.

“I’ve always been a man who speaks his mind,” he continued, his voice dropping to a soothing beat. “And you interest me.”

“In other words, you want to satisfy some curiosity?” she tossed back.

“Maybe.”

Terri jutted her chin forward. “I’m not a curiosity piece, Mr. Steele,” she said, emphasizing the word piece.

Clint took the barb in stride. “You also have a way of twisting my words around.”

Terri sighed. “What’s your point, Mr. Steele?”

“I’d like to take you to…lunch.”

Her heart thumped. “I don’t think…”

“Dinner?” He flashed her a taunting grin. “I’d love to prove you wrong,” he challenged.

Terri knew her fragile emotional state was not yet equipped to handle a relationship, especially not one with a man who effortlessly made her senses go crazy. Yet she couldn’t deny that she was just as interested. Maybe a night out was the medicine she needed after so many months of loneliness. And she was never one to back down from a challenge.

She looked boldly up at him. “How about tomorrow? I finish about seven.”

His voice stroked her. “I’ll meet you out front.”

“I’ll see you then. Good night, Mr. Steele.” She made a move to leave in search of Mark, when Clint’s captivating voice stopped her.

“It’s Clint,” he said, throwing her a heated look that turned her center into liquid fire.

Her voice wrapped around him in invitation. “I’ll try to remember that.”