Читать книгу Skirting The Issue - HEATHER MACALLISTER, Heather Macallister - Страница 10

OH, THE LOOK ON HER FACE. Nobody, but nobody, could speak with her eyes like Sam Baldwin.

They flashed. They narrowed. They stared. They blinked. And once there’d been a time when they’d gone all smoky and dark…but it was better that he forget about that. With Hennesey’s blessings echoing behind them, Josh followed her from the room.

Yeah, the only downside to quitting Meckler to strike out on his own was the thought that he’d never go head-to-head with Samantha Baldwin again. Josh wouldn’t mind going body to body, either. At one time, it looked like that was going to happen, was happening, actually, and if he hadn’t had an attack of latent ethics…but he had. Surprised the hell out of him, too.

She headed for the bank of elevators and pressed—stabbed—the button, then stood silently and stared straight ahead.

Fine. He’d just wait her out. He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her face in the reflection of the brass elevator doors.

She was doing the same, he saw. Once, again, he was struck by the expressiveness of her eyes. Like right now, they were saying, “You are a complete jerk, you know that?”

Well, sure. He didn’t want to do anything halfway—no, wait, she had actually said that. Out loud. He might have gone too far this time.

Nah. “Hey, you missed your line,” he said as they got into the elevator. “When I offered to show you my equipment, you should have said, ‘Only if you’re up to it.’ Or, no! You could have said, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”

“Did I mention the jerkish aspects of your personality?” She pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“Yeah.”

“And I have before, haven’t I?”

“Several times. But you change the adjectives. I don’t recall you using ‘complete’ before. Total jerk, you’ve used that. Let’s see…stupid jerk. Slimy jerk. Unethical jerk. And such a jerk as in ‘You are such a jerk, Josh.’”

She narrowed her eyes. “Jerk.”

“Hey an unadorned jerk! Or would that be a naked jerk?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Her eyes got big and her nostrils may have even flared. He really shouldn’t enjoy pushing her buttons so much, except that they were such cute buttons.

A couple of them seem to have disconnected, though. Sam wasn’t reacting with the banked passion she usually did. The ole you’re-not-going-to-get-to-me was missing. Sure, she was putting up a show, but her heart wasn’t in it. Maybe it was because they were no longer competing to land conventions for their respective hotels.

He’d miss that.

She had added some much needed zing to his life the past few months, the kind of zing a man shouldn’t go too long without.

The elevator reached the fourth floor but Sam stopped the doors from opening. She drew a deep breath and slipped on her professional mask.

Uh-oh. Fun was over.

“As I understand it, we are no longer competitors.”

He shook his head, unable to prevent a wistful half smile.

“I’m here in New York because three of us are being considered for the job of Carrington’s convention manager for the east coast.”

He’d heard something to that effect. He’d even put in a mildly good word for her, not that he’d ever admit it. “Congrats.”

“Again, three of us. I want this job. It’s important to me, Josh, and I would appreciate it if you…would behave.” She ground out the last bit without looking at him, clearly hating to ask anything of him.

If he had a conscience, it might have twinged.

And then she turned her head and looked at him. Straight at him, her eyes…he wouldn’t go so far as to say pleading but they were vulnerable. Definitely vulnerable.

It was a new look for her and it rattled him. Sam was as tough as they came. She played to win and when she did, she didn’t gloat, and if she didn’t, there was no pouting. He liked her, genuinely liked her, though he knew she’d be surprised to know it.

“Well?” She looked away and stared straight ahead.

“Sure,” Josh said gruffly.

“Thanks.” She released the doors and strode out, any hint of softness now buried beneath a sternly professional outer shell.

Josh resisted the urge to mimic her straight-backed posture. She sure wasn’t going to be as much fun if she got this job.

They walked along a wide hallway that was open to the atrium lobby below. Though he’d never been in this hotel before, Josh was intimately familiar with standard hotel layout and knew the ballrooms and meeting rooms were on this floor. “So who’s your competition?”

He didn’t think she was going to answer him, but finally offered, “Leonard Sheffield—”

“I know him. He’s a wienie. Don’t worry about him.”

“And Harvey Wannerstein.”

Figured. Josh had run across him, too. Talk about your jerks. He said nothing because it didn’t look good for Sam. She was too much of a rule follower and it made her predictable and thus easy to outmaneuver—like playing poker with someone who showed you her hand. Harvey played with marked cards in mirrored rooms with aces up his sleeve.

“Josh?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve got to know Harvey. He’s based here in New York.”

“Yeah. I know him.”

“So what do you think?”

He looked down at her—not far, since Sam was on the tall side. He couldn’t help remembering that she fit ever so nicely against him. “Watch your back.” And a lovely back it was, too. He considered offering to watch it for her.

“Why?”

“He’s worse than me.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

She walked on, but Josh stopped, right there on the muted gray-blue carpet with intarsia border. Sam would no doubt be surprised to know that he had buttons and that she’d just pushed one of them.

She kept walking until, all at once, she pivoted. “What?”

Josh drew his hands to his waist and stood firm in the middle of the hall. “I am not worse than Harvey Wannerstein. In fact, I don’t like being compared to Harvey Wannerstein.”

Sam took a few steps back in his direction. “You compared yourself to him.”

“Because there are similarities in our approach—”

“You mean he beats you at your own game?”

“I mean he changes the rules after you’ve signed on.”

She raised an eyebrow, her face the picture of contempt.

He couldn’t stand it. His mother had given him that same look every time she said, “You’re going to grow up and be just like your father—all talk and nothing behind it.” And if there was one thing Josh didn’t want, it was to look at Samantha Baldwin and be reminded of his mother. “When I make a deal, no matter how it comes about, once we shake hands, I deliver. No tricks and no gotchas. And I never go into a deal promising something that isn’t going to happen.”

Sam crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a disgusted look. “Federated Nurses, 1998.”

Remembering that spectacular mess, Josh felt his face heat. She would bring up that. “Construction ran behind schedule and the hotel wasn’t finished. I personally negotiated a deal with, as I recall, Carrington, on that group’s behalf. And, yes, it was more than the nurses wanted to pay, but less than if they’d gone out and tried to find another hotel on their own. I did not—” he jabbed a finger for emphasis “—just tell them too bad, those are the breaks and send back their contract!”

“You’re shouting.”

He was. “I’m enunciating clearly across the chasm that divides us.” Josh took a deep breath to calm down.

Looking at the toes of her shoes, Sam traced the design in the carpet and by doing so, slowly drew closer to him without giving the impression of losing ground. Atta girl.

He consciously lowered his voice. “I guess I’ll have to say I don’t knowingly promise what I can’t deliver—unlike your friend Harvey.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She looked up at him. “What do you know?”

Josh debated—but not for very long—on what to tell her. “I know that he has a rep for changing contract terms close to the meeting date.”

“He can’t.” Sam shook her head. “That’s why it’s called a contract. That’s why there are cancellation clauses and penalties.”

She just wouldn’t think outside the rules’ box. Josh mimed making a phone call. “Federated Nurses? About your 1998 convention, are you still predicting a thousand attendees? You are. I’m afraid there’s a problem on this end. The begonia growers need to change their convention date to the weekend you wanted. They always book three thousand, so we certainly want to accommodate them. Now, if you were guaranteeing even two thousand, I could make a case for you, but I already made you a spectacular deal on the room rates. I know we were the lowest and frankly, there were a few grumbles on this end, so now the board is looking at the profit bottom line, and, well, heh, heh, begonias are just more profitable than nurses. What? Yes, even with the cancellation penalty, which we will certainly pay…no, I’m afraid we can’t cover the cost of reprinting your brochures…well, I could try…if you were willing to renegotiate the contract to make it more attractive—”

“Oh, come on! Ever consider stand-up comedy?” She was still several feet away.

For a reason he didn’t want to examine, Josh wanted her to think better of him than that scuz Harvey. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“Good, ’cause you weren’t.”

“I’m telling you, the guy pulls this stuff all the time. Then the group renegotiates for higher rates because they don’t have the time to find another hotel and it would cost a heck of a lot more if they did—even when they’re paid the penalty according to the contract.”

She didn’t look impressed. “Somebody would have sued by now.”

“How do you know they haven’t? Harvey may not have been with Carrington long enough. I remember when he was with Peabody Hotels and Smith-Hunter before that. Besides, do you think he’d pull that stunt on a group that was likely to sue?”

“I think this sounds like sour grapes on your part.” Sam dropped her arms, turned around, and started walking.

She didn’t believe him!

“Hey!” He jogged to catch up and stopped right in front of her.

Sam stepped to one side and so did Josh. Then, predictably, she went for the other side and he blocked her there, too.

Clearly exasperated, she looked up at him.

This was the closest he’d been to her since…since the Time That Must Be Forgotten. Except he couldn’t forget it.

She’d been new on the circuit. He’d run into her a couple of times before, but this time, they were on his home turf of Chicago. He was feeling expansive; she was pretty and responsive and there, and instead of keeping things his usual cool and light, he’d let them get hot and heavy. When he realized what he’d done, he’d cooled things off with an uncharacteristic lack of finesse, but he had cooled them.

Like straight into ice cube city.

“What is it?” Ms. Icicle froze off each word.

Very quietly, very firmly Josh responded, “Harvey Wannerstein is dishonorable.” It was an old-fashioned word that shouldn’t be old-fashioned, to Josh’s way of thinking.

She blinked. “So you’ve intimated.”

“And I am not.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, for—”

“I’m not.” He held her gaze—once she stopped rolling her eyes.

“No, you’re tricky and slick and underhanded and devious—”

“That’s shrewd, suave, discreet and clever, but above all, when I give my word, I keep it. So don’t think dealing with him is anything like dealing with me.”

They stood there in the deserted hallway staring at each other and as far as Josh was concerned, they’d stay there all day if that’s what it took. Normally he didn’t care what the competition thought of him, but Sam was different. He’d rather she hated him than look at him with contempt.

As she studied him, he was having a couple of second thoughts concerning some of his more creative deals and how they might appear to someone as straitlaced as Sam, when she took a step forward and cuffed him on the shoulder.

“I believe you, you big jerk.”

He grinned with a lot more relief than he wanted to admit. “Now don’t go all mushy on me.”

“Not a chance.”

What a woman. He fought an intense urge to haul her to him and lay one on her. It would be worth the inevitable smack to his jaw. He could manage quite a kiss in the few seconds that surprise would hold her still.

But he didn’t kiss her. “Remember what I said about Wannerstein.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

They walked, side by side, to the Riviera Ballroom. Sam went to the house phone sitting on a sofa table next to the wall. As she spoke into it, Josh opened the ballroom doors.

The place was impressively huge. The thought of it filled with industry professionals who were there to hear him share his knowledge gave Josh an immense feeling of satisfaction. He’d worked hard and now he was being acknowledged as the best.

“If you’ve started a company, then where is it? Your sisters have an office at a law firm. I can go there.”

“People don’t come to me. I go to them.”

“You actually expect people to pay to hear what you have to say? This sounds like one of your father’s slick schemes.”