Читать книгу Slade Baron's Bride - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 8

LARA swiped the palms of her hands against her skirt as she rode the elevator to the conference room level.

Stop it, she told herself angrily. The advantage was hers. Slade wouldn’t be expecting to see her. He hadn’t known her last name, any more than she’d known his. He was going to be the one who would have to work at showing no reaction to the discovery that Beaufort’s chief auditor was the woman he’d slept with on a snowy night in Denver.

She had to calm down, otherwise she’d not only lose that advantage, she’d never be able to carry this off. Slade would see her panic and he, smug male animal that he was, would take it as a sign that she was overcome with excitement at seeing him again.

Overcome, yes. But not with excitement. With fear. And there was nothing to fear. Nothing.

The elevator door slid open. Lara took a breath, squared her shoulders and strode down the hall.

“They’re waiting for you,” Dobbs’s secretary chirped.

Lara took her chances and tried a smile. “Thanks.”

It worked. The secretary didn’t leap to her feet and run, screaming, to the elevator, which, Lara supposed, meant she really was smiling and not just pulling her lips back from her teeth like a rabid dog baring its fangs. But that was certainly how it felt.

The massive doors to the conference room stood open. Lara’s heart thudded. She hesitated in the doorway while she scanned the room for Slade. Where was he? The room was big. Huge, really. Six months ago, when she’d transferred from the Atlanta office to this one, she’d attended a meeting in it and been amazed at the room’s enormity.

There he was, standing at the windows with his back to her. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see his face. She knew him just the same. His height. The width of his shoulders. That midnight-black hair. And the way he stood, with a sort of sexy, king of the universe arrogance.

It was Slade, just as she remembered him. Slade, the fantasy-lover whose arms had held her all through that long-ago night. Whose arms still held her in the dreams she acknowledged only in the darkness before dawn…

Slade, whose long, lean body suddenly stiffened.

She held her breath, told herself it was impossible he’d sensed her presence but even as she gave herself all those reassurances, she knew. She felt like a trapped animal as he turned toward her.

A dozen reactions raced across his handsome face. Surprise. Shock. Then a slow, sexy smile of delight.

Oh, God.

The room spun; her vision narrowed but she stood her ground, looked at him coolly and then looked away. He wasn’t going to seduce her again. Not this time, not even into complacency. The sooner he understood that, the better.

“Ah, there you are, Ms. Stevens.”

Lara tilted her chin and turned away, toward Edwin Dobbs.

“Mr. Dobbs,” she said pleasantly. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“No, no. You’re right on time.” Dobbs took her arm and moved her forward, and a good thing he did, Lara thought, because it felt as if she were walking on a carpet made of marshmallow. “I believe you know all the members of the board.”

“Certainly. How do you do, Mr. Rogers? Nice to see you again, Mr. Kraemer.”

She smiled. She shook hands. Answered yes, the weather was unusually cool, participated in the mindless chitchat the directors undoubtedly thought would make them seem like regular fellows.

Inside herself, she trembled.

She’d caught Slade off balance—that look on his face, before he’d realized he had no effect on her anymore, had said it all. The trouble was, for one heart-wrenching moment, she’d wanted to smile back, to run across the room and into his arms.

“…our new architect, Mr. Slade Baron.”

Lara’s heart banged into her throat. Dobbs had led her across the room, to Slade. And Slade had stopped smiling. He was looking at her as if he’d moved a rock and uncovered a new species of life.

“Mr. Baron,” she said politely, and held out her hand.

“Such formality, Lara,” Slade said, just as politely, and clasped her fingers in his.

Dobbs’s eyebrows rose. “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” Lara said.

“Yes,” Slade said, at the same instant, and laughed. “I suspect what Lara means is that we don’t actually know each other very well. Isn’t that right, Lara?”

Lara looked up at him. He was smiling now, but there was a tiny muscle dancing at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were as gray as a storm-tossed sea.

“Yes,” she said stupidly, because Slade had taken command of the game. All she could do was follow where he led and hope to hell she could get out in one piece. “We, uh, we don’t know each other very well,” she parroted, and pulled her hand from his.

Dobbs nodded thoughtfully. “Isn’t that interesting? Ms. Stevens, you never said a word about knowing Mr. Baron.”

“No. Ah, no, I didn’t. You see—you see—”

“Well, she couldn’t.” Slade flashed a lazy grin. “Considering that we never did get around to exchanging last names.”

Oh please, Lara thought, please, let the ground open up and swallow me.

“We met at an airport, oh, a year and a half or so ago, and ended up spending a bit of time together. Isn’t that right, Lara?”

“The weather,” she said jerkily. “It was—”

“Snowing. My oh my, it surely was.” Slade laughed politely. “I don’t think I ever saw that much snow before, Mr. Dobbs. But your Ms. Stevens is a clever lady. Between us, we found lots of ways to pass the time.”

“Did you, now?” Dobbs said, with a puzzled smile.

“Oh, yes. We…But I’ll let her tell you all about it.”

Dobbs looked at Lara. Lara licked her lips. “I—I can’t imagine you’d be interested in—in the details, sir.”

“Of course he is,” Slade said.

“Of course I am,” Dobbs echoed, his brows still lifted.

“There I was,” Slade said, “trying to figure out how I could possibly make the time do anything but crawl.” He looked at Lara, the smile still on his face but his eyes as flat and cold as ice. “And then, fortunately for me, your Ms. Stevens and I struck up a conversation.”

“About nothing,” Lara said, with a tight little laugh. “You know how it is, Mr. Dobbs, two strangers just—just dealing in a lot of small talk, to pass the time.”

“But,” Slade said lazily, “as it turned out, we had a lot in common. Ms. Stevens’s battery needed charging. And mine just happened to be fully charged.”

Lara could feel her face burning. “Computers,” she said wildly. “That’s what he’s talking about. We both use the same kind. And my battery died. And he said I could borrow his. And—and…”

She fell silent. Slade was smiling. It was the most polite smile Lara had ever seen but there was nothing polite in what he was really saying. She could read the subtext. A woman wasn’t supposed to sneak out of a man’s bed the way she had, even if she was just a one-night stand. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to turn up in his life again, especially not in a business setting.

His ego was on the line—but so was everything that meant anything to her. The realization gave her the courage she needed.

“Anyway,” she said, and flashed a brilliant smile, “Mr. Baron was kind enough to offer his services.” She turned the thousand-watt smile on Slade and saw, with a thrill of pleasure, that he hadn’t expected such a quick recovery. “I must admit,” she said briskly, “I’d forgotten all about your generosity. How nice to see you again, and to be reminded of it.”

“Well,” Edwin Dobbs said, and cleared his throat, “now that we’ve made all the introductions…Mr. Baron? Would you like to begin your presentation?”

“Of course,” Slade said, and wondered if anybody but Lara knew he was lying through his teeth.

He’d done this a thousand times, so it required no thought. Open his computer, turn it on, use a projector to bring up screen after screen of dazzling design and detail, pointing out all the elements while the board members followed along, entranced.

And a damn good thing he had done it a thousand times, Slade thought grimly, or he’d be standing here like a fool, steam coming out of his ears and nonsense coming out of his mouth.

“Our auditor has been going through your proposal,” Dobbs had told him, before the start of the meeting. “I’ve asked her to join us so we can be sure we agree on the projected costs of your design, Mr. Baron.”

“No problem,” Slade had said politely.

Just then, he’d gotten a strange, prickling sensation along his spine. Someone was looking at him, he’d thought, and he’d turned to see her in the doorway. Lara. The woman he couldn’t get out of his head, and he’d thought how incredible it was that he’d found her again.

Every cliché about it being a small world had tripped through his mind. He’d felt the smile begin spreading across his face as he waited for her to see him—but when she did, the coldness in her eyes tumbled him straight back to reality.

She’d known he’d be here.

Of course she’d known. Dobbs had given her his proposal. She had the file under her arm, and Slade knew what was in it. All the design data. And all his personal data. His name. His phone number. His address.

And, just in case there was any doubt, his photo.

Lara had known who he was, that she’d be seeing him today, and she’d kept that knowledge to herself. No phone call. No e-mail. No letter saying, Slade, guess what…?

She’d deliberately let him walk into this setup, as if he were an enemy. Not only hadn’t she wanted to see him again, but she’d deliberately set things up so he’d walk in here and—

And what?

He still had no idea.

What had he stumbled into? It was shock enough to see her after all this time and to realize he’d be working with her, but why was she so icy? He wasn’t the one who’d slunk out of that bedroom.

“…can see that I’ve incorporated your wish to maintain tradition with an awareness of the forward-looking principles of the future…”

Was he still making sense? Evidently. The directors’ attention was still fixed on him.

But not Lara’s.

She sat next to Edwin Dobbs, her hands folded neatly on the polished surface of the conference-room table. Their eyes met, and a coldness swept through Slade’s blood. She was watching him as if he were standing at his own gravesite with a shovel in his hand.

“…a reflecting pool, here, in the atrium garden…”

Her face was a perfect blank.

What in hell was going on here?

He flashed back, again, to that moment he’d first seen her in the doorway. The shock of it had smashed into him like a hot poker and, yeah, the pleasure, too. There’d been other women in his life since that night, sure, but the thing was, there’d been nobody quite like her.

And he’d thought, I’ll tell her that, after this meeting ends, I’ll say, Look, now that fate brought us together again, what are you doing this weekend?

Until he saw her looking at him as if she were a cat and he was a portion of breast of sparrow. He didn’t like it, not one bit. This was the woman who was going to advise the Beaufort bank directors on the reliability of his figures?

It wasn’t going to happen.

He wanted to tell her that, to say, I see that look in your eyes, Sugar, and believe me, you are the very last person on the planet I’d ever trust. You might be a firecracker in bed but…

Man, she surely was.

He could remember the heat of her, in his arms. The little tricks she knew that almost had him thinking she was sweet and innocent, that she’d never done anything like shacking up with a stranger before. Those little moans of hers, and the way she’d touched him at first, kind of shy and questioning…

Hell.

Slade caught himself, frowned and took a quick look around the conference table. He half expected to see Dobbs and the others staring at him as if he’d lost his mind but they were all intent on the pictures on the screen.

Thank God for small favors.

His libido might have been in a Denver hotel room but the part of his brain that mattered was on automatic pilot. He’d finished his presentation and it had gone well. He could tell by the pleased expression on Dobbs’s face, and by the little buzz around the table.

Lara’s face was still a polite mask.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Baron,” Dobbs said. “That was most illuminating.”

Might as well cut straight to the chase, Slade thought, and looked at Lara.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “But Ms. Stevens looks as if she has some questions.”

“Yes,” Lara said, “in fact, I do.”

She didn’t just have questions, she had statements and speeches, and pages of mind-bending figures. Slade had read her right. She had an agenda all her own. She wanted him out of here, and she’d do anything to accomplish it.

Within minutes, the conference table was buried under piles of paper. Articles. Clippings. Printouts. She had documentation that probably went straight back to the design of the Pyramids, all of it detailing the financial disasters that could befall a project between its plan and its completion. She had more stuff in her briefcase than he had in his office back in Boston, and she distributed it with the gusto of a clerk handing out free cereal samples in a supermarket.

Slade could smell the stink of doubt oozing into the air. Furrows appeared in the foreheads of the men who’d been beaming at him only moments before. And, in the midst of it all, Lara looked up, caught his eye and gave him a tight, condescending smile.

He smiled right back.

It was either that, or kill her.

What was with this woman? Wasn’t it enough that she’d left him high and dry in that hotel room? Did she need to make him look like a jerk here, too?

He could see himself vaulting the table, grabbing her and shaking her until her teeth rattled…or, better still, backing her against the wall, thrusting his hands into that silky mass of hair until it tumbled down over her shoulders, kissing that irritating little smile off her mouth. He could almost feel the smoothness of her jacket, the silkiness of her blouse and then the hot satin of her flesh as her breasts filled his hands.

That would tell her that she might be able to fool these idiots but she couldn’t fool him, couldn’t sit there and pretend that memories of that night hadn’t stayed with her. Was that her problem? Did she think running him out of town would eliminate those images? Or was this payback for that little speech he’d made about hoping they’d bump into each other again, sometime?

Either way, she’d made a mistake. If this was a battlefield, he was prepared to fight.

He waited patiently while she spoke, keeping his expression neutral, his hands in his pockets so nobody would see he’d knotted them into fists. Eventually she ran out of numbers, and she looked at Dobbs.

“I’m sorry to have to make all these negative comments, sir,” she said, with what Slade knew the others would accept as genuine regret. “Mr. Baron’s design is excellent, I’m sure. I just don’t see that Beaufort can go ahead with this project within the defined budgetary constraints.” She looked at Slade. “Unless,” she said politely, “I’ve missed something…?”

Her smile, her voice, made it clear such a thing was impossible.

The room was silent. Dobbs and the other men looked from Lara to Slade.

“Well, Mr. Baron,” the chairman said, after clearing his throat, “I’m sure you have some comment to offer.”

Slade nodded. “Yes,” he said evenly, “I do.”

He walked across the room, knowing every eye was on him, stalling a little to make sure he regained his composure. When he reached the windows, he took a deep breath and turned around. The men were watching him with interest but the look on Lara’s face had gone from smug anticipation to wary concern.

“My compliments, Ms. Stevens. That was quite an interesting presentation.” He flashed a quick smile around the table, one that made it clear he’d have offered similar praise to a precocious three-year-old who’d managed to get all the way through her ABCs. Slade looked at Dobbs and his smile faded. “Interesting—but inaccurate. Ms. Stevens seems to be confused on several key points.”

It took him less than five minutes to refute her arguments, actually, to reduce them to rubble. In Lara’s zeal to run him out of town—and Slade was sure that had been her intention—she’d made mistakes. She knew lots about numbers but nothing about architecture. And she sure as hell had underestimated him as an adversary.

When he’d finished, the room was silent. After a moment, Dobbs looked around, engaged the others in some kind of unspoken communication, then put his hands, palms flattened, on the table.

“Well, Mr. Baron, it’s obvious you’ve done your homework.”

Slade smiled pleasantly. “I always do,” he said, and thought that this was probably the first time in his life he’d come up with anything positive he could attribute to his old man, who’d done what he could to beat that philosophy into the seat of his pants.

“Wantin’ ain’t enough, boy,” Jonas would say. “You got to go in prepared to win.”

Well, he’d wanted to win this commission. And he’d come prepared, not for a personal attack, which this damned well was, but for the usual nit-picking of bean counters. It was just that he’d never expected the bean-counter to be a blue-eyed, strawberry-blonde named Lara.

It made the victory he knew was his all the sweeter. He’d have stood on his head, if that’s what it took, to teach her that she couldn’t make a fool of Slade Baron a second time. Because, dammit, she had made a fool of him, sneaking out of his bed that way, and it was time he admitted it.

Dobbs pushed back his chair and stood, an obvious signal that the meeting was over. Everyone else rose, too, including Lara.

“Thank you for your input, Ms. Stevens. You certainly raised some important issues and the board will take them under advisement.”

Lara nodded stiffly. “You’re welcome, sir.”

Dobbs came around the table and clapped Slade on the back. “I hope you don’t think our Ms. Stevens gave you too difficult a time.”

“No, not at all.” He looked at Lara. Her face was expressionless as, he hoped, was his. He still couldn’t figure out why she’d tried to sabotage him. None of the reasons he’d come up with really made sense…unless she was involved with some other guy.

Slade’s jaw tightened.

Yeah, that would explain it. She was seeing somebody else and suddenly, here he was, walking, talking proof of the fact that she’d once spent a hot night with a strange man.

He looked at her left hand, and saw a thin gold band on her ring finger.

Years before, when he was a kid, a bronc had bucked him off. He’d hit his head, hard. All Slade could ever recall of the incident was going down into a spinning whirlpool of darkness. That was the way he felt now.

Married. Lara was married.

He tore his eyes from her hand, dragged air into his lungs. Okay, she was married. So what? It was nothing to him. What they’d shared had been sex, that was all, and it had happened a long time ago. She’d gone her way, he’d gone his, and now she had a husband.

At least that explained things, though she flattered herself if she thought he’d want her again, want her badly enough to threaten to tell her husband about them. But there was no “them.” There never had been and besides, the day he had to coerce a woman into bed was the day he’d check himself into a retirement home.

It just plain infuriated him that she’d thought she needed to protect herself by screwing him over. He wanted to tell her that—but she’d already packed up her things and left.

Running out seemed to be Lara’s thing. Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it this time.

Slade shook hands all around. Dobbs walked him to the door.

“We’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Baron.”

Slade nodded. “That’s fine. Oh, by the way…your Ms. Stevens made some references to purchasing procedures that were inaccurate.”