Mistletoe Maneuvers (5 page)

He found himself encouraging Lessa silently from the sidelines. Her face set in grim determination, she slowly rose to her feet. Caught up in the moment, he jumped up and applauded. Lessa let out a whoop of joy.

Sabrina motioned to the driver to spin around. Rick knew that this would push Lessa outside of the wake, something which he thought was too dangerous. “No!” he shouted to Sabrina, but it was too late. Lessa sped outside the wake and in a split second, her slight form was lost in a spray of water.

He dove out of the boat, certain that no one could escape a fall like that unscathed. But once again, she surprised him.

“Did you see me?” she asked, bobbing in the water and grinning from ear to ear.

“You're lucky you didn't get hurt,” he said gruffly, grabbing the skis.

“Lessa, I'm so sorry,” Sabrina said, as they climbed
back onboard. “We were getting too far out, so I turned the boat….”

“You should've told her to drop the rope,” Rick said angrily. No matter what Sabrina said, he knew better. It was intentional, and she was damn lucky that Lessa wasn't hurt. As it was, he thought, glancing at the big pink mark on Lessa's leg, she was going to have a hell of a bruise. “Do you have an ice pack?” he asked Sabrina.

“It's not necessary,” Lessa said.

But Rick didn't listen. He helped her to sit down before holding the ice pack against her leg. “We've had enough. Let's head back.”

Sabrina shrugged innocently and they drove back in silence. Rick's initial joy over Lessa's achievement faded into anger. What had she been trying to prove? It was stubbornness mixed with a sense of competition. She should've known when to throw in the towel, known when to say enough was enough. And as a result, she got hurt.

When they got back to shore, Rick made a point of keeping his arm around Lessa, helping her off the boat and down the dock.

“I'll see you at dinner,” Sabrina said with a cheerful wave.

When they were out of earshot, Rick said, “What the hell were you doing back there—trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you talking about? I was waterskiing.”

“You know very well what I'm talking about. You were trying to prove something. And your competitive nature almost got you seriously injured.”

“I guess I should be touched that you're so concerned.”

Why
was
he so annoyed? Maybe because the whole
scenario reminded him of what she had done at work. She had refused to give up, and as a result, she was about to get hurt. “You didn't have to prove anything, Lessa,” he told her.

“I know that,” she said, before shrugging off his arm. As she did so, her bathing-suit strap fell down over her pale, white shoulder. The wind gently blew the strands of her still-wet hair. Her eyes sparkled and her pale cheeks flushed with anger. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her.

“So how do you think it went with Sabrina?” she asked.

He forced himself to look away. The sight of her bare, slender body was enough to confuse even the most resolute intentions. “Hard to say.”

“I think Sabrina is still interested in you.”

“I told you that's over.”

“Yeah, well, she had to look high and low to find a suit that skimpy.”

“That's just how she dresses.”

“And the way she kept touching you. Pretending to fall against you and putting on a show with the lotion.”

“Jealous?” he teased.

“Me?” she asked. “Hardly. But I think Sabrina is.”

But he knew better. Sabrina's flirtation was merely a test to see if he bit. He had no doubt that her line about her advisers reviewing the contract was just an excuse to stall for time. He and Lessa still had a lot of work to do if they were going to convince Sabrina. They needed to prove that their love was tempestuous and passionate. A love capable of desperate breakups and tearful reunions. “At dinner I'm going to ask Sabrina to dance. I want you to act like a jealous lover. I want you to storm out.”

“Storm out? In other words, you want me to act like an idiot.”

“No. I want you to act like a woman who believes her lover is flirting with another. I want you to act like a woman who cannot bear the thought of the man you love touching another woman.”

“The man I love…” Her voice drifted off as the implication sank in. “Not all women behave so immaturely.”

“True, but we are selling the whole firing as an act of passion. She needs proof. And she certainly didn't get it on the boat.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the firing could've been your fault? Perhaps you quit because you saw me flirting with another man. And you couldn't stand the thought of me touching another.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but Sabrina knows me, remember?” he said, touching her cheek. His eyes hardened and he took her hand. “I'm not the jealous type.”

“S
o I'm not only immature enough to fire you over a love squabble, but I'm also jealous. What exactly do you see in me?”

What Rick saw was a woman with beautiful green eyes and exotic cheekbones. A woman with one of the most seductive bodies he had ever seen. A woman so stubborn and determined, she would suffer bruises and sprains without the slightest complaint until she learned how to water-ski. Instead, he said, “Perhaps you excel in other areas. Perhaps you're skilled—”

“In the bedroom? Is that what you were going to say?” She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away.

“Actually, no. I was shooting for a good listener or cook, but I'd be more than happy with bedroom skills.”

They walked back into the bungalow and shut the door. The air-conditioning was off and the room felt like
an oven. She turned on the air conditioner and said, “This is going to be one long evening.”

“Do you want to shower first or should I?”

“Go ahead,” she said, sitting on top of the air-conditioner vent. “I'm set for a while.”

Her long, slender legs were splayed out before her. The other bathing suit strap fell down. His eyes grazed down her neck and onto her bare shoulders. He swallowed and attempted to look in the other direction, then yanked off his shirt.

“You're not going to get undressed right here, are you?” she asked.

“No.” In fact, he wasn't thinking about undressing himself, but her. What the hell was going on here? This was a business relationship. She was Alessandra Lawrence, the chairman of the board. The one who had fired him.

So why did he want to rip off her suit and take her right on the bed? Because Alessandra Lawrence just happened to be a beautiful woman. He always suspected as much, of course. But with her conservative suits and reserved manner, he'd never seen her as anything more than a wolf in sheep's clothing. He'd had her pegged as an uptight prude. He had not expected a spirited and feisty athlete. Nor had he ever expected her to look so good in a string bikini.

But there was something else that gave him pause. She had a quality, a way about her. There was a spark there. A connection. But whatever it was, it needed to be ignored. She was off-limits. Forever and always. This whole thing was make-believe. And he needed to keep it that way.

He let the freezing cold water of the shower pound
against him as he shut his eyes, trying not to notice his body's reaction to the woman just outside the door.

 

What had she gotten herself into? She was alone in a hotel room, ogling Rick Parker. She was—God help her—attracted to him. But how could she help it? They had spent the afternoon playing boyfriend and girlfriend. She had run her fingers over his raw muscles, felt the power of his kiss. And now here she was, only one closed door away from a naked Rick.

But, she attempted to reassure herself, it was normal, completely normal, that she feel some sort of attraction. After all, he was a good-looking man. Very good-looking. And she had a history with him. Like she had told Sabrina, she had suffered a painful crush.

But she couldn't allow herself to get confused. He was a business associate and that was all, one whom she did not even like. So why did a part of her wish that perhaps they were truly lovers? Why did a part of her wish that all their kissing and cuddling could lead to something else?

She would simply block it from her mind. She closed her eyes.
Just breathe,
she told herself.
And again…

But she couldn't stop thinking about Rick. She remembered overhearing a conversation about him in the ladies' room a while ago. A woman in a neighboring stall had apparently known someone whom Rick had dated. Not realizing that Lessa was in the bathroom as well, the woman had said to her friend, “She said Rick told her on their first date that he didn't want any commitment.”

“So what happened?” the other woman had asked.

“She slept with him anyway,” the woman had said.

“Did he call her after that?”

“Nope. She was disappointed, of course. You know how it is. We all want to believe we're ‘the one.' But she said it was worth it. She said he's great in bed.”

“Great in bed?”

“Between you and me,” the woman said, “I made a pass at him right after that.”

“And?”

“He said no. He was very nice about it, but he said we work together. You know, he didn't want an office affair.”

Great in bed…

Lessa turned up the air conditioner, as if a blast of cold air might cool her off. She had to stop thinking like this. Maybe if she had more of a social life, maybe if she
had
a social life, she wouldn't even notice Rick.

Unfortunately, it had been years since she'd been intimate with a man. And her last date had been months earlier, when her aunt had fixed her up with a friend's grandson. On paper he had sounded great, an engineer and part-time pro at a tennis club in the city. But it had been a disaster, right down to the three gold chains around his neck and the way he'd referred to every woman they'd encountered—the waitress, the hostess, the old lady whose cab he'd tried to steal—as “doll.” The icing on the cake had been when he'd told her that for a businesswoman she had a “nice rack.” And he should know, he'd added, because he'd “known”—big wink—a lot of businesswomen.

She knew her aunt blamed her long hours for her lack of a social life, but Lessa knew the problem was more complicated than that. After all, what twenty-six-year-old woman these days had only slept with one man?
One sexual affair to her credit and that had ended five years ago. Since then, she hadn't dated anyone longer than a week or two. And it wasn't just her love life that was suffering. Her entire social life was lacking. She had tried to make friends since she had come to New York to work for Lawrence, but it was difficult. Everyone she met was connected with Lawrence. Men were intimidated by her position and women tended to avoid her like the plague. One time she had invited a potential friend out for coffee only to find that the woman had not slept the night before, so worried was she that Lessa's invitation had been a ruse to fire her.

The truth of the matter was that Lessa didn't fit in with people her own age any more than she fit in with her fellow board members. Patience, her aunt had told her. It will all change with time.

But how could it when she spent all of her time at work? There was no way around it: She was lonely. It had gotten so bad that lately she had begun to wonder if perhaps she was destined for a life without love.

“It's freezing in here.”

At the sound of Rick's voice, she turned. The sight of him, standing in the doorway with a mere towel around his waist, was enough to take her breath away. “You couldn't get dressed?” she asked, quickly averting her eyes.

“Not without my clothes.”

She hurried past him and into the bathroom. He had left the shower running for her. She hurriedly took off her suit and stepped into the warm water. Only then did she realize that her clothes were still in the other room. She had been so flustered when Rick had come out in
a towel that she had neglected to get her things. Now she had no choice but to do the same thing she had faulted Rick for—parade through the room in a towel. She finished her shower and grabbed the sole remaining towel, drying off and wrapping it tightly around her. Sabrina's decor might be nice but her towels left a lot to be desired. Thin and small, it barely covered Lessa's backside.

She opened the door and took a deep breath. What was the big deal? Rick had seen her in a bathing suit, and the towel covered more than that did. She glanced at her clothes on the chair and quickly calculated the amount of time she would be half-naked in front of Rick. To walk over and grab them, twenty seconds max. The key was to act as if she weren't embarrassed. To appear cool and in control.

Rick glanced up when the door opened. And there she was, wrapped only in a towel. For a split second he thought that perhaps she had come out to seduce him. But when she didn't look at him, when she walked right past him, he realized what had happened. She, like him, had forgotten her clothes. But if nothing else, he was a gentleman. He pulled a contract out of his briefcase and perused it, trying not to notice the way the towel slid open, revealing her leg. The way her plump white breasts peeked out of the top.

She hurried back inside the bathroom and when she came out again, she was dressed in her suit skirt and sleeveless blouse, holding her jacket in her hand.

She tossed her jacket on the bed and checked her watch. “Should we go?” Without waiting for him to answer, she walked outside.

“Lessa, wait,” he said, tossing down the contract and following. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“We're lovers, remember?” he said, sliding his arm around her waist. But the unhappiness in her eyes was almost enough to cool his desire. “It's almost over with,” he said, as much to her as to himself. “As soon as she signs the papers we can go back to business as usual.”

They walked down a winding path, following the signs to the restaurant. Although the sun had nearly set, it was still hot and muggy. They wove their way around thick patches of bougainvillea and tropical ferns, lit with multicolored spotlights. The restaurant was situated on a hill overlooking the sea. Completely open to the outside, it was lit only by candles, their flames flickering in the warm breeze. Rick gave the hostess their names and they were promptly led to a small, intimate table in the corner.

“I don't see her,” Lessa said.

“I don't either,” Rick said, taking the seat next to her. “But that doesn't mean she's not watching us.”

“What should we do?”

“Let's just talk like two people who are interested in what the other has to say.”

She glanced nervously at the door. She looked so uncomfortable he felt almost sorry for her. What had happened to the cool and collected woman from the office? The one who had fired him and then just as quickly negotiated his return?

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“I grew up outside the city. In fact, my parents still live in the same house.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have a sister and a brother.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Fairly.”

This was painful. She was looking everywhere but at him. “So, Lessa,” he said, touching her hand to get her attention, “what are your plans for Christmas?”

“My Gran and I are going to have a quiet dinner. Just the two of us.”

“Your grandmother?”

“No. She's my great-aunt. My only family. She fell down a year ago and hurt her hip, so I moved her in with me. She's better now but I like having her around.”

She lived with her aunt? The image of Alessandra as a sweet and caring niece did not jive with the cold, self-reliant woman he knew from the office. “That's nice of you to take care of her.”

“It's the least I could do. After all, she took me in after my dad died. She'd never had any children and she took the role of surrogate parent very seriously. She was great about the whole tennis thing. Even though she was already older she flew with me all over the world. She attended every match.”

“I heard you turned down an opportunity to go pro.”

“I don't know about that,” she said modestly. “But I knew that if I chose to go any further, it would've taken all my energy and time. I wouldn't have been able to go to school or get my MBA.”

“Education is important, but not many people turn down an opportunity to be a professional athlete.”

“Ultimately I felt like I had little choice. I made a promise to my father.”

“You promised him you'd get your degree?”

“No,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “I promised him I'd get his company back. I knew in order to do that, I was going to need all the education and experience I could get.”

He sat there for a moment, too stunned to speak. He had always known that she was on some sort of mission to take over the company, but he had never imagined that it was an instruction that had come from Howard Lawrence himself.

“But I still play tennis,” she said. “At least, as much as I can. I've even fantasized about investing in a tennis camp one day. Either on my own or through Lawrence…and now we're back on business.” She grinned apologetically and shrugged. “I'm not very good at this small talk, am I?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she asked, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“I'm sure I'll be working,” he said. He wanted to question Lessa more about her promise to her father, but now was not the time. Not with Sabrina lurking about. He had to take advantage of Lessa's question to steer the conversation back to neutral ground.

“At the office?”

“No. I usually visit one of the resorts,” he said.

“Not exactly Norman Rockwell.”

“Norman Rockwell?”

“The big family sitting around the table while the father carves the turkey. My aunt is always apologizing for my lack of family. She blames herself for not having children. She'd like nothing better than the big family gathering, crammed with kids and noise.”

“Well, if noise is what you're looking for, you'd love
my family get-togethers. Deafening.” He smiled and said, “My brother and sister aren't too bad, but I have a big extended family. Lots of cousins, nieces and nephews. Family dinners are pretty crazy. “

“Your brother and sister are married?”

“They've both been married and divorced. In fact, my sister is about to get married again.”

She took a sip of her wine. “So you're the only one who has never been married?”

“Or divorced, as the case may be. I'm the anomaly. They can't quite figure me out. So every time we all get together the big discussion is usually about who they are going to fix me up with.”