Mistletoe Maneuvers (6 page)

“But you hardly need help finding dates.”

“Apparently they don't like my choices.”

“You've brought a lot of girlfriends home?”

“I've only made that mistake a couple of times.” He shook his head. “Disasters. But then again, they all loved Karen.” All these years later, it was still difficult to talk about her.

“Karen?”

“I was engaged a long time ago.”

Conversation died and the room seemed to go quiet. So much for neutral ground. Why had he mentioned Karen? He never spoke of her. Most people at the office had no idea he'd ever been engaged.

“And what happened? No, let me guess. You stood her up at the altar in front of three hundred guests.”

“No.”
Let it go,
he warned himself.
Switch the subject.
But for some reason, he couldn't. It was the way she was looking at him, so certain that her impression of him as a cold, uncaring bastard was correct. “She died.”

She sat still, stunned.

“I was still in grad school. I was studying, so I asked her to come to my apartment after work. She was half a block away when a drunk driver hit her. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment. To pick up the phone and hear a stranger tell me that she wasn't coming home…that she was never coming home.”

“I'm so sorry.”

He expected her to glance away, to do what most people did when they found out. To make some off-the-cuff comment and attempt to change the subject, but she didn't. She looked straight at him and said, “I can't imagine anything more awful. You must miss her.”

“We were high-school sweethearts. We dated all through college. I thought I had everything planned out. We were going to buy a house, have kids. And in a split second, it was all gone.” He ran his fingers through his hair. Why was he telling her this?

“My father suffered the same kind of loss,” she said. “My mother got sick and died only a month later. They had been high-school sweethearts, too. He never got over it either.”

He had known that Howard's wife had died and he had known that she had been his original partner. But he had never thought about the implications of that partnership.

“You know, when my father died, my Gran said he was still right here,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “And that part of him would never die, it would always be right there. And she was right. I can still feel him.”

He could see the pain in her eyes and was struck by an urge to soothe her. “How old were you when your mother died?” he asked.

“I was three. I don't really remember much about her. My dad never really spoke of her but my Gran said she was one of the most determined and feisty people you'd ever want to meet. She said that from the first moment my father met her, he fell in love. My aunt said he was devastated when she died. He shut down. He dated, but he never saw the same woman longer than a month. I think he just couldn't stand any more pain. He couldn't allow anyone in because he was afraid of getting hurt again.”

Rick glanced away. Without realizing it, she had just summarized his life. “Or maybe,” he said, “he never again met anyone that special.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I'd like to think my parents shared the kind of love that comes along once in a lifetime.”

“I'm sure they did,” he said.

Her eyes, misty with emotion, narrowed. “I know what you think about me, Rick. The spoiled woman motivated by greed. I know you think I have no right to this company. But you have no idea how important this business was to my dad. It was more than a job, much more. He and my mother started it together and he felt that this company was
still
an extension of her somehow. That he was fulfilling her dream. Their life together.”

“Lessa,” he began. But what could he say? She was right. He did think that she was a spoiled girl with a keen sense of entitlement. And although she was turning out to be more complicated than he had thought, he could not—no, he
would not
—allow emotion to cloud his judgment.

But before he could say anything, she spoke. “Sabrina's behind you.”

He put his arm around Lessa and slipped his hand under her shirt, caressing her bare shoulder. “Act as though I just said something very sweet,” he whispered.

She smiled at him, but it was obvious that his touch made her uncomfortable. Apparently their conversation had done little to change her feelings toward him. If she wasn't careful, Sabrina would be on to them.

He felt a presence behind him and heard Sabrina say, “Well, what do you think of my dining room? It truly is romantic, isn't it?” She walked around the table and took a seat across from him.

“Did you bring the contract?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My adviser is looking it over. He should have it to me momentarily. So you might as well enjoy your dinner,” she said, signaling a waiter.

Lessa ordered a steak and a side of rice.

“I'll have the same,” Rick said. He appreciated a woman who was willing and able to eat.

“How compatible,” Sabrina said. “You even order the same food.” But it was obvious from the tone in her voice, she thought them anything but. They were going to have to lay it on thick to convince her.

“So do you two live together?”

“I live with my aunt,” Lessa said.

“Your aunt? How sweet. And what does she think of your romance with Rick?”

“She's pleased with…our relationship,” Lessa said, hesitating.

“Really? After what Rick did to your father?”

He could feel Lessa stiffen.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.
“Rick didn't have anything to do with my father leaving the company.”

Unfortunately, it was obvious her defense of him was an act. He could practically see the strain on her face.

“Besides, my aunt wants me to be happy,” she said with some effort. “She knows that I didn't plan this. But she respects my decision.”

“Isn't that wonderful?” Sabrina said, studying Lessa carefully. Sabrina was suspicious and things were getting worse by the minute. He needed to get Lessa away from her. Just then the band began to play.

“Darling,” he said, standing and offering Lessa his hand, “it's our song.” He turned back toward Sabrina. “Will you excuse us?”

“Of course,” she said with a smug smile.

He led Lessa to the dance floor. He pulled her in close as he whispered in her ear, “I think I need to kiss you again.”

If Sabrina wanted a show, she was going to get it. He brushed a gentle kiss across Lessa's porcelain cheek. She turned toward him and their lips touched. A sensuous tremor passed between them as he pulled her tight against him. Momentarily forgetting about his mission, he kissed her long and hard, as if she were a true lover. Suddenly, Lessa broke away. Her breasts heaved as she struggled to breathe. She glanced at Rick and he knew from the look in her eyes that they were in trouble.

“Lessa,” he said, leaning forward and touching the back of his hand to her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. Before he could stop her, she turned and hurried toward the door.

Damn her! What was she doing? He went after her,
following her outside the restaurant. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I can't do this,” she said, shrugging off his arm. The look on her face gave him pause. She didn't look like a woman in control of her feelings and actions. She was shaking and appeared to be on the verge of tears.

He hesitated and, without touching her, nodded toward the beach. “Let's get away from the restaurant.” He had no doubt Sabrina was bending over backward to get a peek of the action. “Let me guess,” he said as they walked toward the beach. “There's a boyfriend back home and you're feeling guilty.”

“No. There's no boyfriend.”

He felt a small gleam of relief. But why should he care if she was seeing someone?

“I'm just…unsure of the ground rules.”

“The ground rules?” What the hell was she talking about? Did she interpret his touch as true longing?

But if she did, would she be wrong? After all, there was an undercurrent of…something. “Look, Lessa,” he said, “this isn't one of your tennis matches. There are no rules or regulations. When Sabrina's around, I touch you, you touch me. That's all.”

He saw her wince as if in pain. Was the mere idea of touching him so repulsive to her?

“Just pretend I'm…someone else. Someone you care about. Someone you saw in a movie once, hell, I don't care. Forget about my face and just respond to my actions. That's all.”

“I'm trying, but it's difficult.”

“Dammit,” he said, getting even more frustrated.
“Let me make this clear. I'm not enjoying myself either. But this is business. You almost cost me my company and you better try damn hard to get it back.”

She did not speak. She looked at him with all the fear and loathing to which he had become accustomed. But for some reason, it wasn't okay anymore. He felt like a bully.

He should've realized that this was too much to ask of her. After all, she hated him. How could he think that she was capable of pretending otherwise? “I should've known that you couldn't do this.” He turned away, heading back toward the restaurant. “Go back to the room and wait for me. I'll handle Sabrina.”

 

Rick's words hit Lessa like a splash of ice water. Couldn't do this? Was she really ready to forfeit simply because she didn't like the way the game was being played? Because that was what their whole fake love affair boiled down to—a strategy. The problem was, she couldn't help but wish it were real. With a kiss and some kind emotional words, Rick slashed through the paper-thin barrier surrounding her heart. The promise of love was enough to make her question even the most fundamental of views. But she had to get over it.

She hurried after Rick and took his hand, stopping him. Then, gazing into his eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She moved her mouth over his, allowing her instincts to take over. She kissed him long and slow, as if he were the man of her dreams and this was the chance of a lifetime. When she was done, she pulled away and said, “Better?”

He was breathing hard and his eyes smoldered with fire. “I'd say.”

She smiled, pleased at his reaction. “I can do this. Let's go.”

They walked back into the dining room. Their dinner had arrived but Sabrina was nowhere to be seen. He led her back to the table and gulped down his entire glass of champagne, then poured himself another.

“Careful, dear,” she said, leaning forward just enough for him to get a peek at her cleavage. “You know how you get when you drink.”

She saw his gaze wander down to her breasts before gulping down some more champagne.

“There's Sabrina,” she said. As she watched Sabrina work the crowd, flashing various diners a fake, almost frightening smile, Lessa tried to imagine the woman arm in arm with Rick. “I don't see you with her,” she said in between bites.

He glanced at Sabrina and said, “I think she was different then. She wasn't as…hard as she is now.”

“Hmm. That's probably what my old boyfriends say about me.”

“Oh? There are a lot of them?”

She'd meant it as a joke, but he seemed to take her seriously. “No. Not really.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…” Why was she suddenly feeling as if she were in a therapy session? Was he going to pay the kindly uncle and give her dating tips? “I've been busy.”

“An excuse. But not bad. I've used it myself.”

“But you date. You date a lot. It seems like every time I turn around there's another mention of you with a different woman.”

“You've been working with me now for six months. Is that your impression of me?”

No, at least not in the office. She would give him that. But there was a question she was dying to ask. “Are you involved with anyone right now?”

“No.”

A surge of relief flooded her veins. But why should she care? She waited for him to finish his meal and then said, “Let's dance.”

She took his hand and led him out to the dance floor. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She could not only act like a lover, she could act like a temptress. And she was just getting warmed up. “Aren't you going to hold me?” she said softly.

“What got into you?”

“I don't like to give up a game.”

“Ah, I see. Everything changed when I told you to go back to the room. You took it as a dare.”

“I took it as intended. A challenge.”

“And Alessandra Lawrence does not back away from a challenge.”

“I know that you have me pegged as a spoiled rich girl, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I'm very determined and I'm willing to work hard to get what I want.”

“I believe that, Lessa.” He gazed at her, as if drinking her in. “So who am I tonight?” he asked. “Are you pretending I'm a famous movie star…or a—”

“Andre Agassi.” The truth of the matter was that there was no need to pretend he was anyone other than himself. But she could not admit that to him.

“A tennis player, of course. I should've guessed.” He
smiled. “You're not what I expected, Lessa. I never thought that I would enjoy spending time with you.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. He was enjoying her company? “Is this part of your plan to convince Sabrina?” she joked. “You sweet talk me and I fall madly in love with you?”

“Do you think that would work?” he asked, flashing her his famous grin.

He was teasing and she knew it, yet she couldn't stop herself from answering. “If that's your plan,” she said, playing along, “I should warn you it might be more difficult than you think. I've never been in love before.”