Never Forgotten: Second Chances (8 page)

"I don't think so." He stared at her. "Look, I believe that you didn't know, but what you do or don't know doesn't matter. Someone is flogging his stock. The person who called me wouldn't waste time on a rumor. There'd be no point to it."

"Striker," she muttered.

"What?"

"We have a competitor who would love to drive the value of our company into the dirt so he could buy up the program for himself."

"Bill Striker," Riley said. "He isn't against using the rumor mill to his advantage."

Phil shook his head. "It didn't come from him. The person who called me wouldn't do business with him." He gave a wicked grin. "Once screwed, evil you, twice screwed, fool me, and all that."

"Wherever it came from, the information is wrong. Just today Craig was after me to get this investment wrapped up."

"Sure. If he wants to sell, having the investment would boost the value of his stock. People do shit like that you know."

Riley put his napkin on the table. "Well, Phil, I can see that your mind is made up on this, and I don't know any way to prove that something is not for sale. Even if we brought Craig in and he told you himself, that wouldn't refute your arguments. So I guess I'll just thank you for your time, and Megan and I will move along to someone who wants to make money instead of listening to gossip."

"Look Riley, I don't know this industry. I came because the offer sounded good, but I have to listen to informed gossip. I want in, but I need to minimize the risks while I learn. You're looking at what is a substantial amount of cash for me. I can't afford to invest and then have the lead designer say goodbye."

"He has a non-compete clause in his contract."

"But if the company goes under, then he's free."

"I suppose that's true."

"So there isn't any guarantee he isn't playing some sort of game."

"Just my word."

He looked at her and smiled. "In my world, that only works after you've done a lot of deals with someone and gotten the measure of the kind of person they really are."

"Well then, as Riley said, all we can do is thank you for considering the opportunity and being candid about why you don't think it's right for you."

He seemed surprised. Then he stood up. "I like classy people. If you get another deal, do come see me."

After he left she turned to Riley. "I need a drink."

"I'd be delighted to order you one, but I'd prefer an alternative. I've got a bottle of 30-year old single malt at home and the privacy for us to cuss and whine about the evil ways of rumor mongers."

Assuming it was only a rumor that Craig wanted to sell. Who could tell what he might do if he went off halfcocked or someone got to him?

"That sounds like exactly the right next step to me."

* * * *

Riley owned a stylish ground floor apartment in a quiet section of town that screamed money. He opened the front door and ushered her inside where she found herself swept into a large living room that was nicely furnished and predictably masculine. The couch and chairs were heavy and upholstered in dark brown leather. Like his office and his clothing, the apartment was exactly what anyone who knew him would expect. Megan found his consistency pleasant, reassuring, and mildly amusing. Along the wall were French doors that opened onto a patio. Riley opened them and let in the fresh air, then went to a bar. "Ready for that drink I promised?"

She nodded. "An old single malt is more than a drink, but yes."

He smiled and brought two glasses, handing her one and then leading her outside where Megan was surprised to find they had a view of the downtown. She hadn't realized that the building was situated on a hill.

"Fantastic," she said, noting his pleased look.

"You flatter me. I'm a bit house proud."

"And office proud too. I could see how you love your office."

He grinned. "Guilty as charged. I appreciate it. That office was a long time coming."

"You aren't old enough to say that."

"I'm over forty. And I think I was still in college when I first got a clear idea of what the idea of the good life meant to me, at least in an aesthetic sense."

She raised her glass. "Wine, women and song?"

The question earned her a smile. "Besides that. When I was twenty those things sort of went without saying. But even then I saw myself... I think the term is 'comfortably ensconced' in my house and an office that reflected calmness and security. I've had women tell me that it's all too heavy and dark, but for me that's also a feeling of solidity and comfort over fashion. It might make it all look a bit like an old-fashioned men's club, but I imagine that's a matter of form following function. I can picture those old boys getting comfort from it."

She liked that he could speak candidly about himself with no hint of pretense. He was showing her who he really was as well as how he saw himself. Being that transparent required immense confidence, and she admired him for it. "If you value calmness and security so much, aren't you in the wrong line of work?"

A raised a finger showed his protest. "It's precisely because I knew I'd be involved in high-stress, high-risk work that I wanted those things to balance out my life. My early jobs told me I was right. In a headlong rush for profit, most firms went for minimalist offices, cubicles and the like. Soulless places every one. When I went out on my own I was determined to do things differently. For instance, as an underling, I was required to keep my cell phone on at home so that I could be summoned if something came up. And we all worked for hours at home every night. Now I try not to bring work home, but I've managed to bring a bit of the solace of my home to my office. One reason I kept things small is so that I wouldn't need to run some high-tech operation and have to deal with IT people telling me I needed this or that program that I didn't understand or care about. At the scale I'm working, it's personal contact and runs at a pace that's practically leisurely compared to some of the places I've worked."

"And here we are in your home, bringing work into it. I have to apologize for that soulless intrusion."

"Ah, Megan, beauty is always welcome in my home, not an intrusion. I have to tell you that your company means more to me than business."

She looked in his eyes, taking the measure of him. "Is that meant to be romantic?"

His eyes sparkled. "You mock me. When I am trying to be romantic, I do a much better job than that. No, that was an entrée, and intended to be a transition that could lead to the possibility of something romantic. An opening salvo, if you well, meant to test the waters."

"How did you do? What results did your test provide?"

"The results are mixed, I'd say. But it was a tepid and probably foolish test."

"Why do it then?"

He sighed. "Conflicts. I value you for yourself, but we started as colleagues, doing business. I wanted to say something that let you know I had personal feelings but that, if it caused you to put down your drink and run home, it was innocuous enough that the next day we could pretend it never happened. I was trying to keep from damaging our working relationship but trying to find a way to move into letting you know how I feel."

"Explaining it to me diminishes the effect of that strategy, doesn't it?"

"That's true enough. But I realized how stupid it all was, because I had no intention of letting you leave without making myself clear, and you aren't the kind of person to pretend anything. I don't think you appreciate me mincing my words anyway."

"All true. Besides, if you think I'd put down a glass of perfectly good single malt and walk away from it because you flirted with me, I'd have to say you don't know me well at all."

Lifting her eyes to his, she could see his gray eyes, filled with curiosity, looking deep into hers. It seemed as if he was able to probe into her core. It unnerved her slightly, but she also found it incredibly sexy. "I intend to get to know you as well as you'll allow me to."

She liked the sweet and subtle hint that he was asking her permission. It was a nice touch, the kind of sensibility that only a strong and confident man was capable of. "So I gather that the twenty-year old's dream of a life with wine, women and song isn't dead?"

"That kind of dream doesn't die easily. I replaced wine with more potent liquor a long time ago, however." He stepped up to her and touched her cheek then tucked his fingers gently under the curve of her jaw. She looked at him and let the warmth of his fingers run through her. She loved the way it felt when a man she liked touched her. Then he tipped her face down and bent down and kissed her with a gentle brush of lips that made her blood rise to a boil. Long after he straightened up, his kiss lingered tantalizingly on her lips. She saw him open his eyes and smile delightedly at her.

She held up her glass. "You didn't mention touching. Or kissing."

"I did mention getting to know you."

"Well, if you want to ensure I don't run away while you are doing that, you'd best top up my glass. It's been a nervous day in too many ways."

He took her arm. "Let's move closer to the bottle then. Come inside."

Megan knew now that things were getting serious quickly. Riley wanted her, and his intentions had personal consequences and implications. She hadn't known him long, and this must be rushing things. Did that matter? Did she care at all? She wasn't in a relationship with anyone and owed an explanation of her behavior to no one. Certainly Thom never had tried to make their personal relationship any more than casual, if satisfying, sex. She never asked him about other lovers, and he never questioned her. That had suited them both, but that had been drawing to a close even before he decided to sell his stock, and although she tried to convince herself that she was above such feelings, the idea that he was selling out felt like a betrayal. Without him saying anything, without any discussion, she knew it was over between them. The reason didn't matter. There didn't even have to be any reasons. She had let him take her to bed because she admired him, and because she had been lonely.

Now she seemed to be doing the same thing with Riley. She admired him, liked him, and was attracted to him. He was clearly attracted to her and moving them in the direction that would require a decision. But it wasn't one she wanted to reason out or make in advance. She would let her instincts guide her.

His hand floated along the curve of her neck making her tremble, and this time when he kissed her, she tasted his insistence, the first real sense of his powerful desire. This kiss demanded a response, not passive acceptance. This wasn't a question but the beginning of real lovemaking. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her head seemed to grow light with her own demands. She put her arm around him returning his kiss. She pressed her body against his, her breasts against his hard torso, and his tongue entered her mouth, taking possession.

When he broke the kiss, she put her glass down and faced him. He rested his hands on her shoulders and she put her hands on his waist. After contemplating her for a moment, he reached behind her and found the zipper on her dress and eased it down with painful slowness while he watched her face with an intensity that told him he was studying her reactions to everything he did. He had been taking the measure of her from the moment they'd met, and now in the privacy of his living room, he was undressing her and memorizing her responses. An uncontrollable quiver began to gnaw at her core, and when he bared her breasts, then bent his face to taste her nipples, she was certain she hadn't been so aroused in a long time.

Not since Sal.

One electric hand on her bare back held her still as his mouth explored her breasts and then moved up to bring a powerful flush to her neck and cheeks, making them hot. She dropped her arms and let the dress slip down them, to her waist and then she was the one who worked it down her hips as Riley's mouth memorized the contours of her face, sucked her earlobe. When he kissed her mouth, a passionate kiss that communicated his desire, he pushed her slip down. At the end of the endless kiss, he dropped to his knees in front of her, kissing her belly, and then running a hot and hungry tongue down her as he pulled her panties down. At the precise moment that his tongue traced over the curve of her mons, she felt her panties around her ankles. He stood then, kissing her again and grabbing her ass and pulling her against his pelvis, to feel the hard bulge of his cock. He lifted her, and when the panties slipped from her ankles she put her legs around him. He stepped forward and put her back against the wall. He balanced her there putting her on her feet while he turned to a desk and brought out a condom. As he opened it, she reached down to fumble with the fly of his pants, unzipping him, undoing his belt and reaching for the hot and fleshy cock inside, wanting it. He gave her the condom, and she put it on him, then he grabbed her ass again and lifted her, and she hooked her legs around him and guided him to her pussy, working his cock between her swollen nether lips. She put her mouth to his ear. "Fuck me, Riley," she hissed and bit his earlobe. With a groan of pleasure he penetrated her, pressing her hard against the wall and then, immediately, fucking her frantically, her legs, her heels digging into his legs, pulled her pelvis into his with each thrust, taking his hard cock deep. And moving with him, loving this animalistic and lascivious coupling. When he came, he drove her hard into the wall with a series of thrusts and then held her there. Her legs ached from clutching him so tightly, and she wallowed in the sense of having been ravished. Neither Craig nor Thom ever took sex to this level of debauched fun. She hadn't even known she'd missed it. And she most definitely had.

The next morning Megan saw life quite differently. The morning light was brighter, yet kinder. The air was fresher. She had gotten up in the hours before dawn to dress and go home to shower and change. Neither of them wanted to break the spell the night together had woven around them, but the world summoned them, and they were not people who could resist that any more than she'd be able (or wanted to) resist Riley's charms.