Terms of Surrender (13 page)

But that avoidance in no way included Slany Breeze.

She should have realized this by now, realized he held her in much higher esteem than did Vega, than did anyone. She should have realized she made him hard whenever she stood behind him in his cubicle to throw ideas around or finalize an ad. Should have realized he would be around to please her, to discipline and take care of all her needs long after all pretenders and hot-to-trot Lotharios had gotten their fill playing at D/s.

He might have to move up his schedule to make sure Vega didn't have a chance to thoroughly ingratiate himself with Slany and contaminate her, as he had Lorraine.

Kate was nearing the end of her training, had turned into a very good little submissive, one to make him proud.

He still had some fine-tuning to perform with her. Her lapses were few and far between, but still apparent, and that was unacceptable. Besides, he was bored, his blood simmering, anticipating the hunt of acquiring a new trainee.

Perhaps he could slake his hunger in pursuit of Mr. Wells, as he had previously intended.

He hated admitting it, but in the last couple of weeks, he'd fallen down on the job where his plans were concerned, needed to step up his tracking efforts and take care of business.

Once Slany found out what he had done for her—and she would, he would make sure of it—she couldn't help but see him in a different more favorable light.

He watched Nick and Slany exit his office now. Chest tight with frustration and anger, he anticipated getting Kate out of the way and beginning his next assignment. Soon. Very soon.

* * * *

Remeni glanced up from his flat-screen monitor, Adam's apple unmistakably bobbing when he saw Nick standing on the threshold of his cubicle. "Uh, sure. Right now?"

Nick silently nodded, turned on his heels, and headed to his office.

Remeni left his cubicle and followed.

"Close the door behind you."

"Sure, Mr. Ve—"

"Bill, we're all on a first name basis at
DMT,
remember? It's Nick."

"Of course. I just, uh…"

"Are you nervous?" Nick watched with some satisfaction as the young programmer shook his head and fidgeted. He turned from Remeni, stepped behind his desk, and took a seat in the high-back executive chair.

Despite his usual easygoing approachable manner with all of the staff, Nick was glad he hadn't lost his touch or ability to intimidate the underlings.

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Terms of Surrender

What kind of twisted shit was that? Taking out his frustrations with Slany on Remeni, practically using his position to strong-arm the kid?

But he couldn't help it, told himself he was only doing what needed to be done, his task two-fold: find out what he could about Kate and Remeni, and warn the kid away from what belonged to Nick—namely, Slany Breeze.

It wasn't like he had gone out of his way to scare Remeni. Could he help it if the kid was so obviously awe-struck, or seemed to have a guilty conscience that caused him to quake in Nick's presence?

Nick indicated one of the guest chairs and opened as Remeni took a seat, "I've never been one to buy into the grapevine, but I've heard a few things about—"

"Slany and I are just co-workers, Mr.—Nick. I swear!"

"Actually, I was going to ask you about Kate Delaney."

"But I thought you and she weren't an item anymore."

Couldn't keep a secret around here, could he?

He never actually believed he'd fooled anyone at
DMT
the few times he and Kate had gone out, despite their discreet rendezvous outside of the agency. However, he had hoped to avoid being the subject of office gossip altogether.

"We're not an 'item,' as you put it. But I consider her a friend and was just curious if you knew anything about her disappearance."

"Disappearance?" Remeni goggled, Adam's apple wildly jumping now. "But I thought she was on some sort of extended leave of absence."

"That's the party line I've heard, too. But since you were the last one to see her before this so-called extended leave, I thought maybe you knew what had prompted it."

Remeni frowned. "Who says I was the last one to see her?"

"Weren't you?" Nick said, resting his chin on his steepled fingers as he glared at the younger man. He had a pretty good poker face, at least as good as Parish's. He prided himself on being able to stare down the competition, hadn't yet been one to look away first in a contest of wills.

Remeni was good though, almost as good as Slany. He held Nick's stare for a good five seconds before averting his gaze and mumbled, "We went out once."

"A date?"

Remeni raised his eyes, a hint of defiance twinkling in his baby-blues. "When you first called me in here, I thought you wanted to talk about one of the accounts, or that you had an issue with my work. This conversation isn't exactly business-related, Nick."

"I never said it would be."

"Are you trying to insinuate something?"

"I'm just trying to get to the bottom of a mystery that's been niggling at me for the last couple of weeks, is all. Did you and Kate have a fight or something?"

67

Gracie C. McKeever

"I barely know her!"

Nick took particular comfort in Remeni's wording, relief flooding him at the programmer's automatic use of the present tense.

"That's beside the point. You could have had a bad date, maybe a difference of opinion over dinner…"

Remeni stood up, pushing back his shoulders, evidently building up courage to get out his next words. "I took her out to dinner, we went dancing, then I dropped her off at her door with a kiss goodnight. That's it."

Nick silently stared, noticed the nervous tic in the younger man's jaw with some amusement before he stood himself.

Remeni planted his feet and balled his hands, as if preparing for a fight.

Nick would have been happy to accommodate him if he'd had any sense that the guy had hurt Kate in any way. But he got no sense of that at all. Instead, he sensed the kid's sincerity and how tough it had been for him to admit that nothing beyond a chaste kiss at the door had happened between him and the luscious Ms. Delaney.

He heard the guys talk around the office all the time, many instances when Kate and Slany, or some other delectable office "babe"—Yvette and Kimber were two in the forefront—

had been the subject of open admiration and lust. But nothing untoward or insulting had ever been said, not in Nick's earshot, and definitely nothing that would make Nick want to ram a guy's teeth down his throat for impinging his territory.

Ashton Knowles was another story. He had no sense of decorum or self-preservation when it came to flaunting his conquests at
DMT
.

But Knowles was Knowles, Mr. Untouchable,
never hesitating to parade his connections or use them to his advantage in his day-to-day dealings with the other directors, and especially his subordinates at the agency. Not to mention, Knowles was the only director who had ever been low enough to steal an account from Nick. Two years ago, Knowles used his father-in-law as a cover and caught Nick off-guard, a rare lapse Nick intended never again in this lifetime to repeat.

He and Knowles had been operating under a grudging cease-fire ever since, Nick waiting for the day when the pompous twit would slip up and provide Nick his chance for reprisal.

"So nothing happened, huh?" he asked Remeni.

"Look, Nick, if it's okay with you, and if for any reason this ever becomes an official police investigation, that's all we did. Dinner, dancing, home. I never touched her outside of a few kisses and some general, uh…"

Nick grimaced as Remeni squirmed beneath his gaze, could only imagine the hot groping sessions that had probably gone on between Kate and Bill in the car or at the restaurant.

He knew Kate, and she was a passionate woman unafraid of her sexuality. That put together with a healthy young red-blooded male spelled only one thing to Nick.

The idea that Kate might have shared her very steamy sexuality with a rookie who couldn't possibly appreciate the nuances of a relationship with a woman like Kate set Nick's teeth 68

Terms of Surrender

on edge as he came from behind his desk. "I get your point," he said, slowly approached Remeni and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

For the first time since Remeni came into his office, Nick noticed he only had an inch or two on the younger man. It surprised him still when he felt Remeni's hard muscles flex beneath his hand as he walked him to the door.

His mother had always told him that still waters ran deep, and Nick knew not to play Remeni too cheap. There was more there—like regular workouts in a gym, if not somewhere else equally as arduous—than met the eye.

Nick pasted on his most impartial smile and said, "I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable with my questions. I'm just a little concerned."

"So Kate's not just on an extended leave?"

He stared at Remeni, gauging the programmer's open expression, blue eyes so guileless and questioning. Like earlier, he sensed the kid's sincerity and wondered if Angie was rubbing off on him, or maybe Remeni was just that good an actor.

Nick shook off his suspicions and squeezed the younger man's shoulder, suddenly feeling fatherly and protective. "That's what I'm trying to find out," he murmured.

69

Gracie C. McKeever

Slany glanced at the clock across from her desk for the fifth time in the last five minutes and gritted her teeth.

She didn't like cutting things to the last minute and had anticipated one last dry run of the presentation with Nick before they pitched to today's prospects.

Slany had no doubt she could do an effective presentation on her own. She was as well prepared as any co-presenter could be, but she considered this pitch Nick's baby.

She didn't like stealing another's well-earned thunder, wasn't into cutting throats to make herself look good, despite all her years in the business. She wasn't Knowles.

Slany glanced at her watch this time, for no other reason than to get a change of scenery, since it read the same time as the clock on her wall.

By her estimate, Nick was at least two hours late. She hadn't realized she'd been watching the clock until an hour ago, when she hadn't noticed him conferring with his staff at any of the cubicles or behind his desk in his office.

Their pitch meeting was in exactly a half hour. Slany knew all too well how quickly thirty minutes could fly by, especially when a couple of the prospects had already arrived.

She hated watching the clock, and she hated being kept waiting. She wondered if Nick was taking some perverse pleasure in keeping her on edge, trying to get back at her for her previous rejections.

The last several days, he'd been cool and distant, making no overt or subtle moves of intimacy since the last bold seduction in his office a week ago.

An inveiglement and scene Slany had yet to get over, holding onto and using it when she needed to, constantly reminding herself of exactly what she'd be missing by continuing to deny Nick. Using the remembered images of her and Nick in his office in the privacy of her bedroom when she needed a little inspiration and wanted to spice up her almost nightly masturbation sessions with Mr. Jack Rabbit.

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Terms of Surrender

Slany couldn't remember the last time since college when she had been so horny, every nerve ending and follicle sensitized and primed, ready for his touch. Hell, she barely had to turn on her vibrator at night before she was swimming in her own juices, anticipating the tiny attached stimulator jolting against her clit.

Still, a poor substitute for the real thing—especially when the real thing promised to shake her to her very foundations, if the couple of episodes she'd experienced with Nick so far were any indication.

You know what you want, and you know what you need to do to get it.

Slany remembered his words and wondered if it was her move now.

Was she supposed to approach him with what she'd decided, let him know she was willing? Was he waiting for her to come to him, open and ready?

Slany had never been one to hold her tongue, had never been good at playing coy or sitting back and waiting for the guy to make all the moves, and this game had her at a loss.

Granted, she hadn't had many lovers over the years, but she never had a problem making the first move or letting her feelings and wants known, especially once she'd come out with Ron.

However, when it came to what she considered the darker side of her nature, wants beyond garden-variety sexual, the side that Nick incited and titillated just walking into the room, Slany was still close-mouthed, even a little shy.

How could she be otherwise and just trust some relative stranger with the fact that she enjoyed the idea of being bound, wanted someone else in control? She barely trusted most guys today to show up on time for a date, much less entrust one with that sort of knowledge and power.

Why was this so difficult? Or maybe it was just her stubborn streak making it so.

Someone knocked, a brisk three raps, before pushing the door open.

Slany glanced up from her watch in time to see Nick closing the door and sauntering across the carpeted floor. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her large mahogany desk. She took in his broad shoulders, encased in a charcoal double-breasted jacket—the white shirt beneath and yellow-striped tie flattering against his deep bronze complexion—and sucked in a deep breath before moving her eyes further down, where the jacket tapered to his slim waist.

God, he was gorgeous! How had she managed to say no to him so long?

"Ready?"

Slany gathered her nerves and anger to say, "I've been ready for the last hour, thank you very much."

"Good. Then that's a yes."

She rolled her eyes, stood, and came from behind her desk. "I wanted to go through a couple of things before we went into the pitch meeting."

He had the nerve to look at his watch, appearing patient, as if she had kept him waiting!