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Relationships

By: Dorothy McFalls

First Published in A Hint of Seduction Ezine, July 2004

Reprinted at A Good Read, August 2005

For Dorothy McFalls (dorothy@dorothymcfalls.com), happily-ever-after is more than just a fictional ending, having enjoyed every day of the last ten years of marriage to her sexy architect husband (really, he is!) who often exhibits the patience of a saint. They reside in an artsy beach community in South Carolina with their cat-like dog and dog-like cat. Formerly an environmental urban planner, she now writes full time.

Buy Dorothy’s Signet Regency Romance, The Marriage List, at Amazon.com today!! A 4 ½ Star Top Pick from Romantic Times Magazine.

That was her, the woman from the bar. Who would have ever guessed he’d see her here, at Tri-Core Enterprises? Of all the places in the city, why was it his rotten luck he’d find her sitting behind the desk outside the senior vice-president’s door? Not just any senior vice-president, but THE senior vice-president who’s opinion of him and his presentation would determine whether he’d be able to pay his rent for the next several months.

Trevor Hunting turned on his heel before the woman chanced to look up and recognize him.

What terrible luck! A damned secretary with pink satiny lips and the tongue of the devil stood between him and the Tri-Core Advertising account. It didn’t help to know the future of his firm rested on getting this account. He’d been edgy last night worrying about his presentation. That was why he’d acted like a royal ass at the bar.

He dragged his hand over his face. Now you’ve done it, Trev. If he wanted the account, he’d have to say something to placate the secretary. He’d have to face her and pray she wouldn’t call for security or worse, scream her pretty head off.

No, he couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t risk the account and his company on hoping she would accept his apology. Too many other people in his office were depending on him. Trevor took a step toward the exit. He’d call from his cell phone and cancel. He’d say he’d come down with a disease. A terribly contagious, deadly disease. He’d send someone in his stead.

“Mr. Hunting?” Her voice was clearer, less pinched than the previous night. The way she said his name, with that crystal precision, sent a tremor of desire down his spine.

Wasn’t that what had sparked the fiasco the night before in the first place...desire?

Thinking to ignore her and leave, Trevor made an even more determined rush to the exit. This account was too important to be messed up by his lonely, sometimes boisterous hormones. God help him, he’d never meant to upset her.

“Mr. Hunting,” she said, slightly louder. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you standing there.” She paused for a heartbeat. Trevor stood frozen in the doorway. To run out now would make him look like an idiot.

But he couldn’t turn around and let her see his face.

“It’s just been so crazy around here today. My secretary called in sick and—”

Her secretary? That was the DJ Branson sitting behind that desk? That pretty hellion with fire in her eyes was the senior vice-president of Tri-Core Enterprises? Without thinking he spun around to take a good look because certainly he’d mistaken what he’d seen before...she didn’t look like vice-president material. This woman with her long legs and curvy body was far too sexy to be the stogy, hard-nosed vice-president who supposedly followed basketball religiously. “—I’ve been running behind all day. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat, I’ll be with you as soon as I can find where Missy put my electronic notepad.”

She stopped digging around in a bottom draw and looked up at him. Their eyes met.

And she froze.

The temperature in the room dropped a good thirty degrees. When Trevor released the breath he’d hastily sucked in, he was truly surprised the air didn’t come out in a series of frosty puffs.

“You,” she said. The single word sounded like a curse dire enough to make his ears drop off. Okay, after last night he deserved that singeing tone and razor-edged look she was presently slicing through him.

At least she wasn’t screaming.

Trevor dropped his briefcase and instinctive threw his hands up in front of his chest, as if his empty palms could protect him from the fury building in her eyes. “Please,” he rushed to say. “Give me a chance to explain, to-to apologize.”

She rose from her secretary’s chair. Her fingers very deliberately curled into dainty fists and settled on her slender hips.

“How did you find me? What do you want?” She slid her fisted hand down her rounded hip and across the desktop toward the phone. “I don’t want any trouble. Just turn around and leave.” Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the black handset.

Trevor charged across the room and covered her hand with his, pinning it and the phone to the desk. “Don’t call security. Despite to everything you saw to the contrary last night, I’m not some deranged lunatic.”

Fear flashed in her eyes as her gaze locked on his hand trapping hers. “I-I know what men like you are,” she whispered. “I’ve heard stories about what happens to the women nutcases men like you stalk. I won’t be your next victim.”

Trevor yanked his hand away and took a quick step back. His sales pitch couldn’t have gotten off on a worse foot. She believed him to be some kind of unquenchable serial killer?

“I assure you, Ms. Branson, I’m not who you think I am. I’m as shocked as you to have this uncomfortable encounter, here, in this office.”

She ripped the phone receiver off the base and began punching numbers, muttering curses. “I’m not going to let you hurt me, you-you sick-o. I’m calling the police.”

“Please, I have an appointment with you. I’m Trevor Hunting, Ms. Branson. Your three-o’clock?”

* * *

Darla’s heart stopped. That particular organ hadn’t been doing too well throughout this harrowing encounter, beating like she was running a race. But when he said he was advertising’s golden boy, Trevor Hunting, her heart flip-flopped and then stopped.

Two distinct voices echoed in her head while she stood there wondering if she had died and dropped into some twisted, painful hell.

The first voice was her stepfather’s, Tri-Core’s CEO and Chairman of the Board. “We need our new cell phone service to explode onto the market. I don’t need to tell you how that damned KTT has copied us and plans to release a very similar service the same day as ours. And you already know how the future growth of Tri-Core rests on the success of this new venture.”

Her stepfather had leaned across his desk when he’d spoke next, “Do what it takes to get Trevor Hunting and the Hunting agency onboard. Get him under contract before KTT can sink their teeth into him.”

“You can’t be Trevor Hunting.” She dropped the phone back onto its base and stared at the tall man standing in front of her. He looked like he was about to throw up. His sandy brown hair needed a trim. It curled at the ends and brushed the collar of his finely tailored suit.

Let him be anyone but Trevor Hunting. The desk standing between them seemed like inadequate protection as the words he whispered in anger last night echoed in her head. “Let me get you alone and I’ll show you just how...”

A shiver coursed through her as she refused to let herself finish that memory. He’d frightened her at the bar as he held her arm and stood far too close. What had begun as playful flirting had somehow turned into an argument that had ended with both of them making hasty threats. Only, his threats had kept her from falling asleep last night. Images of what he might do to her had assaulted her all night.

They had left her feeling slightly unhinged and, she forced herself to admit, surprisingly horny.

“I can’t apologize enough, Ms. Branson,” he said. His large downcast eyes were clear, tranquil. Eyes a blind man could trust, her stepfather would say. “I can’t explain what had gotten into my mouth last night. I don’t make a practice of threatening women. Hell, I’m mortified by the words that spilled out. They seemed out there, like they weren’t mine. You’ve got to believe that.”

“What about the kiss?” Darla’s cheeks burned. She quickly turned away. She could only imagine by the prickling heat stinging her how bright her face must have turned.

Last night, just before she’d stormed out of the bar—and yes, she’d finished a few too many Long Island ice teas—Trevor had caught her by the arm, spun her around and in front of everyone kissed her. It hadn’t been a simple peck. Oh no, it had been a long, skillful exploration of her lips and mouth that turned her legs all watery and sent butterflies fluttering in her belly.

They had flirted for a good hour before that silly argument about—about what? She couldn’t for the life of her remember. All she could remember was the almost electrical attraction that had sparked between them and shaken Darla to her core.

She didn’t have time for relationships. Not now. Not when her stepfather expected so much from her and his company.

“Well?”

Trevor cleared his throat a couple of times. “The kiss?” she thought she heard him mutter. “That kiss? Don’t make me apologize. Please,” he said a little louder. “I enjoyed it far too much to reduce it to an apology.”

How could he be so bold about something like that? She spun around and got trapped in his crystal blue gaze again.

“If I remember correctly, you enjoyed it too,” he said.

How dare he? She should slap him. Mentioning how she’d held onto him for dear life while he teased her senses last night was low. Beyond low. The way he was looking at her—the light was surely playing tricks—her chest tightened and her belly turned all quivery. Just like it had last night.

And she was completely sober now, so she couldn’t even blame her reaction on one too many drinks. How could a man have that kind of power over her? She didn’t want her legs turning to jelly. Didn’t want to enjoy the feel of his stumble scrape against her face or smell his bittersweet cologne.

“Get out,” she said as her cheeks flamed anew. Her finger pointed a straight path to the office door. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Darla muttered a small prayer asking for guidance as she watched the golden boy of advertising stumble over his own feet in a rush to escape from her office.

Do what it takes to get me Trevor Hunting, her stepfather had demanded. Lovely. Just an hour ago that had seemed like such a simple task.

* * *

This was why he was alone. Trevor never could have a successful conversation with a woman. He’d always do or say something to ruin things. And today, he’d ruined not only his fairly non-existent sex life, but also his business. How in the world could he face his employees?

He’d always pulled through for everyone before in the past. It was just things were worse this time. Jupiter Tea, a national soft drink company, had contracted with Hunting Advertising to revamp their entire product line and transform them into “the must have” product of the year. His whole team had invested huge chunks of time and money to do just that. His agency was on its way into making the jump to the top of the advertising market when the owner of Jupiter Tea was arrested for embezzlement. A week later Jupiter Tea declared bankruptcy.

Not one bill had been paid to Hunting.

Trevor had kept his company afloat with his personal savings account. And that money had run out a few days ago.

Getting the Tri-Core account meant everything to Hunting Advertising, and everyone in the firm knew it. A roomful of expectant eyes turned toward him when he marched into the company bullpen. The normally noisy room, filled with creative chatter, was eerily silent.

He opened his mouth to apologize, to beg their understanding. He’d failed. They would all lose their jobs. Many had families. What had he done?

“Well?” George, his secretary asked. “I’m about to turn blue holding my breath like this.”

Trevor’s lips curled into a tight smile. “I knocked Tri-Core off their feet with that presentation you all helped put together,” he boomed. His stomach twisted. He hadn’t even been able to open his briefcase. And with no money in the bank for Friday’s payroll, he wouldn’t be able to fool them for long. But he just couldn’t stop the lie from coming. His employees were like family. How could he let them down? “They were begging for our services. So I upped the price.”

A loud cheer rose in the room.

While everyone was busy celebrating, Trevor slipped into his office. He kept the light off and the pulled the shade on the large glass door he’d made a habit of never closing. The rusty hinges creaked as he pushed it shut now. The latch clicked loudly, echoing through his dark hell.

He sat at his desk and stared at the closed door and then at the various projects strewn across his desk awaiting his approval. None of these small accounts paid enough to cover the expenses. They were peanuts.

Peanuts? That’s what had started the argument with the very sexy DJ Branson last night. A flicker of a memory. She’d said something about peanuts and he’d disagreed.

Trevor had never given a flip about peanuts before. He didn’t have a stand one way or the other on them.

She’d irritated him with that quick tongue of hers. That’s why he’d been so quick to lash out.

Liar.

She was smart and sexy and too full of herself. A woman like that needed to be brought down a peg.

Liar. Liar.

Trevor banged his head in frustration on the top of his oak desk. She was gorgeous. He’d felt a stirring of something deep in his chest when she’d sat next to him and started up a conversation. Her lips were moist and round. Her shapely leg had brushed against his, and his whole body had grown taut...anticipating.

Now that’s the truth. So why did I blow it?

“I didn’t just blow it, I struck out with a galactic-sized explosion. What in the hell is the matter with me?” He smacked his forehead against the desktop a couple more times. The pain seemed to ease his suffering.

“Excuse me,” an only too familiar voice said from the direction of the door—the door that should have remained securely shut. “If I’m interrupting I could come back later.”

Trevor slowly raised his head to meet the level gaze of Ms. DJ Branson. What a picture he must have made, banging his head on his desk in the dark while his employees celebrated wildly just on the other side of the door. If she didn’t already think him mad, she would now.

Trevor cleared his throat several times and then he jumped to his feet. “Ms. Branson, what can I do for you? I mean, I cannot apologize enough for my behavior last night. You must believe that I am usually more—what I mean to say is that I’m not generally—I’m much more—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Damn, are you going to let me babble like this all day?”

“If you wish to babble, who am I to stop you?” A gentle smile played at her lips. It quickly tightened into a grimace as she glanced around his office. Awards and large advertisements plastered the walls. She stepped fully into his office and closed the door behind her, leaving only a sliver of light to enter the room from around the blinds on the door.

It was quite dark.

And quiet.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice deepening to a velvet caress.

“Of course.” Trevor nearly dove across his desk to greet her properly and professionally. He reached out to take her hand but changed his mind. She might not want to be touched. Not by him. And he still didn’t know what she wanted to talk about. So instead, Trevor motioned to a leather chair.

“Please, Ms. Branson, take a seat,” he said and flipped on the overhead lights.

He started to drag his hand through his hair again but stopped himself. Too late. His hair was probably a mess by now. His nervous energy jumbled his professional demeanor, making him act like an idiot. He fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets. If she was here, he had a shot to salvage the relationship.

Which relationship? He asked himself. Business or personal?

* * *

Darla swallowed hard and told her heart to slow down. She’d nearly sounded breathless just then, and that wouldn’t do. Her stepfather was depending on her. She had to stay professional and ignore this strange attraction she felt toward this seemingly unhinged creative genius.

But he looked so adorably disheveled with his tie loosened, his hair mussed and standing on end, and a slight reddening of his forehead where he’d beaten himself against the desk.

“Ms. Branson,” he said and moved a chair closer to her. “Please take a seat and tell me what we so urgently need to discuss.”

“Call me Darla.” She studied the chair for a moment and decided it might be better, strategically, to stand.

His brows rose and a slight smile, perhaps one born from hope, brightened his expression. “I’m Trevor,” he said and thrust out his hand.

Darla curled her fingers around his and caressed the taut muscles crisscrossing the back of his hand. It was a strong hand. But she already knew that from the bar.

Scary thing was, a dark side of her liked her men strong like that. It made life exciting.

“We got off on a wrong foot,” he said in a dark tone that thrummed through her body.

“No, we didn’t,” Darla corrected. “We ended up on the wrong foot. That’s different. We were getting along so well until you picked a stupid fight. I’m wondering why?”

Well, this wasn’t the reason she was visiting his office, but after their fiery encounter last night had kept her from finding any rest she had a right to know why.

He wasn’t much taller than her. Perfectly matched in body type, she’d guess in other parts too. His scent, not really a cologne but a clean smell mixed with a pine forest. It made her slightly dizzy.

That must have been why she eased herself closer and lifted her head so she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “We’re well suited,” she said. “Both in powerful positions and understand the demands on the business world.”

“Um, huh...” His blue eyes grew darker, more intense as he watched her as if she were the only person in the world.

“And we’re attracted to each other.” She swallowed hard again. That darn lump in her throat burned like the hottest, most neglected lust. Because it was.

“More than attracted.” Trevor traced the line of her jaw. Shivers spiraled through her landing low in her belly. Oh, this guy might be slightly crazy, but he was the sexiest man Darla had ever encountered. His hands felt rough, coarse, like a workingman’s. But he was a genius. An artist. A shrewd businessman.

She shouldn’t trust such a seductive combination of charms in one man. She could lose her common sense...and maybe her heart.

Yet when his finger dragged across her lips, she opened her mouth and licked the tip of his nail.

Trevor groaned. With his eyes still trained on hers, he ran his hand up her short skirt, pausing at her upper thigh as if waiting for her to stop him.

Darla sighed and leaned against his chest. She didn’t want him to stop. This thing that had started between them had to be finished before they could talk business. Otherwise, the desire sparking between them would just keep on scorching the two of them and nothing would get done.

At least, that’s what her very business-like albeit fuzzy mind was whispering to her as she encouraged his hand to rove higher on her bare thigh.

His lips touched hers, tentatively at first, and then savored her with the hunger of a man who’d been starved of affection for a very long time. The intensity of the kiss threatened to overwhelm Darla. She clutched Trevor’s shoulders and pressed her body against his, discovering all his hard edges.

“Now this is how a man and woman should get along,” she whispered when he peeled his lips from hers just long enough for them to get a few good breaths of air. “You are so...so...” She kissed him, tasting the fresh scent on his breath and the lust pumping up from his body. He rocked his tight groin against hers while running a hand through her hair.

“Yes,” he said. “This is much better than arguing. I could almost find myself—”

He froze. Every muscle tightened up and he stumbled away from her. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and he bit his lower lip.

That same look had transformed his playful expression last night, right before his tongue had gone on the attack. His skin tone paled several shades and he looked, quite frankly, terrified. He took a few shallow breaths.

“What?” Darla asked. “What have I done?”

Trevor shook his head and took another step away from her. “It’s not you,” he finally got out.

“It’s not?” Darla had a hard time believing that. One moment they were on the verge of stripping in the middle of his office—not the most prudent course of action—and the next Trevor looked like he wanted nothing to do with her. Why shouldn’t Darla blame herself? Who else in the room could she blame?

“It’s...it’s just I’m not...” he whispered.

Oh boy, that was a lie. He was in spades. She’d felt him and still could see the outline of his erection as it strained the front of his pants. It certainly wasn’t a physical problem they were dealing with.

“You’re scared,” Darla said, deciding it best to state the obvious. “What are you scared of?” She closed the growing gap between them and took both his hands and smoothed the tight fists from them.

“I’m not...” A self-depreciating grin swept across his pursued lips. “I like you, Darla. But my track record with women...well, let’s just say there haven’t been any happy endings.”

“What?” Caution flared as Darla pictured all sorts of horrible scenarios. Serial killer images flashed through her mind. Which was silly. She shook them away. “What do you mean?”

He drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a relationship last for longer than a few dates. And then I meet you last night. I don’t know if it’s the pressure I’ve been under lately or what.”

Not much of an answer...and all Darla wanted to do was figure out how to get him to start kissing her again.

“I’m not looking for a lifelong commitment,” she said, hoping that would take the pressure off him.

“You don’t understand,” he said, pulling away from her again. “I looked into your eyes last night and saw a lifetime. For the first time in my life I saw a future with a woman...and liked what I saw.”

Darla found the air in the room too heavy to breath for a moment. He barely knew her and he wanted a lifetime? A lifetime was too long. She had her career and—

What else did she have other than her job? She’d long ago reduced her relationships to quick encounters that lasted no longer than a few weeks and then were neatly over.

It seemed Trevor had done the same too.

“The thought of just another quick fling—” He shrugged. “—I can’t do that anymore.”

The phone buzzed before Darla could think of how to respond. He was right, that kind of relationship didn’t fulfill her anymore either.

“Trev,” a man voice said over the intercom. “There’s a Mr. Parker James on line one asking for you. Says it’s important.”

“Thanks, George.” Trevor walked over to the phone. “I’ll just be a moment,” he said to Darla.

“Wait!” Darla couldn’t let him take that call. Parker James was the head of advertising at Tri-Core’s rival KTT. “We need to talk first.”

Trevor gave her a queer look and then pushed a button on the phone. “Take a message, George.”

“Sure thing, Trev.”

Trevor turned back to Darla then. His brows were creased and he looked pretty darn uncomfortable. “I didn’t think we had much more to say to each other. You probably believe I’m a loony.” He smiled then. “And I probably am.”

“Maybe I like my men slightly unbalanced,” Darla found herself saying before she could stop herself. “Anyhow, despite what happened, I didn’t come to your office to seduce you. I want to hire you to head up our ad campaign.”

“But I didn’t even show you—”

“Don’t need to,” she said quickly. She waved her arm toward the awards covering the walls. “Your reputation is good enough. I know your firm will do a superior job. Come back to my office so we can sign the paperwork.”

Trevor’s gaze narrowed. “Mr. James, Parker James works for KTT. Your rival. I wonder why he was calling me? Perhaps I should return his call first.”

Crap. She was going to lose him and his services.

“Don’t call him,” she whispered. “He wants you. He wants you to create an ad campaign that will make his new cell phone service more attractive than Tri-Core’s. We want you to make our service shine.” She straightened her shoulders and pushed away the tantalizing fantasy of a lasting relationship he’d woven around her. Business was business. “I’m willing to pay you handsomely for that service.”

“I don’t know...”

“You haven’t even heard my price. At least give me the courtesy of listening to what I have to offer.” Darla’s heart thumped ever stronger as the deal and her love life felt like they were both slipping away.

“We’d have to work closely for many months,” he said.

“Yes.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Not for me.” She’d love the chance to see him every day for the next several months. That would be the closest thing to a lasting relationship that she’d ever had. And then there might be other projects.

A future?

Her body hummed, delighted with the budding possibilities. “We’ll probably have to spend several late nights working together. Just you and me.”

Trevor closed his eyes and seemed to be considering what she was saying. Time clicked by. A lifetime of seconds, she’d wasted. Like him, this was something Darla wanted. She wanted a chance to share that future he saw when he looked into her eyes.

He blinked.

And then smiled.

“It sounds like we’ll need to draw up a long-term contract,” he said. “What do you say we discuss the relationship over dinner?”

Business or personal? It sounded like he was giving her both. Darla’s knees turned to jelly as she imagined just how heated the next several weeks—no, make that months—no, no, change that to lifetime—with Trevor, she was willing to try for a lifetime of take your breath away happiness.

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