ecause it invariably worked with females, he tried the smile again. "Look, I've already apologized countless times, but I'm willing to do it again. I had no business seeing Bess, ah, Mrs. Turner, much less sleeping with her, while you and I were involved. There's no excuse for it."
"We agree. Good-bye."
"Kate." His eyes stayed on hers, his voice flowing, just the way she remembered it had when she had moved under him, climbing toward climax. "I want to make things right with you. At least make peace with you."
She cocked her head, considered. There was right and there was wrong. There were ethics and there was the lack of them. "No."
"Damn it." With his first sign of temper, he stood up from the desk, the movement jerky and abrupt. "I was a son of a bitch. I let sex and ambition get in the way of what was a good, satisfying relationship."
"You're absolutely right," she agreed. "And you didn't know me well the first time around if you have any hope that I'd let you repeat the performance."
"I stopped seeing Bess months ago, on a personal level."
"Oh, well, then." Leaning back in her chair, Kate enjoyed a good, rolling laugh. "Jesus Christ, you're a case, Roger. You think because you've cleared the field, I'm going to suit up and jump into the game? We're associates," she told him, "and that's all. I'm never going to make the mistake of getting involved with someone at work again, and I'm never—repeat, never—going to give you another shot."
His mouth thinned. "You're afraid to see me outside the office. Afraid because you'd remember how good we were together."
She had to sigh. "Roger, we weren't that good. My appraisal would put us at adequate. Let's just close the books on this one." In the interest of sanity, she rose, held out her hand. "You want to put it behind us, let's. No hard feelings."
Intrigued, he studied her hand, then her face. "No hard feelings?"
No feelings at all, she thought, but decided not to say it. "Fresh sheet," she said. "We're colleagues, marginally friendly. And you'll stop pestering me about having dinner or taking trips to the West Indies."
He took her hand. "I've missed you, Kate. Missed touching you. All right," he said quickly when he saw her eyes narrow, "if that's the best I can do, I'll take it. I appreciate your accepting my apology."
"Fine." Struggling to be patient, she tugged her hand away. "Now I've got work to do."
"I'm glad we worked this out." He was smiling again as he walked to the door.
"Yeah, right," she muttered. She didn't slam the door behind him. That would have indicated too much emotion. She didn't want Roger the slime Thornhill, to get the idea there was any emotion inside her where he was concerned.
But she did close the door, quietly, purposefully, before sitting back down at her desk. She took out a bottle of Mylanta, sighed a little, and chugged.
He had hurt her. It was demoralizing to remember just how much he had hurt her. She hadn't been in love with him, but with a little more time, a little more effort, she could have been. They had had the common ground of their work, which she believed could have served as a strong foundation for more.
She had cared for him, and trusted him, and enjoyed him.
And he had used her ruthlessly to steal one of her biggest clients. That was almost worse than discovering he'd been jumping from her bed to her client's bed and back again.
Kate took another swig from the bottle before recapping it. She had, at the time, considered going to Larry Bittle with a formal complaint. But her pride had outweighed whatever satisfaction she might have gleaned from that.
The client was satisfied, and that was the bottom line at Bittle. Roger would have lost some ground, certainly, if she'd filed a complaint. Others in the office would have distrusted him, pulled back from him.
And she would have looked like the whining, betrayed female, sniveling because she had mixed sex and business and had lost.
Better that she'd kept it to herself, Kate decided and put the
Mylanta back in her drawer. Better that she'd been able to say, straight to his face, that she had put the whole incident behind her.
Even if it was a lie, even if she would detest him for the rest of her life.
With a shrug, she recalled her data. Better by far to avoid slick, smart, gorgeous men with more ambition than heart. Better, much better, to stay in the fast lane on the career track and avoid any and all distractions. Partnership was waiting, with all the success it entailed.
When she had that partnership, had climbed to that next rung, she would have earned it. And maybe, she thought, just maybe, when she reached that level of success, she would be able to prove to herself that she was not her father's daughter.
She smiled a little as she began to run figures. Stick with numbers, pal, she reminded herself. They never lie.
Chapter Three