He nodded. “No. It is not.” His hand tightened on hers. Slowly, he drew her toward him. “So we need one last thing beyond the handshake.”
She read his intention in his eyes but it was too late. A second later, his arms were hard around her and his mouth was on hers.
Her hands came up. She fisted them against his chest.
He gathered her closer.
Warmth cascaded through her blood.
Desire blossomed in her breasts, her belly.
She rose to him, leaned against him, gave him her mouth.
An eternity later, he raised his head. Her eyes opened, looked into the infinite night of his.
“We agreed.” Her voice shook; she hated herself for it. “No personal—”
“We did. But I never walk away from unfinished business.” His heartbeat was rocketing but it meant nothing. Why would it? The only thing special about this woman was her list of skills. “I kissed you. You kissed me. And now, now what happened is over. It is finito.”
The phone rang. Marco let go of her and reached for it. “Frederica,” he said pleasantly, “how are you? Yes, I was going to call you…” Talking, smiling, he looked over at Emily and gave an imperious wave of the hand.
Dismissal, pure and simple. Such arrogance! She could almost feel her blood pressure rise.
“No,” he said into the phone, “this is a fine time to call. I was just ending a conversation with an employee.”
Not just dismissal. Dismissive dismissal, and never mind the stupid redundancy. Better that than the four letter words flooding her brain, especially when she never used four letter words. Well, hardly ever. As for foreign curses—they didn’t count.
The man brought out the worst in her. But he was going to lift her out of poverty. Six months. If she couldn’t tolerate him after that, goodbye and good luck.
“So, how have you been, Frederica?”
Emily turned her back, marched from the office and closed the door behind her, although “closed” was too benign a description for a door she slammed hard enough to make her wince.
Someday, she thought grimly, someday Mr. Arrogance would go too far. Somebody would leave his office and shut the door hard enough so that it fell off its hinges.
On the other side of that door, Marco jumped at the cannon-like bang of wood against wood.
He sank into the chair behind his desk.
“Sorry, Jane. No, I realize now that it’s you. We, uh, we must have had a poor connection.”
Had he come to a decision about Emily Madison? Jane Barnett wanted to know.
“I have,” he said.
And wished to hell he understood what, exactly, it was that he had decided.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The apartment was empty. Nola had left a note propped up on the kitchen counter.
Had to leave right away. Not to worry. Rent paid. Will keep in touch. XOXOXO
Emily sighed and put the note down. She’d send her share of the rent to Nola as soon as she received her first paycheck. Right now, she had things to do. Leave a message for the silent-movie buffs, telling them that she wouldn’t be available if they needed her. Locate her passport. Pack. Yes, but what did you pack for a trip to Paris?
Paris? Had she actually agreed to accompany Marco to Paris? Maybe the better question was, had she actually agreed to work for him?
He was going to pay her a lot of money.