He winced.
Sophie.
He took a deep breath, glanced at his watch. Eight-forty. He should leave in five minutes. He prayed that Sophie hadn’t rushed off….
He looked down the hallway again, as furtive as a spy, then knocked softly on her door. Then knocked louder.
“Just a minute!”
She opened the door. She looked…well, wet, to be honest, her toffee-colored waves pulled back in a ponytail that emphasized the classic lines of her face. She was wearing glasses, cute wire-rims. She blinked at him as she put an earring in her ear.
“Hi,” he said, and without waiting for an invitation, he dashed into her room.
“Um, hi. I’m in a hurry….”
“I can’t find my phone,” he explained, looking around. She’d done the same thing as he had—dug into her bags for clothes—but otherwise everything was as is. Except for the clothes she’d stripped off last night, which were still in a trail that led to the bed.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it….
“Listen, about last night,” she said softly.
“No worries,” he interrupted. “Really. We were both tired, we weren’t really thinking, it just seemed like a good idea at the time….”
“That’s not it.”
He looked up, finally. She looked near tears.
He tried not to think about how hot she’d been. How very, very much he’d wanted her. How much he still wanted her, come to that. She was amazing, sweet and sexier than anybody he’d met in a long time.
“It’s not that bad,” he said. “You didn’t…”
Before he could say anything else, she flew at him, and he felt that hot, mobile mouth of hers against his. And whatever strange craziness had come over him last night was back again with a vengeance. It wasn’t a fluke…wasn’t because they were tired, wasn’t because they were punch-drunk and lonely.
She still wanted him.
His hands clutched at the small of her back, dragging her up against him…. Then he pulled away. What was he doing? He had a meeting in minutes, and so did she, and what were they doing?
Besides, you still don’t have a condom.
“I still want you,” she breathed. “I know the timing’s lousy, and it’s probably not anything either of us should do anything about, I mean we’re professionals, and…” She stopped. “I’m babbling.”
“You hate that,” he couldn’t help but point out, with a smile, thinking of last night.
“The thing is, I would still love to make love with you. I just thought you should know that.” She shrugged, the blush on her cheeks owing nothing to cosmetics.
He reached out and kissed her back, hard, gratifying in the sound of her low moan. “You don’t even know how much I still want to make love to you,” he ground out finally. “But you’re right. The timing, the…”
“It’s crazy,” she said with a shrug. “In fact, it’s stupid. But if I didn’t tell you…well. I didn’t want you to think that I regretted it, or that it was a mistake.”
He was torn. It was stupid, potentially career damaging. As one of the few men in a women-dominated profession, it was dangerous. And it was definitely unprofessional. It would get around. Hell, rumors of him sleeping with women, that were completely unfounded, still surfaced from time to time. And with his promotion coming up…
He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right—we can’t.”
She nodded, looking for a moment completely dejected. “I’ll help you find your phone.”
He saw it suddenly, a silver object, half-hidden by the thrown-back comforter on the bed. “Here it is.” He grabbed it and knew he should be out the door, with his briefcase, finding Simone. But the problem was he didn’t want to go.
“Have a good conference,” she said, echoing his earlier lame goodbye.
He wanted to kiss her…reassure her that neither of them had made a mistake. Or better, tell her to wait for him…that after her meeting and his, after whatever else they had to do today, he’d sneak over and they’d make love till morning, damn the conference, damn everything else.
But he wouldn’t do that. And she wouldn’t, either. And they both knew it.
He held out a hand. She stared at it for a moment, then shook it firmly.
“It was nice meeting you, Sophie Jones,” he said, and regret drowned every word.
Then he turned and headed out the door.
SOPHIE GLANCED AT HER WATCH, then glanced back at the empty stage. After all her fuss to make the morning meeting, she now discovered that the meeting itself had been canceled and replaced with a press conference. Sophie was a bundle of nervous energy, since Mrs. Marion had left a message for Sophie specifically to sit up front at the event.
This could be the announcement we’ve been waiting for.
She was surrounded by tons of people, all sitting at the various tables set up. Marion & Co. had appropriated the second-largest ballroom, and she would’ve wagered that everyone at the regional trade show had abandoned their various booths to hear what was being said. Well, okay, the big companies, anyway. All the trade reporters were milling around. She would be able to tell them apart by the hungry, searching look in their eyes, if not by their press badges. They didn’t get paid much, poor bastards, but they sure did work hard for the money.
She realized she was glancing around to see Mark. Not that you’re at all eager to see him, her mind ruthlessly taunted her. She’d thrown herself at him briefly this morning, when she’d gotten her wits about her. She’d been disconcerted by finding a man in her bed, after all this time—and the first thing on her mind was the Marion meeting.
If only that had been on your mind before you invited him to sleep over last night, you idiot.
It was strange. Normally, she was all business. But she’d taken one look at gorgeous, godlike Mark McMann, and most of her sharp-hewn common sense had taken a flying leap out the window.
She shook her head. It probably wouldn’t hurt her reputation all that much, all things considered, to sleep with a competitor, but obviously it bothered him. Enough for him to rescind his really wonderful, beautiful, sexy offer from the night before.
The offer that she still would’ve loved to take him up on.
She closed her eyes, squinched them shut. No, no, no. Just move on, will you?
She saw Lily Hunter, Mrs. Marion’s second in command, crossing the stage, and sat up. The people who were making all that noise quieted, and they looked up expectantly.
She heard someone approach, turned…and saw Mark, looking out of breath. He smiled at her, and her irritation suddenly melted.
He really is beautiful, she thought. In a purely masculine way. Like a carved fallen angel.
She frowned, then pulled out the little notepad that she always carried in its little leather binder. She jotted down: “Fallen Angel. Maybe a new perfume? Or add to the new line of eye shadows?”
He sat down next to her, looking curiously at her note, then at her.
She simply smiled. They weren’t supposed to know each other, but here they were. And it wasn’t as if they were wearing matching T-shirts that said I Almost Slept With and arrows pointing to each other.
She smiled at the image, and he smiled back, then they both turned to the stage, where Abigail Marion strode, looking like a queen clad in her caramel-colored Yves Saint Laurent suit. She had a smile on her face, the one that seemed to say “I know something you don’t know.”
Sophie glanced at Mark. She wondered if he knew what was going on, but he seemed puzzled…and a bit more annoyed, she noted.
She squelched a smug smile. Not as annoyed as you’re going to be when you find out that a tiny company like mine has poached a huge account from a big company like yours!
Sure, she might be in lust with the guy. But business was business.
“I’m glad that so many of you could make it to this announcement, on such short notice,” Mrs. Marion said, in a rich, cultured voice. “I am also glad that the Southwestern Cosmetics Trade Show management let us have the ballroom so we could make this brief statement.”
You could hear a pin drop. Someone coughed in the back of the room, and Sophie could’ve sworn she felt everyone wince in unison. They were all riveted.
“Marion & Co. has been fortunate enough to have enjoyed significant growth in revenue in the past few years, dealing in exclusive luxury items for the most discerning shoppers,” she said. “We only offer the best products from the absolute, most exclusive providers. We offer several select brands, only the finest. Cosmetics has been one such area.”
Now, Sophie thought she could feel the whole room hold its collective breath. She could barely breathe, herself.
“We would like to partner with a cosmetics company to create a new house cosmetics brand…a partnership brand, if you would. It would still retain the cosmetic company’s name, and have a distinct identity. But it would carry the weight of Marion & Co.’s seal of approval. The distinct sub brand would only be available at Marion & Co…but I don’t need to tell you all what sort of a boost this would be.”
There was a buzz of frenetic chatter after this, as the thrum of commentary followed. It would be more than a boost—it would be an absolute windfall for whatever lucky cosmetics company M&C partnered with.