Calculated Risk (15 page)

Although the video clips would have an
airtime of less than five minutes, the taping lasted close to six
hours. Tempers flared, both in front and in back of the cameras;
demands and insults were traded in heated anxiety. And Quintin was
chagrined to learn that Stephanie Brandt could war with the best of
them.

“This was not the way I had planned to
spend our last day together,” Stevie grumbled for the tenth time.
They had no sooner returned to her house than Quintin had to leave.
“I’m sorry.” How ineffectual those words sounded.

He studied her forlorn expression. “I
really enjoyed it. Honest.” His hand lifted her chin. “Damn it, but
I don’t want to leave you.” Quintin stared into her eyes, his
fingers cupping her face. “I don’t think I can.”

Her knuckles caressed his strong jaw.
“No…Rob will be home in twenty minutes and you’ve to be there for
your son. He needs you as much as I do.”

“If he ever finds out –“

She pressed her fingers to his lips.
“That’s why you must go home and act perfectly normal. Tell him you
spent all weekend working on that clinic project. I’m…I’m going to
make sure that I’m out of the office when he comes to work, and
maybe in time this silly schoolboy crush will
disappear.”

His heavy sigh was in agreement with
her comment. “When can I see you tomorrow?” Came his impatient
request.

Stevie smiled, lashes fluttering
provocatively. “I know I’m scheduled for a dinner meeting tomorrow
that will run very late, but…are you free for lunch
tomorrow?”

“I’ll make damn sure I am.” His hand
curved possessively around her neck, fingers sinking into the
opulent auburn curls. His mouth claimed hers in a slow, lingering
kiss that they both knew would have to last all through the
night.

Chapter 8

“Papa Ward is on line one,” Gloria
announced over the telephone intercom, her voice raspy and brittle.
Clearing her throat, she added, “He’s been waiting impatiently all
the while you were on that conference call.”

“Thanks.” Stevie punched in the line.
“Good morning…I missed you last night.”

“Not half as much as I missed you,”
Quintin returned. “I tried calling you early this morning but all I
got was your machine.” His silky deep voice teased her ear. “I left
a very risqué message on it.”

“I’ll replay it all night long. I had a
conference call coming in at six a.m. from New York. We’ve been
having a lot of trouble with the record and tape pirates and I had
a nasty little go-around about doubling security with a
distributor.”

“Stevie, I said it before and I’ll keep
on saying it – you are incredible,” came his humble response. “As a
matter of fact, I find your business prowess very
exciting.”

“Quintin,” she purred, “you’re making
me blush…among other things.”

“Just the sound of your voice is doing
delicious things to me. I’m having a problem just sitting…what time
is lunch?” His voice was low and urgent.

She deliberated for a moment, then took
a deep breath. “Quint, would you mind meeting me at the Hunt Room
in the Radisson Plaza? I’ve got an outside appointment right around
the corner, and that way, if my meeting runs late, I won’t have to
waste time driving back here.”

“Hunt Room? Very elegant. What
time?”

“Twelve thirty.”

“Perfect. I love you, Stevie, and …oh,
damn…my other line is ringing and my secretary’s not there. See you
later.”

Leaning back in her swivel chair,
Stevie surveyed her outfit. The business suit was of traditional
gray flannel, the skirt slim with a snappy side pleat, the jacket
expertly tailored with mandarin collar and silver buttons; the
long-sleeved tailored blouse was a swirling mix of white and
gray.

Hidden beneath the
monochromatic efficiency was a cherished secret of seductive
lingerie. The satiny flower-strewn chemise and matching lace tanga
bikini made Stevie feel giddily romantic.
Romantic
– a smile curved mauve
tinted lips – yes, that was the word. She discovered that her
femininity blossomed in the romance that invaded her previously
work-oriented world.

Under Quintin’s patient tutelage, her
sexual confidence increased and she was more in touch with her body
– it’s wants and needs. She had never dreamed she possessed such
desires and responses. He made her feel so special, so valuable, so
safe and so beautiful; and she felt encouraged to demonstrate the
results.

She hadn’t really read any
women’s magazines in the longest time, but feasted on
Cosmo
instead of the
newspaper last night. A lot of intimate pointers and great articles
including one that said men were tremendously excited by women who
took the sexual initiative. And since she had reaped the rewards of
that yesterday, Stevie decided to plan a very special lunch for
today.

In between her business decisions, she
mentally focused on Quintin and – lunch. While that had overtones
of assertiveness, she felt that her feminine side would surface and
help erase from Quintin’s mind the fiasco at the taping. Stevie’s
nose wrinkled in remembered disgust at the crude display of tempers
in the recording studio.

What had happened to her patient,
unflappable attitude? She had been so upset to have her time with
Quint shortened that she had abandoned it and wallowed in rather
vulgar vocal mud along with the male engineers and artists. True,
there had been the need of getting her point across and quickly
moving the project to completion, but her unladylike behavior was
not something she was proud of. And she was extremely conscious of
the fact that Quintin had heard and seen her at her
worst.

Stevie was determined to
erase those bad impressions and present a much softer and more
womanly side of herself to Quintin. Rubbing her hands in giddy
anticipation, she redirected her attention to the file box
marked
For Your
Signature
. Twenty minutes later, her
fingers flexing from writer’s cramp, Stevie placed the empty folder
on Gloria’s desk. “All done and in my
Out
basket. I even sealed the
envelopes.” Her amiable grin faded. “Say, are you all right? You
look…flushed.”

Gloria cleared her throat. “It’s this
red dress.” She coughed and cleared her throat again. “I’m
fine.”

“You are not fine.” Stevie felt the
older woman’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.” She reached over and
switched the monitor off. “Go home.”

“I can’t.” The monitor was punched back
on. “Do you see this steno book? It’s filled with letters that need
transcribing; all those rejected tapes need to be packed up and
sent with the appropriate ‘thanks but no thanks’ notes and –“ she
interrupted her own protest with a spasm of coughing.

Stevie reached over, pressed a few apps
on the touch-screen computer and turned it all off. “Call that temp
service we’ve used a couple of times and see if you can get someone
in here that knows a CD from a DVD. Then go home, have some chicken
soup, that new flu medicine, and be back here on
Monday.”

“I can’t be gone a whole week,” Gloria
protested. “you’re too busy and –“

“Either take the week off or you’re
fired.” Stevie responded with an easy smile. “Listen, lady, you are
too important around here. I need you healthy to man the helm;
remember, I leave for LA on Saturday morning.”

“If you put it that way…” Gloria’s blue
eyes blinked a watery thank-you behind her bifocals. Her fingers
swiftly hunted through the Rolodex for the temporary services’
number. “Have you made any changes in your schedule?”

“Lunch might run a tad long,” came her
insouciant comment.

“Like that, huh.”

“Hmmm…”

***

“Good afternoon, sir.”

Quintin nodded to the maître d’ who
presided over the Hunt Room. “I’m to meet Miss Stephanie Brandt for
lunch.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Ward…this is for
you.”

Brown eyes bleakly
contemplated the sealed white envelope. Quintin retired behind a
potted palm, dreading to read that lunch had been canceled.
Well
, he mentally
chastised his slowly deflating ego,
one of
the things you love most about her is her business savvy and
dedication to her career and clients.

He didn’t consider Stevie’s work a
rival. He wanted their life together to be a true fifty-fifty
proposition and knew that equality and flexibility would be of
utmost importance. So right now, while his commitments were light
and hers were heavy, Quintin acknowledged that he’d be the one
making allowances.

He ripped the seal on the ivory
watermark bond. The note inside bore only three notations: Room 333
– S. Perplexed, Quintin followed the instructions. He walked out of
the restaurant, through the lobby of the hotel and into an elevator
that whisked him to the third floor.

He gave a gentle rap on the hotel room
door, hoping he wasn’t interrupting crucial client negotiations.
The door opened; familiar hazel eyes examined him and a hand snaked
out to pull him inside. “What the –“

“Hi!” Stevie wrapped her arms around
his neck, her scantily covered curves pressing against his rugged
frame.

A blunt forefinger lifted her chin.
“And here I thought I was being stood up for a business meeting.”
His eyes radiated delight. “But I can see you’re hardly dressed for
business.” Quintin’s hand flowed over the posy-strewn satin, coming
to rest under the chemise’s waist-high slit.

“I am dressed for a meeting,” she
teased, as her fingernails drew erotic squiggles amid the dark
waves that hugged the back of his head. Her glittering eyes looked
deeply into his, her voice low and whispery. “Last night, while I
was wallowing in the tub, my thoughts centered totally on you.” Her
lashes fluttered provocatively. “I realized that I had never seen
you covered with bubbles. So I decided to create a romantic
luncheon rendezvous.”

Stevie took Quintin’s hand and led him
past the outer living-room area, into and through a mammoth
bedroom, to the bathroom. “We like to use this suite to put up our
out-of-town clients because it has such a nice luxurious perk.” She
nodded toward a garden of thriving greenery that framed a
Roman-style sunken tub. The blue marble-tiled fixture was frothy
with bubbling white suds that owed their vitality to pulsating
jets. A nearby tray held an ice-filled dish heavy with giant sea
prawns, two glasses and a split of champagne. “What do you
think?”

Quintin’s fingers drifted across her
bare shoulders to slide the thin lingerie straps down her arms. “I
think we’re both overdressed.” The slinky lace chemise slithered to
the floor, leaving her clad in the tiniest of lace
panties.

“Speaking of overdressed …” came her
teasing rejoinder. “Efficient hands removed his overcoat and suit
jacket, along with his gray tie. She took longer with this blue
shirt, bestowing a warm kiss against his broad chest after each
button was undone.

With a low groan, he halted her
progress, pulling her into his arms. She wiggled provocatively, her
full breasts harassing the curly mat of hair that covered his
sinewy torso.

“Last night seemed endless without you
–“ his cheek rubbed against hers while his hands curved around the
bare skin of her derriere that was exposed by the lacy thong. “—and
then when I thought lunch was going to be canceled…” his tongue
slashed apart her lips, his mouth conquering their glossy ripeness
with hungry ardor.

The satisfied moan in Stevie’s throat
was consumed by Quintin. Their lips and tongues enjoyed a feverish,
intimate duel that left them breathless and glowing with
anticipation.

“I’ve been absolutely giddy about doing
this all morning,” Stevie confessed, her voice husky with desire.
She fumbled with the buckle on his belt, released the hook and
lowered the zipper; his gray slacks collapsed on the tile. Shoes
and socks were quickly dispatched and they stood facing each other
in their briefs.

Quintin stroked her body, his hands
filling with her full breasts before moving along the taut skin of
her stomach. As his fingers encountered and rolled down the little
bit of lace that were her panties, her thumbs hooked into the
waistband of his navy briefs. Together they eliminated the last
vestiges of their manmade trappings and stepped into a sudsy
hedonistic environment.

“I was right.” Stevie smeared creamy
foam over his chest. “You look even more masculine covered in
bubbles.”

“And you –“ he dotted each rosy nipple
with lather “—look even more delicious.” They moved to sit on the
tub’s lowest step, wallowing in the luxury of the swirling water.
“This was a wonderful idea,” Quintin sighed, his right leg looping
over hers as they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m glad you approve.” Stevie reached
for a shrimp, dipping the tender pink meat into a container of
lemoned cocktail sauce. “I did promise you lunch.”

His even white teeth bit into the
chilled delicacy, his eyes widening at the potency of the
horseradish-laden topping. “Wow!” Quintin’s eyelids tried to
disperse the tears.