Be Mine: Sizzle / Too Fast to Fall / Alone with You

He was staring at her blouse, and she looked down and saw that her nipples were pushing against the thin silk. She flushed and hunched her shoulders so her blouse wouldn’t be stretched so tight across her, but all she accomplished was to push her breasts together, deepening her cleavage and his confusion.

It also created more heat between her breasts, and the perfume started to sting.

“Is your hand burning?” she asked him, and he tore his eyes from her blouse.

“What? Uh, yes, a little.”

“They’ve made it too strong.” Emily drew a breath. “Way too strong.” She shifted in her chair and ran her fingertips into her blouse while Richard watched, fascinated.

“Are you all right?”

Emily bit her lip. “Oh, yes, sure.”

The stuff was really blazing now. She shifted uneasily in her chair.

“Emily?”

It was too much. She tore open the top buttons of her blouse and reached over the desk, ripping his pocket square from his suit jacket, giving him a brief glimpse of white lace stretched over full round breasts before she drenched his handkerchief in the water pitcher and plastered it on the fire on her skin.

When the burning eased, she said, “I am personally going to slaughter the folks in R & D.”

“Are you all right?”

She winced as she blotted the perfume off with the dripping cloth. “Almost. How’s your hand?”

“Not bad.” He flexed it a little. “Hardly noticeable, really.”

“It must be the heat, then.” She pulled away the cloth and examined the red patch on her skin. “Well, no scars, anyway.” She looked up to see him staring.

“No, it looks great,” he said.

She pulled her blouse shut. “Sorry about your pocket hankie.”

He finally gave up and laughed. “Anytime. Shall I send the bottle back?”

“No.” She picked up the bottle. “I want to deliver this personally.”

“My sympathies to R & D, then.”

She stopped, intrigued. “Why?”

He grinned at her ruefully. “Of all the people in this company, you’re the one I’d least want coming after me. You take no prisoners.”

“Good.” She smiled back. “Remember that.”

* * *

“LET’S GO TO LUNCH,” Chris said when she stormed into the lab. “My place.”

“Croswell, the perfume peels skin off. Fix it, or your job will be someone else’s.”

“What do you mean, peels skin off?”

“It burns. Didn’t you test this stuff?”

“Yes, of course, we did.” Chris took the bottle back. “On wrists and behind the ears. No problem.”

“Well, it’s a problem other places.”

“What other places?”

“Just fix it,” Emily snapped.

He shook his head. “You need to relax. Dump the twelfth floor and come out to dinner with me tonight.” He leered. “You can show me the other places.”

“You won’t be eating dinner, Croswell. You will be fixing the sizzle in that bottle.”

“Oh, come on, Emily,” he said, and then stopped, chilled by the look in her eye.

“I am not without power here,” she said coldly. “Do you believe I can have you fired?”

He thought about it. “Yes.”

“Do you believe I will have you fired if you do not fix that perfume and if you do not stop harassing me?”

He looked at her eyes. “Yes.”

“Then I suggest you get to work,” she said, then left, slamming the door behind her.

Jane followed her into the office when she got back.

“What did he do now?”

“Could I get somebody fired for harassment?”

“Richard?” Jane was shocked.

“No!” Emily said, outraged. “Of course not! It’s that idiot Croswell.”

“Thousands would cheer.” Jane sat down.

“Do I have that kind of power here?”

“Sure. Especially if Richard found out.”

“I don’t want him doing my dirty work.”

“What did Croswell do?”

“Nothing he hasn’t been doing for the past two years. I just finally broke today. I was so mad. I’m still so mad.”

“I can tell. Do you think he’ll stop?”

Emily thought about it. “Yes. He knows I’m serious, and he believes I can get rid of him.”

“You can. George’s bluster notwithstanding, the company doesn’t want to lose you.”

“It’s nice to know I’m valued.”

“You’re not.” Jane crossed her legs and looked confident. “They just know that if you go, I go, and then who’s going to run this place?”

“True.” Emily sat down. “Has advertising got the bottle prototype yet?”

“Should have it by tomorrow.” The phone rang and Jane moved to pick it up.

Emily stared out her window, and thought about how outraged she’d felt when Jane suggested that Richard was harassing her. He would never do that. He might not listen, but he would never deliberately use their personal relationship against her at the office. He had morals. He had ethics. He had—

“Laura’s on one,” Jane said, and Emily picked up the phone.

“What have you got?” she asked.

“Two possibilities. One’s a sure thing—big stars, big promotion, everything. It’s a glitzy caper movie, lots of designer labels, but very classy.”

“Sounds like we could get lost in the labels. What’s the other one?”

“This is a real gamble.” Laura paused. “There’s this kid from UCLA, shooting his first film. It’s about these two business types who become sexually obsessed with each other. And there is a scene where the woman gets dressed that would be perfect for the product.”

“Not if no one ever sees the movie.” Emily swung around in her chair to stare out the window. “How much for the big one?”

“You’re not going to like this,” Laura said, and named the figure.

“The whole damn movie couldn’t have cost that much,” Emily protested.

“Actually for these guys, it’s chicken feed. Do you want me to negotiate?”

“No.” Emily swung back to her desk. “They’ve put a watchdog on me here. I’d never get away with spending anywhere near that much. Tell me more about this kid.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll send you some scenes from the film. He really needs the money, so he’s cooperating. They’re shooting the scene where she gets dressed next week, so if you like the film, get a bottle of that stuff out here fast.”

“What’s his price?”

“He doesn’t have one. He’s trusting me to get him a good deal.”

“Which you will. So how much is the kid going to cost me?”

“See the film clips.” Laura’s voice purred with reasonableness. “Then we’ll talk.”

“The film is that good?”

“The film is that good.”

“Rush it out here, then,” Emily said. “And I’ll see if it does anything for me.”

After she’d hung up, Emily thought about the movie. A brand-new movie with a hot new director. Another Sex, Lies, and Videotape. They’d get free publicity for having had the forethought to find the newest breakthrough movie. If it was as hot as Laura said, and Laura didn’t make mistakes, this could be all they’d need to put Sizzle into the stratosphere.

Richard’s last memo had absolutely ruled out any possibility of product placement. She’d tried to explain again, but he hadn’t listened. Her lips tightened at the thought. He hadn’t listened.

She buzzed Jane.

“I’m expecting a videotape from Laura tomorrow. Whatever you do, make sure Richard doesn’t see it.”

“Gotcha,” Jane said. “What is it? A dirty movie?”

“If we’re lucky,” Emily said.

The film arrived the next day, but it was after five before Emily had a chance to look at it. Richard had also ruled out buying rubies, so she’d been searching for loose stones to rent, which was almost impossible. At five-thirty she gave up and ran for the elevator. When the doors opened, Richard was the only one inside.

“Did you find any rubies to rent?” He smiled at her, and she ignored him. I’ve had a lousy day trying to solve the hopeless problem you created for me. There’s not enough charm in the world, she thought.

After a few moments, he tried again.

“A dirty movie?” He gestured at the videotape in her hand.

“I don’t know.” She tried to shove it into her pocket. “An old friend sent it to me. I’m going to rent a VCR and find out.”

“I have a VCR. Come home with me. We’ll get a pizza and watch your tape.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t even know what’s on it.”

“Then we can find out together.” Richard took her arm and walked her to the street, hailed a cab and put her into it. He gave the cabby his address and then climbed in beside her.

“What do you want on your pizza?” Richard asked.

“I have a choice?” Emily said.

* * *

RICHARD’S APARTMENT WAS surprising. It was as neat as she’d expected, but instead of the grim glass-and-steel decor she’d visualized for him, it was leather and brass, rich and masculine, but still warm.

“This place is great,” she said, and he smiled at her, pleased.

“I’ll open some wine.” He pulled a bottle from a well-stocked wine rack. “Then we can order the pizza.”

Emily moved to stop him. “Really, don’t go to any trouble. I just need to see a little of the tape, and then I’ll go.”

He eased the cork out of the bottle and poured the wine into two glasses he took from an overhead rack.

“No trouble.” He handed her a glass and lifted his in a toast. “To Sizzle.”

Emily sighed. “To Sizzle,” she echoed, and drank while he watched to see if she liked it. The wine was full-bodied and tart, and she drank again. “This is wonderful,” she said, and he smiled at her, relieved, and refilled her glass as she protested.

“No, really. I won’t be able to see the tape. Where’s your VCR?”

“This way.” He led her through double doors off the living room.

The first thing she saw was his big brass bed, a riot of curling, twisting, gleaming metal. “It’s beautiful,” she said, staring at it. He’d covered it with a thick white down comforter, and she had a brief vision of herself stretched across it while...

“It was my grandmother’s.” His eyes met hers and she had a fleeting thought he might have been thinking the same thing that she had been.

Stop fantasizing, she told herself.

Richard went to a tall cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the doors to reveal a large TV and VCR unit. He slipped in the tape and turned on the TV.

“You’ll have to sit on the bed,” he said, turning back to her. “I don’t have any chairs in here. Unless you’d like a stool from the kitchen?”

“No, the bed’s fine.” Emily perched primly on the edge.

Richard punched the play button, looked at her uncertainly for a moment then left her.

A clapper appeared on the screen with the scene number, and then it was pulled away. A man and a woman stood facing each other, dark and slender, dressed conservatively, talking about a business deal they were working on. Then the woman smiled and said, “This isn’t what this is all about.” She kissed him slowly, and the scene exploded with eroticism as they undressed each other and made love. Emily forgot she was in Richard’s bedroom and sat mesmerized by the tape, drinking slowly from her wineglass and becoming more and more flushed as the couple on the screen became more and more passionate. It was the most erotic love scene she’d ever seen.

The next scene began, a chase scene through what looked like San Francisco, and Emily tore her eyes away from the set. Richard had come back and was watching her, and she suddenly became conscious of how flushed she was and how fast she was breathing. She put down her glass and got up from the bed.

“Well,” she said, then stopped. He, too, had put his glass down and was coming toward her. “Uh, Richard,” she began, and he put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I don’t think so,” she said, and he kissed her, his lips soft but firm on hers, holding her against him while she drowned in his kiss.

When she came up for air, she was reeling. “Wait a minute,” she gasped, and he kissed her again, running his hands across her back, pulling her hard against him. She shoved him away.

“You never listen,” she said.

He stopped and said, “I’m sorry,” and tried to get his breath back, looking at her with a dizziness compounded equally from lust and adoration. He looks great when he’s dizzy, she thought. I’m dizzy, too. What am I doing?

Then he touched her and said “I’m sorry” again, and she gave up and said, “That’s good enough for me.” She moved against him, running her hands across his chest and up and around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers, kissing him hard, biting him on the lip. He kissed her back and then pulled his face away from hers and picked her up, dropping her into the middle of the thick white comforter and rolling onto it beside her. He kissed her neck, then the hollow of her throat, and then the warm place between her breasts, while she ran her fingernails over his back through his shirt. His lips left a trail of heat on her skin.

“Sizzle,” she said, and laughed, and he did, too, and kissed her again.

She felt the heat flow into her bone-deep, felt the sizzle everywhere he touched her, and she rolled as close as she could to him to feel his body hard next to hers.

He unbuttoned her blouse, kissing the tops of her breasts above the lacy bra and making her shiver while he slid his hands beneath her back to find her bra clasp.

“It’s in front,” she whispered, but he still ran his fingers along her back. “Richard, the hook is in front.”

“What?” he murmured into her ear, not listening.

She closed her eyes in irritation, but then he moved his tongue into her ear, and the sizzle down her spine made her forget her irritation. She unhooked her bra herself and then unbuttoned his shirt and ran her tongue over the hard muscles of his chest, and when he finally pulled her bra off, she rolled into him, relishing the heat of their bodies against each other.

He pushed her back gently. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time,” he said, and bent over her, touching her nipples lightly with his tongue, first one then the other, finally sinking his mouth over her breast and sucking until she cried and twisted in his arms, the heat and need so great she had to move against him, hard against his mouth and hands, because he felt so impossibly good wherever he touched her. He moved his mouth to her other breast and tormented her until she was almost unconscious with lust for him. Then he slid his hand under her skirt to stroke the smooth silk between her legs.

Any thought Emily might still have cherished of saying no disappeared. She writhed under his hand and reached for him, stroking down across his stomach with her hand until she felt him hard beneath the fabric of his clothing. She pressed against him, and he moaned and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

When he moved his mouth to her throat, she gasped, “Richard, I—”

“Not now,” he said, and moved his hand down her body.

Not now? Emily felt herself grow even hotter from anger. Not now? Who the hell did he think he was?

He pushed his hand into her panties and then slid his fingers into her, and she forgot she cared who he was and moaned at the sheer tormenting ecstasy of his hand.

His doorbell rang.

“Make love to me now,” she said to him. She crawled on top of him, pushing herself down on his hand. “I can’t believe how much I want you.”

“Wait.” He moved his hand away. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is. I’ll be back.”

“No,” she said, trying to hold on to him, but he slid out from under her, kissing her breast as he went and leaving her gasping on the bed. After a few minutes, she pulled herself up and saw herself in the mirror at the foot of the bed. Her French twist had loosened, her eyes were half-closed with lust and her mouth was bruised from his. She was naked to the waist, flushed with need for him.

And he was in the living room, talking to someone.

“I don’t believe this,” she muttered. She slipped off the bed, put her bra and blouse back on and tucked her hair back into some kind of order. Then she ejected the tape from the VCR and went into the living room.

He was standing at the door talking to George, whose eyes went wide when he saw her.

“Thanks for letting me use the VCR,” she said, pulling on her coat. “See you tomorrow.” She ducked around them both and walked rapidly toward the elevator. The doors slid open at once, and she got in.

I can’t believe I did that, she thought. I can’t believe I almost did that. With Richard Parker. Who is beautiful, but sort of cold. Only he wasn’t cold tonight. Oh, my God, she thought. I really want him. She leaned back against the wall of the elevator and thought about how wonderful making love with him would have been. Except that he had to answer the damn door. She’d said no, don’t, but he knew best. He didn’t listen. The hell with him.

She caught a cab home and then dreamed of him all night, making love to her to the sound of doorbells.

* * *

“AND WHAT DID WE DO that was so special yesterday?” Jane asked archly.

“I had a bad night,” Emily snapped. “Say what you mean.”

“Three dozen roses in a crystal vase on your desk. Here’s the card. It’s sealed so I couldn’t read it. You will, of course, show it to me because it would be too cruel of you not to.”

The card read, “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Richard.”

“Fat chance.” Emily dropped the card into the wastebasket. She handed Jane the videotape. “Watch this tonight and see what you think. For product placement.”

Jane promptly fished the card out of the wastebasket and followed her into the office as she read it.

“Richard, huh? What did he do?”

“It’s what he didn’t do.” The roses were lovely. She handed them to Jane. “Send these back to him.”

“Boy, he must have really screwed up,” Jane said, taking the vase.

Jane buzzed her twenty minutes later. “The Hun is on line three. Be gentle with him.”

“Ha.” Emily punched three. “Yes?”

“Emily, I’m sorry about last night.”

“You should be.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Not even with rubies. Any man who would leave me for George—”

“I just wanted to get rid of him so we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

“And when the Girl Scouts came selling cookies, you’d talk to them, too. And Jehovah’s Witnesses, and some guy working his way through college by selling encyclopedias.”

She heard a faint buzz, and he swore. “Hold on a second,” he said. “I’ve got another call.” And the line fell silent.

Emily clutched the receiver in a death grip and then carefully returned it to the cradle.

Jane opened the door. “I saw the light go out. What happened?”

“He put me on hold.”

Jane swallowed. “Oh, boy.”

“The lousy son of a bitch put me on hold.”

Jane went out, closing the door behind her.

Emily stared straight ahead, rigid with anger.

Jane buzzed her again. “Richard on two.”

Emily picked up the phone.

“Emily, I...”

“Don’t you ever put me on hold again.”

“Jane said that was a mistake,” he said ruefully. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t make it up to me. Not with dinners, not with roses, not with rubies. You are a controlling, cost-effective, power-mad, anal-retentive, deaf son of a bitch!” She ended on what from a lesser woman would have been a shriek and slammed the phone down. Then she buzzed Jane.

“I am not taking any calls from Richard Parker no matter what he has to say. If he wants to communicate with me, tell him to send a memo.”

“Right,” Jane said.

* * *

“MEETING IN THE conference room at five,” Jane said as Emily got ready to leave that night.

“What?”

“Memo just in from George’s office.” Jane handed it to her.

Emily groaned and crumpled the memo. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Well, you can as soon as you’ve done the executive bit.”

“I wish I was a secretary.”

“No, you don’t.” Jane put her coat on. “You’re a terrible typist. You’d starve. See you tomorrow.”

Emily kicked off her shoes and sat in the gloom of her office. I’m so tired, she thought. And my panty hose are driving me nuts. I hate panty hose. They’re an invention of the devil. I’m never wearing them again. She took them off as a gesture of independence and threw them away. There was a run in one leg, anyway.

Instantly she felt better, cooler. She leaned back in her chair and spread her legs apart to cool them, reveling in the relief from the scratchy heat of the hose. It reminded her of other ways of feeling good. It reminded her that she was still so frustrated from the night before she wanted to kill.

It reminded her she still wanted Richard.

No, she didn’t. She was going to forget him and go home.

She looked at the clock. Five-fifteen. Damn.

She slipped her bare feet into her heels and went down the hall to the conference room.

“George?” It was dark in the room, and as the door swung behind her she bumped into him, tall and broad and muscular.

Not George.

Richard.

CHAPTER FOUR

“OH, NO.” EMILY turned to leave, but his arms went around her from behind, pulling her gently back against him as he buried kisses in the side of her neck.

“No doorbells this time,” he whispered. “I swear.”

She felt dizzy with the sudden heat he stirred in her.

No, she thought, fighting it. No way.

She kicked back at him with her heel, and he said, “Ouch!” but he didn’t let go.

Emily meant to say no. She knew she could pull away easily, that he wouldn’t stop her. But his mouth was so teasingly gentle on her skin, and he was so hard against her, and finally she just wanted him so much. She gave up and turned and found his mouth in the dark and licked his lips, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as she thrust her hips against his. She heard him gasp and felt his body shudder under her assault, and then he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the conference table, moving his body between her legs. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tight against her as his fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. She tried to undo his shirt, but he was leaning down to her breasts, running his tongue across her.

Then she heard voices in the hall. The cleaners.

“Not again,” Emily said.

And Richard said, “No. Nothing stops us this time.” He pulled away from her and slid his hand under her skirt to pull off her bikini panties.

“You put me on hold again, and it will be the last time you ever touch me,” Emily said with blood in her voice.

“If I have to, I’ll make love to you while the cleaners watch,” Richard said, and she lifted her hips to help him slide her panties off.

“I wish I could see you,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, but it’s too damn dark in here.” His hand slid between her legs, and he stroked her there, tormenting her, kissing her shoulders and neck, until she laced her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers.

When he stopped, she said, “No, don’t stop,” and tried to pull him back to her, but he kissed her and pulled her to the edge of the table. She realized that he was fumbling with a condom and she laughed until he slid hard into her with a suddenness that made her cry out. His hands, clamped on her hips, pulled her to him again and again, and he leaned into her each time, to stroke as deeply as he could, building the heat and pressure in her until she cried out and twisted in his arms, and he drove harder and faster to spur her to explode again and again until she collapsed in his arms and lay there shuddering, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

Someone knocked on the door. “Anybody in there?”

“I promise,” he whispered to her, and picked her up off the table by wrapping an arm around her. He backed up until he felt a door behind him. She unwound herself from him to stand beside him, and he opened the door and pulled her inside, closing the door after them. He heard it click shut just as the cleaner turned on the light in the conference room.