Sidney Sheldon - Mistress of the Game

Lexi laughed.

“And you think it was Max? Come on! It’s a bit Mission: Impossible, isn’t it?”

August was silent for a few moments.

“Lexi,” he said at last. “Are you and Max an item?”

The red flush on Lexi’s cheeks was as much from anger as embarrassment.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question. Are you sleeping with him?”

Lexi stood up. “In what alternate universe would that possibly be your business?”

Furious, she turned and stormed out of the restaurant.

Who the hell does August Sandford think he is? My father?

August was about to call after her, then remembered that she wouldn’t be able to hear him. He got up and followed her into the street.

It was still snowing. Grabbing Lexi by the shoulder, August spun her around to face him. Only then did he realize that they were surrounded by snapping photographers. By this time tomorrow, the gossip columns would no doubt be touting him as Lexi Templeton’s new love interest.

“I think you’re in love with Max.” Having come this far, he might as well get it off his chest. “And I think it’s clouding your judgment. He’s using you, Lexi.”

Click click click.

Angrily, Lexi shrugged off his hand.

“If anyone’s judgment is clouded, it’s yours. You’re jealous. You’re jealous because Max and I…”

“What? Max and you what?”

At that moment John, the Harvard Club concierge, scurried out of the club like a groundhog. He forced his way through the knot of paparazzi, carrying Lexi’s coat over his arm. Stepping in front of August, he bundled Lexi into it.

“For heaven’s sake, Ms. Templeton. Leaving without your coat? You’ll freeze.”

“Thank you, John.”

Grimly, Lexi buttoned the cream wool up to the neck. With a last, furious look at August, she climbed into the back of her town car. The driver sped away, spraying the photographers with filthy, traffic-blackened snow.

Lexi stared through the smoked-glass windows, trying to collect her thoughts.

“Back to the office, miss?”

“Not yet, Wilfred. If you wouldn’t mind just driving around for a little bit.”

Damn August and his stupid suspicions! What does he know? She ran through everything he’d told her again. Max and Jim Bruton had fallen out over a deal. So what? It happened all the time. Max canceled a trip to Europe. That could have been for any number of reasons. Max was playing golf with board members. Hardly a hanging offense. Admittedly the Taiwan thing was weird. But Lexi was sure there must be a perfectly rational explanation.

What she wasn’t sure about was why she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease lurking in the pit of her stomach.

She still felt sick that evening when she got home to her apartment. Normally cooking and watching close-captioned reruns of Friends helped her to destress, but tonight nothing was working.

Changing into her pajamas and settling down on the couch with a family-size tub of Phish Food ice cream, Lexi decided to call her brother. Robbie always helped her put things into perspective, and for once he was actually in her time zone, playing a bunch of concerts in Pittsburgh. Thanks to Lexi’s new Geemarc screen phone, a brilliant invention that enabled her to speak normally into the telephone then have the other person’s speech translated into text in front of her, she was gradually starting to escape the tyranny of e-mail. (Kruger-Brent had made a bid for Geemarc last year but lost out to a German rival. The next morning Lexi had her broker buy as much of the acquirer’s stock as he could get hold of. Today those shares were worth three times what she paid and were still rising.)

There was no answer in Robbie’s hotel room. He must have left for the Mellon concert hall already.

Maybe I should call Max directly? Talk to him about this stuff. But there was no way she could do that without landing August in the shit. As angry as she was with August, the last thing Lexi wanted was to have him and Max getting into some sort of office feud. They’re the two people at Kruger-Brent I trust the most. I’ll need them both on my side when I become chairman.

A red light flashed on the wall above the TV. Someone was downstairs. Flicking on the video screen by the front door, Lexi saw a male figure, shoulders hunched against the wind. When she saw who it was, she smiled.

He never comes to the apartment. I wonder what he wants at this time of night?

Buzzing him up, she dashed into the bathroom and brushed some bronzer onto her cheeks. Africa had been roasting, but Lexi’s schedule had left her precious little time to tan. Traveling always made her look drained and washed out. In her hurry, she managed to spill bronzing powder all over the bathroom floor. She was still on her hands and knees cleaning up when Max walked in.

“Jesus, what happened in here? A sandstorm?”

Lexi stood up and kissed him on the cheek.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know. I was on my way home from dinner and I thought I’d stop in. But look, if you’re too tired…”

“No, no. It’s fine.” In a thick cable-knit sweater and jeans, he looked even more handsome than usual. August’s words floated back to Lexi. I think you’re in love with him.

“Drink?”

“I’ll have a Scotch, thanks.”

She went into the kitchen to fix it for him. A few moments later, she jumped out of her skin. Creeping up behind her, Max slipped two cold hands around her waist. Then, so gently Lexi could barely feel it, he dropped a kiss on the bare skin on the back of her neck.

Okay. Now, that’s a move. Surely that counts as a move?

Or does the neck thing make it brotherly?

Crap.

She turned. Max was looking at her, his predatory eyes wandering over her features, as if seeing them for the first time.

“You had lunch with August Sandford today.”

How did he know that?

“Yes.”

“Did he make a move on you?”

Lexi was so surprised, she burst out laughing.

“Is that a yes?” Max asked angrily.

“No, it’s not a yes! It’s a no. Of course he didn’t make a move. August doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Sure he thinks of you like that. Every man on earth thinks of you like that.”

Max took Lexi’s face in his hands and drew her toward him. Suddenly his lips were pressing hard against her own and his tongue was in her mouth, eager, hungry. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away. He looked angry.

“I don’t want you having lunch with him again.”

Lexi bridled. “Now wait just a minute. I don’t know where you think you get off telling me who I may or may not have lunch with. But if-”

Another kiss. This time Max’s icy hands slipped under Lexi’s shirt, grabbing hungrily at her breasts. All Lexi’s feminist instincts told her to push him away. But her groin seemed to have missed the Germaine Greer lecture. Instead of showing him curtly to the door, Lexi found herself pulling Max’s sweater over his head and fumbling for the belt buckle on his jeans.

Oh God. What was it August said about clouded judgment?

“I thought you weren’t attracted to me,” she murmured.

“You thought wrong.”

Yanking off Lexi’s pajama bottoms, Max carried her into the bedroom. Clothes from her Africa trip littered the bed, but Max didn’t bother to move them. Throwing her down on top of the mess, he spread her legs, bent his head low, and began to lick her, his tongue darting like an eel into the slippery wetness between her thighs. Lexi moaned. She felt her muscles tense and her back start to arch. Wriggling helplessly, she tried to move his head away. I mustn’t come too quickly. I mustn’t let him know how long I’ve wanted him. But it was no use. Lexi seemed to have no control over her body whatsoever. She bucked wildly as waves of pleasure coursed through her.