Donna Hill - Deception

Terri frowned. The cynicism of the remark grated on her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“All it means is what I said. You’d…do…just…fine.” His jaw clenched.

“Is everything all right, Mark? You seem…”

“Listen.” He sighed. “I apologize.” He fingered the collar of his shirt and looked away. “I’m just a little tired—the pressure. That’s all.”

Terri noticed his nervous gesture. “Pressure never seemed to bother you before.”

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” he snapped, his expression growing hard. “Have you had a chance to go over the Hightower proposal again?” he asked, quickly shifting the direction of the conversation.

“I’ll get to them sometime next week,” Terri answered warily.

“Then I’ll check back by the middle of next week.” He turned to walk away. “Mark.”

He turned to face her, his eyes widening in question.

“We need to make some time to talk.”

“Really? About what?”

“About us.”

“Us?” He tossed his head back and laughed. “You flatter me. I didn’t know there was an us.”

Terri cocked her head to the side and placed her hand on her rounded hip. “You know perfectly well what I mean. You’ve been on edge ever since I’ve been back.”

“I think you’re overexaggerating, Terri.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I have work to do, and you have to do lunch.” He turned and strode down the corridor, leaving her completely bewildered by his behavior.

Mark returned to his office, his agitation barely held in check. He reached for the phone, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desktop as he waited. Finally the line was answered.

“Melissa Taylor,” said the low, controlled voice.

“Hi. This is Mark. I promised to call.”

“How are you, Mark?”

“Fine. But I’d be even better if you’d have dinner with me.”

Exiting the building, Terri turned left onto Lexington Avenue, ignoring the rush of lunch-goers as she strolled aimlessly down the busy street. Thoughts of her conversation with Mark unbalanced her usually light nature.

Something wasn’t right. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that Mark was jealous. Immediately she discarded the notion. She and Mark had worked side by side for nearly a year. She trusted him. She just couldn’t imagine—

“You look lost.”

She stopped short, a breath away from running into hard, muscular chest. Her heart thumped when she looked up into those eyes and down to the smile that spilled sunshine across her face.

“Clint…I mean…”

“You got it right the first time.” His eyes roamed slowly over her. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Her eyes briefly focused on her beige suede shoes, and her only wish at that moment was that the tiny crack in the sidewalk would open and swallow her.

“I was on my way to grab a bite and decided to take a stroll,” he said. “Are you out to lunch or just doing the window-shopping thing?”

Her eyes flashed at the last comment until she saw the laughter in his eyes. She couldn’t stop the smile that matched his.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice enveloping her like a cocoon. “I’m not into the shopping part, but could I interest you in something from—” he quickly scanned the busy avenue “—Original Ray’s?”

Her eyes followed his to the famous pizzeria across the street and her stomach gave a hungry twist at the mention of her favorite treat.

“Now don’t tell me you don’t eat pizza. That’s almost un-African-American.”

This time she laughed outright, and he memorized the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed and the high sculpted cheekbones that gave credence to her Caribbean heritage.

Hesitating a moment, she sucked in her bottom lip, looking at him then across at the pizzeria.

“Okay.” She held up a slender manicured finger tipped with soft orange. “But just one slice. I have to get back to the office.”

“And,” he said intimately, “I wouldn’t want you to ruin your appetite for dinner.” Then, like a conjurer, he took her proffered hand and it magically disappeared in his. Before she had the presence of mind to react, he was walking her across the street. As much as she hated to admit it, her hand felt fantastic in his.

“I guess you’ve heard all of the ugly rumors about me?” he asked, tearing off a piece of the steamy pizza and looking at her questioningly.

Terri took a deep breath. “Maybe. The question is, are they true?”

He smiled without humor. “That all depends. If you’ve heard that I’m a tough businessman, then it’s true. If you’ve heard that I make it my business to take what I want in life, then that’s also true.” He shot her a penetrating look that made her avert her gaze.

“Beyond that—” he shrugged his broad shoulders “—I’m just your regular guy.” He took a napkin and wiped his full lips, waiting for her response.

“You make it sound so matter-of-fact.”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Terri noticed the momentary flash of pain that hovered behind those dark eyes. Then it was gone. Briefly she wondered who or what had pierced the impenetrable armor.

“You’re a very complex man, Clint.”

He laughed a deep soul-stirring rumble. “I’ve been called worse. Coming from you, however, I take it as a compliment.”

She took a nibble at her pizza and returned it to the paper plate.

“So have you changed your mind about me? My offer still stands.” Hope filled his dark eyes.

Instead of a direct answer, she toyed with him. “I very rarely change my mind once it’s made up. But I’m always open for discussion. If I have reason to listen.”

His voice lowered to a deep whisper, his response rattling her feigned poise. “Then we have a lot more than business to talk about.”

For several breathtaking seconds, their eyes held. “I’ve got to be getting back to the office,” she said, smoothly disguising her shredded composure. “I’ll see you later.”

Without another word, he rose from his seat, rounded the table and helped her on with her coat. The nearness of him set her heart racing and she knew she had to get away—fast.

“Thank you.” She looked up at him one last time. “I’ve got to go,” she breathed.

With that she made a hasty exit, darting in and out of the flow of traffic, the sensation of Clint nipping at her heels as eagerly as the fall breeze.

Terri massaged her temples. The figures just didn’t seem to make sense. She shook her head. Maybe she was just tired. It was past six-thirty and she had been going over the books and comparing dates for hours. Clint would be downstairs waiting. Her pulse quickened at the thought.

Closing the huge ledger, she reached into her desk drawer for her purse just as Andrea, her secretary, tapped on the door and entered.

“Present for the boss,” Andrea said, her face hidden behind long-stemmed flowers.

Terri eyed her secretary with skepticism. Andrea’s arm was laden with what looked to be more than two dozen Casablanca lilies. Quickly she got up from her desk to help with the burden.

“Where on earth did these come from?” Terri asked.

“They just arrived.”

Terri gently searched through the huge bouquet.

“There’s no card, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Terri frowned. “Are you sure? How did they get here?” She placed the flowers on the desk and selected a vase from the credenza large enough to accommodate them.

“A messenger just brought them up. All I did was sign for them. They were addressed to you.”

Terri was puzzled. “I don’t understand. These are my favorite flowers,” she said in a wispy voice. She pressed her face against the bouquet and inhaled the heady aroma. “But who knows that?”