Intimate Betrayal. Donna Hill
we’ll just have to find out, now won’t we? In the meantime,” she continued, not giving him a chance to recover, “I’d like to get started with some background information.” She leaned down and reached into her bag to retrieve her recorder, and in doing so, gave Max a brief glimpse of the half-moons that strained against the fabric of her V-cut jacket.
He clenched his jaw and turned away.
Reese straightened and placed the recorder on the desk that separated them. Leaning slightly forward, she depressed the record button.
“I always find it best if the subjects ignore the machine and just talk as thoughts come to them.” She took a breath. “Why don’t we start from the present and work our way backward. I think I’d like to open the story with the excitement surrounding your development of the computer chip and its impact in the marketplace. From there, we can delve into the man that made it all happen.”
While she spoke, Maxwell was transfixed. Suddenly, he viewed her as the seasoned professional that she purported herself to be. She was poised, articulate and direct. Gone was the femme fatale who used her charm to keep men nipping at her heels. She knew when to play and when not to. He liked that.
With less reluctance than he’d anticipated, Maxwell took his seat behind his desk, leaned back, and waited, crossing his arms over his taut belly.
“How soon will the chip be ready for the consumer?” she began. “And how will it all come about?”
In measured tones, Maxwell laid out the future plans for the company he’d built from scratch. “In less than six months, M.K. Enterprises will be put in direct competition with the computer giants that have dominated the computer-chip industry for decades. The speed and software adaptability of the chip will revamp everything we understand computers to be today. We are braced at the threshold of an exciting new era…”
As Reese listened to Maxwell talk in that mesmerizing voice, it was the first time she saw him actually animated. The cool control, almost imperceptible movements were gone. He spoke with his hands, his eyes, his body. The excitement and pride rang through the melodic timbre of his rich baritone. He exuded a raw energy that was contagious. She became entranced, captivated by the magic of his dream.
While he talked and looked into her eyes, he believed, if only for the moment, that she was listening to him, interested in him as a man and not just someone from whom something could be gained. For his entire life, women were with him because of his looks, schoolmates hung around because of his brains, business associates befriended him because of what it could do for them by association. In the dojo he was simply feared for his mastery of the arts. He didn’t want her to know him. Intimacy only brought him pain. His experience with Victoria Davenport proved that.
The sound of the recorder shutting off broke the spell.
Reese blinked several times as if awakening from a dream. Maxwell cleared his throat and slowly brought his hands up to steeple in front of his mouth. Reese watched the subtle transformation, almost as if someone else had replaced the man she was so briefly introduced to. She was more intrigued than ever.
“I need to get ready for my meeting,” he said. “Would you like something to eat or drink in the meantime? I could have Carmen get something for you, if you’re hungry.”
Was that a hint of gentle concern she heard in his voice, or was she only hoping? “I think I’ve had my fill of coffee for the day,” she said with a forced smile, recalling her sleepless night. “But some orange juice would be great if you have it.”
“You didn’t sleep well,” he stated, surprising her with his astute observation. “And you have the beginnings of a headache.”
“What makes you say that?” She watched him rise from his seat and come around to stand behind her.
He placed the balls of his thumbs at her temple and slowly began to rotate them, emitting just the slightest bit of pressure. She almost gasped out loud when the heat of his touch burned through the pain, stripping it away.
“Just relax,” he crooned. “Close your eyes. This will only take a moment,” he added in a hypnotic cadence. He shut his eyes when a piece of his wall crumbled at his feet.
The sensations that rippled through her sent rivers of soothing warmth floating through her body. Unable to resist, her eyes slid closed of their own volition. Inch by inch she felt her body relax, unwind and purr with delight.
He knew he should have never touched her. He should not have come close enough to inhale the fresh scent of her hair, absorb the sensual aroma of her femininity. It was a mistake, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“You have magic in those hands,” she said dreamily. She reached up behind her and clasped his hands in hers.
He pulled his hands from her grasp as if burned and stepped abruptly back.
Reese turned halfway in her seat to look back at him. His nostrils flared as if he struggled to breathe. Yet he barely moved.
“I…I feel much better.” Her eyes roamed over him, searching for a clue to what he was feeling. “Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know?” she asked again, her gaze following him as he busied himself at the wall unit.
Maxwell bent down and opened the bottom cabinet to reveal a mini refrigerator. He took out a glass pitcher filled with what appeared to be fresh-squeezed orange juice. He then took a glass and filled it.
“It’s in the eyes,” he said finally, crossing the room in a steady fluid motion. “And that little crease between your brows.” He looked down into her upturned face.
Reese opened her mouth to refute him, but couldn’t—it was true. “Thank you—for the juice and the massage,” she muttered pulling all the stops to regain her composure.
“I’ve got to be going. Feel free to sit here for a moment. Carmen can show you to the conference room when I’m ready.” He needed to get away—now.
“I’d prefer to go with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually I do,” he replied, comfortably reverting to the man that could not be reached. “There are a few sensitive items I need to go over with the team.” He gave her a long, unwavering look. “I’d prefer if you’d wait as I asked. I’ll buzz Carmen and let her know when you can come in.” His tone was clear. There would be no compromise.
She swallowed the last of the juice. “Fine.’ She stood to leave, preferring to wait with Carmen, perhaps ask her a few questions about Mr. Knight. “If it’s not too much of a bother, I’d rather wait near Carmen’s desk. It’s suddenly very chilly in here.”
“Suit yourself.”
Reese snatched up her belongings, flung the door open, and sashayed down the hall, giving Maxwell a good look at her long legs and swaying hips.
Maxwell sat at the head of the conference table and tried to concentrate on what Glen Hargrove, his chief technician, was saying. But his thoughts kept shifting back to Reese, the way she looked, smelled, felt beneath his fingertips.
Without trying, Reese Delaware had somehow made him feel again. A sensation that he’d long ago denied himself—out of reach of any woman. Victoria had taught him an invaluable lesson, one that he would never forget. Sure there’d been plenty of women who’d kept him warm at night since her betrayal, but they’d only warmed his body, never his heart.
“…so what do you think we should do, Max?” Glen was asking.
Maxwell shifted his gaze in Glen’s direction. “Check the production tapes at the plant. Perhaps the tapes will show who’s screwing up. If that’s not it, then it’s temperature and air quality. You’ll have to get the bio team out there to check it out.”
Glen nodded and took quick notes. He wanted to chuckle. He and Max had worked together since college. He knew Max like a book. There was no way he was actually paying attention to what was being said—at least on the surface.