Part 4 (1/2)
”No. I haven't.”
”There. I rest my case.” Leaning back in the chair, she placed her hands on the armrest and the skirt moved another inch up her thigh. ”There's definitely something about this skirt. Now that I know that, I'm sure I can deliver three articles about my adventures wearing it and about the problems of being single in Manhattan.”
”Let me get this straight. You're proposing to write about a man-magnet skirt?”
”Exactly.”
”That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Why would anyone want to read about it?”
”Because people are lonely, especially single people, and they're looking for relations.h.i.+ps.”
”I'm single and I'm not looking for a relations.h.i.+p.”
Chelsea waved a hand. ”Neither am I. But most people are. And in a big city like Manhattan, it's hard to find one. The dating scene can be really brutal.”
”And you think writing about a skirt can change that?”
”It can give people hope.”
”That's ridiculous. Your skirt is perfectly ordinary.”
”Then why can't you take your eyes off of it?”
She had a point. Quickly, he tore his gaze away and looked her directly in the eye. ”Your proof is far from conclusive. I could argue that I'm looking at you, not the skirt. And I didn't almost get into a fight because you were wearing this particular skirt. I almost got into a fight because your dresser Daryl had his head up it.”
Chelsea lifted the hem and rubbed it between her fingers. ”Daryl was fascinated because of the material. He designs clothes and he'd never seen anything like it before. Here, feel it.” She lifted the hem and waited for him to take it between his fingers. The moment he did, he caught her scent, delicate...exotic. It made him think of islands with white, sandy beaches stretching out endlessly in the moonlight.
”Not that I'm surprised Daryl had never seen anything quite like it before. My friend Torrie bought it on some tiny little island that is really off the beaten track.”
As she continued talking, Zach rubbed the thin, silky material between his thumb and forefinger and thought of lying on that sandy beach with Chelsea beneath him as the waves pounded.... He tried to push the image out of his mind, but he was finding it hard to concentrate while his fingers were only inches away from that pale, smooth skin.
Maybe it reminded him of an exotic flower that he'd come across in Maui-or in the rain forests of Puerto Rico. He was finding it very hard to concentrate with his fingers only inches away from that pale smooth skin....
You'll never let her go.
The instant the words drifted through his mind, Zach shook his head. Where in the world had his aunt's words come from? He shook his head again, but he couldn't seem to eliminate the scent.
”The material in this skirt is woven from the fibers of a special plant. Supposedly, because it's been kissed by moonlight it has a very powerful effect on men.”
Zach dropped the hem of the skirt and this time when he shook his head, the scent grew fainter. He s.h.i.+fted his gaze to stare at Chelsea Brockway. ”What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? Are you claiming that this skirt has some kind of magical power.”
”Not magic. No, I wouldn't go that far.” Chelsea began to twist the ring on her finger. ”You have to admit, it does seem to have a definite effect on men. Do I look like the kind of woman that Pierre would offer a table to when he's booked solid? And I'm certainly not the kind of woman you would ever ask for her phone number. Not that I wanted you to. I didn't.”
Her chin lifted as she drew in a deep breath. ”I know that my phone number isn't relevant to...or has anything to do with...” She waved a hand and her ring fell to the floor and rolled under the desk. Zach dropped to his knees at the same time that she did and his hand covered hers when she reached for the ring.
”I'm sorry. Whenever I get nervous, I start to babble. Just tell me to shut up.”
”Shut up,” Zach said as his gaze slid to her mouth. It was close, barely an inch away, and her lips were slightly parted. And moist. He only had to move to taste her. A warning bell sounded in some part of his mind. He was a man who preferred to look before he leapt, but from the moment he'd first seen her in that bar, he'd been thinking and wondering...
Just one taste. One, he told himself as he closed the distance and covered her mouth with his. Impossibly sweet was the first sensation that poured through him. But beneath the initial rush of flavor was a tartness that beckoned to him to taste again. Still cautious, he drew back and watched her eyes open slowly. They were a dark, rich green-beckoning, bewitching. Desire twisted sharply as needs began to battle within him. He should never have kissed her. He was going to kiss her again.
Though she hadn't moved away, he settled his free hand at the back of her neck to hold her still as he once more took her mouth with his. This time beneath the tartness he tasted a hunger that matched his own.
As the heat of it swelled within him, he could have sworn that the carpet s.h.i.+fted beneath his knees. He knew that thunder rumbled its way through the concrete and gla.s.s behind him, just as certainly as he knew that one taste of Chelsea Brockway was never going to be enough.
ALL CHELSEA knew was the pressure of his mouth against hers. She should have pulled back at that first tentative brush of his lips. There was always a price to pay for throwing caution to the winds and this time she was sure it would be high. As he deepened the kiss and the flavors exploded on her tongue, thoughts swirled through her mind. This was what the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden must have tasted like. This was what Paradise was lost over. Sensations shot through her body until she was sure she would drown in them. She could feel the hard press of each one of those fingers against the back of her neck, the impossible heat of those lips and the flavors on his tongue, too many to separate. But she wanted the time to try. She needed to try and identify them so that she would remember....
As his fingers slid into her hair, she moved her hands to his shoulders, not to push him away, but to grab on and cling. Then he s.h.i.+fted his mouth to nip at her bottom lip and an arrow of pleasure shot through her, so sharp, that she began to tremble. When she felt him suddenly stiffen and start to draw away, she pressed her fingers into the muscles in his shoulder to urge him closer.
THE SHARP KNOCKING at the door penetrated Zach's mind only seconds before he heard someone clearing her throat. Dropping his hands to Chelsea's shoulders, he eased her away from him and helped her to her feet. Then he turned to find Esme Sinclair standing at the office door.
”I'm sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to know if the problem we talked about has been resolved?”
Zach felt the same way he had when he was five and he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't in his father's office. Shoving the uncomfortable wave of emotion aside, he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back from Chelsea. ”Not yet,” he managed to say before he turned and circled to the back of his desk. Not only hadn't he solved it; the problem was growing bigger.
When Esme moved to leave, he waved her into the room. ”Come in. I think it will be better if you're here while I try to explain our position to Ms. Brockway.” Stalling a moment, Zach opened the file that Esme had given him earlier. He would concentrate on the facts. ”These articles on the...on that skirt, won't suit the new direction that I want to take the magazine in.”
”Why not?”
He glanced up in surprise to see Chelsea frowning at him. Her eyes were clear and he couldn't see any trace of the pa.s.sion that he'd been feeling, that he'd thought she was feeling, too. ”As I explained to my staff this afternoon, I'm cutting all the fluff. From now on Metropolitan is going to expand its intellectual and cultural appeal in an attempt to increase its readers.h.i.+p.” He glanced down at the file. ”Features on hotties and man-magnet skirts don't mesh with my goals.”
”Well, they should. My first two articles sold copies of your magazine.”
”I like to look at things in terms of pluses and minuses. On the plus side-”
”Why?”
Zach stared at her. ”Why what?”
”Why do you like to look at things in terms of pluses and minuses?”
”Because it allows me to make intelligent and informed decisions.” When she said nothing, he continued. ”On the plus side, your articles have drawn in new readers. On the minus side, these are not the readers I want. In fact, if I continue to publish you, I have a good chance of turning away the very reader I want to attract.”
”But your emphasis on including only highbrow, intellectual stuff in Metropolitan is going to turn my readers away. And they've actually been buying the magazine. Ms. Sinclair told me that newsstand sales have jumped over thirty percent since my first article.”
Zach's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected an argument from her, especially not an articulate and well-framed one. He decided to change tactics. ”I'm willing to make you a very generous offer to buy your contract back.”
Chelsea folded her arms in front of her. ”No.”
He raised his brows. ”You haven't heard my offer.”
”I don't want the money. What I want, what I need, is the exposure. I want my name out there so that readers can get to know it. That's the plus I'm after and you can't give me that with a check.”
”You can take the money and sell the articles to another magazine. Get the exposure some place else.”
Chelsea shook her head. ”That's not a sure thing. Ms. Sinclair liked my writing and she was willing to take a chance on the skirt thing. I may not find another editor willing to take that kind of risk.” She waved a hand at him. ”You're certainly not.”