Part 13 (1/2)

”Are you sorry?”

She smiled slowly. ”Are you kidding? As I recall, this was pretty much my idea. I had to work very hard to seduce you. I should be asking you if you're sorry?”

”No.”

”Right answer. Otherwise, I might have had to do you a grave bodily injury.”

His brows shot up. ”Really?”

Before he could stop her, she made a grab for his ear and gave it a quick, hard twist.

”Ouch.”

”That's just a sample. I can do much worse.”

He grinned at her, but when she started to roll off of him, he held her in place. ”You said you pictured yourself in this chair? Do you want to run Metropolitan?”

”No. I want to be a features editor like Esme Sinclair. I've admired her for the longest time, ever since I first wanted to write for magazines. She even visited my college once and spoke to all the journalism majors. She was sitting behind this desk when I first met with her.”

”She must have moved in here while my father was sick.” He glanced at the chair. ”It's funny that you and I have both wanted to sit in that particular chair. Maybe we have more in common than we think.”

”You never sit in it,” Chelsea said.

”Of course, I do.”

”I've never seen you. You're always sitting on the edge of the desk or over at the conference table. Or you're walking around talking on the phone.”

She was right. He did avoid actually sitting in the chair. ”I made my mother cry the last time I sat in it.” Where had that come from, he wondered the moment that he'd spoken the words aloud. He never talked about his mother. Not to anyone.

”How did you make her cry?” Chelsea asked.

Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, but Zach found himself telling her what had happened that day when he was five and he'd made the mistake of using his father's pen.

”You didn't make her cry. Your father did when he yelled at you for something that wasn't your fault,” Chelsea said in a very matter-of-fact tone when he'd finished. Then very slowly, she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him.

It was different. There was a sweetness in the kiss that he hadn't felt before.

She was the one who drew back first. ”C'mon. I have an idea.”

Before he could stop her, she had rolled off of him and had risen to her feet. Then reaching down, she grabbed his hand and tugged. ”It's supposed to help to erase a bad memory if you replace it with a good one. Have you ever made love in a chair?

”You're kidding.”

”No, I'm absolutely serious. Have you?”

”I'm going to take the fifth on that one.”

”Oh. That means yes, right?”

”Chelsea,” he began.

”It's good that one of us has some expertise here because I've never-” She stopped short to frown at the chair, tilting her head to one side. ”I suppose that there are various positions we could take?”

”Several come to mind. Let me get this straight. You want me to make love to you in that chair?”

”By George, I think you've got it!”

”Yeah, it takes me a while sometimes.” When she took his arms to push him into the chair, he scooped her up by the waist and carried her with him. Once seated, he gripped her hips and positioned her so that she was straddling him.

”Oh,” she said again as he pushed himself into her. ”Ohhh.”

”Is this what you had in mind?”

”Mmmm, even better. Once you get it, you're really quite good.”

”Chels.” He was chuckling as he drew her face close so that he could nip her ear. ”If you continue to make me laugh, you may not get the results you're looking for.”

”Then I'll get serious,” she murmured as she took his mouth with hers.

She got very serious. And so did he.

”THAT'S ABOUT IT, Romano,” Zach said, then turned to Chelsea. ”Unless you have anything to add?”

Chelsea shook her head. Sam Romano the security consultant Zach had hired was seated across the conference table from her. The lean, dark-haired man wore a well-tailored suit and had been taking copious notes since he'd arrived. And Chelsea was trying to put her finger on the reason she sensed a certain tension between the two men.

Maybe it was because they were so much alike-both tall and dark and strikingly handsome. Each had charm to burn, although Sam Romano's particular brand was much more overt-from the laugh that seemed to be perpetually present in his dark brown eyes to his easy tone and engaging grin. Chelsea had a hunch that all of his clients must trust him and if they were female they probably fell a little bit in love with him right from that first handshake.

”What I need from your firm is a bodyguard for Chelsea,” Zach said.

Sam stopped writing for a moment and glanced up from his notebook. ”I agree. I'll be on the job first thing in the morning.”

”You?” Zach asked, then frowned. ”I was a.s.suming that your firm had people who specialized in providing personal protection. You don't look like a bodyguard.”

Sam grinned at him. ”That's why I make a good one. Before I went to work for Sterling Security, I worked as a private investigator in my cousin's firm. When there's a job that calls for street experience, Sterling usually turns it over to me.”

Zach's frown didn't fade as he studied Sam for a moment. Then he reached over to cover Chelsea's hand with his. ”As long as you understand that Ms. Brockway's welfare is very important to me. She'll be staying with me at my apartment until this matter concerning her safety is resolved. Do we understand each other?”

Zach was staking out a claim, Chelsea realized. No wonder she'd sensed tension between the two men. Before she could sort out the feelings moving through her-pleasure, annoyance-Sam nodded. ”I understand you perfectly. Between us, I think we can watch over Ms. Brockway. The problem is that she might not be the only one in danger.”

”What do you mean?” Zach asked.

Sam flipped through his notes. ”The car you mentioned-the one that nearly ran you down near Rockefeller Center. It would have hit you both, right? And you received a threatening note this morning reminding you of it. This person may have a grudge against you and Ms. Brockway could just be an innocent bystander.”

Trying to ignore the quick spurt of fear shooting through her, Chelsea laced her fingers with Zach's. ”Sam's right. You need a bodyguard, too.”

”Maybe not.” Zach met Sam's eyes squarely. ”I'm going to tell you something that I didn't tell the police. I think it might have been my brother who's sending the notes. He might be behind the phone calls, too. He wants me to resign from my job here at the magazine. But I'm not in any personal danger. I don't believe he'd hurt Chelsea either. He'd only want to scare her.”

”Unless he was behind the wheel of that car,” Sam said. ”But let's suppose, for the moment, that it's not your brother. As I understand it, you've just stepped in as editor of Metropolitan and you intend to make a lot of changes. Some people might resent that and want to see you fail.”

”Yes, I suppose so.” Pausing, Zach frowned. ”But if it's someone here at the magazine who has something against me, why would they take it out on Ms. Brockway? I don't see the connection.”