Part 45 (1/2)
Hannah started to slide off him, then stopped when his big hands fitted themselves to her b.u.t.tocks. He gave a deep, slow squeeze that had her breath wedging and fire licking out from her core.
”Kiss me,” he said. ”Hard and fast. Then run like h.e.l.l for the shower.”
Even though Donovan International's headquarters in Seattle was the twin building across the courtyard from the residential condos, Hannah and Archer were late. She hadn't stopped with one kiss.
He hadn't stopped at all.
”Good morning, Mitch.e.l.l,” Archer said to his a.s.sistant. Mitch.e.l.l Moore had worked for Donovan International for fifteen years. Ten of those years had been as a field supervisor on various mines around the world. After a mine caved in on him, he was given a choice between retirement at disability pay or using his organizational skills as Archer's a.s.sistant. Two years ago he had been offered a promotion to coordinator of overseas mining. He refused, saying that working with Archer was as close to exciting as desk jobs got. Archer had been so relieved that he gave Mitch.e.l.l a 50 percent raise. ”Did your wife like the opera?”
”Good afternoon, sir, and yes, thank you. Verdi is a favorite of hers.” The emphasis on hers was just enough to tell everyone that Verdi wasn't Mitch.e.l.l's favorite way to spend an evening.
”Is it afternoon?” Surprised, Archer looked at his watch. ”So it is. Next time the tickets will be for a Sea Hawks game.”
”There is a G.o.d,” Mitch.e.l.l said under his breath.
Hannah bit her lip to keep from laughing. Archer's secretary winked at her. The wink transformed him from a proper martinet into a rogue wearing a pale blue s.h.i.+rt, a conservative maroon tie, and a stainless steel watch with a mirror face.
The fax machine beeped a delivery warning. Mitch.e.l.l spun his wheelchair and reached for the sheets that were piled up in the receiving tray.
”A Ms. April Joy is waiting for you downstairs,” Mitch.e.l.l said as he scanned the first page of the fax. ”She claims she has an appointment. As you weren't expected to come in today, I told her I couldn't guarantee your presence. She wasn't happy.” He dropped the page back into the tray. ”The fax will wait until you're back from your emergency trip to Australia, whenever that might be.”
”The emergency has moved to Seattle. Send April up in two minutes,” Archer added, not answering his a.s.sistant's unspoken question about how long the emergency might last. ”Coffee for three.”
”She isn't alone.”
Archer didn't move, but he changed. The easy humor was gone. In its place was cold readiness. ”Who?”
”A man called Ian Chang.”
That answered one question: Archer now knew who Uncle Sam was backing in the pearl sweepstakes. What he didn't know was why.
”Observations?” Archer asked quietly.
Mitch.e.l.l wheeled back to face his boss. ”If they're friends, it's not an easy relations.h.i.+p. Mr. Chang looked like he would rather have been somewhere else. Anywhere else. Ms. Joy could have etched gla.s.s with the edge of her tongue. Will you be needing the lawyers, or is Uncle Sam going to behave?”
”I'll buzz you if it gets sticky.”
The phone rang. Mitch.e.l.l picked it up. ”Archer Donovan's office.” He began reading the fax again. ”I'm sorry, an emergency called him out of the office. Perhaps I could help you.”
As Archer led Hannah through a door at the side of the office, she looked back over her shoulder at his a.s.sistant. Mitch.e.l.l winked again. She winked back, drawing a wide smile from him.
Archer's office had a wall of windows overlooking Elliot Bay. A big green-and-white ferry was working its way across the wind-scoured water. Clouds revealed part of the Olympic Mountains and concealed the rest. The city gleamed white and s.h.i.+ny black in the aftermath of a cleansing rain.
The office itself contained all the standard executive appointments large polished desk set at right angles to the view, big leather chair, a grouping of sofas around a low table, a wet bar. Some of the touches weren't standard. One of Susa's powerful, compelling landscapes hung on the wall opposite the desk, where Archer could enjoy the painting every time he looked up from work. The yellows, oranges, reds, and brooding purple of the sunset painting were repeated by a trio of freeform gla.s.s sculptures that graced the low table in front of the couches.
”Beautiful,” Hannah said, running her fingertips over gla.s.s. ”Hot to the eyes, cool to the touch.”
”I like the sculpture in your house better. Couldn't stop touching it. Like you this morning.”
Startled, she looked up at him. ”Do you mean that?”
”About touching you?”
She smiled but shook her head. ”No, the sculpture.”
”Yes.”
”Thank you. I threw away all the rest that I did, but I kept that one even though Len laughed at me.”
”You created that?”
She shrugged. ”Created is a big word for a bad carving.”
”Created is the right word for that sculpture.”
For a moment she looked at him, measuring the truth of his words. ”You mean it.”
”Of course. Why are you surprised?”
”Try shocked. Len couldn't say enough bad things about my carvings.”
I'm not Len. But the savage thought went no further than Archer's mind. He accepted that Hannah saw Len every time she looked at his half brother. Nothing Archer did seemed to change that. Much of what he did made it worse. ”Len was wrong about a lot of things.”
Archer put his hand under her chin and kissed her slowly, thoroughly, trying not to think about how much longer she would want him. l.u.s.t was a hot, quick emotion. Love was hotter, and lasted as long as there was breath. That was how long he would want her. Thinking about the difference in their needs would only ruin whatever time they had together, so he put away that knowledge and concentrated on the woman in his arms.
”No wonder Susa looked daggers at me when I told her to forget having you as a daughter-in-law,” he said, barely lifting his lips from Hannah's long enough to get out the words. ”She had you pegged for a fellow artist.”
”Ruddy h.e.l.l,” she muttered, embarra.s.sed. ”Your mother hangs in museums. I've nowhere near her talent.”
”Bull dust.”
She smiled, then laughed out loud and kissed him full on the mouth. ”I don't believe a word of it, but thank you. It's nice to know I'm not the only one in the world who likes to pet wood.”
”The only thing that feels as good beneath my hands as that sculpture is you.”
Hannah's breath shortened. She remembered waking up, being pulled over him, and his long fingers sinking into her hips.
”Are you thinking about what I'm thinking about?” Archer asked huskily.
”I hope so.”
He gave a crack of laughter and reached for her even as she came up to meet him.
When April Joy walked into the office she saw a long-limbed woman wrapped around Archer like a jungle vine. He was wrapped around her just as tight. April hadn't believed it when Ian Chang had told her Archer and Hannah McGarry were lovers.
She believed it now.
”Full points to you on that one, Ian,” April said sardonically. ”If they were any closer, it would take a surgical team to separate them. I didn't know he had it in him. Or should I say, in her?”
When Hannah stiffened, Archer broke the kiss and said very softly, ”Follow my lead, okay?”