“Lanie? There's a man over there who's been staring at you for a good ten minutes. Do you know him?”
“Where?”
As Alanis ‘Lanie’ Roswell turned, her wide, green-flecked eyes following Shelly's glance across the crowded, noisy room, her face wasn't even slightly interested. She was used to men staring at her… it came with the territory.
As one of the highest-paid and most successful promotions executives in Chicago, Alanis knew she presented something of an anomaly to the average male. She was seen as ‘the exception that proved the rule’. This meant the women in this male-dominated environment in which she worked weren’t always welcomed.
Graceful and tiny, at five feet one, and with a mass of gleaming strawberry blonde hair, creamy skin, and large expressive eyes in a golden honey shade flecked with green, Alanis wasn't exactly what they'd expected to see if her reputation had gone before her… and it invariably had.
Over the last ten years, since she had first entered the promotions rat race as a nervous but ambitious eighteen-year-old fresh from college, she had established herself as a shrewd and level-headed businesswoman with a flair for knowing exactly what appealed to the public.
Her job was her life. Alanis gave it 100% commitment and the rewards had been enormous.
“Hang on a minute,” Shelly muttered impatiently to herself as the crowd surged and moved, the buzz of conversation fierce and loud. “Now. Look over there, next to the group from St. Gregory’s. He's still looking this way and you can't miss him.”
“Which…?”
Alanis's voice trailed away as she met the full force of a pair of very intent, narrowed eyes set in a hard, tanned face that was all male and quite pokerfaced. The man was big, very big, darkly imposing, and terribly out of place in this crowd of affected, pretentious bootlickers who had arrived by invitation for the grand opening of Alanis's latest work project.
It was a flamboyant, madly expensive art gallery in a city already full of art galleries. That much at least registered before she turned sharply away, her stomach lurching.
“Well? Do you know him?” Shelly asked curiously, her mild brown eyes alight with interest.
“No, definitely I don't know him. If I'd met a man like him before I wouldn't have forgotten.”
Alanis's voice was cool and vague, and not at all as she was feeling inside. She couldn't remember the last time a man's glance had affected her like this. Alanis felt ridiculously disturbed and flustered… Almost threatened…
She shook the thought away abruptly, furious with herself for allowing it to enter her mind in the first place. Nerves…Yes, this was all just nerves, she told herself firmly. The same 'first-night' agitation she suffered with all her projects until she knew she had got it right.
There was no need to let imagination run away with her, useful though that particular attribute was in her line of work. She drew herself up to her full five feet one and smiled at her assistant, who was a good six inches taller than herself.
“We need to mingle, Shelly, admire a few pretty feathers, and give the old sweet talk. I'll see you by the main door when the champagne and strawberries are served at seven, alright? We'll have done our duty by then.”
“Fine, Lanie,” Shelly nodded obediently, her good-natured face setting in a practiced smile as she plunged into the crowd.
“Alanis?”
The owner of the art gallery, a successful and wealthy entrepreneur, who had his finger in a lot of businesses, touched her softly on the arm as she turned.
“This is quite a success! Well done… Still…”
He nodded cynically at the richly dressed, somewhat theatrical assembly.
“Not exactly my type, if I'm being honest, but you sure pulled in all those who needed to be seen here for the gallery to have credibility.”
“That is what you paid me to do, Mr. White.”
She smiled carefully, her voice and face pleasant but reserved. The small, disgusting, balding man in front of her had made it plain on more than one occasion that he wanted more than just her business expertise. But she was used to dealing with the Mr. Whites of this world, and there was a surplus of them in the city.
She was always polite, well-mannered, and very skillful at deflecting even the most obvious come-on, but underneath the graciousness, there was hard-won composure and firm control that settled even the most zealous suitor when it became necessary. Like now.
“Indeed, dear Alanis, and you have outdone yourself.”
Again, he patted her arm, his round face already shiny with perspiration. Alanis looked around for a way out of this disgusting situation.
“How about a little drink to celebrate all your hard work? Maybe later? I've got a suite for the weekend in…”
“Mr. White, I don't think so.”
Alanis moved an inch or so away, her expression still smiling but her meaning clear.
“I've got something very urgent to prepare for an important meeting tomorrow morning.”
“You work too hard, sweetheart…”
His tongue flicked reptilian-like over his lower lip, and she just managed to repress a shudder.
“You must keep the weekends free to enjoy yourself.”
“I don't work every weekend, Mr. White,” Alanis said coolly, “just when it's necessary. Now, if you'll excuse me, it looks as if Mr. Stephanopoulos needs some company…”
In a decisive way, she turned and walked over to an influential art dealer, engaging him in conversation until Mr. White had drifted away. At exactly 7 pm she started to make her way to the door but stopped abruptly when a sudden break in the crowd showed her who Shelly was talking to.
That man again… Alanis stared at him, her eyes taking in every little detail of his appearance while she could view him unnoticed as he concentrated on Shelly. She had felt his eyes on her more than once as she had circulated the room, had been vitally aware of his dark presence as he had stood somewhat distant from the rest of the crowd by one of the deep, recessed windows.
But she had been careful not to let her glance meet his. Why she didn't quite know. Who was this man? Her smooth eyebrow wrinkled with curiosity. The guest list had been both exclusive and up-to-the-minute, and she had made it her business to be aware of the history of each guest.
However, most of the names had had 'and partner' written next to them, so Alanis had no means of knowing either who he was with or anything about him other than what she could see. And she had to admit what she could see was… quite disturbing.
There was a formidable authority about him, a hard, masculine aura that sat on the big body almost challengingly. His hair was black, jet-black, and cut very short, as though he had no time to waste on any sort of excessive grooming, and he was expensively dressed. Way too dressed for the artistic crowd he was being part of right now.
He looked… She bit her lip, suddenly annoyed with herself as the image flashed into her mind. But he did look like a dangerous black panther passing through the jungle.
She couldn't imagine him ever being… ‘and partner’, but who was he with? And who was he? And what was the color of his eyes? His eyes… Alanis flushed as hotly as if she had voiced the question out loud. Why on earth did she care about the color of his eyes anyway? She had made up her mind years ago about the road down which she would take and her plans didn't include any sort of romantic involvement… light or otherwise.
Alanis was being ridiculous, even crazy. Perhaps Mr. White was right… she had been working too hard lately. She'd certainly never had this trouble with her imagination before.
“Lanie, darling… Wonderful little reception… Well done.”
She turned very slowly as she forced a social smile to her face, recognizing the voice of one of the female executives from a rival firm. She didn't dislike Marcia Evanick. In fact, they shared the same sense of humor, which had smoothed more than one difficult situation in the past, but Alanis knew the other woman had been working hard to secure this particular project, and noblesse wasn’t one of Marcia's virtues.
“You have obviously got the right touch with Mr. White… You'll have to let me in on your secret sometime…”
The words were lazy and without real malice, although their meaning was clear. Alanis knew Marcia meant nothing personal. She just had to have a little twist of the knife to state her annoyance at losing out to the other woman. But this time Alanis didn't like the innuendo. She had had enough sly digs along the same lines from male colleagues in the past, when her work had been superior to theirs, and she had expected more from Marcia.
Both of them were in highly paid jobs, doing good work and surviving on their own initiative and flair despite high odds, and she had thought, naively, perhaps, she acknowledged now, that Marcia would respect that and leave the sexist talk to the men.
“Well, you know how it is, Marcia.”
Alanis gave the other woman a brilliant smile as she spoke.
“The old… casting couch still has its uses.”
Marcia acknowledged the game, set and match with a slight curve of her thin red mouth, but then her light blue eyes widened considerably at something just over Alanis's left shoulder.
“Miss Roswell?”
The male voice was very deep, with a slight husky edge that was undeniably attractive.
“Your PA tells me you’re about to leave this party...”
She turned to face him slowly, knowing who it was even before her gaze moved up and up to meet the hard-boned face.
Silver-grey… His eyes were silver-grey, like ice-cold polished steel. “I…” ‘He must have heard my last remark,’ Alanis thought helplessly. How could she explain it wasn’t so, that she wasn’t going away yet? That she told Marcia she was going just to avoid a long and futile conversation. “I…” she mumbled again. Then she took a firm grip on herself, years of training coming to her aid. “I don't think we've met,” she said formally as she held out her hand politely. “I'm Alanis Roswell.” “Yes, I know.” He smiled coolly but it didn't reach the mesmerizing eyes. “I’m Brody McLean. Nice to meet you.” &nbs
She had to raise her eyes to meet the silver-grey gaze, and again the sheer breadth and height of the man sent something hot flickering down her spine, especially when her senses registered a whiff of the most delicious scent.“Of course, Mr. McLean.”“Have you finished here?” he asked smoothly, his face quite impassive.“Finished…?” Alanis looked sideways at him.“I… Yes, I've done all I can do…”“Good,” he drawled, watching her with narrowed eyes. “Then we can take this talk somewhere more private, perhaps? There is an excellent little Italian restaurant just a stone's throw away, so maybe you would allow me to take you to dinner?”“Dinner?” If he had said he w
The next morning, while traveling to the city in a cab, Alanis was looking out the window, with a ferocious frown on her sweet, gracious face. Absently, she touched her thick briefcase, packed with papers for that morning meeting. Brody McLean… McLean… The moment she walked into the cab to go back home from the gallery, she realized who the arrogant man was. Only the most powerful tycoon in the country… She should’ve known the name but she just hadn't connected it with ‘McLean Marine’. The moment she got home and looked at the e-mails and all the data George and Michael sent her, Alanis had a shock. Yes, she had just given the brush-off to one of the most powerful men in the States. ‘Brody McLean&helli
No… No, she wouldn't, but she couldn't say so. Alanis knew Brody was going to tear all her ideas apart… He was going to get this revenge that would be incredibly satisfying for him and painful for herself, but there was absolutely nothing Alanis could do about it. She looked around and hid her frustration behind a very polite smile. Even if she was annoyed by Brody’s presence, Alanis knew she had put herself there.“Certainly, Mr. McLean,” Alanis said but she avoided his intent eyes as she lifted her briefcase onto her lap and extracted the night's work. “I've approached the concept from several different angles, actually, as I wasn't sure how formal or extravagant you wanted the launch to be. Now, this was the first idea I had…” As always while she
John Dixon was ten years older than she and quite out of her reach, with his flashy red sports car and his succession of tall, model-type girlfriends that he seemed to change like socks. Their parents had been friends since they moved to Chicago. Alanis had loved John from afar, absolutely tongue-tied if they ever happened to meet around town, watching him like a lovesick puppy and hanging on his every word. When he had started to flirt with her was still a blurry memory. She had heard rumors that his last girlfriend, a sophisticated, leggy blonde with the face of an angel and the figure of a goddess, had thrown him over and that he was upset about it, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to believe the hearsay. Who in their right mind would reject John Dixon?
“Alanis. How nice to see you again. I trust you had a good flight?” The deep, dark voice poured over her like liquid fire.“It was fine, thank you,” she responded carefully. As Brody took her small hand in his, his large fingers swallowing hers whole, Alanis forced herself to betray none of the agitation that had taken over her as soon as he had stridden into the hotel's small conference room. On arriving in Germany, she had been met at the airport by an impressive limousine that had swept her in style to the luxurious first-class hotel where she was going to stay. There she had been received with such regard that had left her confused until she'd realized the place was part of a hotel chain that belonged to
While saying that last words, Alanis kinda lost her voice as Brody stood looking down at her, his silver-grey eyes gleaming in the dull artificial light overhead and his face perfectly still. Even if he wasn't speaking, especially when he wasn't speaking, the cold, compelling aura of the man was fiercely strong.“You don't lie very well… Unlike most of the other women, I might add,” Brody replied thoughtfully after a few tense moments had passed. “You'd really find my company so unpleasant? So difficult to endure?”“I-I… It's not that. I'm just…”“Tired?” He cut into her red-faced mutterings with cool composure as the elevator doors glided silently open, and Alanis knew her legs were trembling slightly as she stepped into the carpeted box.“Alanis, you are 28 years of age and free as a bird&he
As they reached the ground floor and the elevator opened onto the luxurious reception area, Alanis smiled coolly, her back straight.“Of course, I relax,” she said. “Often.”“Wow, did I saw a smile?” Brody said looking at her and smiled back. Since she avoided looking back and didn’t answer his laconic remark, Brody kept going.“When?” he challenged quietly.“What?” This time, Alanis stared up at him as he brought her to a halt by turning her to face him, his large hands under her elbows.“When do you relax?” he asked patiently, his voice soft. “I mean really relax, Alanis.”“I… All the time.”