Deception

“I’m sorry,” Terri said gently, the soft sincerity of those two simple words mysteriously calming his fury. “I’m sure that this inexcusable situation has cost you a great deal of time and energy. I only wish that I could offer more than an apology.”

Why did even her refusal sound so pleasant to his ear? “Have you at least looked over the proposal?” Clint found himself inexplicably yearning for her approval. The revelation pissed him off, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I’m certain that it will be a great campaign.”

“I have looked it over. However, there’s—”

“Is it money? You don’t think it’s adequate?” Now she was annoyed. Why did they all think that money was the answer to everything? What about integrity?

“This has nothing to do with money,” Terri answered, forcing a steady calm into her voice. “It wouldn’t matter if your offer were ten times the amount. It’s you, Mr. Steele, that I have the problem with. You and your business practices. I cannot in good conscience allow this company to be associated with Hightower Enterprises.”

Clint felt as if all the wind had been kicked out of him. All of his work, his sacrifices, his dreams and accomplishments, came to a grinding halt with just those few callous words. Did she have any idea what he’d been through…did she…? Slowly he shook his head. Of course she didn’t. No one did. That was the way he’d wanted things. Now, for the first time, he was paying for that choice.

Clint rose from his seat, looking at her with a mixture of regret—that she’d fallen prey to the things that had been said about him—and disappointment. He’d begun to look forward to working with this tempting woman against all of his reservations.

Terri held her breath as Clint’s powerful body rose and spread before her. His dark blue suit fit the massive shoulders and long, muscular legs to exquisite perfection. She dared to steal a glance at the short wavy black hair that capped his proud head. For one dizzying moment she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands across it.

Had this been any other time…other circumstances…maybe… But she still had wounds to heal, emotions to mend, and unfortunately the darkly handsome Clinton Steele represented everything that she had grown to resent.

Terri extended her hand and the warmth of his grip shot through her again. Steadily her eyes held his.

“Perhaps my director of promotions, Stacy Williams, can give you some referrals, Mr. Steele. I could—”

“Believe me, you’ve done enough already.” He shook his head, looked at her from beneath silken lashes, a sheepish grin tipping his lips. “I mean, I’m sure that I can find another agency.”

Terri nodded her head and made a move to turn away. Clint’s intentionally intimate tone stopped her.

“Regardless of what you may think of me, Ms. Powers, I still feel that you’re the…that your agency is the best one for the job. If we can’t be business associates, at least let’s be friends. You can call me Clint.”

The radiance of his smile washed over her like morning sunshine. Her heart thumped.

“Thank you for the compliment. However, in reference to your last statement, I must apologize again. Our association ends here, Mr. Steele. Good day.”

She turned and walked from the office, leaving a fuming Clint and the heady scent of her kush body oil lingering behind.

Stepping out into the corridor, she forced her breathing to slow down to normal. What had happened to her in there? Taking a deep breath, she continued down the hallway, just as Mark left his office, to the conference room. Terri stopped short.

A feeling of disaster spread through Mark. “How did it go? I think this is one great deal, Terri,” he said a bit too enthusiastically.

Terri glared at him. “We’ll talk later. Right now I think you’d better soothe Mr. Steele’s ruffled feathers. There’s no deal, Mark. Understood? When you’re through, I’ll see you in my office.”

She turned on her heel, leaving Mark to throw daggers at her back. She’d screwed him. Dammit!

Quickly Mark made his way down the hallway and rushed into the room just as Clint was putting the last of his notes in his briefcase.

“Clint,” Mark began apologetically, spreading his hands in a plea. “I had no idea that she was going to react this way. I can assure you that everything was set,” he lied. Actually, he had no idea that she would return to work three weeks early. He’d planned to have this deal signed and sealed before she returned.

Clint threw him a glowering look over his shoulder.

“I just need some time to talk with her,” Mark added. “I’m sure I can get her to—”

Clint turned to Mark. “I don’t beg for anything, Andrews. Boss lady has her reasons—fine. The hell with her. You should have known better than to waste my time.”

“Listen, Clint,” Mark implored, grasping at straws, “Terri’s just being difficult. She’s probably on a hate-all-men campaign. She’s recently divorced, and she lost her baby. Today’s her first day…”

Mark’s voice droned on as Clint absorbed the implications of what was being said. My God, what she’d been through was enough to floor anyone. Yet she’d stood there resolute and determined, only once letting emotion seep through that picture-perfect demeanor. His defenses weakened. How could you not admire a woman like that? He felt that he understood her. He knew all too well about pain and loss. That part of him wanted to soothe away the hurt that still lingered behind those mysterious brown eyes.

The snap of Clint’s voice cut off Mark’s litany.

“Try to see if you can get Ms. Powers to change her mind, and keep me posted.”

Mark hid his surprise behind a wall of conversation. “I won’t disappoint you, Clint. This deal is important to me, too.” You just don’t know how much.

Mark’s calculating mind went into overdrive. He’d have to pull this off and soon, or… No. He refused to think about the possibilities.

“Will you be attending the reception tonight at Tavern on the Green for the producers?” Mark asked.

Clint picked up his briefcase. “I hadn’t planned to. Why?”

“Well, I’ll talk to Terri again. I’ll be escorting her tonight. Maybe she’ll be in a more receptive frame of mind,” he concluded, giving Clint a sly grin.

Clint pursed his lips, considering what Mark had said. He generally shied away from formal affairs, believing them to be frivolous. But if it gave him the chance to see Terri again, he’d make an exception.

“I never confirmed my invitation,” Clint said slowly, “but I don’t think it should be a problem.”

“Great. So I’ll see you tonight.”

Clint reluctantly shook Mark’s hand and strode purposefully from the conference room.

There was one thing that bugged Clint more than anything else—a brownnose. And Mark Andrews fit the bill, he thought, as he waited for the elevator. But there was something else about Mark that disturbed him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. At least not yet. But he would. Maybe he’d just let Steve check him out.

Terri plopped down onto the overstuffed, cream-colored couch that stood against the far wall of her office. Waves of apprehension swept through her. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was the stress of first-day jitters or the eruption of buried feelings that Clinton Steele had inadvertently dug up.

Adrenaline pumped through her limbs, forcing her body into action. She sprang up from her seat and paced the floor, crossing and recrossing the earth-toned-print area rug covering the parquet floor. Absently she stroked the polished wooden artwork and the array of greenery that adorned strategic locations throughout the tropiclike office. Clinton Steel disturbed her. There was no other word for it. Without effort, he’d made her think and feel things that she’d promised herself she’d never fall prey to again. Her husband, Alan, had been enough.

Terri shut her eyes and wrapped her slender arms around her waist as if to ward off some unseen attacker, momentarily reliving the months of agony. The knocking on her office door jarred her back to the present.

She spun toward the door, blinking back the visions to focus on Mark standing in the doorway.

She cleared her throat. “Mark. Come in.” She took a seat behind her desk.

“I think you’re making a big mistake here, Terri,” Mark began as he crossed the room and sat down, handing her a stack of documents to be signed.

She gave them a cursory glance and turned her attention back to Mark. “You know perfectly well how I feel about Hightower Enterprises.”

“Your opinion is archaic!” he snapped. “You left me in charge, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of running things around here. At least give me the courtesy of believing that I know what I’m doing. Do you honestly think that you can get anywhere in this world being a Goody Two-shoes? Be for real, Terri.”

Slowly she rose from her seat, her anger shielded behind her veil of serenity.

“You seem to have forgotten that this company is where it is today because we have values—whether you believe them to be legitimate or not.” Her eyes locked onto him.