The Sexiest Man Alive. Sandra Marton
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“Mr. Romano, please...”
Mr. Romano, please?
What in hell was happening here? The man had come strutting into her office—and it was hers, until he fired her—to humiliate her And she, like an idiot, was letting him get away with it.
Susannah lifted her chin.
“Actually,” she said, “I should thank you.”
It was his turn to blink. She almost laughed at the sight.
“Thank me?” he asked cautiously, and she nodded.
“For this demonstration.” He drew back, frowning Susannah saw her chance and took it, ducking out from under his arm, smiling coolly as she danced away. “In fact, since—as you pointed out—I made a few public comments about you, I’ll be happy to also make a public retraction.”
“A retraction?”
She nodded. She had him now. Oh, the confused look or his handsome—if you liked the type—face! “It will be my pleasure to tell the world that I was wrong. You are most definitely not studly.” She eyed him up and down. “I don’t think you could turn a real woman on if you tried.”
His face went white, and something that sounded suspiciously like a growl broke from his throat. Warning sirens shrieked in Susannah’s head, but she wasn’t about to stop.
“But I’ll stand behind everything else I said about you You’re an arrogant SOB, and now that we’ve met, I understand your propensity for blondes. Dumb ones, I mean. Let’s face it, Mr. Romano. They’re the only ones who’d put up with your overinflated ego.”
That last sound had definitely been a growl. He was moving, heading toward her, with a glint in his eye that was truly terrifying.
Susannah picked up speed. It wasn’t easy, making for the door while going backward, especially since she’d left one sneaker behind, but she kept going until she figured she hac only to reach back to touch the doorknob.
“As for this job, and your magazine, you know what you can do with them, Mr. Romano. Oh, by the way, my surname isn’t Clinton. It’s Madison, as in James Madison, the fourth president of the United States—if that’s not too much for you to remember When you write out my severance check please make it out properly, to Madison. Susannah Madison Capital M, a, d, i, s, o, n.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Studliness had given way to fury, and the sight warmed her heart.
“Goodbye, Mr. Romano. Have a nice—Whoa!”
Susannah’s bare foot went down on something soft and slippery. In the blink of an eye, she was airborne.
CHAPTER THREE
IT ALL seemed to happen in slow motion.
The woman with one sneaker. The jelly doughnut on th floor—
The pratfall.
Matthew leaped into action, coming up behind her, catchin her in midair before she could hit the floor.
There hadn’t seemed to be much to her, as far as he’d bee able to see She was small and skinny, not curvy the way woman ought to be. But she was a full armload. Her weight as she fell against him, had enough force to knock the breat out of them both.
“Ooof,” he gasped, as his arms closed around her
He lurched, staggered, tripped over his own feet. Susanna gave a thin shriek. She turned, and her arms closed around hi neck, and whatever air he might have drawn in to replace what he’d exhaled never made it to his lungs.
What could a man who is being choked to death say to th woman who was choking him?
“Aagh,” Matthew said, backpedaling wildly.
Overbalancing, they skated in reverse, smashed into the table, careened off a cabinet and fell into the unforgiving em- brace of the high-backed armchair Matthew had been sittin in before Susannah Madison had come marching through th door.
The chair groaned, flew backward and glanced off the table A lamp went down with a crash, followed by the telephone which made a sad, tinkling sound as it hit the floor.
And then, mercifully, there was silence
But just for a second.
Somebody pounded on the closed boardroom door.
“Suze?” Claire’s voice was shrill. “Suze, are you okay?”
Matthew dragged one of Susannah’s arms from aroun his neck.
“She’s fine,” he called.
Susannah glared at him. “I’m not—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth
“You want them to see this mess?” he hissed, his mouth at her ear “Do you have an explanation that’s going to keep everybody out there from figuring we just slugged it out?”
Susannah threw a wild look around the room. Papers were strewn across the floor The heavy conference table stood at an angle to the wall. The lamp had shattered, and the telephone was emitting a pathetic bleep. And on top of all that, here she was, sitting cozily in Matthew Romano’s lap.
She wrapped her hand around his and lifted it from her mouth.
“Everything’s fine, Claire,” she called. “Just fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive ” Positive? The room looked as if an inmate had rearranged the furniture in the asylum. For a second, Susannah wanted to burst out laughing.
“Mr. Romano, ah, Mr. Romano had a little accident, that’s all.”
“Mr. Romano had an accident?” Matthew whispered indignantly
A tremor raced along her skin as his breath tickled her ear
“He, um, he backed into the table. And, uh, some stuff fell down.”
There was silence. Susannah could imagine the way Claire and the rest would be looking at each other.
“Okay,” Claire said finally, “but if you want me, I’ll be right in my office.”
Susannah nodded. “Yeah,” she muttered, “great.”
Footsteps tapped down the hall. She waited a moment and then cleared her throat
“You can let me up now, Mr. Romano.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine”
“What’s with the martyred tone of voice, Madison? This mess wasn’t my idea, you know.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t mine!”
“No. That’s true enough. Attempting a crash landing on your butt was definitely your idea.”
Susannah glared at Matthew, and he glared back Oh, hell, she thought. He was right. If he hadn’t managed to grab her, to break her fall...
“I suppose there’s some validity to that,” she said stiffly.
“Is that supposed to be a thank-you?”
Susannah blew out a breath. A dark curl lifted on her forehead.
“Very well. Thank you.”
Matthew grinned. She’d said the words as if he were an executioner who’d just offered to cut off her head with a newly sharpened blade instead of a dull one.
“You see? It didn’t hurt, did it?”
“Don’t push it, Mr. Romano,” she said, fixing him with a cold eye. “You got your thank-you. Leave it at that. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“Actually,