Surrender to a Donovan. A.C. Arthur
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Dion’s content to let you handle the business with me. Why are you complaining? Not ready to live up to the Donovan name? Can’t fill big brother’s shoes?”
That finger had traced a line from her chin, down her neck to the cleavage she boldly displayed. When she licked her lips and raised an eyebrow suggestively, Sean wanted to laugh again. She was certainly pulling out all the stops with this meeting. Which in itself was laughable, since this was the third time he’d met with her to decline her offer to buy Infinity. He wondered how many more times it would take before she finally got the hint.
“I can assure you, Ms. Ravenell, I’m very confident in my position.”
“And I’m very confident in mine,” was her reply. “We need to come to a meeting of the minds. This offer is too good to pass up.”
With that remark, she uncrossed her legs, leaving them open just enough so that—if he wanted to—he could see between her legs, but that was the last thing he wanted to get a glimpse of.
“The offer is too ludicrous to consider. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”
He was already standing to escort her out of his office. Enough was enough. Her come-on had long since passed the line of mildly flattering to borderline disgusting. He’d be embarrassed for her if he thought she in some way deserved even that much from him. But Sean knew Sabine’s game. He knew she played it well and with many. He wasn’t about to become her next victim, no matter how hard she tried.
“Think about it, Sean. Who knows, maybe I’ll even make you my partner. You’d have Dion’s job and more money and power than you know what to do with,” she told him as she stood, flipping her hair over her shoulder with another one of her practiced moves.
“I have a job. I have money. And power is overrated. The door’s that way,” he told her with a nod of his head.
He wasn’t even going to walk her out. She’d taken up enough of his time as it was with chatter that didn’t interest him one bit.
Besides, it was almost four-twenty-five. He’d asked Tate to meet him here at four-thirty. On his desk were her last three columns, two of which had received more than eighty thousand hits on the website. He didn’t have any more time to spare Sabine or her crazy offer.
When he was alone again he picked up a piece of paper and began to read. The title was “Stuck on Stupid.” He read the article, shaking his head at the man who took his girlfriend back even after she’d cheated on him with her ex-boyfriend…twice. She stole money from him, stole his credit cards and ran up the balances, and still, when she came knocking on his door again, crying that she loved him, he took her back.
Sean’s first impulse was to concede. “You are stuck on stupid, buddy.”
Tate’s answer was a little more diplomatic.
Dear SOS,
Being in love can sometimes be construed as being stupid, but that’s a misconception. I’m quoting the Bible here: “Love is patient. Love is kind.” Love is not selfish or hurtful or devious. Your girlfriend is all of the above. So my solution for you is that for just a few minutes out of your life, you’ll have to adopt some of those same traits. You’ll have to selfishly claim your feelings as being more important than hers. Then you’ll probably hurt her feelings when you tell her to leave. Devious is what she may call you when you file charges against her for stealing your credit cards. This may not come as easily to you as it obviously does to her, but it’s necessary.
He stopped reading when a knock sounded at his door. Leaving the papers on his desk, Sean stood. He straightened his tie and did a quick breath check before crossing the room to answer the door.
“Hello,” he said when she looked up at him.
“Hi,” she replied with a smile that totally took his breath away.
“Ah, come on in.” He cleared his throat after a few stalled seconds. “Have a seat.”
Closing the door, Sean watched her walk to the guest chair across from his desk. It was wrong, or at least it should have been, the way he watched the sway of her bottom in the fitted dress. Yesterday her dress had been more full and she’d been leaning over, so he couldn’t really get a good look at her body. Not that he had been trying to.
But today, this dress left no doubt in his mind that she was a very attractive woman. The heels she wore made her toned calves look almost succulent, while the bright belt at her waist gave her an hourglass shape. He needed to get behind his desk before making any further assessments or risk the possibility of a sexual harassment suit when she looked up and his thoughts were clearly betrayed through his growing erection.
She started talking the minute he sat down. “I’m not sure what this is about. I haven’t missed a deadline, have I?”
“No. Nothing like that,” he began, shaking his head as he gathered up the papers, stacking them neatly. “I’ve been reading some of your columns.”
She sat up straight and he noticed that he couldn’t see up her skirt, unlike with Sabine. Her hands were folded in her lap and she looked at him quizzically with those eyes. Deep brown eyes that made him want to ask how her day was, what she’d had for lunch, what she planned to have for dinner.
Sean cleared his throat once more and tried to reroute his thoughts. “You’re very insightful and tend to hit the mark with stunning accuracy without being too preachy. There’s a good tone to the column. I really like that,” he told her. “We really like that. And by ‘we,’ I mean upper management.”
She nodded as if following the conversation but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her hair hung just past her shoulders, straight as an arrow and black as night, with honey-brown highlights. Yesterday, he remembered, it had a little curl to it. He blinked to keep from staring.
“As you know, we’re an affiliate of Donovan Network Television.”
Her head moved in another nod. Her hands didn’t move, weren’t shaking nervously, just sat perfectly still. She was patient; she’d waited for things before and was used to it, he surmised. Then he figured he’d just blurt it out, since the thought of making this woman wait wasn’t very appealing to him.
“We’re thinking of possibly adding a slot to an entertainment program that’s still in development. The slot would consist of you giving your relationship advice on air.”
Tate wanted to gasp. She wanted to ask him if he was serious or if he was sure he had the right person. Instead she cleared her throat and sat up even straighter. “You want the ‘Ask Jenny’ column to go live?” she asked, as panic and excitement fought for a prominent position inside her stomach.
“We think it would go over well. How would you feel about that?”
“What would be the format?” she asked over the lump in her throat. This was definitely not what she’d expected when she came to his office. Not at all.
“I don’t know. We haven’t really gotten that far in the planning. I wanted to see how you’d feel about doing a television show. I mean, obviously that’s not the job you applied for.”
“Obviously,” she said, then she smiled because she didn’t want him to think she was being sarcastic. “I mean, I have a degree in journalism, so I don’t know much about television.”
“So you like writing the column?”
She nodded. “I do. I’ve always loved writing.”
He sat back, watching her closely. Too closely for Tate’s comfort. But she wouldn’t show how nervous she was. She couldn’t afford to. It was her firm belief that once a man knew your weakness he’d exploit it, and you. As for Tate, she’d been there and done that.
“Do you enjoy giving advice to the lovelorn?”
It was a simple question. She shouldn’t have felt like he was really