But Yank was mystified when it came to physical violence. Although he found he rather liked the idea of finally being in a fight after all these years, he didn't really like fighting. There was no time to think anything through. No time to ponder or plan.
In actuality, Mitch was having more trouble with the women than he was having with Yank. The Faulconer sisters hung onto him like burrs. No sooner had he shaken off one than the other came back again. Paige had him by the neck, Susannah was pulling on his middle. His knee was starting to hurt, and he had banged up his elbow when the partition collapsed. What in the hell was he doing? He was thirty-eight years old, father of two, a member of the United Way Board of Directors. What in the sweet hell did he think he was doing?
He let go of Yank and loosened Paige's grip from around his neck. When Susannah realized he had stopped the fight, she relaxed the arm that had been clamped around his waist.
Yank was blinking his eyes. Mitch glared at him. "You're not taking Susannah to bed."
"No." Yank blinked. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea at all."
There was a long silence. Mitch stared at Yank. Then at Susannah. All the tension left his body like air from an overinflated balloon.
Yank continued to blink. "I'm sorry, but I seem to have lost my contact lens."
Then they were all down on the floor, relieved to have an excuse to pull themselves back together while they crawled around to find Yank's lens. Paige located it, still intact, under one of the Rolodex cards. Mitch straightened his necktie and rubbed his sore elbow. Susannah looked for her shoe.
"It's difficult…" Yank said, after he had inserted his lens and inspected a scraped knuckle. "It's difficult to see exactly how we might extract ourselves from this. Sam and I had a deal. I'm not proud of the fact that I didn't behave in an entirely honorable fashion. I should have told him I'd invented Victors, of course. But in any case, two wrongs don't make a right. Sam and I had a deal, and I have a certain obligation."
Now Susannah was the one who wanted to smack him. She stalked toward Yank, wobbling because she still hadn't found her shoe. "Yank, will you let it rest? It's over. The contest was meaningless."
To her astonishment, Mitch began to yell at her. "Shut up, Susannah! You may be dynamite when it comes to running a corporation, but you're hopeless when it comes to organizing your love life. I've let all this go on far too long. For six weeks I've been walking around with my tail tucked between my legs waiting for you to stop looking like you're going to break in half. Well, I've had enough!"
"Don't you dare talk to me like that!"
"I'll talk to you any way I like. Right now, I'm in charge." He spun toward Yank. "Let's make a side deal."
"A side deal? Yes. Yes, I think that's a good idea."
Paige's heart began an arhythmic thumping against her ribs.
"How do you want to go about it?" Mitch asked, all business now that he was once again in control. "Your deal, your call."
Yank was thoughtful. "Perhaps you could make me a monetary offer for her. That should make it official."
Mitch had cut his teeth on making deals, and he knew how to go for a quick kill. "I'll give you five dollars."
"Five dollars!" Susannah lurched toward them. "Did you say five dollars?"
"That would be fine," Yank replied. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer cash. I lose checks."
Mitch reached for his wallet and flipped it open. "I only have a couple of twenties. Do you have change?"
Yank pulled out his own wallet and inspected its contents. "I'm sorry. I only seem to have a twenty myself. Paige?"
Paige nearly lost her balance as she scrambled for her purse. But her hands were trembling so much she couldn't find anything. In desperation, she emptied the contents out on the desk, sending lipsticks rolling and chewing gum flying. Frantically, she snatched up her wallet and pulled open the dollar-bill compartment, breathing so fast she was dizzy. "No, no, I don't," she sobbed. "Oh, God. I've only got a fifty. What good in the world is a fifty?" And then she turned to Mitch and screamed, "For God's sake, give him the twenty!"
Susannah had to make some attempt to reassert her dignity. In a voice as chill as the polar ice cap, she said, "If this is an auction, I'll put in twenty and buy myself back."
"It's not an auction," Yank said firmly. "That would be demeaning."
Paige started to choke. Yank tapped her gently on the back.
Mitch passed over the twenty. "I want my change back."
Yank nodded and drew Paige toward him. For a moment he closed his eyes as his bruised jaw came to rest on the top of her head.
Paige settled against his chest. And then she stiffened as she remembered everything he had put her through.
Yank had been fighting over Susannah. Three men had been fighting over her sister. Not one, but three! Didn't anyone remember that she was the pretty one? Didn't anyone remember that she was the one men went crazy over?
Yank remembered. He stared down at her, this beautiful blond creature he had fallen so desperately in love with. She was every girl who had passed him by, every girl who had laughed at his awkwardness and then ignored his existence. All his life he had stood on the sidelines and watched women like Paige Faulconer walk right past without even seeing him. But now that was over.
Who could ever have imagined that someone like Paige could have fallen in love with someone like him? And he knew she loved him. He had felt the way their souls matched up right from the beginning, that night on the beach in Naxos. But he had wanted the two of them to last forever, and so he had given her time and all the room she needed to adjust, even though from that very first evening he had wanted to bind her to him so tightly she could never get away.
And tonight he had frightened her to death. What he had done for Susannah had hurt her badly. She was in a huff. He could see that, all right. Now he had to make it up.
"Susannah, I won't be in to work for several days," he said. "Paige and I need some time alone together."
Paige curled her lip and flashed her eyes just like a prom queen who had been forced to dance with the ugliest boy in the class. "I wouldn't go anywhere with you if you were the last man on earth. You're a nerd! A complete and total nerd!"
Yank took his time to consider his options. He had a scientist's passion for the truth. Tricking Sam had made him miserable, even though he had done it for the best of reasons. He had offended his own moral sensibilities once tonight. He certainly couldn't offend them twice.
Could he?
"Very well, Paige," he said. "Susannah, would it be possible for you to drive me to the doctor's office? My arm is a bit sore. I'm certain it's not broken, however-"
Oh, Lord, he could hardly breathe as Paige cradled his arm and cooed over him and made him feel as if he were a bronzed California surfer god with sculptured muscles, a white zinc nose, and a brain too small to ever cause the slightest bit of trouble.
Susannah watched the two of them leave. They were wrapped together as if they'd been born that way. Silence hung thick and heavy in the office. Mitch stood by the doorway, one hand resting loosely on the hip of his navy-blue trousers, the other at his side.
Susannah was so nervous she could hardly think. For months she had been on a wild roller-coaster ride as she realized that she loved Mitch and tried to lock her feelings away because she thought he loved her sister. Now she wanted him to take her in his arms and speak all those tender phrases she yearned to hear. But he wasn't saying a word.
She filled up the silence with chatter. "There's not one thing wrong with Yank's arm. He's manipulating her. I swear, Yank's getting stranger all the time. And my sister…" Her voice faded. Didn't Mitch care for her? She told herself that he had to care, or he wouldn't have gone so crazy with Yank.