But now they were in private-or as private as her driveway would allow. As she leaned over, her plunging neckline gaped away from her skin, giving him a view of her lush curves.
“Guh,” he managed.
“Come inside,” she whispered against his lips, taking his hand and holding it tented over one breast. “Anticipation is overrated.”
He made a low sound in his throat and kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting against hers the way his body had earlier. The heat of his hand burned right through the fragile fabric as he fondled her, caressing the nipple with his thumb in a slow rhythm that made her squirm.
She had him. No man could say no after an invitation like this.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were black with desire, and he was breathing as heavily as she.
“You don’t play fair,” he rasped.
“I’m not playing at all. I want you now,” she told him, her lips a promise against the underside of his jaw. “I don’t want to wait until you get back.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted, “but I have to. My boss called. I didn’t answer it at the aquarium, but I need to, soon. Otherwise he’ll keep calling, and I’ll go insane. I don’t want to be crazed when I make love to you.”
“Call him from here.”
“The documents he wants to talk about are all at the hotel. I promise I’ll be back in two hours, max.”
He was as dedicated to his job as she was. Up until now, she’d have admired that. But her ideas were changing. She smiled, knowing when she was beaten.
At least there was a bright side, she thought as she waved goodbye and then turned to let herself into the house. If anticipation added spice, she was going to be as hot as a Thai chili by the time he got back.
NELSON BERG MAY have been a mediocre executive, but his timing was superb.
Superbly lousy.
Mitch cursed him, his job, CWB and all its affiliates all the way back to the hotel, which meant his emotions were a roiling soup of aggravation and sexual frustration when he opened the door to his room. Not the best frame of mind in which to talk to the man who could pull the plug on his career as easily as he could advance it.
Mitch took a shower to give himself time to calm down. When he came out, feeling clean at least, if not calm, his cell phone was already sounding the message alarm. He sighed. Nelson was as predictable as…well, hot weather in Atlanta.
He hit Reply To Last Caller and opened his briefcase, where the terms of the acquisition were laid out in a deal memo.
“What took you so long?” Nelson barked without so much as a hello.
“Most of a major metropolitan center was between me and this paperwork. I came back to the hotel to call.”
“And what were you doing that far from your briefcase?”
“Nelson,” Mitch said patiently, “it’s Saturday. I know the days of the week have no meaning for you, but try to imagine a life where leisure time occurs once in a while.”
“I tried to reach you yesterday, but you didn’t reply then, either. If you’re on the network’s dime, Hayes, you’d better make yourself available.”
“I turned my phone off during the taping yesterday. Must’ve forgotten to turn it back on again. I tell you, Nelson, this show is a gold mine. Eve came up with a new twist on the town-hall segment this week where audience members participated and then were analyzed the next day by a professional.”
“Yeah, I saw it. What’d she have, a scheduling conflict with the talking head?”
Mitch pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then put it back. “So, what can I do for you, now that we’ve connected?”
“I met with the executive committee this week, like I told you.”
“You were going to let them know that Eve was signing on, the show was staying in Atlanta, and she would be able to keep her team.” He glanced at the deal memo, where each point was laid out.
“Yeah. So about that.”
Something in his voice caused a cold dart of apprehension to shoot through Mitch’s belly. “Yes?”
“You know how NBC has Leno and CBS has Letterman?”
Was there anyone in the country who didn’t? “Yes.”
“The executive committee thinks that Eve has the potential to go national on that level. Instead of this daytime TV thing, they think she should do late-night. Dr. Phil and Oprah and the soaps pretty much have daytime wrapped up in the big markets, so CWB is looking to establish itself in the late slot.”
Mitch took a deep breath. “Have they considered they’ll lose Eve’s primary demographic? Those viewers who tune in during the day aren’t going to stay up until eleven.”
Nelson started to say something, but Mitch cut him off. “And what about our plan to grow slowly? Eve totally bought into that. It was our primary differentiator over SBN and CBS. Which, by the way, aren’t going to propose she go late-night. They want her for the daytime, where she’s been successful. You run the risk of her backing out and choosing them. You know that, right?”
“The executive committee has more faith in her than you do, it seems,” Nelson told him. “It’s your job to keep her from signing with anyone else. Get her signature on that deal memo today, so she can’t back out. And then tell her that she’s going to need to move her show to New York after all. We can’t compete with Letterman right down the street unless she’s here.”
“She’s not going to go,” Mitch said coldly. “You’re reneging on every point that made us attractive.”
“You’ll have to work harder. I know you have it in you, Hayes. And what are you thinking about her for? You need to think about you. Your career. And what a coup like this is going to do for it.”
“A coup like this is going to turn me into a liar and make me lose every atom of trust I’ve managed to build up here, Nelson.” Mitch’s voice deepened with conviction. “She trusts me on a personal level, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t have so many good friends that I can afford to alienate them.”
“I just bet you’re good friends,” Nelson said with satisfaction. “I knew you’d take my advice and romance her. Well, playtime’s over. Now it’s time you justified your paycheck.”
“Listen, Nelson. I want to fly back and pitch the executive committee personally, okay? There has to be a way to make them see how counterproductive this is.”
“You crazy? I’m not about to authorize all that travel, even if they’d listen to you.”
“At least set up a time for me to talk to them. I know you don’t care one way or the other, as long as she signs. So what can it hurt?”
“It’ll hurt me when they see you’re wasting their time,” Nelson said. “You’ll be lucky to get a phone call. Don’t even think about flying back here.”
“All I need is fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll see what they say. I’m telling you, you’re beating a dead horse.”
And he hung up, leaving Mitch with a dead connection and a sick sense of loss around his heart.
16
EVE SHOWERED AND dressed carefully for the evening in a halter sundress that evoked the forties while emphasizing her curves in all the right places. Mitch could resign himself to enjoying the unbound look in private. When she was out in public, she had an image to maintain, and the bra that went under this dress gave her such great cleavage he’d probably be able to make do.
With a smile, she applied a touch more mascara, clipped on garnet earrings (When had Grandpa Calvert bought them for Nana? Had it been an anniversary? Their wedding?) and settled down at the dining table with the mail while she waited.
Electricity bill. Cell phone. Internet connection. Lot’O’Bucks. She ripped it open, scanned it and sighed.