Controlled Response
Page 13

When Lucas straightened, he felt somewhat heartened by the pensive look on her face, the hint that she was feeling less defensive and just more confused. However, he had to quell his desire to hold on to her too long, to try and drive the worry out of her eyes.
Taking out his cell and punching in a code, he added, "I'm summoning our limo pool.
They should be out front in just a second. I'll escort you to the lobby and you can take that back to Pickard s. The driver will drop you off by your car and make sure you get on your way home safely."
"I don't need that."
Pocketing the phone, he took her arm in a firm grip to guide her to the elevator. "It's late."
"And you don't think I'm capable of taking care of myself?"
"On the contrary. Which is why I expect, if you weren't trying to prove something to me, you wouldn't be contemplating taking an unnecessary risk. I like taking care of you. Is that so bad?"
"I should have run you over with the Harley. And rolled over your bike for good measure."
"Now that's just pure spite," he said, but found he had a desire to chuckle. Particularly when he noted a tiny curve at the corner of her luscious mouth as well.
When he returned to the board room, Matt cocked a brow. "So, did it go well?"
"Well, she called me an arrogant ass earlier."
"Always a good sign," Jon noted.
"Or tomorrow she's going to bring a Taser and use it on your testicles," Peter observed.
Lucas glanced at Ben. "You were laying it on a little thick down there."
"Well, I was going to slap your ass as I went by and say 'Go Team,' but you weren't wearing those cute black shorts that drive me wild."
Lucas rolled his eyes, but he proceeded to lay out what he had in mind. When he was done, he had the attention of every man at the table.
"And you think she'll agree to this?" Jon raised a brow. "You've known her, what? A total of one day?"
"We had a connection. She won't know about you all, until the rest is in process. That's the point."
"A thousand." Ben thumbed a poker chip out on the table. "I call a month from today."
They all carried a pocketful of the plastic chips, and now Jon put out the same amount, along with a five hundred chip. "I'll raise that bet and say five weeks. She'll make him work for it."
"I think she'll really make him work for it. Six months." Matt tossed three chips into the pot. "Three thousand, gentlemen."
Lucas frowned, reaching for his chips. "What the hell are we betting on?"
"When you'll get her to agree to marry you."
"What?" He might have choked on his coffee if he hadn't just swallowed it.
"I think it would have been safer to bet on when he'll get a commitment," Ben observed.
"Nah." Peter sat back. He'd changed into jeans and T-shirt. His pose, his hands laced behind his hair, displayed a tattoo around his impressive bicep, the don't tread on me serpent flag. "When Lucas moves in to close a deal, he makes it permanent. He won't give her the chance to find out what kind of trouble she's in."
"She probably won't have him," Ben commented. "I've seen him in the shower. He doesn't have a lot to bring to the table. Since it looks to me she can shrink a horse's schlong down to the size of a mouse's dick with a few sharp words, he's already starting out with a handicap."
"Says the guy with the horse's schlong. That's why you prefer ass-fucking, Ben. If women saw you coming at them with that thing, they'd run screaming," Peter remarked.
"You know you want it, you pussy."
"Truly spiritual and earth-shattering sexual practices have nothing to do with genitalia size," Jon pointed out.
"The lacings on that corset are tight for a reason, aren't they?" This came from Matt at the end of the table, quelling the banter. He was partly in shadows, now that they'd dimmed the overheads to make the most of the nighttime city view.
"Yeah. Which is why I'm calling on all of you." Lucas tossed in his chips, matching Matt s bet. "I wanted to do it slow, easy, but if I don't get her tomorrow, I might lose her. I won't take that chance."
"Well, we've all known the type of woman who's walled herself up in her own castle, never realizing she's made herself the prisoner." Jon glanced toward Matt, then back toward Lucas. "Is she wild enough to handle—"
"No," Lucas said decisively. "No. She's first class, and I want her treated that way. This has the potential to scare her to death if we don't do it right. It's got to be gentle, but take her over the edge."
"Lucas," Matt said, drawing his attention. "No one here would treat her any other way, whether or not she's special to you. You know that. If your gut tells you the deal has to be an aggressive takeover, just be sure to weigh carefully what it is you want from her when the deal is done."
Lucas nodded, sat down, and stared at the table. "This is crazy." And then he told them everything. How he'd met her.
When he was done, the room was silent for a long moment. Then Jon spoke.
"Lucas, there's no point in fighting it. Things like that just don't happen. I don't care how skeptical you are, when Fate punches you in the face like that, you better take what She's offering."
Lucas gave him a wry smile. Peter nodded in solemn agreement, and Ben, for once serious, gave him a straightforward look that made the vote unanimous. The bond he had with all of them gave Lucas the courage to accept it, to feel the truth of it sweep him with unexpected pleasure . . . and fear. He turned his attention to Matt. "I thought if it ever happened, I'd just be in the gate at this point, not sure how far I want to run the race. But I want her more than I've ever wanted a woman." Than he imagined ever wanting a woman again.
"You just know," Matt confirmed softly. "You know it's the deal you want forever."
Lucas nodded, and then, his lips firming, he reached in his pocket, drew out the rest of his chips and added it to the pile. "Tomorrow."
Grins swept the table, and then Ben cocked a brow at him. "Well, I guess there's no time to enhance your equipment after all. I was going to suggest a guy who could pimp up your rod—and I ain't talking your car."
"Oh, Jesus Christ. This from the lawyer whose car personifies the biblical quote about rich men and the eye of the needle."
"That car is going with me to Heaven. I don't care what I have to fit it through. I'm just saying, Cassandra is a fine-looking woman who deserves the best. One more second, and I'm sorry, man, I could have had my hands all over her ass. I'm only human. Jesus. If you need any help at all—"
"I'll know where to find you. In the meantime, put it on a choke collar."
"Lady on deck," Peter warned, glancing left to see Savannah coming down the hall.
"Clean it up, gentlemen."
Lucas rose with the rest of them as Savannah entered the room, but underscoring the subject, he saw the way her gaze immediately went to Matt, and how his dark eyes softened on her face.
Feeling his heart twist at the sight, Lucas suspected by the end of tomorrow he was either going to be the luckiest son of a bitch ever, or he'd have lost the deal of a lifetime.
Five
She wasn't late, but she didn't come early either. Still, Cass wasn't surprised when she reached the executive floor that the admin directed her right to Lucas's office.
"Mr. Adler said he wanted to meet with you prior to the video-conference."
"Of course," she said.
She'd stopped in the lobby ladies' room to ensure she was well put together. Today she'd worn the black, wasp-waisted boned corset, the most structured of her collection. It nipped in and was tightened to the point a man's hands could span her waist... if she let him that close. While she'd originally intended to give her body as well as her mind the message of self-control, she'd chosen clothes to shred Lucas's. A strategy she realized might be unwise. But here she was.
The deep pink cashmere sweater with pearl buttons down the front had a modest scoop neckline, but since the shoulder straps of the corset shaped her breasts, it clung precariously to smooth, high curves. The attached narrow ribbon collar fastened at the throat, held with a cluster of delicate seed pearls, which drove the eyes to the expanse of flesh beneath that strip and above the sweater's neckline.
Her straight black skirt stopped at mid-thigh. She had her hair arranged in a twist that spilled down one shoulder again. He liked her hair, she could tell that, so she'd given him a teasing amount of it. Then she'd selected stiletto black heels that should make her five-eight much closer to his six-three height.
It was probably his damned German ancestry that gave him that imposing stature. Adler.
German translation, eagle. Sharp-eyed, swift predator. Able to steal away the breath when seen up close. When she'd thought that through this morning, she'd realized anew she couldn't go into his office with the assumption that winning meant resisting him. Winning meant getting through the day and sticking to her resolve to walk away when it was done.
He'd promised he'd honor that, but she wasn't so naive as to think that he wouldn't try to get her to change her mind.
She'd also accepted that having sex with him was inevitable. If she could goad him to lose all control, ravish her on the floor, and she could walk away, she could still consider it a win on her side. What woman could feel she'd lost if she was sexually sated? So she didn't have to rely on ice cool calm as the foundation for today's game, which gave her a sense of recklessness she typically didn't get to indulge. She'd go in edgy, taunting him with what he couldn't have beyond today. Then she'd wait to see if he could take her down, and allow herself to enjoy the challenge. Even if he overwhelmed her, it would be like indulging in a day of chocolate, knowing that tomorrow she'd have to return to a sensible diet.