Controlled Response
Page 6

She had her golden hair in a barrette, emphasizing the delicate line of her throat. Pearls with a topaz amulet made those blue eyes even more stunning. Her snug black skirt had a ripple of fabric at the hem that fluttered as she walked. The skirt was just past her knees, so only shapely calves set off by her heels were visible, but the fit of the garment turned her into an hourglass. She had to be wearing a thong to achieve those smooth lines over her pretty much perfect ass.
The whole package screamed, "Beautiful woman—give her whatever she wants."
Matt's team had an unintentional reputation for overwhelming and charming female opponents, to the point most companies didn't even bother sending them anymore.
However, it seemed she'd turned that around, realizing that such men might be just as susceptible to an unexpected offensive of feminine wiles. Could she be that clever? As he registered her cool smile, no different from what she'd bestowed on Jon, he thought maybe she was.
Jon cleared his throat, pulling him out of his examination and making him realize he hadn't even greeted her yet.
"What's the matter, Mr. Adler? Cat got your tongue?"
Oh, no, she didn't. She met his gaze with those wide, guileless eyes. But in that startled moment, like the snap of a gun stock locking into place, he had his feet beneath him again. It had been a hell of a bow shot. He almost felt like smiling.
"Would that please you, Miss Moira?" he asked. Then, before she could respond, he arched a brow. "Matt, you didn't have her take the stairs, did you? She seems a little short of breath."
Something sparked in the blue depths, and if they'd been standing on the deck of two opposing ships in truth, he'd have taken it as the warning strike of flame, about to be touched to a cannon's wick. Withdrawing her hand, she turned toward the rest of the team.
"Mr. Kensington, I'm ready to get started whenever you are."
He'd never really thought about the sheer sensual impact of a corset worn the way she wore it. He was used to seeing it on the outside, a blatant sexual enticement. But the way it hugged her body discreetly out of sight, it molded her posture so that the rounded curve of the buttocks, the long line of her throat, the high position of accentuated breasts, were impossible to ignore. Hell, it made every movement an act of careful, planned grace, if the woman worked with it. Cassandra Moira worked it to the nth degree.
He did listen. He evaluated her strategies, her approach, and was impressed by the level of homework she'd done in the short time period she'd had. She spent little time on the points she'd deduced they agreed upon, then presented resolution options for the more contentious points she'd accurately anticipated. By the time she'd worked down the nearly hundred items they had to handle for this phase of the contract, he'd marked down only ten concerns needing more work. He didn't think he'd ever seen a negotiator do so well, and he'd been actively trying to find things to break her stride.
"If you find this suitable, we probably need to go over the legal points with the Japanese suppliers to meet regulatory requirements. We could videoconference them in tomorrow or on Wednesday."
The regulatory step was an onerous, information-only process that Matt would typically relegate to middle managers, but Lucas inclined his head to Matt. His CEO lifted a brow, a brief flash of surprise in his gaze, but otherwise remained poker-faced as he faced Cassandra.
"That will be fine," he said. "We'll set it up for tomorrow. I do have some concerns about.
. ."
As Matt began outlining many of the list points Lucas had on his sheet, he studied her profile, the way she held her attention on Matt. Was her focus a little too intense? Was he deluding himself, or was she avoiding looking toward him? A negotiator would be expected to shift her gaze, gauge the reaction of Matt's CFO to his concerns. But she didn't. Not once.
"I think we can work with most of those," she responded at last. "But—"
"I have a couple more, Matt," Lucas cut in. Normally he would have interjected at the end of Matt's, as Matt allowed a pause for him to do just that, but she'd jumped the gun a little. Another subtle sign of nervousness, unless she hadn't expected Matt to defer to his team.
She settled back, though, apparently unruffled. "My apologies, Mr. Adler. Please continue."
"I agree, most of these can be worked out, but we have a genuine concern about stock prices. K&A is putting a lot into the plant conversion. We want control of the company."
"That has little to do with investment and everything to do with K&A's desire to own the whole world." She underlined the words with a charming smile, laced with the right touch of just-between-you-and-me banter. Now her gaze did sweep the table, pausing briefly on each of the team, before returning to Matt. "But you know you can get your return on this investment, and then some, without owning it. Mr. Johnson wishes to retain his majority interest."
"You have very few willing to undertake this," Lucas pressed.. "Josh Johnson is not easy to work with."
"True enough. But 'very few' is still more than one, isn't it? We've indicated our willingness to compromise, meet you halfway on seventy-two points, gentlemen. Your demands have not been unreasonable, and I think we all know everyone stands to make a lot of money. But on this one issue, we stand firm. We will not negotiate on holding majority interest. While I look forward to the pleasure of your company for the next couple of days, if that point is a deal breaker, I shall have to go seek out more flexible—if less pretty—faces."
A text message popped on Lucas's PDA, from Peter, who'd been taking notes at the other end of the table.
Jesus Christ. Is anyone else hard as a rock?
Ben muffled his chuckle in a cough. Matt registered the note with a glance, but didn't change expression as he shifted his attention back to Cassandra.
"We have a penchant for pretty faces ourselves, Miss Moira. Therefore, we'd invite you to stay. You and Lucas can work out the remaining details in here this afternoon."
She inclined her head, though she still didn't look toward Lucas. "It would be my pleasure."
That was an understatement for him. Because he was as hard as a rock.
She wanted to say it would be never-ending torment. Had she pushed so hard because strategically she knew Matt Kensington appreciated strength, or because she'd hoped to escape this? Had she actually been willing to take a dive on this one? If the latter, she was already in deep trouble.
Fortunately, there was no way to know, and in times of crisis, or at least the need to regroup, a woman always had one sanctuary. The admin pointed her the way to the ladies'
room on the break. It was the last calm moment she'd have before spending the afternoon with Lucas. She headed toward the restroom without hurry, though she felt like bolting.
She reminded herself this was the very reason she wore the corset under her clothes.
Controlled, precise movements, no matter that the mad fluttering in her chest was like butterflies hopped up on crystal meth.
She even leaned up against the door after she was inside, as if barricading it. There were fresh flowers on the counter. White, red and yellow roses. A vanity with a padded velvet chair, positioned against the wall, was supplied with various toiletries. Feminine products, not provided in ugly metal dispensers, but discreet baskets. On the wall, a painting showed a woman sitting at a similar vanity, the curve of her back exposed, for she wore only a towel wrapped loosely around her lower body. Elegant, sensual. Unusual for an office setting, but not a richly appointed powder room like this.
Steve had actually apologized for having to send her instead of Tim, who'd been in Seattle. She was his top negotiator, so she'd been vaguely insulted when he revealed he'd intended to send a man because most women couldn't keep a clear focus with the K&A team.
She'd bet him she would come back with everything Johnson really wanted. She'd done that, won the bet. But she was no longer insulted. If any woman could emerge from a meeting with this group without an elevated pulse and the undeniable urge to have a personal marathon with a sexual aid, she wanted to meet her and find out what libido-paralyzing drug she used.
On the surface, they were just five men. Exceptionally handsome, yes, and confident in distinct ways, with an easy rapport together. They listened to her, responded to her, challenged her as a business equal, refreshing and unexpected in manufacturing environments. But that was part of their seduction, she realized. It went perfectly with the contrast of what simmered below the surface. Being in their presence made her hyperaware she was a woman, as if they were a pack of wolves who'd scented her when she entered the room, stimulating the sexual radar of every gorgeous one of them. God, if she let her mind get away with her, she could imagine them putting her on the table to share her for lunch.
They'd done nothing inappropriate, not even anything overtly sexual—they just exuded sex. It was something even more than that, though. Something that swept her skin with heat and made her shy away from delving too deeply into it. Whatever it was, whatever they were, it called and connected to the base instinct of what she was.
Even the way Peter Winston had asked her if she wanted coffee. Leaning toward her, his gray eyes close enough to distract—storm cloud color, whereas Lucas's were silver—his hand poised just inches from her arm. It made a woman want to lean in, just a bit more, toward the combat-ready physique Peter had, as an active reservist who she knew had already done at least one tour in Iraq. He had an intriguing aftershave, something clean and spicy, though she preferred the musk of Lucas's cologne. /
Okay, so there was no denying every single one of them could bait the hook, make himself irresistibly tempting to his prey. Big deal. That, and they fairly pulsed with the unspoken promise that they knew how to please a woman. Body, mind, and soul.
Overwhelming, sexually confident men she could handle. But adding Lucas to the mix was nitro to a system already revving dangerously high. If she could lump him into their extraordinary, pheromone-overdosed clan, then her reaction to him would be no more dangerous than getting besotted by a remote movie star.