pumped through her limbs, forcing her body into action. She sprang up from her seat and paced the floor, crossing and recrossing the earth-toned-print area rug covering the parquet floor. Absently she stroked the polished wooden artwork and the array of greenery that adorned strategic locations throughout the tropiclike office. Clinton Steel disturbed her. There was no other word for it. Without effort, he’d made her think and feel things that she’d promised herself she’d never fall prey to again. Her husband, Alan, had been enough.
Terri shut her eyes and wrapped her slender arms around her waist as if to ward off some unseen attacker, momentarily reliving the months of agony. The knocking on her office door jarred her back to the present.
She spun toward the door, blinking back the visions to focus on Mark standing in the doorway.
She cleared her throat. “Mark. Come in.” She took a seat behind her desk.
“I think you’re making a big mistake here, Terri,” Mark began as he crossed the room and sat down, handing her a stack of documents to be signed.
She gave them a cursory glance and turned her attention back to Mark. “You know perfectly well how I feel about Hightower Enterprises.”
“Your opinion is archaic!” he snapped. “You left me in charge, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of running things around here. At least give me the courtesy of believing that I know what I’m doing. Do you honestly think that you can get anywhere in this world being a Goody Two-shoes? Be for real, Terri.”
Slowly she rose from her seat, her anger shielded behind her veil of serenity.
“You seem to have forgotten that this company is where it is today because we have values—whether you believe them to be legitimate or not.” Her eyes locked onto him.
Mark heaved a sigh and ran a finger around his shirt collar. Alienating her was not the answer. “Listen,” he said, forcing calm into his voice, “at least think about it. Three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at. Maybe this one time we could make an exception.”
“I doubt it. But I will give the proposal the benefit of another look.”
Mark’s hopes lifted. “That’s all I ask.” He headed for the door, then paused. “Do you still want me to pick you up this evening?”
“What? Oh, I’d almost forgotten. Yes, thanks. Is eight o’clock good?”
“I’ll be there,” he said, opening the door.
Watching his hasty departure, Terri realized that something was very wrong.
The swish of Terri’s black satin-and-chiffon gown blended delicately with the soft music and laughter that wafted from the ballroom.
Mark, clad in an elegant-fitting tuxedo, dutifully took Terri’s elbow and escorted her down the carpeted corridor of Tavern on the Green. Stopping briefly to check Terri’s stole, there were many who gave them a second look as the two made their way down the hall.
Bowing his close-cropped curly head, Mark whispered in Terri’s diamond-studded ear, “Are you ready for your grand entrance?”
“No way,” she whispered back as they neared the open ballroom. “And don’t you dare leave me, Mark Andrews,” she threatened. “You know how self-conscious I get in crowds. You’re going to take your share of wet kisses and damp handshakes like a man,” she teased.
“Thanks, I can’t wait,” he answered drolly, rubbing his index finger across his mustache.
At the entrance Terri was awestruck and took a moment to absorb the magnificence of the glittering room. Crystal chandeliers, lit by hundreds of candles, gave the room a dramatic, effervescent shimmer. The round dinner tables were covered with gold linen tablecloths, and crystal goblets stood as the centerpieces. The enormous buffet table was laden with every delicacy imaginable, the aromas taunting the senses.
The main ballroom opened out onto two huge rooms that led to enclosed balconies, giving a sweeping view of New York City. Complementing it all was the array of designer gowns and tuxedos that moved with the wearers like a second skin.
Mark felt Terri momentarily stiffen as the patrons turned to look at them as they stood in the archway. He gave the hand that held his arm an encouraging pat.
“Are you ready?”
Terri gave a tiny nod. Taking deep breaths and putting on their best smiles, they made their entrance.
Within moments Terri was separated from Mark and swept up in a flurry of greetings. Between hugs, handshakes and rapid-fire conversation, Terri tried to peer over the sea of heads to locate Mark.
Finally she spotted him on the far side of the crowded ballroom, apparently in deep conversation with a striking-looking woman.
With her hopes of imminent rescue dashed, she continued to make conversation and field questions about her next endeavor.
“So, what’s next, Ms. Powers?” asked Gordon Burke of Columbia Studios.
“This current project with the McPhearson Group and the networks will take up a great deal of time and energy,” Terri confessed. “But I do have some proposals that have been submitted for our consideration.”
“Would you care to elaborate?” asked a reporter from the Times.
“I don’t think that would be fair to my prospective clients,” she said, flashing an indulgent smile. She knew when she was being put on the spot, and her standard response was always a sure out.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Mark was finally standing alone. Seeing a way out from the probing questions, she made her excuses.
“If you all will excuse me—” she lifted her chin in the direction of Mark “—I see my partner over there.” She made her getaway, breathing a sigh of relief.
Shaking a few hands and giving smiles of acknowledgment along the way, she eventually made it across the packed room, only to be greeted by a look of pure enjoyment from Mark.
“You think this is all very funny, don’t you?” Terri asked, twisting her full lips.
Mark smiled broadly. “Why, of course. Where else could a single man have the opportunity to be entertained by so many fabulous single women?”
“You are behaving yourself, aren’t you, Mark Andrews?” she warned with a sparkle in her nut-brown eyes.
“That all depends on what you mean by behaving.” He grinned and took a sip from his wineglass and wondered where Clint was.
Terri tapped Mark playfully on the arm while walking around him to the buffet table.
On the far side of the room, Clint made his entrance, accompanied by his vice president, Melissa Taylor. His six-foot-plus height cut an exquisite figure, bedecked in a black Armani tuxedo.
His arrival instantly caught Terri’s attention, and an inexplicable heat rushed through her body. Her eyes were drawn to him like a magnet, totally oblivious to the shimmering female form that stood at his side. Terri quickly looked away. When she furtively looked back in his direction, she was
