Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal. Victoria Pade

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Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal - Victoria  Pade

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nodded at Samantha. “I’ve been hearing great things about the new Internet site. Impressive. Samantha was just telling me about her plans and some innovative ways for my company to be a part of it.”

      “I hope you take her up on her offer,” Jack said.

      Melinda smiled coyly. “Of course I will. I know a good deal when I hear one. That’s how I got to where I am now.”

      Samantha did her best to pay attention to the banter but it was difficult with Jack’s fingers pressing against her skin. Heat radiated out from him, feeling hot enough to burn.

      Warmth spread out in all directions, making her breasts swell and her thighs melt. She wanted to blame her reaction on the liquor, but she’d yet to take more than a sip of her wine. Her next best excuse was that she hadn’t had much to eat that day.

      A tall older man approached and asked Melinda to dance. Several other people excused themselves, leaving Samantha and Jack standing together beside the dance floor.

      “So what do you think?” he asked, his dark eyes locking with hers.

      She assumed he meant about the party and not her awareness of him. “The night is a hit,” she said. “I had wondered how our advertisers would react to all the recent bad news, but they’re taking it in stride. A lot of that is you.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. They see you as a capable replacement for your father.”

      “Nice to know they think I can do as well as a man who defrauded investors.”

      She touched his arm. “They don’t mean it that way.”

      “I know.” He set down his glass on a nearby tray. “Want to dance?”

      She would never have thought he was the type to be comfortable on the dance floor and, to be honest, the thought of being that close to him was two parts thrilling and one part pure torture. Still, she’d never been able to resist things that were bad for her.

      She set down her wine. “Absolutely.”

      He took her hand and led her to the edge of the parquet dance floor, then drew her into his arms. She went easily, finding the sense of being against him and swaying to music almost familiar. Had they done this before? In grad school? She didn’t remember a specific time when they’d—

      “You’re frowning,” he said. “I’ll admit my moves are pretty basic, but I didn’t think they were frown-inducing.”

      “What? Oh. Sorry. I was trying to remember if we’d ever danced together before.”

      “We haven’t.”

      “You sound so sure of yourself.”

      “I am. I would have remembered.”

      Which meant what? But rather than pursue the question, she drew in a deep breath and consciously relaxed into the rhythm of the music.

      The slow song allowed them to sway together, touching from shoulder to thigh. He clasped one of her hands while her other rested on his shoulder.

      “Did I mention you look stunning?” he asked, his voice a low murmur in her ear.

      “No, and because of that, I think you should have to say it at least twice.”

      “You look stunning. The dress is nearly as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

      Ooh, talk about smooth. He certainly was a man who knew his way around a compliment. “I don’t get much chance to dress up these days. It’s fun for a change.”

      “And worth the wait.”

      The song ended, leaving her feeling as if she wanted more. A lot more. But this was a work-related party and she still had rounds to make, as did Jack.

      “I’m off to dazzle,” she said. “Thanks for the dance.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      He held her gaze a second longer than necessary, and in that heartbeat of time, she felt her body flush with need. All the tingles and whispers and little touches combined into an unexpected wave of sexual desire.

      Then Jack turned and disappeared into the crowd.

      She stared after him, trying to remember the last time she’d felt safe enough to want a man. She’d spent the last two years of her marriage simply going through the motions of intimacy because it had been expected, but she hadn’t enjoyed herself. She’d been too hurt and broken to let herself feel anything.

      Had time begun to heal her wounds or was her reaction specifically about Jack? She knew what it was like to make love with him. The memory of their single night together had been burned into her brain. She remembered everything from the way he’d kissed her to the feel of him inside of her. He’d coaxed more orgasms from her that night than she’d had in the previous year.

      Funny how a month ago she would have sworn she would never be interested in getting physical with a guy again in her life. But suddenly there were possibilities. Maybe not with anyone else, but certainly with Jack.

      Jack didn’t bother counting the number of times he was compared with his father and told he was nearly as great as the old man had been. He couldn’t believe so many people could know about his father’s mismanaging of the company and still call him a good man.

      By eleven, he was tired and ready to be done with the party. But there were more advertisers to schmooze and more hands to shake. It came with the job.

      Helen walked over and offered him a glass of scotch. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

      She looked beautiful in a fitted gown that showed off perfect curves. Her blond hair had been piled on her head, giving her a regal air. He didn’t doubt there were plenty of men willing to take her home for the night, or as long as they could get.

      Had she done that? She was substantially younger than his father. Had she taken lovers to keep herself satisfied?

      Then he pushed the thought away. Why was he once again assuming the worst about her? He’d lived in the city and traveled in similar social circles as his father and Helen. There’d never been a whisper of gossip about either of them.

      “Not my idea of a good time,” he said. “What about you?”

      She glanced around the crowd and shrugged. “Last year I came with George. I can’t stop thinking about that and I keep expecting to turn around and see him. It’s difficult.”

      She took a sip of her drink. As she shifted and the light spilled across her face, he could’ve sworn he saw tears in her eyes.

      He did swear, silently, calling himself several choice names for his earlier thoughts. “You really loved him.”

      “Stop sounding so surprised when you say that,” she told him. “Of course I loved him. I’m very intelligent and very capable. I didn’t need to marry someone to get what I wanted from life. I could have done that on my own.”

      He wanted to ask why his father. What

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