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“All that garbage about me not being able to turn a real woman on and dumb blondes being the only ones who’d go out with me—”
“Not all blondes are dumb, of course,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I guess that limits your field.”
Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t it bother you to condemn the members of your own sex that way?”
“Why should it? I’m not a card-carryng feminist. I believe in equal opportunity for women, but I don’t believe all women are equal. If there are lowbrow idiots out there who can be turned on by a man with a lot of money and a little bit of looks—a very little bit—so be it.”
“So, I’m incapable of turning a woman on?”
“If she doesn’t owe points on an intelligence scale? Damned right, Mr. Romano!”
“Would it surprise you to know that the woman I’m currently seeing is an attorney?”
Susannah laughed. Dammit, he didn’t blame her. What was he going to do? Trot out the pedigree of every female in his past?
“I suppose,” he said coldly, “your IQ is high enough so that you consider yourself immune to—how did you put it? A man with a whole lot of money and a little bit of good looks.”
“Definitely.”
“That, then, is why you don’t find me…” He smiled nastily. “What was your phrase, Miss Madison? Ah, yes. Studly.”
Pink color swept into her cheeks. What kind of conversation was this? And why were they having it with her seated in Matthew Romano’s lap?
In his lap? Good grief! What she doing still sitting, in his arms?
Susannah pulled back.
“Let me up, please.”
“Does Peter have a whole lot of money and a little bit of good looks?”
“What?”
What, indeed? Why had he asked her about Peter? The men in Susannah Madison’s life were none of his business.
“What do you know about Peter?” she demanded. “Have you been spying on my private life, too?”
“The next time you send hugs and kisses to the man in your life, don’t do it via office E-mail.”
“That’s it,” Susannah said with quiet fury. “Let me up!”
It was, Matthew knew, a logical request. There was no reason to keep her here, with her spiky hair inches from his nose. He leaned closer and sniffed. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers. And it only looked spiky. When his nose brushed against it, it felt silky. And soft.
“If you don’t let me up, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” He chuckled. “Yell? Scream? Call for your colleagues to break down the door and see their boss cozily occupying the lap of the studly enemy?”
Lord, oh, lord, why had she ever called him that?
“I am not cozily occupying your lap,” she said, with great dignity. “And I’ve already told you, you are not—”
“Studly?” Matthew said, and laughed.
The laugh, sly and low in his throat, did it. Susannah punched her fist into his shoulder.
“Let go,” she said furiously. “And tell me what’s so damned funny!”
“You, Miss Madison. You seem to think you can waltz through life saying whatever you like about people without ever having to pay the price.”
“If you mean that I speak my mind—”
“I mean exactly what I said. You’ve made some unpleasant accusations about me.”
“Let go,” Susannah panted, as she struggled to free herself from his arms.
Romano held her tighter.
“Unpleasant, and unwarranted. And I resent it.”
“Too bad.”
Matthew shifted his weight in the chair. The sudden movement tipped Susannah forward. Without thinking, she threw both arms around his neck to recapture her balance.
“Do you happen to know your IQ, Miss Madison?”
Susannah looked at Matthew Romano. His face was inches from hers, the cool blue eyes bottomless. She could see a tiny scar feathering out from beneath one eyebrow. Did it have something to do with that little jog in his nose? Somehow or other, despite the expensive suit, the faint but elegant cologne, the trappings of wealth that clung to this man, she had no difficulty picturing him getting his nose broken or his forehead cut. There was something intensely masculine about Matthew Romano, something that could surely make female hearts flutter.
Close up, he wasn’t quite the empty suit she’d imagined.
Actually, there was nothing empty about this suit, nothing at all. The arms that held her were powerful. The chest she leaned against was muscular, as were the thighs that cradled her bottom.
Susannah flushed.
All right. Perhaps there were things about him some women might find attractive. Some. Not her.
“Doing an assessment?” he asked softly.
Susannah blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Matthew’s smile tilted “You seemed to be taking inventory, Miss Madison. I wonder—do I come up to par?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coldly.
He laughed, and settled his arms more comfortably around her. “Let’s return to my question, shall we? Do you know your IQ?”
“I don’t see what my IQ has to do with anything, Mr. Romano.”
“Humor me.”
Susannah folded her arms. “Take two of your female friends, add them together and tack on half of one more, and you’re getting close.”
Matthew grinned. “That’s perfect.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“It’s excellent.”
“I’m delighted you approve, but I fail to see what my IQ has to do with anything,”
“It’s quite simple, Miss Madison.” Matthew shifted her so that she was facing him. “I’m going to prove that you’re wrong, and I want to be sure to do it by a wide enough margin.”
“What?” Susannah said.
It was all she had time to say, because less than a heartbeat later, Matthew Romano’s mouth closed over hers.
His lips were firm and warm. They settled over hers with an authority that, for a second, anyway, stunned her into immobility.
But it didn’t last.
He knew the instant reality hit. She went from shocked compliance to horrified rigidity in his arms. Next, she’d begin to struggle. Except he wouldn’t let things go that far.
Matthew wasn’t a man who got pleasure from overpowering women. Pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, came from giving as well as receiving. He liked to feel a woman’s heartbeat quicken, to have her sigh his name and turn to warm honey in his arms. And he certainly didn’t enjoy making love to a woman he found unattrac
tive, in spirit as well as body.
As soon as Susannah Madison began fighting him, he would let her go. All this was about, all he wanted, was to show her for the sharp-tongued witch she was.
She couldn’t claw his male dignity to shreds and get away with it.
It was a fine idea. Unfortunately, there were factors he’d failed to take into consideration.
The softness of Susannah’s mouth.
The scent of her skin.
The race of her heart.
The feel of her in his arms.
He’d expected to be kissing a sour old maid. But he found himself kissing a dream instead.
She began to struggle. It was time to let her go.
But he didn’t want to.
He wanted to stroke her hair. To slip his tongue into her mouth. To shape her body with his hands and taste all its sweet, hidden places.
“Susannah,” he whispered against her lips “Susannah.”
He sank his hands into her hair, fit his mouth more carefully over hers and softened the kiss. And all at once she wasn’t fighting him She was kissing. him back.
She was kissing him, this man who’d just forced his kiss upon her, this man she’d despised on sight. She was kissing him, and loving it.
The taste of him.
The feel.
The incredible hardness of his body.
The shocking tenderness of his mouth.
What am I doing? Susannah asked herself. And then she gave up thinking and tumbled into the magic of the kiss.
She’d never known a kiss could be like this, that her heart could hammer in her throat just at the feel of a man’s lips on hers. The sensation was beyond comprehension. She felt as if she were slipping away from herself, and it was wonderful. Nothing existed but the moment and Matthew.
He moved so that she was lying fully against him. When he did, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. There was a thudding sound somewhere in the distance. Was it the sound of her heart?
Was somebody calling her name?
Was a voice saying, “Suze?”
It wasn’t Matthew. He hadn’t seemed to know her name a little while ago. Now he was holding her, kissing her, whispering “Susannah,” over and over against her lips.
“Matthew,” she sighed.
He groaned, bent his head, gently nipped her throat.
She dug her fingers into his hair. Desire shot through her. She felt reckless and bold.
