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He punched the emergency button, waited for the sound of the alarm bell… and heard only silence. He hit the button again, and the car gave a jolt. Slowly, at a rate of what seemed an inch an hour, it began its descent.
Matthew cursed, leaned against the wall, folded his arms and settled in to wait.
First the incident in the boardroom, now a cranky elevator. This was turning out to be one great day.
Where had he left his brain this morning? It wasn’t between his ears. There was no other way to explain why he’d given up rational thought as soon as the Madison woman had come sashaying into view with her laceless sneaker, her hairstyle-by-electric-outlet. And that doughnut between her teeth.
Oh, yeah. Without question, wasn’t that a description sexy enough to put any red-blooded American male’s gonads into overdrive?
Matthew glared at his reflection in the smudged brass elevator door.
“You’re behaving like an idiot, Romano,” he muttered.
His reflection knew better than to argue. Besides, it was true.
It was bad enough he’d succumbed to an emotion as petty as revenge and had flown three thousand miles across the country to get it. Revenge, and never mind all his speeches about not being a vindictive man. He’d let the sophomoric remarks of a woman he’d never met tick him off.
And he’d ended up making an ass of himself.
Why had he kissed Susannah Madison?
Kissed her? Kissed her? Matthew rolled his eyes. If that was just a kiss, he’d left Planet Earth behind.
What he’d done was damn near jump her bones. Ten minutes after he’d met her. In the boardroom. On the conference table. With a crowd of thousands in the hall.
Matthew’s shoulders slumped.
Was he nuts, or was he nuts? What had happened to his control over the situation, over Susannah Madison…over himself?
It wasn’t even as if she’d turned him on. The thought was almost enough to make him laugh. Turned on by a woman with a razor-sharp tongue and the charm of a rattlesnake? Turned on by somebody who looked like a refugee from a sideshow?
The sweatshirt. The jeans. The sneakers. Oh, yes, the sneakers.
He did laugh, this time.
A bag lady had more going for her than the Madison broad…and yet, if the CHIC staffers hadn’t come bursting through the door, he’d have—she’d have—they’d have…
“Damnation,” Matthew said again, and wiped his hand over his suddenly sweaty brow.
Was he losing his taste? His touch? His mind?
What in hell would make a man hit on a woman who didn’t even look like a woman? Well, okay. She’d looked like a woman. There’d been the curve of her breasts, even under the baggy shirt. The feel of that nice, rounded bottom beneath the saggy jeans. The smell of her hair, the length of her lashes, the pouty mouth.
There had to be an explanation for his behavior. Anger? Could that have been the reason? Could his rage at Susannah Madison have somehow translated itself into desire?
No way.
Sex was sex. Rage was rage. Only a complete idiot would confuse the two.
“Do I really look like an idiot?” Matthew demanded of his reflection just as the doors swooshed open on the lobby.
A small, stout woman, arms crammed with file folders, eyed him warily. Matthew felt a strange sensation begin crawling up his neck. He-was blushing! Blushing, and all because a broad who’d already maligned him on paper had managed to humiliate him in person.
“No.” The woman’s voice quavered “You, ah, you look like a perfectly normal human being to me.”
Matthew felt the heat rise into his face. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he said stiffly.
“Sure. Whatever you say, mister. There’s no need to explain, no need at—”
Matthew started past her, stopped and swung around.
“Would you answer a question, please, madam?”
I already did,” the woman said quickly. “You said—”
“Forget that,” he said, with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I was talking to myself.”
“Uh-huh. And I understand. I, uh, I talk to myself, too.” She made a gargling noise that might have been a laugh. “You get the best answers that—”
“Do I look like a fool?”
“Ah…”
“Do I look like the type of man who needs to hit a woman over the head with a club, toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to my cave?”
“No. Oh, no. You most certainly—”
“On the other hand, a woman—one who had reason to do so—could probably entice even the most civilized man into such behavior, if she wished.”
“Well, I—”
“She could.” Matthew’s voice was impatient. Why hadn’t he seen the truth before? What had happened was Susannah Madison’s doing, not his. She’d stop at nothing for the chance to cut him down to size. Or to hang onto her job. One or the other, maybe both. Who knew? Who cared? What mattered was that he’d figured it out, and just in time.
“Thank you for your help, madam,” Matthew said. He flashed a glittering smile and stepped into the elevator.
“Uh…didn’t you want to get out? I mean, the car came down. Now it’s going to go back up…”
“Madam.” Matthew drew himself to his full—and imposing—six feet two inches. “I do not need you to tell me that both the car and I are about to make a return trip.” He frowned. “I have business—unfinished business—on the fourteenth floor.”
“And I have unfinished business in the lobby,” the woman said quickly.
“As you wish,” Matthew said politely, and pressed the button. The doors slid shut, the car lurched upward, and he folded his arms and contemplated the ceiling.
That Madison woman had made a fool of him not once, but twice.
Well, she wouldn’t get away with it.
Never mind giving CHIC four weeks. What for? Why should he lose more money? It was revenge, yes, but so what? The magazine was done for. He’d only come here today for the pleasure of firing Susannah Madison in person. And he’d have done what he’d come to do if it hadn’t been for that nonsense in the boardroom. Nonsense the Madison broad had engineered.
Matthew’s teeth showed in a feral grin.
Had the woman really believed her silly little seduction scene would keep him from delivering the coup de grace? No way. It was the confusion afterward, when her staff had come bursting in, that had left him groping for an explanation.
Well, Madison and company were about to attend another meeting, and he knew exactly what he’d say this time
“You’re fired, every last one of you, and you can thank the charming Miss Madison for what’s happened.”
Oh, yes.
Matthew tucked his hands into his pockets and began to whistle. The doors opened, and he stepped briskly from the car.
* * *
Five minutes later, he stood on the curb.
He was not smiling or whistling. What he was doing was grinding his teeth.
At least, he thoug
ht glumly, he’d made a quick exit, substituting the fire stairs for the elevator. He also had his briefcase and the beginning of a nasty headache, one he suspected was going to take four weeks—four very long weeks—to go away.
A taxi pulled to the curb in response to Matthew’s raised hand.
“The Manhattan Towers,” he said, “on the park.”
The cab edged out into traffic. Matthew sat back, folded his arms and continued glowering.
The idea had seemed so simple. Go back, confront everyone at CHIC, and make his announcement.
How could he have known that the receptionist would shriek as if he were Tom Cruise and she were a randy teenager? How could he have guessed she’d come running from behind her desk clutching his briefcase in her arms? That she’d babble about how he’d left it behind, how she’d been about to phone his office and find out where to hand deliver it..except she’d been delayed by the celebration?
“Celebration?” he’d said cautiously, at which point her eyes had turned suspiciously bright.
“Oh, Mr. Romano,” she’d said in a wobbly voice. “We’re all so grateful for this chance!”
Matthew had cleared his throat. “Actually, ah, Miss—”
“I’m Judy,” she’d said through a tear-stained smile. “See, we were all sure the new owner—well, we didn’t know it was you, but we figured it would be, you know, off with their heads with one big chop without even giving us a chance to prove ourselves.”
“To tell you the truth, Judy—”
“I was so worried. About my mother, you know? She’s in the hospital, she fell and broke her leg but it’s not too bad, really, she could just as easily have broken her hip again.”
“Judy,” Matthew had said desperately, “if you’d just give me a minute—”
“Eddie, from the mail room? He called his girlfriend. They were supposed to get married this weekend. She’s pregnant, which is great, they wanted this baby, but once he figured he might be out of a job… Anyway, he told her the good news. I mean, we know nothing’s permanent but now that you’ve shown this faith in us and in Susannah…”
Matthew shut his eyes as the cab maneuvered through the crowded streets.
Another minute, she’d probably have credited him with finding the cure for the common cold.
