The Sexiest Man Alive (The Romanos 1)

’m wrong—but I’m the guy in charge. Take it or leave it.”

His words were cold, but that was fine with her. So long as they both remembered this was a business arrangement…so long as he remembered, she thought, frowning. She certainly would. What had happened between them, that kiss, that trip into the hot, dark wildness of her libido, hadn’t meant a thing.

“Madison?”

Susannah blinked. “Yes?”

“Can you accept those terms?”

She nodded. “I can accept them—but I’ll need an increased budget for advertising to launch the new campaign.”

“Send me a breakdown showing what you need and why, and you’ll have it.”

“And more staff.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

He was laughing at her, and she knew it, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“I mean to,” she said coolly.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

He nodded “In that case…”

Her heart stopped. Was he going to try to kiss her even after what he’d said? Try, because she wouldn’t let him. Absolutely not. She’d never let—

Matthew reached into his pocket, took out his cell phone and hit a button.

He heard Susannah sigh, and he looked at her while the phone dialed automatically. Amazing. She looked as if she were bored

Bored? he thought, his eyes narrowing.

And then Joe said hello, and Matthew began talking, explaining in crisp terms that he’d decided to stay on in New York for a while.

And what a job that was, considering that Joe never stopped laughing.

* * *

It was amazing what a little infusion of money could do.

Well, no. Susannah finished her chicken salad on rye, extra pickle hold the mayo, lifted her coffee cup to her lips and drank the last mouthful.

Not a little infusion. A big one. Matthew had taken over the role of publisher and he’d delivered on all his promises. He’d put money at CHIC’s disposal, added another full-time staffer, arranged for a PR company to promote the magazine’s name wherever it might prove useful.

And he’d done all that while keeping to his word.

She hadn’t so much as laid eyes on him since that afternoon in the taxi, when he’d dropped her at the CHIC offices.

Oh, he kept in touch. By telephone. By fax. By E-mail. But two whole weeks had gone by and he hadn’t shown his face, which meant he was serious about business being business.

Which was the way she wanted it.

Of course, it was.

The waitress slid Susannah’s check in front of her. She tucked a dollar bill under the edge of her plate, picked up the check and made her way through Ellie’s Deli to the cash register.

The cashier gave her a friendly smile. “Haven’t seen much of you lately,” she said.

Susannah smiled and scooped up her change. “I’ve been busy.”

Busy, indeed.

The sidewalk outside Ellie’s was crowded, as always, even though the lunchtime exodus from the surrounding office buildings was pretty much finished.

Susannah glanced up and down the street, then stepped off the curb and hurried across.

She missed having lunch with Claire, but it hadn’t been possible lately. Everybody at CHIC was busy as a colony of bees, eager to get the Sexiest Restaurant issue on the street. The only reason Susannah had even managed time for lunch away from her desk today was that she’d wanted to check out one of the finalists.

“You’re supposed to go to these places in the evenings, Suze,” Claire had said. “That’s when a restaurant is sexy”

She sighed as she stepped inside the lobby and rang for the elevator.

Claire was right, but Susannah’s evenings were spent at the office playing catch-up with all the work she hadn’t managed to finish during the day. Anyway, it hadn’t worked out. The little restaurant was closed. Open For Dinner, the sign in the window had said.

At the rate she was going, she’d never come up with a winner. And that would be disastrous, since they’d already publicized the feature in last month’s CHIC.

Claire had suggested that a column by the editor-in-chief would give readers a personalized link to the magazine. Susannah had agreed it was a great idea. She’d talk to readers, share the feelings of one eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-old woman with all the other eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-old women out there. And, in her debut column, she’d announced that CHIC was searching for the sexiest restaurant and that she’d personally name and describe it in the very next issue. In the meanwhile, readers could send in postcards, there’d be draw, and one lucky person would get dinner for two at the winning place.

Susannah stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for fourteen. The car began its slow, creaky ascent.

She knew she was almost in over her head. Three special issues of CHIC in three months. It was a lot to pull off, maybe too much, and she hadn’t even figured out what the third special issue would be about. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to get through the first issue. If she lived to be a thousand, she’d never have time to check all six finalists, much less declare one a winner, not unless she figured out how to stretch each day to thirty-six hours instead of a measly twenty-four.

The elevator jerked to a stop on the fourteenth floor. She stepped out. Maybe she ought to phone Matthew. The last time they’d talked, he’d asked her how things were going, and he’d said things were just fine, thank you very much….

Judy wasn’t at the reception desk. That wasn’t so odd, all by itself, but an unnatural quiet hung in the air. Susanna shrugged off her jacket as she made her way down the hall. Where was everybody? Office after office stood empty.

This was eerie. It had only happened once before, the day Matthew had come barging in.

Laughter rang out from the boardroom. She turned, looked down the hall. The boardroom door stood open. She could see people crowded inside.

“Oh, stop it,” she muttered, and marched briskly down the corridor.

Claire spotted her first. “Hi, Suze,” she called.

It was the same as last time. The entire staff was there crowded around the conference table. No. It wasn’t the same not at all, because this time, everybody was smiling.

And, this time, when she looked at the man standing at the head of the table, her heart turned over.

“Hi,” Matthew said, as he rose to his feet.

“Hi,” Susannah said, because it was logical and polite, and because it was safer to be logical and polite than to think about how wonderful it was to see him again, or how it made he feel when his eyes swept over her and his smile warmed.

She extended her hand, and he took it. His grip was firm his fingers hard and strong, and she wondered how it was that she’d never thought of a handshake as a sensual experience until now. Say something, she told herself frantically, but what was there to say except what she could never afford to say that she knew now that she’d missed him these past weeks?

“Suze,” her secretary said, “I hope you don’t mind, but when Mr. Romano—”

“Matt,” he said.

“Sorry.” Pam smiled happily. “When Matt stopped by and I told him you weren’t in, and he said, well, he’d just say hello to everybody anyway, well, I just figured the easiest way was to call everybody to the conference room and—”

Pam? Matthew thought. Yeah, that was the name of Susannah’s secretary. Pam was going on and on, explaining how this impromptu meeting had come to take place. She was starting to stammer, and he knew it was because neither he nor Susannah were saying anything, knew, too, that he ought to come to the woman’s rescue. The CHIC staff was gathered here instead of working because of him. But he couldn’t have gotten a word out if he’d tried.

Susannah was beautiful.

For the last two weeks, he’d told himself she wasn’t anywhere near as gorgeous as she was in his dreams. He’d concentrated on that f

irst view he’d had of her, the jeans, the sneakers, the hair, the doughnut.

Now he knew he’d been kidding himself.

She was beautiful, and she’d been beautiful that morning, too, despite the jeans, the sneakers, the hair and the doughnut. For one wild instant, he thought of telling her so—and then he thought of her reaction if he swept her into his arms and said, “Miss Madison, you are one luscious-looking babe.”

The thought made him smile, and when he smiled, the color heightened in her cheeks. Was that because he was still holding her hand? He hoped so.

He’d been too busy to stop in and see how she was doing these past weeks. Okay, he admitted to himself, he’d made sure he was too busy. It had been a business decision. He’d pumped money into CHIC and he wanted an even shot at recouping it, and instinct had told him the best way to do that was to give Susannah room. And she’d made it clear she needed space to get her job done.

Who was he kidding?

He’d kept away because he knew, if he was around her, his speech about sex being sex and business being business would turn into a joke. He wouldn’t come onto her the way he had in the taxi. It would be a slow, sweet seduction this time, until she was breathless and hot and pleading with him to take her…

“My hand,” she whispered.

Matthew blinked. “What?”

“You’re hurting my hand.”

He looked down. Her fingers had all but disappeared within his. The staff members had tried their best to disappear, too. People had drifted off into little clots, leaving them alone in a room full of surreptitious glances.

“Oh. Sorry.” He released her hand, smiled politely. “Surprised to see me?”

“Very.” Surprised? she thought. Stunned was closer to it. Her heart was tap-dancing, which was ridiculous. Her reaction to finding him here was ridiculous. The way he was looking at her was ridiculous, and there was only one way to handle it, and him. “In the future, please call and let me know you’re coming.”

Matthew’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’d rather you didn’t just drop in, Mr. Romano. Please telephone first and make an appointment.”

“An appointment.” The warm buzz was replaced by a cold sense of annoyance. He’d been standing here, thinking how good it was to see her again, and she’d been looking him up and down and feeling as pleased with his presence as a dog would with a colony of fleas. “An appointment, Miss Madison? Anybody would think you didn’t want your publisher around.”