The Sexiest Man Alive (The Romanos 1)

He was silk and steel, fire and ice. And she was burning.

His hand swept up, cupped her breast. She arched against the caress, riding the sensation of his touch. Her breath caught in an ecstatic sob as he shoved up her sweatshirt and stroked his fingertips over the satin of her flesh. She cried out and ground her bottom against the hardness of him.

He rose, holding her. His embrace was powerful. She felt fragile, eager, filled with need for him. She clung to him, her hands locked behind his head, her mouth opening to his hot, hungry kisses. Papers, books, pencils flew from the conference table as he lay her down upon it.

“Susannah,” he said fiercely.

She looked at him. His eyes were hot and dark with desire.

A shudder raced through her. She knew that what was going to happen between them would change her life forever, would make any other lover impossible.

“Yes,” she said, raising her arms to him, “yes. yes…”

The door swung open, hitting the wall like a clap of thunder rolling over the canyons of the city. “Oh, my God! Susannah!”

Susannah almost fell off the table.

She sat up. Matthew stepped back. Both of them stared at the open door, where Claire and Eddie and Judy and, Susannah thought desperately, what looked like a million other CHIC staffers stood crowded together in stunned silence. It was like staring into a sea of disbelief. Mouths hung open. Eyes grew round as saucers. Heads swiveled, as if this were a tennis match, while everyone looked from Susannah to Matthew, from Matthew to Susannah…

Susannah’s stomach clenched as the enormity of what had happened—what had almost happened—began seeping in. She’d almost—she and Matthew Romano had almost—they had come very close to—

And, as if that weren’t awful enough, everybody at CHIC knew it. And she would have to live with that forever.

“Suze?”

Susannah shut her eyes, then blinked them open. Claire was staring at her as if she were a stranger. Why wouldn’t she? She knew how she must look. Her disheveled clothes. Her hot face. Her kiss-swollen lips.

“Claire,” she said. Her voice sounded rusty, and she cleared her throat and began again. “I know how this must look, but—”

But? But what? But the man standing beside me, the one I swear to you I absolutely, positively, wholeheartedly abhor, hate and despise, kissed me, simply kissed me, and I went crazy?

“Claire.” Susannah lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. “I know what you want to hear. But—but really, I can’t—I just can’t explain why—why—”

“Of course she can’t,” Matthew Romano said.

Authority resonated in his deep voice. Every eye swiveled in his direction, Susannah’s included. He looked perfectly at ease and in control of the situation. Not even his tie was askew.

“Can’t what?” Claire asked suspiciously.

Good question, Susannah thought, and waited for the detestable Mr Romano to field it. He did, along with a smile that oozed concern.

“She can’t explain why she fainted, Miss…?”

“Haines,” Claire said, and looked even more suspiciously at Susannah. “You fainted?”

Susannah licked her lips. “Ah… Yes. Yes, that’s right. I fainted.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Why?” Susannah asked stupidly, and Claire nodded.

“That’s what I said, Suze. Why’d you faint? People don’t simply keel over for no reason at all”

Susannah looked at Matthew. You’re the one with the answers, her eyes said, so go ahead. Come up with a good one.

“It was the shock,” Romano said smoothly, and offered her his hand. “Miss Madison? Are you feeling well enough to stand?”

“Thank you.” Her tone was as polite as his. “I don’t need any help.”

But she did. Her legs weren’t as steady as her voice. She rocked on her heels when she slid from the table, and he slipped a gentlemanly arm around her shoulders.

“Easy does it, Miss Madison. You don’t want to push yourself, considering the shock you just had.”

“What shock?” Claire asked. Her gaze narrowed, focused on Matthew’s face and then on Susannah’s “Suze? Answer me.”

Susannah patted down her hair, smoothed down her sweatshirt, avoided looking at her jelly-smeared foot and spoke as demurely as if she were still in Miss Porter’s seventh-grade dance class.

“I would, but I’m sure Mr. Romano can explain it better than I can.”

Matthew smiled. It was that same insolent smile she’d disliked from the first, and it galled her to think he could manage it, even now.

“Why, the shock of hearing that I’ve decided to give all of you four weeks to try to turn CHIC around.”

There was a second of dumbstruck silence, and then somebody gave a whoop of delight. It was just enough to muffle Susannah’s stunned whisper.

“What?” she asked. “What?”

Matthew’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “Surprised?” he asked softly.

Susannah nodded. She stared at him, and slowly a little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t such a rat, after all. Maybe…

“That’s great!” Claire was almost dancing with excitement. “We all thought—well, considering how things were going between you and Suze, we figured…”

“I’ve had a change of heart, ” Matthew said, “and you owe it all to Miss Madison.”

A warning buzz sounded in Susannah’s ears.

“It wasn’t me,” she said quickly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Come now, Miss Madison.” Matthew was almost purring. “Don’t be so modest.”

“Yeah, Suze.” Eddie grinned from ear to ear. “What’d she do to win you over, Mr. Romano? Quote you facts and figures? Dream up some new ad campaign?” He chuckled. “Suze can be real persuasive when she puts her mind to it.”

“Oh, she certainly can.”

Matthew’s smile made her heart stop.

“I didn’t,” she said. “I mean, I never suggested—”

“Of course she did,” he said gently, though his fingers were biting hard into her flesh. “Miss Madison spent the last few minutes doing her best to persuade me that she has the talent to make me a very happy man.”

Panic beat through Susannah’s blood. “No! No, I did no such—”

“Don’t be modest, Suze.” Claire grinned at Matthew. “And she succeeded, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” he said softly, his eyes locked on Susannah’s. “Luckily for you all, she most certainly did.”

“Way to go, Suze,” Eddie cried.

The little crowd began to cheer.

“Bastard,” Susannah whispered, but nobody but Matthew could hear her, and he just laughed, chucked her under the chin, saluted his fans and strolled from the room.

CHAPTER FOUR

MATTHEW whistled softly through his teeth as he rode the elevator to the lobby.

Damn, but this had been a good morning’s work.

He’d come here to deal with Susannah Madison. And, by God, deal with her he had. Oh, if only he’d had a camera to record the look on her face when she came sauntering through the door of the boardroom and laid eyes on him!

Matthew chuckled and leaned against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. It was a moment he’d never forget. Her shock. Her disbelief. The dismay that had glinted in those brown eyes.

Hazel eyes. Her eyes were hazel.

He frowned, took his hands from his pockets and folded his arms.

Who gave a damn what color her eyes were?

Maybe they were green. Yes, green was more like it, and shot with flecks of gold.

Matthew’s frown deepened. He stepped away from the wall of the elevator and jabbed the button for the lobby floor in frustration.

“Come on,” he muttered, and shot an impatient glance at the indicator panel above the door. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. How long could it take to go fourteen floors?

As for Madison’s eyes, what did the color matter? He’d evened the score, hadn’t he? That was what counted. By moving quickly, he’d caught Susannah Madison unexpectedly. With her pants down, so to speak.

Oh, hell.

He scrubbed a hand across his face.

What an image that was!

The last thing he wanted to think about was Susannah Madison with her pants down, she of the topaz eyes—because that was what they were. She had topaz eyes, a soft mouth, skin that had turned hot and silken at his touch…

Matthew’s anatomy responded to the unplanned inventory with breathtaking speed.

“Damnation!”

He slammed the lobby button again, which was obviously a mistake, because the car shuddered, groaned and came to a dead stop. The doors didn’t move. He looked at the old-fashioned indicator panel. The arrow sat neatly between numbers eight and nine.

“Great,” Matthew snarled. “Just great.”