Page 5 of The Satin Sash


  Dinner.

  A barely legible restaurant address followed, and underneath it, four words. Boldly underlined.

  My office first. Monday.

  Heath chuckled. “Ahh, Grey, you’ve got your balls in a knot, haven’t you?”

  He shoved the note back into the envelope and strolled into the room, fisting his hand around his towel to keep his boner from causing it to unravel.

  He snatched up his cell phone. Heath had very little use for gadgets, but when business called, business called. In this case it wasn’t business, but pleasure.

  Ahh yes. Pleasure.

  Pleasure with Toni.

  Falling back on the bed, he texted a short message. Just four words. Four little words that any second now would pop up in Grey’s cell phone.

  I want the sash.

  Chapter Three

  “. . . Yes, Mr. Hawkins, I will deliver before Thursday so you can make a prompt decision. . . .” Puttering around the bathroom in her bathrobe,Toni tucked the phone to her ear and frowned at her reflection.

  Setting aside the towel she’d been drying her hair with while Mr. Hawkins repeated his wish list for her upcoming design, she braced a hand on the sink and leaned closer to the mirror. A red oval colored a patch of skin between her neck and shoulder. It was sensitive to the touch, triggering a not-unpleasant burn. A warm, delicious pleasure washed through her as she realized how it got there. Grey.

  “Elegant and bold. Make it clear we’re taking on the world. I’m counting on you to deliver,” Mr. Hawkins was saying.

  She brushed her damp hair, shifting the phone to the opposite ear. “And deliver I will, Mr. Hawkins,” she assured. “I’m certain you’ll be extremely pleased with it. I’m mixing gold, black, and a deep royal blue, and playing with a combination of fonts that will absolutely delight and shock you. Oh, and a very catchy slogan I’m working on.” If my lover can get his hands off me, that is . . . and if I can concentrate enough rather than think of him, his friend, and the possibility of fucking both of them....

  “Good. Good,” she listened to him say. “And I hear you have a shot at Viscevis. That true?”

  Viscevis.

  Her stomach gripped. She set down the brush, admitting, “It’s true.”

  She still could not comprehend how that happened. A multimillion-dollar merger, where the merging companies wanted to combine their existing logos into a new one.

  A task Toni continued to find daunting. A task she secretly suspected should be handled by a large firm, someone with more experience. A task that might just be a wee bit too much for her.

  One existing logo was sharp and elaborate; the other heavy and solid. Combining them in a harmonious fashion seemed impossible, and yet she desperately wanted to land Viscevis.

  Your work has heart, Miss Kearny. I like that....

  “The old man said your work had heart. He’s been promoting you.”

  “Well, I’m . . .” Shocked. “Pleased to hear that.”

  And dearly hoped “old man” Mr. Preston—already promoting her while she still had forty days to deliver her proposal—wouldn’t have reason to regret it.

  As soon as she and Hawkins finally hung up, she caressed her neck and got a fuzzy feeling in her stomach. Grey. She sauntered into the bedroom to rummage through her closet. His side was predictably in perfect order. Pants lined up by color, shirts and coats lined up by color, ties lined up by color. Her side was a mess, but somehow among that mess Toni had full knowledge of where she kept everything, and she refused to feel guilty about being a tad disorganized.

  In fact . . .

  Reaching into his side with a wide smile, she switched a black pant to the area of his gray ones, then brought a shirt from the top and stuck it between his jackets. “There we go, baby. Let’s get you a little messy.”

  She anticipated what he’d do tomorrow morning. The same thing he’d done yesterday and the day before. He wouldn’t say a word and quietly set his clothes back in order.

  When a morning came when he said something about it, anything about it, she’d celebrate.

  Moving to her tangled section, she rummaged through her tops, thinking he was up to something. Something . . . wicked. Grey worked that way. He plotted and schemed and planned, and Toni knew, without a doubt, he had some plans for her sash.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  She knew he’d turned the possibilities around in his head while he’d twirled her sash around and come to a decision.

  There was no moving Grey from a decision, just as there was no moving a wall.

  The man was so confident in himself Toni had yet to see a day when he felt challenged and didn’t step up to the plate. That episode in Aspen when Toni had been determined she could snowboard with him, Grey had asked, only once and in amusement,“Are you sure about that,Toni?”

  “Of course, Grey. I can ski, can’t I? I can snowboard.”

  She’d landed in places she hadn’t even imagined the mountain had. It had been awful. And she wouldn’t even get into the time they went horseback riding in Cabo. Damn.

  If he dared give her sash to Heath Solis . . .

  Pushing the alarming, tantalizing thought aside, she threw on the first pair of jeans she found and a downy cashmere pullover, then strolled down the hall.

  After pouring herself some coffee, she maneuvered around the couch to her workspace. Light filtered into the living room through the window overlooking the street, enough light for her to work with during the day. Setting her cup on her small, cluttered desk, she took her chair, lifted her laptop lid, and scanned her flagged e-mails from clients.

  Unable to concentrate, she eyed the screen, and found her finger rising almost of its own volition, caressing Grey’s mark.Tempted to see if he was out of his usual morning conference, she logged into an online messenger and typed him a message.

  designgirl78: I have the oddest bite on my shoulder. I think I was ravaged while I slept.

  Nothing returned for a couple of seconds, so she answered one more e-mail and opened her work files. Then the orange screen popped up.

  RICHARDSGREY: You were.

  She bit her bottom lip, her smile widening as she typed.

  designgirl78: So there must be a werewolf in the neighborhood, ’cause it doesn’t quite look like a vampire’s.

  RICHARDSGREY: It’s mine.

  designgirl78: Ahhh!! Then maybe you’ll indulge me with a repeat when I’m awake.

  RICHARDSGREY: I will

  Her hands paused on the keyboard. She gathered her courage, drew a long, tremulous breath, and typed . . .

  designgirl78: Grey, about the sash . . .

  RICHARDSGREY: It’s done.

  It’s done? What the hell did that mean?

  RICHARDSGREY: I know you want this.

  designgirl78: I was hoping we could forget the whole thing.

  RICHARDSGREY: We’re doing dinner tomorrow.

  A second screen popped up.

  MADONNAFAN123: Toni, are you there?

  designgirl78: Hey, Louisa.

  And to Grey . . .

  designgirl78: Dinner?

  RICHARDSGREY: I promised to introduce you. So I will.

  designgirl78: But that was before.

  RICHARDSGREY: We’re doing dinner.

  designgirl78: What FOR?

  RICHARDSGREY: Trust me.

  Louisa’s window turned orange.

  MADONNAFAN123: So where are you going this weekend?

  designgirl78: I don’t know—is Grey kidnapping me?

  MADONNAFAN123: He just said to rearrange his meetings. Mr. Solis’s site visits, too.

  Toni felt the blood leave her face. A weekend to where? And dinner!

  She clicked the mouse and brought up Grey’s window. She tapped a finger. Dinner. Was he testing her?

  Of course he was.

  He was cunning, he was ruthless, and he was Grey Richards.

  She wanted to tell him to take his dinner and shove it up his beh
ind, and at the same time, she wanted to storm into whatever restaurant they were going to, ignore that presumptuous handsome bastard Heath Solis, and prove to Grey he had nothing to be concerned about.

  Did he feel he couldn’t trust her?

  Dread spread through her at the thought. Because she trusted him in a way she’d never trusted a soul.

  Not because of his MBA from Stanford, his ruthless business instincts, the empire he’d built almost single-handedly, or his knack for accomplishing anything he set his mind to. Not because when he opted to turn on the charm, he could very possibly negotiate world peace, but because he was fair and intelligent and amazing.

  With him, she’d discovered herself. Plus a world she hadn’t known existed until Grey.

  She’d never known sex could be so pleasurable, that she could feel so desirable, so comfortable with herself, her body. All her reservations and fears seemed to be ebbing away, spurred on by Grey’s blatant, overwhelming desire for her. But when did you stop exploring? When was enough sex enough?

  This puzzling, powerful attraction to the fascinating Heath. Where in the world had it come from?

  It’s been there for months, years, from the start, a little voice answered. That enigma of Heath.The one person her lover thought so highly of.

  A threesome . . .

  Grey had been mentioning it during sex. He was gauging her, she knew, seeing how much she wanted it. And embarrassingly, she got so wet!

  A part of her wondered why he insisted on it. Kept teasing her with the ménage. Did he want one just to please her? To prove to her and himself he was truly the only one for her? So she would not be curious anymore? Or did he believe she would stray like his mother, having all those lovers under his father’s perfect, arrogant nose?

  While deep down she craved to keep things between them just as they were, she couldn’t deny the excitement the prospect of a threesome gave her. Sex with Grey and Heath Solis. Awesome sex with Grey and Heath Solis.

  But if they did this, would it be the best sex of their lives or something to regret forever?

  Shaking her turmoil aside, she typed . . .

  designgirl78: Dinner’s fine.

  RICHARDSGREY: I’m moving things around the office. If we leave for Cabo this weekend, can you move your Friday appointments to next week?

  designgirl78: When have I said no to Cabo OR you? I’ll arrange it.

  RICHARDSGREY: I might be late tonight, T.

  designgirl78: Aw. *sad, weepy face* I’ll try not to mope around. Maybe I’ll go see Mom and Dad, unless I get caught up here with a proposal. Then maybe not. I’d hate it if they started on me. If I hear the word marriage one more time, I’ll sock them.

  RICHARDSGREY: What is wrong with the word? Other than your mother using it in every sentence?

  Toni blinked, dumbstruck. Marriage was an institution that created false expectations between two people and . . . she sighed, and shook her head dejectedly. There was nothing wrong with marriage.

  Except being in love with someone who did not believe in it.

  RICHARDSGREY: Do you need anything? I’ve got a line beeping.

  designgirl78: Go get it! I’ll see you later.

  RICHARDSGREY: Dinner tomorrow at 8?

  designgirl78: 8 is fine.

  RICHARDSGREY: Be a good girl

  designgirl78: But you like it when I’m bad!

  RICHARDSGREY: Yes

  Afterward, she chatted a bit more with Louisa and then rose to sift through her designs at her corner workstation. But as she settled down in her old comfy chair and shuffled through her material, there were no thoughts in her mind but of sex between three . . .

  An image of that handsome bastard Heath Solis sprang to her mind. Those glimmering black eyes. The hands . . . god! His smell. And the cruel, decadent way he smiled . . .

  Her pussy gave a furious clench at the memory, her nipples beading eagerly under her sweater. A slight tingle in the pit of her urged her to touch herself. Delve into her jeans with her fingers and fondle where it hurt and imagine it was Grey. And right there on the chair in the corner, or maybe by the front door, Heath watched them. And Grey would be so hard and hot and moving inside her, and she’d be riding him with all her might....

  She halted her hands before she could fondle her breasts, shaking her head in disgust. Work. She had work to do.

  Viscevis, I’m going to get you.

  “Here we go, just as you requested!”

  Seated behind his desk at the far end of the wood-paneled office on the nineteenth floor of the RS building—where he regularly spent ten hours a day, with the exception of Sundays—Grey took the files Louisa handed him and gave them a quick scan as she sank into the seat across from his.

  “These are the Carson City files, Louisa. I asked specifically for the Columbus, Ohio, ones. The Four Stars shopping mall.”

  Rather than rise to fetch them, she licked her red lips, blinking. “You said Carson City.”

  Grey frowned.“Carson City? We finished our building last year.”

  “You asked for Carson City,” she insisted.

  He leaned back in his chair, let the papers fall on the desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle an oncoming headache. “I apologize. I’m not myself today.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get those for you.” She rose to her feet, tugging her skirt back to her knees, and Grey snatched the file from his desk and held it up for her. He was not in the mood for her fumbling today.

  “You can take this one, Louisa.”

  “Oops.Yes.Thank you.”

  He picked up a financial report on his desk and skimmed it. “Toni’s rent is due Friday. Pay it before she does.”

  “Of course.”

  He turned the page.“The Cabo San Lucas arrangements I asked for?”

  “Pilots all set for Friday, and your housekeeper has been notified. Oh, and Mr. Solis is here to see you.” She pointed a thumb at the massive carved double doors. “He’s just outside.”

  “Mr. Solis can come right in,” he said, dropping the report as Louisa flung open the doors. Heath immediately stalked past her.

  “Well, do come right in, Mr. Solis,” she said cheerily.

  “Heath.” Grey slid their latest contract across the surface of his desk. “Since you’re here.”

  Propping his hips up on the edge, Heath grabbed the papers and plucked a pen out of the leather stand. He was clad in torn jeans and a solid black T-shirt that bulged around his biceps—his usual attire, one that gave voice to the phrase I don’t do suits.

  “I made two amendments, pages five and nine,” Grey said, settling back in his chair.“A few clauses on payment and discretion on the deal. If they break it, we walk.”

  “It’s all good.” Heath did not read them, but initialed them all and signed the last page before slapping it down on the desk.“What else?”

  Grey tossed down a pen as he rose. “You know what else.”

  Heath sank down in the recently vacated chair and stretched his legs out before him, watching as Grey came around.

  Grey leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms and tucking his hands under his armpits, his voice deceptively soft as he said, “I’m thinking of tearing your head off.”

  While the words might inspire any, any, of his employees and collaborators to genuine fear, Heath merely crossed his arms, leaned back in his seat.

  “You knew she was mine, and you still came on to her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “You’re suddenly in the city. At a party, which you hate, and then you deliver your whopper of a news flash.”

  Distracting himself, Heath followed the curl of his fingers into his right palm. “I don’t want to play house with her, so you can relax.”

  “You fuck with her, Heath, and you’re fucking with me.”

  Heath loosened his fist. “I know better than to fuck with you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  The narrowed black eyes
Heath leveled at him held anything but contriteness. “I would have had her right then if it weren’t for you.”

  The tomblike silence that followed was disturbed by a chirpy “Here we go, the files you requested, Grey.”

  Grey didn’t bother to look at her. “Thank you, Louisa. Just set them on the desk.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

  “No, that will be all.”

  No sooner had the click of the doors sounded when Grey spoke. “Do I have to tell you how conflicting I find this?”

  Soundlessly, Heath rose to his feet, directing himself to the wall, which held dozens of framed photographs of buildings in progress. “You love her?”

  “I’m going to marry her.”

  Heath snorted in derision. “Pull the other one, Grey.”

  Snatching the glass of brandy next to his computer, Grey emphatically said, “I am.”

  The look on Heath’s face when he turned couldn’t have been more comical. “Should I start picking up silverware, then? A gravy boat?”

  Grey merely smiled. It wasn’t often he had Heath at a disadvantage, but he found himself enjoying the sudden uncertainty on his partner’s face.

  An ivory carpet covered the room, and the distance between the doors and Grey’s desk was immense, as he well liked his space. He took full advantage of the area now as he circled. “I mentioned a threesome, and she’s excited about it.”