A loud honking car horn snapped Sable out of her trance. Get out of the street, lady! What? You made of rubba? The taxi driver yelled in frustration, and gave her an obscene gesture, as Sable on tiptoes in spike heels, ran across the busy intersection as fast as she could.
Still thinking about the conversation with Lorna, Sable turned to acknowledge the driver’s anger. She thought she saw the man giving her the finger.
Shaking her head slowly, “Caffeine, caffeine, caffeine,” she began talking to herself again, making her way toward The Café. As she entered, a waiter greeted her and asked her to follow him, seating her at a window table.
He did not get a chance to ask for her order. “I’ll have coffee, black, regular,” she said while running her fingers through her tousled hair.
Then, taking a deep breath, pulling out her Day-Timer, she scanned her calendar. Good, I only have to meet with my father, so I can schedule an appointment with the building permit committee, she thought, as she made notes for herself near various appointments.
Needing to finalize the last project she was working on, she would have to make one last ditch effort to convince the city to allow Van Cleef Enterprises to expand by opening another location. So engrossed with her thoughts, she didn’t see Stephen as he approached.
“Good morning,” pausing, giving her a moment to acknowledge his presence, “may I join you?” Stephen asked softly, piercing her with eyes that saw too much of her. It made her slightly uncomfortable. He stood patiently for several seconds awaiting her response.
Deciding that he would not be a distraction, “Yes…please do,” she said while bending to put her Day-Timer into her briefcase at her feet. She was aware that he watched her almost hawk-like when he thought she wasn’t aware of his presence. She was. She just refused to let him affect her in any way. As she straightened upright, their eyes locked; he smiled, and she did not.
The man should be against the law, she thought with irritation. It must be a crime somewhere written in some law long since forgotten that forbid a man to be both handsome and sexy at the same time. Careful Sable, she cautioned herself, never mix business with pleasure. His smile widened.
The waiter, as prompt as ever, again did not get to ask, “What is your pleasure?” As he approached their table with pen and pad ready, Stephen said while sparing him the briefest glance, “I’ll have coffee, black, regular, thank you.”
Not being the least bit put off, he went to honor Stephen’s request. The clientele at The Café was a unique one indeed.
Giving Sable his full attention, while shaking out his napkin and placing it on his lap, the woman is spectacular he thought. Leaning fully in his chair, observing every inch of her, “You’re looking fresh this morning,” Stephen stated with absolute conviction.
Smiling slightly, he allowed his eyes the pleasure of traveling from the top of her hair, which looked wind blown, to where the edge of the table ended his view of her crisp navy blue suit that fitted right in all the appropriate places. Taking in every detail, he didn’t miss a thing; she looked sleepy and sexy.
Aware of his not-so-subtle appraisal of her, “Do I?” her voice laced with anger, she held his gaze. Her eyebrows rose slightly, sipping her coffee; she then slowly closed her eyes as the taste of flavorful coffee smoothly glided over her awaiting tongue; a moan of pure satisfaction sounded in her throat. She did not realize she’d moaned out loud.
When she opened her eyes, Stephen had a particular look on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she apologized.
“Yes…I know, neither did I,” he said as he reached for his cup. Taking a minute to sip his coffee, not because he needed it, but more to get his thoughts together. She had no idea how she affected him. Good, he thought. He can’t afford to make any mistakes. Not now. He had been planning too long to allow anything or anyone to get in his way.
“So, what time did you finally call it a night?” she asked biting into the toast; her tongue glazed across her lips.
Watching her tongue, “Oh…around…2:30 a.m.,” he said absently, a slight frown creasing his brows. Then his eyes narrowed in thought.
“Is something wrong?” licking her lips again as she reached and took another sip of her coffee.
“No,” tilting his head a little to the side, “why do you ask?” his voice softening. He was unaware that he was still frowning.
He looked as if he had a decision to make, but was either unsure of the direction or how to proceed. Neither of which, Sable knew, was a problem for him. If nothing else, the man definitely knew what he wanted.
“You’re looking at me sort of…I don’t know…” letting the words trail off. That’s not true a voice said in her head. Shut up! She told the voice.
Then, in a blink, he transformed right before her eyes…calm…controlled, “I’m sorry…you have my full attention.” In more ways than one, he thought, as his eyes locked on hers. She felt trapped as if she could not look away if she wanted to. His head tilted to the other side as if he had made a decision. He did.
He smiled slowly. Sable frowned, “What? Did I miss something?” her voice slightly trembling, she was a little nervous, no need for him to know it, she thought in defense.
Very softly, he said, “No.” Smugly, while eyeing her over his coffee cup, “You were saying?” She’s nervous, he thought with a smile; good, I like that. He will have to keep her off-balance until his plans are completed.
If she knew the truth, she would do all that was in her power to stop him, and he would not allow anything or anyone to get in his way, he thought with finality.
What was she saying? “Oh…you left the office at 2:30? And you’re here at 7:00? You didn’t get much sleep, did you?”
“No, but apparently neither did you because you’re here too.” Stephen needed to keep things on a professional level, so he smoothly changed the subject. “I need to know your opinion of the Chadwicks.” He stated in a business-like tone, squashing the subtle electricity that simmered in the air whenever they were both in the same room.
“Why?” puzzlement shadowing across her face. Filling her cup with more coffee, which she didn’t need, she took a lingering sip and awaited his response.
“Just humor me,” waving a hand in the air as if to say it was not important. But she already knew from experience, Stephen had a motive behind all he did.
After their meeting last night, all she could think about on the way home was his voice as he spoke, the way he paced the floor when making a point that he wanted her to understand.
His eyes, she swore, had to be the most penetrating eyes she had ever looked into. She didn’t care too much for that; he saw entirely too much. She knew that she did a good job of ignoring the chemistry between them.
Without her meaning to do it, she ran her tongue over her lips for they had suddenly become very dry. Sometimes Stephen was much too sure of himself, discreetly eyeing him as she took another sip of her coffee. His confidence almost tipped the scale to arrogance, tugging at her to find out what really lay behind that wall he had around himself.
Best not to find out, she thought with certainty. When he walked the halls of the office building, she swore that women actually did whatever was necessary to get his attention.
One morning a woman actually pretended to stumble so that he would have to catch her; when he did, she dreamingly looked into his eyes. Sable was sure she was going to throw up right then and there.
He silently watched her thinking. Patience had always been one of his best virtues. Watching as one emotion to the next flickered across her face was intriguing. Because she continually captured his attention, reading the thoughts flowing across her face was easy for him; she was obliviously unaware that he could, and that was intriguing as well.
Chuckling, he wondered if she knew she had just narrowed her eyes at him. Sometimes she was so infuriating; he didn’t know whether to hug or kiss her at times.
Inhaling deeply, he truly hoped she would cooperate without him having to pull rank, that wouldn’t go over well, he knew. Nevertheless, he would do what he had to do, too much was at stake.
“Sable?” calling her name softly. She blinked. Looking at him, she knew, without a doubt that this man was one she would have to avoid at all costs; she silently gave thanks that they didn’t have to work together often.
Taking a deep breath, she told him what blood-sucking pigs she thought the Chadwicks were; she had his complete attention, in more ways than one. He had to know for certain where she stood concerning the Chadwicks; there could be no mistakes.
Silently, he mentally cursed as all his fantasies about her came flowing like water through him, despite his best efforts to concentrate only on what she was saying.
Looking at her as if he’d already touched every inch of her, Sable continued, trying hard not to focus on his eyes, so intense. The man looked as if he was going to pounce at any minute. As if reading her thoughts, a slight smile curved his lips. She ignored him and continued talking.
Fixing her gaze to something safer, she looked at his hands…strong hands. Oh my gawd! She thought in a panic, I’m in trouble. How could she talk about the Chadwicks while thinking of him! Groaning, she closed her eyes, concentrate Sable, concentrate.
“And furthermore,” she said through clenched teeth, “I think the Chadwicks are a bunch of blood-sucking lying snakes, who use their name and money like the drug dealers use drugs with the public.” Her anger peaked just from the thought of them, “They like having people in their grip… needing, begging…pleading.”
Pausing, she took a deep breath allowing her eyes to momentarily close, so she could focus. Hold on to the anger, she told herself. Hold on to the anger. It helped her not to focus on what she felt for Stephen. Something she would not acknowledge. Something that scared her may steal her control. That was unacceptable.
Sable made it a practice never to lose control of her feelings or emotions. When she was a child, her father would always say to her, ‘Sable, you have got to control that temper of yours, especially if you’re going to be a business woman like you say. If you don’t, the sharks will eat you alive.’
That advice at twelve years of age changed the way she viewed the world and people; Sable started practicing control. She also exercised regularly as a form of release for frustration and anger over the situations she wanted to control but couldn’t for whatever reason. She was very good at it, until now. He knew. Damn him, he knew how he effected her, she thought with suspicious clarity. She briefly wondered how. No one read her emotions like her father, until Stephen.
“Why do you say that?” Stephen needed to be absolutely sure of her feelings. “The Chadwicks are known to be respectable people; they give to over fifty different charities and have helped many people, good people.”
In Sable’s mind, this kind of justification was typical when talking about the Chadwicks. The Chadwicks’ hands reached far. Far into drugs, murder, embezzlement, pornography, you name it, even into people in high places, charities, and fundraisers.
It is said that the Chadwicks’ veins run with gold instead of blood. Their hearts are cold as ice to many, hot as fire to some, and compassionate to a few as saints. The few, she inwardly snickered, supposedly, are fortunate to be honored to have the Chadwicks as friends.
She was looking at him with such nonchalance; he thought for a brief moment that he might have mistakened her anger earlier, her brief struggle to gain control over her emotions.
“Can we please change the subject?” she asked softly. He sat still as stone looking at her, and then shook his head in agreement. It was best that this matter wait until later, like this afternoon.
Stephen was quite sure that Sable would not like what was to come when they got back to the office. She momentarily wondered what he was thinking and why he had been looking at her in such a strange manner.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she decided that perhaps it was best that she not know; after all, she had other things to deal with.
They spent another hour discussing everything except what they were both thinking. For Stephen, it was his plans and how she may or may not fit into them, intimately that is; for whether she did or not, he would carry out what he had been planning for years.
Looking at Sable, no one will stop him, he thought not even this woman. For Sable, his penetrating eyes told of secrets and promises. She will be very cautious where he is concerned, she firmly decided.
Neither one spoke of this as their conversation varied from topic to topic; the weather was still good out, Sable thought, as she glanced out the window. Looking across the table, she smiled; he was smiling too. Maybe it won’t be such a bad day after all she thought. And just think, all without Preparation H, the Miracle Bra, or Always with dry weave.