right?”
Mac said nothing. She couldn’t. He was holding her so tightly, molding her body to his from breast to thigh. An icy flame was searing her nerve endings and sensitizing her body to every plane and angle of his. For the first time in her life, words, thoughts, logic, deserted her, washed away by a flood of sensations. The warmth of his breath on her lips. The pressure of each one of his fingers on her back. The swell of her hips. His body growing rock hard beneath her. She watched awareness fill his eyes as her body melted in reaction.
“Just what I’ve been waiting to see all my life—mybrother knocked off his feet by a woman! I think it’s an omen of things to come.”
Omen of things to come. Sophie’s words and the memory of what she’d suggested—practicing her research on Lucas—penetrated the haze filling Mac’s mind. She broke free of the paralysis that had gripped her, and shifting off Lucas, she scrambled to her feet.
Sophie grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the tennis courts as she tossed over her shoulder, “C’mon, bro. Prepare to meet your match…”
CHAPTER TWO
L UCAS LEANED BACK in his chair and listened to the steady ticking of his grandfather’s clock. It was the only sound that marred the tense silence in the room as he studied the two men seated on the other side of his desk.
Both of them were self-contained. Both were very intelligent. And he wouldn’t relish going up against either one of them in a dark alley.
It was ironic that in spite of their many similarities, the two men were the complete antithesis of each other.
The younger was his best friend, the man he’d recently hired to head up security at Wainright Enterprises. He’d known T. J. McGuire since they’d served together in the Gulf War. Tracker was the name the flight crew had given T.J. because he’d been a hell of a lot better at finding their targets than both the high-tech radar systems and so-called “smart” missiles.
It had taken Lucas four years to convince his friend to come and work for Wainright Enterprises. He’d needed someone he could trust, and Tracker was that kind of man. Beneath the black-Irish good looks and the accompanying charm lay the strength and the loyalty of a Celtic warrior. Lucas ranked loyalty right up there next to competence when it came to his employees—and his friends.
The older man with the mane of white wavy hair and the impeccably tailored suit was not a friend. Nor could he be trusted. Doing business with Vincent Falcone hadbeen one of the biggest mistakes his father had made. It had taken Lucas four years to find the money and the right opportunity to buy Vincent Falcone out of Wainright Enterprises.
Still, he didn’t want the man as an enemy.
A rustle of paper broke the silence as Vincent turned over the final page of the contract. Glancing up, he met Lucas’s eyes squarely. “If I sign this, I will own Lansing Biotech outright. Wainright Enterprises gives up any right it may have had in the past to patents or future research results. You’re being very generous.”
“I want the break between us to be fair but clean. This deal severs all connections between your various other businesses and mine.”
“Ah yes, there is that. And the fact that I will no longer sit on the board of Wainright Enterprises.”
“That’s correct.”
The older man smiled slowly. “You’ve done a thorough job of systematically cutting me out for the past four years. I admire your technique. And today, inviting me here to your home to end our business relationship over a drink…” Pausing, he glanced around the room. “It’s a nice touch. Very classy. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
Lucas was careful to keep his expression impassive. He hadn’t wanted to invite Falcone to the Wainright estate. He’d never lived here himself. It was the place his father had lived with his last three wives. If it hadn’t been for Sophie’s birthday celebration, he would
Mac said nothing. She couldn’t. He was holding her so tightly, molding her body to his from breast to thigh. An icy flame was searing her nerve endings and sensitizing her body to every plane and angle of his. For the first time in her life, words, thoughts, logic, deserted her, washed away by a flood of sensations. The warmth of his breath on her lips. The pressure of each one of his fingers on her back. The swell of her hips. His body growing rock hard beneath her. She watched awareness fill his eyes as her body melted in reaction.
“Just what I’ve been waiting to see all my life—mybrother knocked off his feet by a woman! I think it’s an omen of things to come.”
Omen of things to come. Sophie’s words and the memory of what she’d suggested—practicing her research on Lucas—penetrated the haze filling Mac’s mind. She broke free of the paralysis that had gripped her, and shifting off Lucas, she scrambled to her feet.
Sophie grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the tennis courts as she tossed over her shoulder, “C’mon, bro. Prepare to meet your match…”
CHAPTER TWO
L UCAS LEANED BACK in his chair and listened to the steady ticking of his grandfather’s clock. It was the only sound that marred the tense silence in the room as he studied the two men seated on the other side of his desk.
Both of them were self-contained. Both were very intelligent. And he wouldn’t relish going up against either one of them in a dark alley.
It was ironic that in spite of their many similarities, the two men were the complete antithesis of each other.
The younger was his best friend, the man he’d recently hired to head up security at Wainright Enterprises. He’d known T. J. McGuire since they’d served together in the Gulf War. Tracker was the name the flight crew had given T.J. because he’d been a hell of a lot better at finding their targets than both the high-tech radar systems and so-called “smart” missiles.
It had taken Lucas four years to convince his friend to come and work for Wainright Enterprises. He’d needed someone he could trust, and Tracker was that kind of man. Beneath the black-Irish good looks and the accompanying charm lay the strength and the loyalty of a Celtic warrior. Lucas ranked loyalty right up there next to competence when it came to his employees—and his friends.
The older man with the mane of white wavy hair and the impeccably tailored suit was not a friend. Nor could he be trusted. Doing business with Vincent Falcone hadbeen one of the biggest mistakes his father had made. It had taken Lucas four years to find the money and the right opportunity to buy Vincent Falcone out of Wainright Enterprises.
Still, he didn’t want the man as an enemy.
A rustle of paper broke the silence as Vincent turned over the final page of the contract. Glancing up, he met Lucas’s eyes squarely. “If I sign this, I will own Lansing Biotech outright. Wainright Enterprises gives up any right it may have had in the past to patents or future research results. You’re being very generous.”
“I want the break between us to be fair but clean. This deal severs all connections between your various other businesses and mine.”
“Ah yes, there is that. And the fact that I will no longer sit on the board of Wainright Enterprises.”
“That’s correct.”
The older man smiled slowly. “You’ve done a thorough job of systematically cutting me out for the past four years. I admire your technique. And today, inviting me here to your home to end our business relationship over a drink…” Pausing, he glanced around the room. “It’s a nice touch. Very classy. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
Lucas was careful to keep his expression impassive. He hadn’t wanted to invite Falcone to the Wainright estate. He’d never lived here himself. It was the place his father had lived with his last three wives. If it hadn’t been for Sophie’s birthday celebration, he would
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