The Bridal Suite. Sandra Marton

this time with unctuous sympathy. “You see, we go back a long way together, Dave and I. We belonged to the same fraternity.”

      “Do tell.” Dana said, even more coldly.

      “I assure you, Miss Anderson, your efforts will not go unrewarded. I’m going to institute a bonus plan, and—”

      “Mr. McKenna,” Dana took a steadying breath. “This isn’t about getting credit for my work, or about that promotion. I came to tell you that the new code isn’t going to work! If you introduce it at the Miami conference—”

      “Not ‘if,’ Miss Anderson. When. And it won’t be me introducing it, it will be Dave. I suppose you’d hoped for that chance yourself, but—”

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Dana shot to her feet and glared at him. “I’m not looking for a shoulder to weep on, dammit! I came to warn you that the code’s a mess, but if you don’t want to hear it, there’s nothing I can do.”

      “And why is it a mess, Miss Anderson?”

      “Because...” Dana hesitated. Because Dave’s a drunk, she’d almost said, but McKenna would never believe her. “Because it’s got bugs. Little bits of code that are written wrong.”

      “So Dave tells me. He also tells me you wrote those little bits of code, Miss Anderson. Not that he or I hold you responsible, of course, considering your lack of experience.”

      “My what?”

      “But he assured me that you’ll learn. He says you’re bright, and quick.”

      Dana stared at him in astonishment. “I don’t believe this. I absolutely don’t—”

      “And now, if you’ll forgive me...” McKenna had smiled politely as he rose to his feet, came around his desk and lightly grasped her elbow. “Thank you for stopping by,” he’d said in a way that made it clear she was dismissed. “My door is always open to my employees, Miss Anderson—or may I call you Dana?”

      Dana, who’d been so angry by then that she could hardly see straight, had pulled free of his grasp.

      “You may call me Ms. Anderson,” she’d snapped.

      And what a stupid thing that had been to say. Even now, the memory made her shudder. Nobody, nobody, at Data Bytes was so ridiculously formal. People went around in jeans and T-shirts with funny sayings on them. Why, she was the only one who dressed in suits and tailored shirts, but when you sat down to pee instead of standing up, you had to work harder at winning a place on the team. Despite all the gender equality laws, the playing field was far from equal. Just look at how McKenna had thought he was complimenting her last week, telling her she was a lady....

      “Miss Anderson. Sorry. I meant, Ms. Anderson, of course.”

      The familiar voice, a sort of honeyed growl, came from just behind her. Dana swung around and found herself facing Griffin McKenna.

      “Mr. McKenna. I didn’t—I thought—”

      “Tongue-tied, Ms. Anderson? How very unusual.”

      Dana blushed. How could he manage that? He had a way of making her feel—what was the word? Incompetent? No. Not that She knew her stuff; you didn’t get as far as she’d gotten on the corporate ladder without being damn good at what you did. Uncertain. Yes, that was it. He made her feel uncertain. It had to do with that little smile on his mouth when he looked at her, as if he knew something she didn’t

      “Were you looking for me? Or were you simply planning on skulking in the hallway?”

      “I have never skulked in my life, Mr. McKenna. Yes, as a matter of fact, I was looking for you. We need to talk.”

      McKenna’s brows lifted. “Again?”

      “Again,” she said, holding her ground.

      “Well...” He shot back his cuff, frowned at his watch, then nodded. “I suppose I can give you a few minutes.”

      Such generosity! Dana forced a smile to her lips.

      “Thank you,” she said, and strode through the door ahead of him, past a surprised-looking Miss Macy, who was guarding McKenna’s lair with her usual dragon-like efficiency, and into his office.

      “She doesn’t have an appointment, sir,” the Dragon hissed.

      “That’s all right, Miss Macy,” McKenna said soothingly. He paused, just long enough to give the Anderson babe time to stalk halfway across the carpet toward his desk. It was the polite thing to do, but hell, who was he kidding? What he wanted was the view.

      And there it was.

      Ms. Anderson had the walk of a lioness, all power and pride, and the golden hair to match. And her eyes, when she turned to face him...they were the color of emeralds. Her mouth was lush and soft-looking, made all the more tempting because she never seemed to bother with lipstick. And oh, that body, curved and feminine despite the dowdy suits she wore....

      Griffin closed the door and leaned back against it, arms folded over his chest.

      It certainly was a pity that a woman who looked like this should be such a cold piece of work. But then, Dave had warned him.

      “The Anderson babe’s a hard case, Griff,” he’d said. “You know the type. She wishes to God she’d been born a guy but since she wasn’t, she holds every man since Adam responsible for the world’s woes.”

      Griffin sighed, walked to his desk and sat down behind it. Why did some women want to be what Nature had not meant them to be? He’d never been able to understand it.

      “Well, Ms. Anderson,” he said, “what can I do for you today?”

      Dana cleared her throat. “Mr. McKenna—”

      What was he doing? Dana frowned. He was looking through the stack of papers on his desk, that’s what he was doing.

      “Mr. McKenna?”

      He looked up. “Hmm?”

      “Sir, I was trying to tell you about—”

      He was doing it again! Bending that dark head of his, thumbing through what appeared to be a bunch of telephone memos, instead of paying attention to her.

      “Mr. McKenna. I’d appreciate it if you’d listen.”

      “Sorry.”

      He looked up, and she could tell from the expression on his face that he wasn’t the least bit sorry. As far as he was concerned, she was wasting his time.

      Dana took a deep breath.

      “I ran the new program this morning,” she said.

      “And?”

      “And, it’s a total disaster. There’s no way it’ll perform properly tomorrow, when you demo it at the Miami convention.”

      McKenna favored her with a small smile. “Fortunately for me, I won’t be doing the demo, remember? Dave will.”

      Stupid, stupid man! Dana smiled politely in return.

      “It won’t matter who does it,” she said calmly. “The point I’m trying to make is that the code won’t work right. And Dave won’t—”

      “It’s really a pity, you know.”

      “What’s a pity?”

      “That you should be so distressed by that missed promotion.”

      “That I should be...? Mr. McKenna, I told you, this has absolutely nothing to do with—”

      “Your record is excellent, Miss—sorry—Ms. Anderson,” McKenna leaned forward over his desk, his eyes focused on hers, his expression one of heartfelt compassion. “I took the time to look through it, after our chat last week.”

      Lord,