Deception. Donna Hill

registered the move. “I’m sure you did.”

      “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

      “It means we’ll have to do some rearranging of our finances.”

      “Well, if you’d accept Steele’s proposal we’d—”

      She cut him off. “What time is your flight to Detroit?”

      “I have to be at the airport in an hour.”

      Terri turned away, unable to look at him another minute. “Tell your folks I said hello. We’ll talk when you get back.”

      “Fine!” Mark snatched up his notes and his briefcase and slammed out of the office.

      Terri turned to Stacy. “As soon as he’s out of the building, I want you to pull his files. Everything.”

      Hours later, exhausted and wanting to disbelieve what was in front of her, Terri closed the folders that Stacy had given her. The evidence was clear, and she had no alternative.

      Slowly she got up from her desk, her heart heavy with regret, wondering what she could have done differently. She didn’t know. All she could do now was prepare for Mark’s return.

      Stretching, her body aching with fatigue, she envisioned sinking into a steamy bubble bath, when a picture of Clint intruded on her thoughts. Her pulse raced at an alarming speed as she remembered the feel of his lips against hers… The part of her that wanted more wondered what it would be like to make love with him.

      This was getting crazy, she thought, angry at herself for fantasizing about a man who definitely was not for her. She hadn’t heard from him since their dinner date, and the thought that he was playing games with her renewed her frustration and misgivings.

      Gathering her purse and briefcase, she took her coat from the rack and began to leave the office just as the phone rang.

      She started to let the answering service pick up the call but decided against it, thinking that it might be important.

      “Terri Powers,” she answered by rote.

      “Terri, it’s Clint.”

      Her heart skipped a beat. Does he read my mind, or what? “Yes?”

      “I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind.”

      Me, either. Silence.

      “How are you?”

      If you only knew. “I’ve been better.”

      “You don’t sound like yourself. Is something wrong?”

      “I couldn’t begin to explain.” But she desperately wanted to. She wanted to feel his arms around her again, to hear his laughter, to taste his lips. But she couldn’t.

      “Listen, uh, I’m really tired, Clint. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

      “Maybe you should talk about it. That helps, you know.”

      “Not this time.”

      He wouldn’t be dismissed. “Why don’t I meet you? We could go for dinner or something. Maybe a drive.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting for her response.

      “Clint, I really…”

      “I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes. Wait for me, Terri.”

      The next sound she heard was the dial tone.

      Terri waited in quiet agitation for the elevator to reach her floor. Why was he doing this to her? A better question was, why was she doing this to herself? She knew perfectly well that Clint was not the kind of man to be taken lightly. What was more disturbing, he was the kind of man that fascinated her against her better judgment. That reality frightened her.

      Finally the elevator arrived, and her heart raced as the metal box made its painstakingly slow descent.

      She pulled her white cashmere coat tightly around her as a shiver jetted up her spine at the thought of seeing him. Maybe he wouldn’t be there, and she could just escape to the sanctuary of her apartment. Just like she’d been doing for months, hiding from the possibility of life as she once knew it—too frightened to take any more chances. But there was another part of her that longed to be fulfilled again, the part that hoped he’d be waiting.

      The doors of the elevator opened on the lobby level. Terri stepped out, her head held high. Casually she looked toward the revolving doors. Her spirits sank when she realized that Clint was nowhere in sight. Fine!

      She strode purposefully forward, anticipation replaced with annoyance. Why did it matter? she chastised herself, pushing through the revolving doors. This was probably just another game to Clint.

      Her temper rolled to the surface as she stood on the windy corner to hail a taxi. She waved her hand at an oncoming cab. As it approached, the cab’s dome light flashed the off-duty sign.

      Terri went livid, wanting to scream and cry all at the same time. That was the final insult of the day. She really didn’t know how much more she could—

      “You weren’t going to wait?”

      Clint’s voice seemed to massage her spine and unlock the tension that had gripped her. She turned toward the sound of his voice and looked up at him, the anxiety and frustration of the day brimming in her brown eyes. How easy it would be to just walk into his arms and let him soothe the aches away.

      She remained immobile.

      Something in the way she looked at him touched a hidden corner of his heart. He reached out and placed his large hands on her shoulders. “Terri, what’s wrong?” Concern softened his voice. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

      Terri blinked and swallowed back the lump in her throat. “It’s just the wind,” she answered with a calmness that surprised her.

      “I got stuck in traffic,” he said by way of apology.

      “Oh.”

      Why did he suddenly feel like a little boy having to explain his misbehavior? The awkward feeling left him unnerved. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Can I at least give you a lift?”

      She gave him a half smile and shrugged her right shoulder. “You could drop me off at my apartment. If you don’t mind.”

      “No problem. My car is over—” He looked across the busy intersection to see a traffic cop sticking a ticket on his windshield.

      “Hey!” he yelled as he immediately darted through traffic to the other side of the street. He snatched the ticket from the window, intent on making the offender eat it.

      Clint strode over to the “brownie,” as they were dubbed by New Yorkers for their brown uniforms, and shook the ticket in his face.

      “Listen, buddy,” Clint hissed, interrupting the officer from writing another ticket. “I was there for only a minute. What’s the deal with this ticket?” He checked his watch. “It’s five after seven. I can legally park here.”

      “Not by my watch,” the brownie said, dismissing Clint.

      “Your watch is wrong!” Clint stalked the officer as he moved to the next car.

      “If you think so, then take it to court.”

      The officer walked away, leaving Clint to throw daggers at his back.

      Terri gingerly eased alongside of an irate Clint, fighting hard to stifle the giggles that bubbled in her throat. This was the first time that she had truly seen the cool, controlled Clint totally bent out of shape. Her only regret was that she didn’t have a camera.

      “How much is it?” she asked in a tiny voice.

      “Fifty damn dollars!” he spat, slamming his palm against the hood of the Benz. He looked at the ticket in disbelief, then across at Terri, whose