Read Online A negotiated surrender by Jayne Castle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jayne Castle
Tags: futuristic romance
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been yelling at you for nearly a month so I figured a lot of your strength wasn't going into the dance. I assume that will change now, hmm?"
"You sound like a quieter version of Miss Marsden!" she scolded. "Whatever adversely affects the dancing must be gotten out of the way!"
"I'm glad you understand. We'll make a dancer out of you yet!"
Calla laughed and dug her keys out of her leather bag as she headed for the door. She felt much better, she decided with a measure of satisfaction, as she started the engine of her bright green Fiat. She might not have pleased Miss Marsden this morning but Miss Marsden's insistence on concentration and physical control had done a great deal for Calla's chaotic frame of mind.
The discipline of the ballet gave Calla the renewed feeling of being able to deal with herself and with Slade York. She had been in a weakened condition last night, she decided as she drove toward home in the rising heat of the morning sun, weakened from a month of doing battle with him on an intellectual level. It was perhaps not surprising she had been unprepared to meet his challenge on a physical plane.
But this morning she felt back in control of her body and her mind. Lester Chapman had been right last night when he had warned her obliquely about the dangers of not supervising the transition period during York's reorganization of the firm. Someone needed to cushion the impact and who better than Calla? She certainly knew him better than anyone else after the past month!
It wouldn't be a pleasant three months, she thought grimly as she turned down her street. But if she kept her head she could survive. The crucial thing was to keep out of York's physical reach. She must not find herself in the position she had wound up in last night. The man was potentially dangerous. Every instinct warned her of that.
She was frowning as she tried to force the memories of the previous evening out of her head, thinking of ways in which Slade York could be handled, and she didn't really notice the silver Mercedes until she had parked her own car in the lot.
When she did notice it, Calla experienced an undeniable moment of pure panic in spite of her renewed determination to remain in charge of herself and the situation. Was the man going to hound her every step?
Angrily she gripped the strap of her leather shoulder bag and paced deliberately toward the door of her condominium.
He was sitting on the doorstep, reading the Saturday paper, a plastic cup of coffee from a nearby fast-food restaurant by his side. He didn't see her at first and Calla had a second's impression of the rich coffee shade of his hair in the morning sunlight as he bent over the headlines. He was wearing the dark-framed glasses, which somehow gave the rugged features an almost intellectual air. His jeans were snug and faded and the blue workshirt also looked as if it had been through a number of washings. The shirt was open at the collar and rolled up on his forearms. Calla forced her eyes away from the sprinkling of dark hair on his tanned, sinewy arm.
"No offense," she muttered mockingly as she came to a halt in front of him, "but I'd rather come home to flowers on my doorstep than you!"
He lifted his head slowly, his amber gaze moving from the toes of her sandal-shod feet, up the length of her legs, and coming to rest for an instant on the expanse of skin exposed by the scooped neckline of the leotard.
"I'm sure you didn't mean any offense," Slade said quite gently as he absently removed his glasses and stuffed them into the leather case, "but I'm offended nevertheless." His eyes, unshielded by the lenses of his glasses now, moved on up to her set face. "I come in peace," he intoned, a slow smile curving his mouth.
"Do you even know the meaning of the word?" she sighed, stepping around him to open her door.
"Calla," he said, getting to his feet and picking up the half-empty coffee cup. "I have to talk to you…"
"I'll be in my office Tuesday
"You sound like a quieter version of Miss Marsden!" she scolded. "Whatever adversely affects the dancing must be gotten out of the way!"
"I'm glad you understand. We'll make a dancer out of you yet!"
Calla laughed and dug her keys out of her leather bag as she headed for the door. She felt much better, she decided with a measure of satisfaction, as she started the engine of her bright green Fiat. She might not have pleased Miss Marsden this morning but Miss Marsden's insistence on concentration and physical control had done a great deal for Calla's chaotic frame of mind.
The discipline of the ballet gave Calla the renewed feeling of being able to deal with herself and with Slade York. She had been in a weakened condition last night, she decided as she drove toward home in the rising heat of the morning sun, weakened from a month of doing battle with him on an intellectual level. It was perhaps not surprising she had been unprepared to meet his challenge on a physical plane.
But this morning she felt back in control of her body and her mind. Lester Chapman had been right last night when he had warned her obliquely about the dangers of not supervising the transition period during York's reorganization of the firm. Someone needed to cushion the impact and who better than Calla? She certainly knew him better than anyone else after the past month!
It wouldn't be a pleasant three months, she thought grimly as she turned down her street. But if she kept her head she could survive. The crucial thing was to keep out of York's physical reach. She must not find herself in the position she had wound up in last night. The man was potentially dangerous. Every instinct warned her of that.
She was frowning as she tried to force the memories of the previous evening out of her head, thinking of ways in which Slade York could be handled, and she didn't really notice the silver Mercedes until she had parked her own car in the lot.
When she did notice it, Calla experienced an undeniable moment of pure panic in spite of her renewed determination to remain in charge of herself and the situation. Was the man going to hound her every step?
Angrily she gripped the strap of her leather shoulder bag and paced deliberately toward the door of her condominium.
He was sitting on the doorstep, reading the Saturday paper, a plastic cup of coffee from a nearby fast-food restaurant by his side. He didn't see her at first and Calla had a second's impression of the rich coffee shade of his hair in the morning sunlight as he bent over the headlines. He was wearing the dark-framed glasses, which somehow gave the rugged features an almost intellectual air. His jeans were snug and faded and the blue workshirt also looked as if it had been through a number of washings. The shirt was open at the collar and rolled up on his forearms. Calla forced her eyes away from the sprinkling of dark hair on his tanned, sinewy arm.
"No offense," she muttered mockingly as she came to a halt in front of him, "but I'd rather come home to flowers on my doorstep than you!"
He lifted his head slowly, his amber gaze moving from the toes of her sandal-shod feet, up the length of her legs, and coming to rest for an instant on the expanse of skin exposed by the scooped neckline of the leotard.
"I'm sure you didn't mean any offense," Slade said quite gently as he absently removed his glasses and stuffed them into the leather case, "but I'm offended nevertheless." His eyes, unshielded by the lenses of his glasses now, moved on up to her set face. "I come in peace," he intoned, a slow smile curving his mouth.
"Do you even know the meaning of the word?" she sighed, stepping around him to open her door.
"Calla," he said, getting to his feet and picking up the half-empty coffee cup. "I have to talk to you…"
"I'll be in my office Tuesday
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