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Authors: Doreen Owens Malek
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wooden bowl on the table. “I guess that’s telling me. I was flattering myself that it had something to do with your inability to resist my fatal charm.”
Beth clasped her fingers together on the tabletop. “Your charm is fatal enough, you don’t need me to tell you that,” she said softly.
She heard his indrawn breath. “Bethany...” he began.
Beth held up her hand. “No. Let me finish. You hurt me, Bram. You hurt me so much that I resolved to stay away from you and never give you the chance to do it again.”
He listened, his eyes fixed on her face.
“But practical considerations outweighed the emotional ones. Your account will be lucrative, and if I handle it well it’ll give me some needed publicity around town. I could use both the cash and the goodwill.”
Bram nodded slowly. “I see. Oh, for the good old days when a woman told a man only what he wanted to hear.”
“I think they went out with the hoop skirt,” Beth said.
“I find myself longing for their return when I’m in your company,” Bram said dryly.
Their drinks arrived, and Bram took a sip of his before he asked, “Why do you need money? I thought your father left everything to you and your sister.”
“He left us the house, but everything else is tied up in trust until each of us reaches thirty. Marion will get her share next year, but I have to wait three more years. Right now I’m living in a mansion that I can barely afford to run.”
Bram twirled the ice cubes in his glass. “Bethany, if you need a loan...”
“No, thank you,” Beth said firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll earn my own way.”
“I believe you will,” he replied quietly. “But the offer stands, if you ever want to take me up on it.”
Beth picked up her drink and tasted it. The liquid, a dark rose-pink, was faintly sweet and flavored by the slice of lemon floating at the bottom of the glass. “It’s good,” she said.
Bram inclined his head. “I’m glad you approve.”
“You must be accustomed to selecting beverages for ladies,” she observed.
“I’m accustomed to ordering for women,” Bram answered shortly. “I don’t know how many of them I would call ladies.”
“How would you categorize Gloria?” Beth asked, and then could have bitten off her tongue. Why on earth did she say that?
Bram took another swallow of his drink and thought a moment before he answered. “I’m surprised my attorney would be interested in my opinion on that subject.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up; it’s none of my business,” Beth said quickly.
“What makes you think there’s anything between Gloria and me?” Bram inquired.
“She practically threw herself in my path trying to keep me away from you this afternoon, and when she saw us leaving together she gave me the death ray,” Beth stated flatly. “I got the impression she thinks of you as her territory.”
“And she views you as a potential poacher?” Bram asked.
“She seems to. I hope she doesn’t adopt that attitude with every woman who comes to see you.”
“Gloria takes her job very seriously,” Bram said evenly.
“How nice for you,” Beth responded tightly.
Bram gazed at her across the expanse of the polished table. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous,” he murmured softly.
Beth looked at him quickly, and then away. “I am,” she said. “I’m jealous of any woman you ever looked at, and I probably always will be.”
Bram’s lips parted, and his fingers tightened around the glass he was holding. “Damn it, Beth. How the hell do you expect me to keep my distance when you say something like that to me?”
“I expect you to keep your distance because we want different things from each other.”
Bram’s dark eyes raked her, and she felt a finger of fire tracing her body. “You know what I want,” he said huskily.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What do you want?” he asked in the same lazy, intimate tone.
Beth reached across the table and
Beth clasped her fingers together on the tabletop. “Your charm is fatal enough, you don’t need me to tell you that,” she said softly.
She heard his indrawn breath. “Bethany...” he began.
Beth held up her hand. “No. Let me finish. You hurt me, Bram. You hurt me so much that I resolved to stay away from you and never give you the chance to do it again.”
He listened, his eyes fixed on her face.
“But practical considerations outweighed the emotional ones. Your account will be lucrative, and if I handle it well it’ll give me some needed publicity around town. I could use both the cash and the goodwill.”
Bram nodded slowly. “I see. Oh, for the good old days when a woman told a man only what he wanted to hear.”
“I think they went out with the hoop skirt,” Beth said.
“I find myself longing for their return when I’m in your company,” Bram said dryly.
Their drinks arrived, and Bram took a sip of his before he asked, “Why do you need money? I thought your father left everything to you and your sister.”
“He left us the house, but everything else is tied up in trust until each of us reaches thirty. Marion will get her share next year, but I have to wait three more years. Right now I’m living in a mansion that I can barely afford to run.”
Bram twirled the ice cubes in his glass. “Bethany, if you need a loan...”
“No, thank you,” Beth said firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll earn my own way.”
“I believe you will,” he replied quietly. “But the offer stands, if you ever want to take me up on it.”
Beth picked up her drink and tasted it. The liquid, a dark rose-pink, was faintly sweet and flavored by the slice of lemon floating at the bottom of the glass. “It’s good,” she said.
Bram inclined his head. “I’m glad you approve.”
“You must be accustomed to selecting beverages for ladies,” she observed.
“I’m accustomed to ordering for women,” Bram answered shortly. “I don’t know how many of them I would call ladies.”
“How would you categorize Gloria?” Beth asked, and then could have bitten off her tongue. Why on earth did she say that?
Bram took another swallow of his drink and thought a moment before he answered. “I’m surprised my attorney would be interested in my opinion on that subject.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up; it’s none of my business,” Beth said quickly.
“What makes you think there’s anything between Gloria and me?” Bram inquired.
“She practically threw herself in my path trying to keep me away from you this afternoon, and when she saw us leaving together she gave me the death ray,” Beth stated flatly. “I got the impression she thinks of you as her territory.”
“And she views you as a potential poacher?” Bram asked.
“She seems to. I hope she doesn’t adopt that attitude with every woman who comes to see you.”
“Gloria takes her job very seriously,” Bram said evenly.
“How nice for you,” Beth responded tightly.
Bram gazed at her across the expanse of the polished table. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous,” he murmured softly.
Beth looked at him quickly, and then away. “I am,” she said. “I’m jealous of any woman you ever looked at, and I probably always will be.”
Bram’s lips parted, and his fingers tightened around the glass he was holding. “Damn it, Beth. How the hell do you expect me to keep my distance when you say something like that to me?”
“I expect you to keep your distance because we want different things from each other.”
Bram’s dark eyes raked her, and she felt a finger of fire tracing her body. “You know what I want,” he said huskily.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What do you want?” he asked in the same lazy, intimate tone.
Beth reached across the table and
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