Getting It Good!. Rhonda Nelson

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СКАЧАТЬ as usual, it annoyed the hell out of him. He swallowed a long-suffering sigh.

      Furthermore, to make matters worse—and truthfully, he wouldn’t have thought that would have been possible—Frankie had looked entirely too happy to suit his taste…because if Frankie was happy it could only be because she knew that he would soon be supremely unhappy. Clearly Zora had filled her in on the present situation and Ms. Merciless had tagged along to silently chortle over his misfortune.

      “You have no idea what she wants me to do?” Ross asked again. His gaze drifted to Frankie once more and he watched as she and Zora shared a conspiratorial smile. Oh, hell, Ross thought as dread formed a tight ball in his belly. This didn’t bode well. Not well at all. His insides clenched and he stifled a groan.

      “None,” Tate replied as they neared the table. He bent and brushed a kiss over his wife’s cheek and murmured a warm greeting.

      “Zora, Frankie,” Ross said, giving them each a glance in turn, before taking his seat. Though he’d only spared half a second, had barely glanced at her at all, that one meager look had been all Ross needed to catalogue every pertinent detail when it came to Frankie.

      Simply put, she was a classic Italian beauty. Long black hair, cut in lengthy layers that framed an elegant yet striking face. Large almond-shaped dark eyes, sleek dramatic brows, creamy olive skin and a mouth that inspired more than a few erotic dreams. Her lips were full, lush and unbelievably provocative. She was petite but very generously curved and she moved with a careless sort of grace that was, quite frankly, fascinating—mesmerizing—to watch.

      Ross inwardly snorted. God knows, there had been times when dragging his eyes off of her had been almost impossible. Were that not enough, for reasons which escaped him, the Almighty had further blessed her with a keen mind and a diabolically sharp wit. Ross had found himself verbally flayed many times by that Ginsu tongue of hers and he grimly suspected that it was about to happen again.

      It was a cruel joke really, Ross thought, mentally bracing himself, to package such a mind and body with the personality of a waspish hellcat. Crueler still that he actually looked forward to tangling with her, that he wanted her so desperately that it almost frightened him. Thankfully, fear was an emotion he refused to acknowledge, otherwise he’d undoubtedly be in trouble.

      A beat later he felt her gaze slide over him, caught the vaguest curve of a smile, and the unease that had settled like a stone in his gut grew increasingly heavier. Annoyed, he looked away. A single hot oath sizzled on his tongue, but miraculously, he held it.

      “I think I’m going to have the grilled chicken salad,” Zora said, casually perusing the menu. “What about you, honey? Have you decided what you want?”

      Tate nodded, set his menu aside and absently scratched his chest. “Yeah. I’m in the mood for jambalaya.”

      Ross resisted the pressing urge to roll his eyes. He was in the mood to get this over with, to cease and desist with the idle chitchat when they all knew they were here to plunge him into some unknown hell.

      “That sounds good,” Frankie chimed in. “I think I’ll have that as well. Know what you want, Ross?” she asked with a touch of humor.

      To leave, and from the knowing twinkle in her eye she’d evidently figured it out. “Er…the usual, I think. A MoJo burger and an order of fries.”

      A waitress came, took their order, then soon returned and delivered drinks. Once she left, Ross decided that it was time to put an end to the meaningless chatter and cut to the chase.

      He manufactured a smile that fell several degrees shy of pleasant and aimed it at Zora. “Tate has blackmailed me into coming to work for you at CHiC for the next week. Wanna fill me in on exactly what I’ll be doing?”

      Zora looked up, smoothly set her drink aside. She seemed to have been waiting for him to broach the subject. “Sure. You’ll be working with Frankie.” She nodded toward her friend. “That’s why she’s here.”

      If working for CHiC had been the directive that sent him to hell, then working with Frankie was the equivalent of being ushered to the very gates of Hades. For whatever reason—premonition, bad luck, bad karma—he had the grimmest feeling that the rest of what Zora had to tell him would send him over the threshold straight to the deepest nether regions of the underworld.

      Zora smiled, serenely enjoying his discomfort. “As you know, Frankie is CHiC’s Carnal Contessa. Our sexpert, if you will.”

      He was fully aware of her job, what it entailed, and had read each and every column. One had to know one’s enemy, after all, and Ross had perceived many interesting facets of her personality through her advice, seeds of insight she’d unwittingly sown. Furthermore, there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could speak freely about sex, the ultimate taboo. Frankie clearly reveled in her sexuality, clearly enjoyed every nuance of male/female ritual.

      What he failed to see was how he could possibly work with her.

      “As you know, CHiC has just launched the new glossy format. Over the next week Frankie will be touring the country to promote the new look. A five-city tour, to be precise.” She calmly sipped her drink and delivered the coup de grace. “You will accompany her.”

      Ross blinked. It took a minute to believe his ears, but only a nanosecond to absorb the implication—and he didn’t like it. A five-city tour? Accompany her? But that meant he’d be gone, unable to work, unable to polish the pitch for the Maxwell account. Hell, he hadn’t had the time to play around with CHiC for a week to begin with, but at least he would have had his evenings to himself. He could have worked from home. This— Ross shook his head and felt his expression blacken. This would not do.

      His gaze flew to Tate, who wore a somewhat slack-jawed smirk. “I can’t be gone for a week,” he said, his voice throbbing with the effort not to shout. “I can’t just leave at the drop of a hat. What about work? What about the Maxwell account?” Ross blew out a harsh breath. “This is ridiculous. I can’t do it.” His gaze drifted to Zora. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find something else for me to do.”

      Zora shook her head, offered a smile that distinctly lacked sympathy. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. This is what I need you to do.” She looked at her husband. “I thought you said he’d agreed?”

      “He’d agreed to work for CHiC,” Tate responded tightly. “However, when I asked him—”

      Ross snorted. “Blackmailed, buddy. You didn’t ask,” he interjected.

      Tate shot him a glare. “—I had no idea that you’d need him to be away from home for the next week. This sheds a completely different light on things, Zora,” he told her, clearly irritated.

      Zora grinned happily. Though she didn’t move, Ross got the impression she wanted to bounce in her seat. “You’re right. It means that you forfeit and I win.”

      A muscle worked in Tate’s jaw and a martial light suddenly glinted in his tense gaze, one Ross instinctively knew didn’t bode well for his cause. “I’ll put Brad on everything but the Maxwell account in your absence, Ross. You can still work on it from the road. We’ll arrange a mobile office and I’ll make sure a dedicated team is in place to see to anything you might need on this end.”

      Ross dragged in a harsh breath. “Tate—”

      Tate СКАЧАТЬ