One Night Standards Read online

  With that, they were dismissed. He saw Sophie high-five her sister before whispering, again, with her mother. They were all triumphant. But before they could leave entirely, Sophie shot him a look that he couldn’t quite place. He kept thinking of it after she left, and as Carol picked up the pieces of her crumbled presentation.

  Now, he suddenly got why he couldn’t quite place Sophie’s last gaze. Normally, it was one of either nervousness or pure desire.

  This was one of apology…and possibly pity.

  Grimly, he set his jaw. She’d been right. Sex between the two of them could be disastrous.

  For him.

  “WE DID IT! WE DID IT!”

  Sophie smiled weakly. Her mother and sister were doing victory dances in their hotel room, which was definitely hampering their attempts at packing to leave.

  “What’s the matter, Sophie?” her mother finally said, frowning. “You’re certainly not acting like we’ve aced one of the biggest meetings of our lives.”

  “We haven’t won anything yet,” Sophie said cautiously.

  Lydia made a raspberry sound at her. “Buzzkill,” she accused. “We kicked ass and you know it.”

  Sophie felt a reluctant grin creep across her face. “We did pretty good,” she acknowledged.

  “Pretty good? Ha! We made those guys squirm!” Lydia trumpeted.

  Sophie winced. She shouldn’t feel badly. After all, it wasn’t as if she had done anything unethical. They had beaten Trimera soundly, and on good solid principles.

  Still, it hadn’t felt good to watch Mark get trounced.

  He would be the first to tell you that it was just business, Sophie.

  She took a deep breath. Of course, he had told her that after they’d made long, languorous love, back in a hotel room in San Francisco…and he’d assured her that they could keep their emotions separate from their logical, professional lives. It had been almost a month since she’d seen him again, and she hadn’t even spoken to him in the interim. She’d indulged in a few brief text messages, saying she was thinking about him. He’d sent back slightly more graphic texts, ones that had stirred her up even as she smiled, thinking about them.

  And now, their first face-to-face had resulted in her whipping his company—beating him. She wondered if he still had the same stance.

  “Honey, you really need to learn to loosen up,” her mother said in her singsong voice. “You’d think we lost, with that look on your face. What’s bothering you?”

  Sophie tried to school her expression to something less worried. “I was thinking about what we’ve got ahead of us.”

  “Oh,” her mother said, her expression also reflecting concern. “Are we in trouble, then? I thought we’d done really well.” She wrung her hands, sending Lydia a quick look. “I thought—you know—the company was going to be fine.”

  Lydia made a dismissive gesture, grimacing at Sophie. “You’re always focusing on the negative, sis,” Lydia said. “I know this thing’s a big vendetta for you, a way of sticking it to big companies like Trimera for what they’ve done to people like Mom. But you’ve got to learn to savor your victories. Smell the roses. Stuff like that.”

  “Whatever.” Sophie tried not to roll her eyes.

  “Don’t do that,” Lydia warned. “I know you. You’re thinking, Lydia went to art school, she’s too granola-hippie-flower-child, but I know what I’m talking about here. You’re going to burn out if you don’t take a break.”

  “This stuff is too important to the company,” Sophie said around a sigh. “I’ll take a break when it’s all over.”

  “There are more important things in life than business,” Lydia intoned, and it reminded Sophie of her phone conversation with Mark, who had said something similar.

  “I know,” Sophie said. “I just…It’s hard for me to turn my back on it.”

  “Nobody’s telling you to abandon Diva Nation,” Lydia said, her voice more gentle. “But you’re no good to any of us if you snap and flip out before the deal’s done.”

  Sophie took that silently. For all her “flower-child” ways, Lydia could be very pragmatic.

  “You need to find some sort of stress relief,” her mother said. “You need a hobby.”

  Sophie laughed. “What, like macaroni art?”

  “No, wait, Mom’s onto something,” Lydia agreed. “You definitely need to figure out a way to replenish. Mom’s going to be doing the heavy lifting for the next round, anyway. I’ll do packaging, Mom will do product. You should do something to take the edge off in the meantime.”

  “We can talk about it when we get home,” Sophie said, feeling weary right down to her toes. On the flight back to L.A., she wanted to go over the numbers Carol had been spouting off about Trimera. Carol might have misread Marion & Co., but Sophie could use that information nonetheless….

  To Sophie’s surprise, her mother shook her head, taking her suitcase out of her hand. “Your sister and I have decided,” she said firmly, “that you need a vacation. You should stay here in Vegas for the weekend.”

  “Here?” Sophie said, grimacing. “Why? I don’t even gamble.”

  “The hotel has a great spa,” Lydia said as she finished packing her own suitcase. “There’s art galleries, there are shows, there’s a ton of stuff to do. Mom and I will get to work, but you definitely need a break. So don’t show up at the office until after this weekend.” Lydia scooped up Sophie’s laptop.

  “Hey!” Sophie made a grab for it, but her mother prevented her, shaking her head.

  “Your sister’s right. You’re working too hard,” her mother said. “So take this weekend off. We love you.”

  They both hugged her, then took their luggage and left.

  Sophie sat in the hotel room, looking around, feeling restlessness jittering across her skin. Without her laptop, she had nothing to do. She still had the adrenaline from the presentation pumping through her system, but no outlet for it.

  I wonder where Mark is?

  She felt a flush of excitement start to curl through her, starting with her stomach and radiating out to her breasts and between her legs. Now that the excitement and stress of the presentation had passed, she felt almost dizzy with relief.

  If he meant what he said, she thought, stroking her fingertips over her cell phone, then he’s absolutely right. Being “involved” didn’t affect our business one bit.

  The more she thought about it, the more liberating the idea became. She had thought that sleeping with Mark would be one of the most disastrous acts in her life—personally damaging, as well as professionally, since her business and personal life were so inexorably intertwined. But she’d had an incredible night with him, and then she’d managed to pull off one of the biggest successes in Diva Nation’s history.

  She grinned broadly. She was worrying about nothing. And she really did need to relax, and get rid of some stress.

  I know the perfect hobby.

  She called up Mark’s cell phone. It rang several times, then shifted over to his voice mail. “I can’t answer the phone right now,” his voice said, the drawl eliciting another shiver through her. “Please leave a message.”

  “Mark,” she said after the prompt, her own voice going husky. “I’m staying in Vegas through the weekend. I was wondering, do you think you’d be free? I don’t know what your plans are, but I’d love to spend some time together.”

  She left it at that, hanging up. She hadn’t packed anything sexy, so she decided to go down to the hotel shop. It was Vegas, she reasoned. There had to be a lingerie shop somewhere in Sin City.

  She smiled. Mark might make the perfect hobby, after all.

  THAT NIGHT, MARK STAYED UP in his room at the hotel, refusing Carol’s halfhearted dinner invitation. The two of them had already said all that needed to be said after the presentation itself.

  “Well, that went swimmingly,” he’d said, as Carol had packed up her laptop disconsolately. He didn’t want to tell Carol I told you so. No—he did want to tel
l her that, but knew it wasn’t the productive thing to do. He’d watched as Sophie and her family had left, obviously ecstatic. He couldn’t quite sort out his own feelings at that point. All he knew was Trimera had lost. Not just lost—they’d made fools of themselves.

  If only I’d pushed Carol harder, he thought frantically. If only…

  There were too many “if only” statements that could be made. None of them were productive either.

  If only I had been able to get my mind off of Sophie Jones…

  He sighed. That was the least productive of all.

  “Mark, we need to talk.”

  This, from Carol. Mark had grimaced, then had decided to put his best “we can work it out” face on. “Sure,” he’d said easily. “We didn’t do as well as we’d hoped—” and if that wasn’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was “—but I still think we can pull it out for next time. In fact, I have a few ideas—”

  “You know,” Carol had interrupted him, a pensive look on her face, “I’ve decided that you were right. About everything.”

  Her abrupt about-face caused him to goggle with surprise. He got his composure back a moment later. “I’m right about what?”

  “You should have been point person on this product proposal,” she said with a decisive nod. “In fact, I’m going to go back to my room and call Roger and Simone right now.”

  “Uh…thanks,” he said finally. Carol was a pit bull—seeing her give this up was like watching a starving fight dog walk away from a sirloin steak. Although, she wasn’t known for her altruism, either. “Why the sudden change of heart?” he added carefully.

  She shrugged. “It’s obvious that you know the client,” she said simply. “You even know the competition.”

  He wasn’t sure if there was a dig in that last remark, but for the most part, he gathered that the whole thing was a compliment. She was finally acknowledging he was more than a pretty face—someone to charm female distributors out of lots of sales. He was more than fancy packaging. His chest swelled with pride, but he kept his tone modest. “Thanks, again. I appreciate it.” He frowned. “I get the feeling Roger might not share your enthusiasm, though.” But now that he’d won Carol over, things might be starting to head his way.

  “Not to worry, I’ll handle that,” Carol assured him. “I’m sure you can handle the next meeting, the San Francisco one, by yourself. Besides, I’ve got a ton of other work that I should have focused my attention on, anyway.”

  He felt the slightest chill of apprehension. This was more than making him point person. It sounded as if she was stepping out entirely. “Well, your work has been very valuable….”

  “And I’ll send out an e-mail to everyone,” she said, snapping her laptop shut and zipping it into its case with a loud flourish of finality, “letting them know that from now on, Marion & Co. is your baby. Everything will be in your hands from now on. This is your project—run with it.”

  That was when it hit him, and he went cold.

  She wasn’t acknowledging his intelligence, his strategy or his skills. She had already determined that this account was a loser, which would piss off the powers-that-be something fierce—and she was distancing herself from it as fast as possible. What was more, she was putting him in front of it, so when it failed, all people would remember was “it was Mark McMann’s baby, and he flubbed it.”

  His momma had raised him better than to call a woman names, but he still thought some vile adjectives about Carol, even as he smiled politely. “Thanks,” he repeated, keeping his voice light.

  She returned the smile, probably thinking he was too dumb to figure out what she’d just done to him. “Absolutely no problem.”

  So now he was in his room, desperately trying not only to salvage the hope of a promotion, but to save his own ass.

  There was a knock on his door, and he frowned. Had he ordered room service? He’d meant to, twice, but he’d gotten sidetracked by Internet research—trying to figure out Trimera’s next plan of attack. Now, he couldn’t remember if he’d made a call downstairs or not. He got up, wincing at the stiffness of his legs from sitting at the small desk for several hours, and then opened the door.

  Sophie was standing there. She was still wearing the same suit she’d been wearing at the Marion & Co. presentation, looking a little tired and rumpled, but otherwise looking the same as always.

  In other words, tempting.

  He took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t be here,” he forced himself to say.

  She was glancing up and down the hallway. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “Can I come in?”

  He knew he shouldn’t. Hadn’t he already determined that she was part of the problem? But at the same time, he wanted to hear what she had to say—and he couldn’t very well have a conversation out there, in the hallway. They’d be spotted for sure, by somebody in the industry. This was a fairly large convention, after all.

  “All right,” he said. But just for a minute, he assured himself.

  Even if he didn’t believe it.

  He closed the door behind her, and she turned. Before he realized what she was up to, she had looped her arms around his neck, getting up on her tiptoes and kissing him tenderly. His first reaction was surprise—he’d always been the aggressor, up to this point. She’d always been the reticent one, the careful one.

  What’s going on here?

  But after that thought, he felt most rational thinking slip away as he reveled in the taste of her, the feel of her heated, compact body against his. He clutched at her hips, pulling her closer to him, and she made a soft moan of contentment.

  They finally broke apart, their breathing ragged. “I’ve been missing that,” Sophie admitted in a soft voice.

  So had he, he realized. Then rationality set back in. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

  “They’re flying home to L.A. today,” she said. “I decided to stay behind for another night.”

  “Oh?” He tamped down the immediate thought: She’s here by herself for the night. She can spend the night with you. “Did you have other work to do? Meetings?”

  “Nope,” she said, her fingertips stroking over the planes of his chest, the ticklish sensation torturing him beneath his French shirt. “I thought I just needed a break. And I thought you might need one, too.”

  “You’re not usually…like this,” he said.

  She blushed, and she was more like the Sophie he remembered. “Is it bothering you?”

  “No. Not exactly,” he amended.

  “Do you…” She paused, then cleared her throat. “I thought we were on the same page.” She looked at him, her indigo eyes wide and vulnerable. “Don’t you want me?”

  He sighed roughly. “Of course I want you,” he said. “Sometimes I think I can’t remember what it was like to not want you.”

  She leaned against him, her head tucked against his chest, under his chin. “I know how you feel.”

  “But we said it would be for one night,” he said.

  “We’ve said that before,” she teased, with a shaky voice. “I figured…”

  “One more time wouldn’t hurt?” Mark forced himself to take a crucial step away from her, even though his body was now throbbing with need. Just the smell of her perfume was enough to trigger his desire. “Sophie, things have changed.”

  She stared at him, then frowned. “Why? Because Trimera didn’t do well today?”

  “Didn’t do well. That’s putting it mildly,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “We tanked. You guys ran off with that presentation like we handed it to you on a platter.”

  “That’s not my fault,” Sophie protested. “I thought you said that what we do—together—didn’t have anything to do with the business, or the competition!”

  “I didn’t think it did,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “But now,” she said, studying his face intently, “you do.”

  He let out a frustrated exhalation. “I don’t know.”


  “That’s not fair, Mark,” she said, her voice low and angry. “You’re the one who set the terms of this. I thought it was about…enjoyment. We enjoy each other. That’s it.”

  “So you’re here because you were looking for some fun?” he said, his voice caustic.

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I’m here because I want you.”

  “I’ve always had to persuade you,” he said. “I’ve felt guilty because I thought I was putting you in an uncomfortable position!”

  “But it didn’t stop you,” she pointed out, and guilt hit him again like a hatchet.

  He plowed forward. “Well, it’s stopping me now.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said, her voice as sharp as his was. “You think that sleeping with me is somehow jeopardizing your chances at winning this. That’s why you’re not pressing me, saying we can ‘keep it separate.’ You don’t even believe it anymore!”

  “And you do?” he said, feeling angry—and feeling even more guilty, since that was exactly how he was feeling. “Why are you really here, Sophie?”

  “Well, it’s definitely not to ruin your chances at the Marion account!” Her eyes blazed. “I came here because I wanted you. Because when I’m with you, I feel better than I can remember feeling in months. Hell, years. Because you’re tender, and amazing, and I have never wanted anybody like this.”

  Remorse clawed at him. He’d felt that way, too. He still felt that way.

  “But there are bigger things than sex involved right now.” He couldn’t believe he was taking the stance, but there it was.

  “This isn’t just sex,” she said. “I would never put my family’s well-being at risk for just sex.” Her voice was dismissive, making it sound as if he should have known that.

  As if he were stupid.

  He felt his temper, simmering, burst into a full boil. “So what are you putting your family’s business at risk for? Why is this so important to you? This isn’t even a relationship. I don’t know what this is!”

  She winced, and he only briefly felt a pang, but his temper was a runaway train and there was no stopping it. “You like sex, specifically with me. You’re willing to put up with a clandestine affair with me as long as nobody finds out.”