Pink Satin

Chapter Twelve

“So you have the right to press charges, ma’am.” Greer stared in confusion at the polite uniformed officer standing in front of her with his hat in his hand. “I still don’t understand,” she said uncertainly.

Bright sunlight was pouring in the windows of Grant’s office. It was one o’clock on Friday afternoon. Grant was sitting behind his desk, looking at her, and Marie was pacing by the windows, furiously trying to send some message to Greer with hand motions.

“The most he’ll likely get is a fine. Nuisance calls are only a misdemeanor. Also, nobody seems to have seen him since last night. I’m not saying that he’s necessarily skipped town, but his place looks pretty empty of clothes and other personal things. We can probably track him down, but we need to know for sure whether or not you want to press charges. Miss?”

Greer saw Marie frantically nod her head, but she pushed her hands in the pockets of her dirndl skirt and leaned back against the wall. “No,” she said quietly.

Grant rose from his chair to escort the policeman out a few moments later, then closed his office door on the way back in. “Sit down, Greer,” he suggested.

Gratefully, she sank into the chair closest to his desk. Her legs felt numb. Actually, her whole body felt numb. “I can’t believe Ray was the one who made those calls,” she murmured. “I just can’t believe it.”

The whole morning had been disastrously confusing, partly because she’d had very little sleep. Ryan had had none at all; he’d left the hotel in Charlotte at five to drive back to work. She couldn’t drive back with him; there were still a few ends to clean up from the trade show, and she had her car besides. Ray had disappeared, but she hadn’t expected to walk into work this afternoon and discover he’d been fired. And before she’d had the chance to level a single question at Grant, the policeman had called from the lobby. She was still trying to absorb one shock, and then there was another.

Marie bounced in front of her, jangling bracelets dancing on her wrists as she pointed a scolding finger at Greer. “When I think of what that man put you through,” she said viciously, “I could kill him. And you. You should have immediately called us after what happened at the trade show. And pressed charges.” Still clucking like a mother hen, she whirled behind Greer to her husband’s credenza, immediately bringing back a cup of hot tea for Greer.

Greer put both hands around the warm cup gratefully, took a single sip and set it down. With haunted eyes, she stared at Grant. “I made him lose his job?” she said quietly. “I can’t seem to get any of this straight. He actually told you what happened in my hotel room? And he admitted the truth about the phone calls besides?”

Marie and Grant exchanged glances. “I fired Ray,” Grant said quietly, “for sexually harassing an employee. There’s no possible way I would have allowed him back here after what he did to you. I have the right to fire any employee for misconduct. Ray was my employee and acting as a representative for Love Lace every moment he was at the trade show. And frankly, we’ve been looking for an excuse to let him go for some time.”

“I don’t understand,” Greer said, bewildered. “I thought he always did an outstanding job.”

“He brought in a great many sales, yes, which is why we kept him for so long, but he didn’t get along with anyone, except maybe you. He couldn’t relate to people. Customers complained about him all the time; Tim has all but quit several times after one of their confrontations.”

“I didn’t know,” Greer said unhappily.

“His references looked impressive when I hired him. So impressive that I was foolish enough not to check. Yesterday, I made several phone calls to places he’d previously worked, and discovered that he was fired from each of those jobs.” Grant sighed. “Ray is ambitious and hardworking, but something is driving the man. Nothing’s ever enough. He always has to outdo the people he works around, and if he can’t, he tries subtle intimidation tactics.”

“Like those phone calls,” Marie said loudly. “I still want to know why you didn’t come to Grant or me, darling. You think we don’t care about you, that you are nothing but an employee to us? I am so disappointed in you I could scream.”

“Marie.” Grant’s voice was soft, but admonishing.

Greer touched trembly fingers to her temples. “What did I do?” she asked unhappily. “I never…threatened him in my job. Why did he pick on me?”

“Because he was a total ass,” Marie hissed.

“Perhaps,” Grant said quietly, “because you were someone he wanted and couldn’t have. It would fit the pattern. Not that I know about his personal life, but in his work, if he couldn’t achieve something he wanted, he made sure someone paid. Greer?”

She looked up.

“He was fired from one job for fabricating an elaborate set of reports that would have made another employee look bad. The saddest part about it was that the company wasn’t dissatisfied with Ray to begin with. He’d failed to bring in an account; it wasn’t the end of the world. He was the one who made trouble for himself.”

“He’s sick,” Marie said emphatically. “Sick, sick, sick.”

“Sad,” Greer corrected in a low voice.

Grant nodded quietly to her over the desk. “He needs help, I expect. Psychiatric help. I told him that when I fired him.”

“But…how did the police know about the phone calls? And I still don’t understand why he told you what happened at the trade show. This morning when I learned he was gone, I assumed that he’d come back here, but-”

“He told us nothing,” Marie said heatedly. “Grant fired him over the telephone when Ray called this morning.”

“But-”

Grant leaned back in his chair. “Your Mr. McCullough made an extremely informative call to me earlier.” A small smile touched his features. “One of several in the last week, actually. After last night, I think he would have preferred to have Ray drawn and quartered, but he settled for explaining to me exactly what Ray had put you through. McCullough also persuaded me to make those reference checks yesterday. And he convinced the police to tap Ray’s phone last week. Unfortunately, they didn’t get a report back on that until yesterday.”

“What?” Marie turned offended eyes to her husband. “You told me nothing about that part of it.”

But Grant was looking only at Greer. “Mr. McCullough had reason to believe that one of our employees was your caller. You changed your phone number twice; yet your caller knew that new number each time-and, of course, you immediately informed us of your new telephone number each time. Except for your family, who could have learned your number and your personal schedule so quickly, except someone you worked with?”

Grant’s voice was soothing, quiet. Greer had always found her boss’s voice gentling. Not this time.

Her thoughts were filled with Ryan. He’d done all of that. And he hadn’t said a single word.

Grant and Marie both urged her to take the rest of the afternoon off and go home. She didn’t. She wanted to think, and always thought best when she was busy. Mulling over a problem while facing four walls and total silence always sounded good, but it never worked for Greer.

She left several minutes before five, though. Ryan, of course, wasn’t back from work when she arrived at the apartment. She didn’t expect him to be. After running a brush through her hair, she left her door open and paced up and down the hall, Truce pacing directly behind her.

Ryan didn’t pop through the door until ten to six, early for him. He was dressed strictly as a businessman, in a pale gray suit that made his shoulders look huge, and was reaching for the newspaper when he noticed her at the top of the steps. She was standing stiff as a board, with her arms folded over her chest, eyes blazing.

He froze.

Greer’s eyes pinned him as securely as a collector pins a moth. “I would appreciate the chance to talk with you,” she said crisply. “I discovered exactly how much you were involved in getting Ray…caught.”

“Greer…” He took a very careful breath, eyes on her face. “You’re upset because I interfered. I don’t blame you, but try to understand. I didn’t want to go behind your back, but I knew damn well you’d say no if I asked you ahead of time.”

“You bet I’m upset. And as I said, I’d like to talk with you, McCullough. Like in an hour. Your place.”

“Greer…”

She turned on her heel, whirled into her apartment and locked the door. Truce screamed. She opened the door, let the cat bound in and relocked it.

Her heart shifted promptly into race, as though a computer button had suddenly been turned on. She flipped off one shoe, then the other, then padded barefoot toward the bathroom, unbuttoning her shirtwaist dress as she went. The pale lavender cotton dropped somewhere in the hall, and she left it there. By the time she turned on the shower taps, she was wearing only bra and pants, and she stripped those off as the shower warmed up.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out, fiercely rubbed her hair with a towel until it was half dry, then used a blow dryer and brush to do the rest. Naked, she walked to her bedroom and bent down over her lowest dresser drawer.

It was there. The cream lace on pink satin negligee. Her quick-quick movements slowed abruptly. Her fingers took the time to caress the soft fabric before she drew it out. Really, Greer. This is terribly out of character.

And her heart was suddenly beating erratic rhythms. Old ghost rhythms.

For so long, she’d valued the safe niche she’d carved out for herself in her relationships with men. “Safe” was being a friend, not a lover. “Safe” meant caretaking and playing with men only when she was in control. “Safe” had been convincing herself that that was what she was as a woman, and all she was and wanted to be.

Ray had blown her definitions of “safe” off the map.

Ryan had made her see what she wanted and needed for herself as a woman.

Slowly, she slipped the satin over her head, and with a whisper it draped itself over her body and fell in long, sleek lines to the floor. Ryan had taught her a lesson in honesty. Now it was up to her to put his teachings into practice.

Fingers suddenly trembling, she drew on the cream lace peignoir that matched the negligee, and caught her reflection in the mirror. A boldly sexual woman stared back at her. An alluring woman. Her breasts were barely covered by the cobwebby bodice; she could see the dark tips of her nipples. Lower, she could even see the indentation of her navel: satin did show everything. Every curve, each line of her bottom and thighs, even the small raised mound that was the woman of her.

She sprayed perfume on her throat, then between her breasts and, with wildly shaking fingers, between her thighs. The perfume cooled, raising goose bumps on her skin. Leaning over the dresser, she brushed an almost imperceptible layer of mascara on her lashes and a subtle blush on her cheeks, then bit her lips to make them red.

Even watching herself in the mirror brought color to her cheeks, and she left the room in a rush, making it all the way to the door before she realized her palms were damp from nerves. Impatiently, she backtracked to the kitchen, dried her hands determinedly on a towel and rubbed some cream on them. It didn’t make any particular sense to apply lotion to damp hands, but Greer wasn’t acting rationally at the moment.

Old ghosts had to be exorcised. There was a man across the hall who seemed to think she was a sexually vibrant woman. Mostly because he’d brought out that side of her the night before. She’d been a participant then, not an aggressor, and that was the difference. Life just refused to be easy.

She opened the door, crossed the hall, took a huge breath and knocked on her neighbor’s door.

The door opened instantly. Ryan had his sleeves rolled up and a drink in his hand. He’d obviously run his fingers through his hair over and over, because that cinnamon-colored mane was impossibly tousled. Worry lines were etched around his deeply troubled eyes, and his mouth was parted to say something immediately when he caught sight of her. Caught sight of all of her.

His mouth abruptly closed. He leaned out into the hall and looked one way, then the other. Seeing no one else, he abruptly pulled her inside and out of sight, then slammed the door behind her and put his drink down on a table.

She hadn’t breathed yet, not in about the past five minutes as far as she could remember. Ryan leaned against the door, that frantically worried look only gradually leaving his face as his eyes slowly skidded over her body from throat to toe. And then again. And then again.

When his eyes finally traveled up to hers, they were sky blue, bottomless blue, and filled with love. Greer desperately, desperately wanted that love, but what she’d anticipated seeing in his eyes was desire. She had not expected him to shake his head with a scolding grin. “You knew damn well I was worried as hell when I walked in and you jumped me. I thought you were angry.”

“I was angry. With me.” Because he’d touched her. And she’d never touched him. Not the right way. Not in a way that honestly expressed how much she wanted him. Not in a way that told him she felt out of control and lustily wanton like some primal Eve when he kissed her, when he made love to her. And that really loving him meant finding the courage to express those feelings. She moved forward slowly, her eyes not on his face but on his top shirt button.

It had to go. So did the next. So did the next. He stood very still while she pressed slow, nuzzling kisses on his throat and neck. She pulled the shirt out of his waistband while still kissing him. And as she pushed it off his shoulders, she rubbed her breasts seductively against his bare skin. The feeling of Ryan’s warm flesh against her satin-and-lace-clad body was…delightful. Dangerously delightful.

For the first time in her life she was in the mood to court danger.

His shirt dropped to the floor. Her tongue lapped at the tiny flat nub on the right side of his chest; her fingers fumbled with his belt. It wouldn’t give. She felt his hand trying to nudge hers aside and murmured, “No. Let me.”

His belt buckle simply wouldn’t give. But finally she loosened it, and then unfastened the waistband of his pants, her lips still trailing kisses on his bare chest. She stopped then, simply to rub against him again, her arms around his neck and her fingers sneaking slowly into his hair. The satin made a small sliding sound, like a whisper, every time there was the slightest friction between the two bodies. Greer was fascinated, creating more friction. And both bodies seemed to be growing warmer.

Ryan said nothing. She would probably have died if he had. He stood so absolutely still, while her fingers lightly slipped down his sides and slid inside his pants, beneath the waistband of his shorts, seeking bare, intimate flesh, finding it. She tried a love bite on his shoulder and marveled at how he responded. So many things she had to know. So many things she wanted to learn about him, instantly.

Her whole body was willing to continue that slow exploration-except for her knees. There was something wrong with her knees. They just didn’t want to stand up anymore. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and murmured softly, “One of us seems to be having a problem with heavy breathing.” She hesitated, and then added shakily, “Me.”

“A penny for them.”

Greer glanced at Ryan next to her and smiled, fluffing the pillow behind her as she shifted to a slightly more comfortable position against the headboard. Her body was bare, and so was Ryan’s. The negligee was really in a rather bedraggled heap on the floor; but then, lingerie was the fantasy. Making love, she would never tire of discovering, was real. “I was just wondering,” she said pensively, “whether or not I should ask you to marry me.”

A crooked smile slashed across Ryan’s face. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her for the past twenty minutes. He wanted to memorize each feature at this moment. And by the time he’d memorized each one, he wanted to do it again. “Oh?” he questioned.

“There comes a time when a woman has to learn once and for all how to be aggressive,” she told him gravely.

“I see.” He was diverted momentarily by the curve of her shoulder. He frowned, worried that the spot had been neglected. He leaned over, and his lips closed on that soft flesh.

“You’re not paying attention. This is important. I’d like to hear what you think of the idea.”

“That depends,” he said thoughtfully. “Does the cat come with the proposal?”

“Yes.”

“I figured.” He sighed. “I don’t know, sweet. You already know I can be a little touchy when I’m under the weather…”

“A little touchy is an understatement. But after giving that problem due consideration, I decided I can live with it.”

“Well. If you can live with that, I guess it comes down to whether or not I can live with the kind of woman you are.” His eyes touched hers. Touched, caressed, lingered. “You wore me out, love.”

“Did I?”

“I’m not sure I can live up to the challenge of a wantonly seductive temptress with an endlessly creative sex drive. I’d get old before my time.”

“True,” Greer murmured demurely.

He pulled the pillow out from behind her. Her head plopped flat on the mattress. He leaned over her, lips poised for a kiss that didn’t quite happen. “I love you,” he murmured. “Despite the cat, despite knowing I’ll be worn out by my delectably sexy lady, there isn’t any way on earth I could live without you. I knew that a long time ago.” He paused, the intensity in his voice softening to a lazy murmur. “Just in case there’s any doubt in your mind, that means I accept your proposal. You don’t mind if I take my turn at being the aggressive one now, do you?”

Greer feigned a frown, stretching luxuriously beneath him. “I don’t know. I was just getting into the spirit of the thing. Being the boss, doing the seducing…”

“We’ll take turns,” he assured her. “But this one’s definitely on me.” And then his lips found home.