me?” Marah cut her eyes from one man to the other.
John smiled, the beauty of it sending a torrent of heat straight into Marah’s southern quadrant. “That’s right. Your father has agreed that you should handle his end of the negotiations.”
Marah tossed her father a shocked look. The old man was grinning in her direction. He nodded his head.
“That’s right, munchkin. I still plan to sell, but I’m going to trust you to get me a deal that will make everyone happy.”
“But, Daddy—”
He interrupted, changing the subject as he turned to face his other daughters. “Marla, we have five weddings here this month and my grandson needs a diaper change so you’ve got work to do. Eden, don’t you have a business of your own to run?”
“Yes, sir, Daddy,” both chimed simultaneously, following behind the man as he headed back into the house.
Both women tossed a quick look and grinned at the duo standing toe-to-toe.
When her family was out of earshot, Marah blasted him. “You really are an arrogant ass, Mr. Stallion. I told you he’s not selling.”
“And I told you that we have a deal on the table that will go through, with or without your approval, Ms. Briscoe. But your father has decided he would like your approval and I support that.”
“I just bet you do.”
John stepped in, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “You really are quite beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, his voice dropping two octaves.
Marah stammered, rage flashing across her face. “I don’t believe you just said that,” she hissed, her tone incredulous.
“Well, I did.” The man moved back in the direction of his car, that smug grin filling his dark face. “The executive board is having dinner tonight to discuss the Briscoe acquisition. I’ll send a car to get you. Be ready at seven. And, Ms. Briscoe?”
“What?”
“Please wash. We’ll be in black tie tonight,” he said with a quick wink before sliding into the driver’s seat of the vehicle.
Marah watched as he pulled out of the gate and onto the main thoroughway. When he was finally out of sight she allowed herself to relax, stalling the shakes that had taken control of her muscles. For some reason things weren’t going at all the way she’d planned.
Chapter 3
Her sisters were waiting for her when she entered their childhood bedroom. The decor was as it had been when they’d been children. Bubblegum-pink walls, princess-white furniture with gold trim, gray-and-white shag carpet and white lace curtains adorned the space.
Marah groaned loudly as she threw her lean body across the twin bed that had been Eden’s bed back in the day. Marla and Eden sat on the bed across from her, both grinning from ear to ear. Baby Michael slept soundly between them.
“I think she could use some professional advice,” Marla giggled, jostling Eden’s shoulder.
“I agree,” Eden joked, crossing her legs as she reached for a pen and tablet that sat on the nightstand.
Marah drew her arms up and over her head, her eyes closed tightly as Eden continued. Her twin sister giggled as if something were actually humorous.
“First,” Eden said, switching to her serious business tone as she pretended to scribble a note across the notepad. “When you meet a man you’re interested in, try not to smell like manure.”
Marla burst out laughing.
“Neither one of you is funny,” Marah responded, not bothering to look in their direction.
“Definitely not as funny as you and that man,” Eden quipped.
“Leave it alone, Eden.”
“Leave what alone? Your obvious interest in a man you’ve deemed your enemy hardly went unnoticed. Even Daddy noticed.”
Marah sat upright on the bed. “Did he say something?
“Who?”
“Daddy.”
Both women grinned broadly, cutting a glance in each other’s direction before turning their gazes back to Marah.
“No,” Marla said, her expression saying otherwise. “Did you hear Daddy say something, Eden?”
Eden shrugged. “Not me. I didn’t hear anything.”
Marah reached for one of the plush pillows that decorated the room and sent it sailing toward Eden’s head. Her sister ducked and giggled, the pillow bouncing against the pink wall behind them.
“Don’t you hit my baby,” Marla admonished, a protective hand reaching across her son’s back.
“What did Daddy say?” Marah implored, her voice dropping to a loud whisper.
Eden smiled. “Daddy said that it’s going to be interesting to see what’s going to happen with you and Mr. Stallion.”
“Actually, he said it’s going to be very interesting,” Marla interjected, her head bobbing against her shoulders.
“Can you believe the audacity of that man?” Marah questioned, her eyes flicking from one sister to the other. “And did you get a good look at his rear end? That man has a body to die for!”
In a flash, the memory of John Stallion and their elevator ride resurfaced. Marah could feel her body temperature rising rapidly, her breathing becoming static as she recalled the moment.
“What’s wrong with you?” Eden asked, eyeing her curiously. “You’re all flushed all of a sudden. You’re not getting sick on us are you? You can’t get sick, Marah. You have a dinner date tonight, remember?”
Marah did remember, a wave of anxiety sweeping through her. “I can’t go,” she said, her head waving emphatically from side to side.
“What’s going on?” Marla asked, leaning forward in her seat.
Marah swallowed hard before responding. “Stallion and I had a close encounter in the elevator of his offices this morning,” she said. “A very close encounter.”
Marla looked confused. “Why doesn’t that sound like it was good thing?”
“Oh, it was a very good thing. That’s part of the problem. I find him irresistible and that’s so wrong. He made me remember what I’m missing.”
Eden rose to her feet; Marla reached for her baby before doing the same. “You better go shower and get ready. I imagine that at least one of those Stallion brothers might be just what you’re looking for.”
The spray of hot water felt good on Marah’s bare skin. She was in dire need of relaxation and allowed herself to revel in the aromatic scent of the floral body wash in the steamy mist that billowed warmly around her. Leaning back against the shower wall, Marah relished the sensation of the tiles against her skin. Her senses had been off-kilter since her encounter with that man, her awareness of her own longings and desires more acute. The sensitivity was like nothing she could explain, the weight of it heavy in her feminine spirit.
Although she didn’t want to admit it, she still burned hot from his body heat, her skin feeling as if it were on fire. Her blood boiled as she thought about him, and Marah imagined that if it were at all possible her insides might easily combust. She could never admit to him that she wanted to feel him near her again, his body moving with hers. She shook her head vehemently, shaking the thoughts from her mind.
She stood still beneath the flow of warm liquid that rinsed the suds from her flesh. She had to have a game plan. She had to be ready to counter whatever John Stallion and his so-called executive board threw at her. She had to do whatever