Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 61

On the other hand, Sarah had inadvertently dropped a gold mine of information onto the table over lunch, and had opened up in such a personal way about her private affairs that Skye was still slightly taken aback.

She smiled cynically as she waited on the corner for the traffic lights to change before crossing Park. So Paula Fairley was the mystery woman, the love of Shane's life, the lady who had got her clutches into him. And so much so he was incapable of making it with any other woman.

This news had staggered Skye. When Sarah had discovered that Skye had occasionally dated Shane, the Englishwoman had turned to stone at the luncheon table. Skye had thought for a minute that Sarah was going to scratch her eyes out, so venomous was the look on the redhead's face. It had become patently obvious to Skye that Sarah was madly in love with Shane, and she had quickly a.s.sured Allison's friend that they had only ever had a platonic relationship. This had seemed to appease Sarah, and she had relaxed again, confided more dirt about the family, and in particular about Paula. The hatred Sarah harbored for her cousin was frightening. h.e.l.l hath no fury like a woman scorned, Skye thought, hurrying along. I ought to know.

She hardly ever saw Shane O'Neill these days. He had become a world traveler as their holdings had increased, and apparently he spent a great deal of time in Australia. He was only in New York on rare fleeting visits since his sister had been made the president of their American hotel corporation. He had called her once, almost a year ago now, and they had had a drink together, but he had seemed preoccupied and restless, and she had decided against pressing him to take her to dinner.

Ross, on the other hand, was always taking Paula Fairley to lunch, especially in the last six months or so. He had let that slip accidentally. When she had teased him about Paula, Ross had said that it was strictly business. And at heart she knew there was a great deal of truth in this. Ross had been close to Paula's grandmother, as had his uncle, Daniel P. Nelson. Still, Skye knew Ross as well as she knew herself. Business it might indeed be, but he no doubt hankered after the woman. Paula Fairley was everything Ross craved. Good-looking. Young. Rich. Powerful. And available-now that she was a widow. Ross probably had some scheme up his sleeve, a plan to propel Paula Fairley into his bed and possibly into matrimony. He had once told her that if he ever married again, he would make sure his intended bride was wealthy. Yes, Ross would always continue to repeat his old patterns. He desired what he could not have. And after the things Sarah had told her, there was no question in her mind that Paula Fairley had held herself apart, had not succ.u.mbed to Ross's charms. And why would she with Shane O'Neill in the background-her lover of long standing?

Skye now thought about her dinner date with Ross on Wednesday night and laughed under her breath. They dined once a week since they had become friends again. It had taken her a long time to forgive his shoddy treatment of her, but in the end she had forgiven him. She had done so because of their daughter Jennifer. When Ross had come begging to see their child, she had consistently and categorically refused to permit this. The longer she had remained cold and unbending, refused to reverse her decision, the more his need to see his little girl had increased. How typical of him. What he could not have he did persist in chasing and forever tried to attain. She had taken great pleasure in making Ross implore and crawl on his hands and knees to her. And that he had eventually done-well, almost.

With reluctance she had finally given in but only because she had come to understand how much Jennifer loved her father, longed to see him on a continuing basis and to spend time with him. She could not deprive the child because of the man and his character.

The laughter bubbled up in Skye again as she continued walking at a steady pace, heading for ner shop on Seventy-third and Lexington. What fun she would have with Ross at dinner later in the week. She would adroitly drop a few spicy tidbits about Paula Fairley and Shane O'Neill at the right moment, and then sit back and watch Ross choke on his food. It would drive him crazy when he knew that the sorrowing widder was in reality the Merry Widow, waltzing to Shane's tune and bestowing her very special favors on him. Although Ross and Shane had done business together in the past, Ross had always been disparaging about Shane behind his back, constantly referring to him as the stud.

Although she was not an unkind woman, Skye Smith was bitter about Ross Nelson. A cold gleam entered her eyes as she contemplated making her former lover squirm. I knew if I waited long enough I'd be able to twist the knife in Ross's back one day, she thought. And he deserves it after all the pain and humiliation hes inflicted on me. I forgave him for our daughter's sake. But I've never forgotten and I never will.

She did not understand that she wanted Ross for herself.

Ross Nelson's sanguine expression vanished. His light hazel eyes clouded and narrowed slightly as he leaned back in his leather chair and stared harder at Dale Stevens.

Finally Ross cleared his throat and asked, "Exactly what do you mean when you say Paula changed her mind?"

"She's decided not to sell her Sitex stock," Dale told him and shrugged. "We both misread her, I guess. And badly."

"She reneged? Reneged on our deal?" Ross exclaimed in a cold, tight voice. "And where the h.e.l.l were you, Dale, when all this was happening?" When Dale did not reply, he continued in a sharper accusatory tone, 'This is one h.e.l.l of a disaster! I'm going to look like the biggest fool in the world. Milt Jackson is going to have apoplexy when he finds out."

Dale sighed and crossed his legs, waiting for the banker to cool down.

The two men sat in Ross Nelson's private office in his bank on Wall Street. It was early on Thursday afternoon in the first week of September, the day after Dale had flown up from Texas with Paula.

"What am I going to say to him?" Ross pressed, leaning forward urgently across his huge partner's desk, endeavoring to control his considerable annoyance.

"Tell him the truth. That's all you can do."

"Why didn't you call me after the board meeting yesterday, give me a chance to collect my thoughts, come up with a reasonable story?" Ross demanded tersely.

"I felt it was better to tell you in person."

"I just can't believe this," Ross muttered angrily, shifting his weight in the chair. "I was certain she was going to sell, was convinced of it. I could wring her neck after the merry dance she's led us."

Dale sighed wearily. "n.o.body was more surprised than I was when she pulled her stunt at the board meeting. But last night, when I could think dispa.s.sionately, I began to realize that she simply blinded us-with words, sweet talk, charm, and a lot of dissembling. And you know something, Ross, she didn't renege. I had time to a.n.a.lyze the situation last night, and as I ran everything through my head, replayed every meeting we've ever had with her, and particularly in the last six months, I suddenly saw things very clearly. Yes, she talked incessantly about her problems, her worries, the burdens of running the Harte chain, and she did keep intimating she wanted to sell her mother's stock. But she never actually came out and said she would do so. In my anxiousness to render Marriott Watson helpless, have International Petroleum take over the company, and in your own anxiousness to please Milt Jackson, your valued client, we a.s.sumed she would unload. If anything, we're at fault, believing we could push her around, get her to do our bidding."

"She listened to us both so attentively," Ross exploded. "She asked for our advice, seemed to be taking it. Not only that, she insisted on knowing who the prospective buyer was, and against my better judgment I told her!" Ross groaned. "Oh Jesus, what a fool I've been! I should never have arranged those meetings between her, Milt Jackson, and us." The banker reached for a cigarette and lit it nervously. "Milt thinks Sitex is in the bag. Jesus Christ, he's going to be convinced I misled him or that I've suddenly developed flawed judgment in the prime of my life. We've got to come up with a plausible story to tell him."

"I repeat what I just said, we have to tell him the truth, explain that she misled us. He'll have to accept it. There's nothing else he can do," Dale insisted.

Ross drew on his cigarette and then stubbed it out. He rose, walked around his desk, and began to pace up and down, his hands behind his back as he contemplated the meeting with Milton Jackson, chairman of the board of International Petroleum and an important client of the bank. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and fixed his eyes on Dale. "If this gets out, we're going to look like the biggest idiots in Wall Street. Two grown men, seasoned businessmen; shrewd, tough, and hard-a.s.sed, taken by a slip of a girl." He ran his hand through his blondish hair and grimaced with disgust at himself and Dale. 'Talk about Emma Harte. Paula Fairley puts her to shame. The double-dealing little wretch. 1 would never have believed it of her. I really thought she was taking our guidance."

"I had my doubts about that on several occasions," Dale remarked dryly. "And then I admit I began to readjust my thinking about her, particularly in view of the events over the past year. There was Emma's death-that knocked her for a loop-and then she lost her daddy and her husband. She was in shock. You witnessed her state with your own eyes. So there she was, all alone, and suddenly I.believed it would be a cinch. 1 genuinely thought she would unload the stock. She indicated she'd be happy to do that, would be relieved to get out of the oil rat race. What a foul-up."

Ross said in a rush, "I'm going to tell Milt that she did in fact renege. To h.e.l.l with it. Guys renege on deals every day in the street and in the oil business. Why should a woman be any different? More likely to change her mind, in my opinion. I can't afford to lose Milt Jackson as a client of this bank or International Petroleum as a corporate account."

"Okay," Dale concurred. "Basically he's your baby anyway. I don't owe him an explanation." The oil man brought out a cigar, fiddled with the end, finally struck a match, and brought the flame to the cigar. He said, "You do realize my hands were tied at the board meeting, don't you, Ross? There was nothing I could do."

"Sure, sure," Ross mumbled and returned to his chair. "Tell me exactly what happened on Tuesday."

"Be happy to, Ross. Paula arrived looking like a demure little nun, wearing a black dress with a white collar and cuffs. She was unusually pale, even for her, and it gave her a vvaiflike look. She had a sort of innocence about her."

"Save me the description, G.o.d d.a.m.n it! I'm interested in what she said, not how she looked."

"Her appearance is important,".Dale replied. Paula had played her role very well. He had realized as he had sat in the Sitex boardroom in Odessa that there was something of the actress in her. "Don't you understand, Ross, she looked like a little girl, easy to handle; and some of those old buzzards on the board, who don't know her very well-why, they were rubbing their hands with glee. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Yes, Marriott Watson's cronies thought they were going to eat her alive."

"As we did," Ross muttered softly.

Dale smiled faintly. "We weren't the only guys who were fooled, Ross. Take comfort in that, cold as it is. Before we got down to general business-the North Sea oil situation and the renewal of my contract-Paula asked to make a statement to the board. Naturally Marriott Watson had no choice but to agree. She said that it was her duty to inform her fellow board members that she was about to sell her mother's stock. The entire block-the entire forty percent of it. Everyone was taken aback, and that was when Jason Emerson piped up."

Ross nodded. "He's still sharp, smart as h.e.l.l, despite his great age."

Dale agreed. 'Tough old wildcatters like Jason don't change, not in my experience. 1 sat back, enjoying every minute, thinking it was going our way. It was only later that I began to realize Paula had made good use of the week she had spent in Texas, prior to the board meeting. She had done a lot of lobbying, entertained a number of the directors socially. Especially Jason. He was primed by her, no doubt in my mind about that. Still he was close to Paul McGill in the thirties and had remained loyal to Emma for forty years."

"I know about that," Ross snapped.

"Jason Emerson asked Paula who she was selling the stock to, and when she intended to sell. She told him very sweetly that she was selling all forty percent to Internatonal Petroleum. Immediately. I thought that some of the board members were going to have a collective coronary1. Holy h.e.l.l broke loose. I said nothing, pleased at the way she had handled herself. There was a lot of heated talk about International Petroleum and Milt. It's no secret in the oil business that he has that company on a growth-and-expansion program and that once he gets a foothold in a company, he does his d.a.m.nedest to swoop down and take it over. Also, certain board members seemed to be aware that Milt has been buying up Sitex's common stock and that he now holds an enormous amount of it. Only a dunce could fail to miss the implications."

' If I'm following the script correctly, as I think I am, presumably Jason spoke up again and asked her not to sell to International Petroleum."

"You've got it, old buddy." Dale shook his head regretfully. "Sure as G.o.d made little green apples, once the shouting had died down, old Jason started to persuade her to reconsider her decision. It was a hit of real craftiness, I can tell you, Ross. Before I had a chance to jump in with a few comments of my own, the majority of the board was singing his tune. Except Marriott Watson. He looked as if he was about to spit blood. I'm not certain, but he may have deduced that the tough negotiating between Paula and Jason had been set up in advance."

"And she capitulated, of course."

"Not at first. She said she would reconsider not selling her block of stock, providing she was guaranteed a stronger voice on the board and if certain conditions were met. Her conditions. To be precise, the continuation of the North Sea drilling and the renewal of my contract."

"She blackmailed the board!" Ross shouted.

Dale shook his head very slowly, and a gleam of admiration now entered his brown eyes. "No, Ross, I wouldn't call it blackmail. It was the most brilliant bit of manipulation I've seen in a long time. In one way I've got to take my hat off to her because that's what business is all about-manipulation."

'That's true," Ross acknowledged. "At least you got what you wanted despite everything. Your contract has been renewed again and is secure for two years, Marriott Watson is temporarily muzzled, and you have a free hand. But what's your position with Paula now, Dale?"

Dale grinned. "My position remains the same. I'm president of Sitex Oil, she controls the stock of her mother and is the largest single stockholder. Paula has more power on the board than she ever had. Naturally I'll continue confiding in her as 1 always have. I intend to remain friendly. You never know, she still might decide to sell her stock one day. International Petroleum isn't going anywhere."

"Points well taken." Ross laughed unexpectedly. "Business is business. Not every deal works out the way one would wish. There's no point in my being immature about this. The bank still handles some of her business in the States. Anyway, if I can't succeed with her in the boardroom, maybe I'll get lucky-in the bedroom."

Chapter fifty-four.

Paula Fairley was late.

Ross Nelson glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelshelf of his living room for the umpteenth time. He was growing impatient. When she had telephoned at six-thirty to say she was delayed, he had told her to take her time. But he had expected her to arrive before now.

He strolled across the antique Chinese carpet and hovered in front of the bar contained in the ebony and gilt Chinese chest. He poured himself another dry martini, dropped in an olive, and walked to the window, looking down onto Park Avenue. His thoughts continued to dwell on Paula. She was one of the few women he had not been able to fathom. Or coax into his bed. He had desired her for the longest time now. Since the fall of 1969, when he had first become aware of her potent s.e.xuality. She had always managed to keep their relationship on a cool businesslike basis. At first he had believed he would win her over. Women generally fell for him. Later he had become annoyed as she continued to be uninterested. But he had kept up his battery on the telephone, constantly invited her out to dinner, and bombarded her with flowers. Since he was conceited and had enjoyed much success with women from all walks of life, Ross convinced himself that Paula would one day be his alone.

After Jim Fairley had been killed in the avalanche, Ross had played the role of a concerned good friend whenever she had been in New York. In the past nine months, he had seen more of her than usual, since she had wanted to divest herself of some of Emma Harte's holdings which she had inherited. He had been on hand to help the sorrowing widow handle her business. He had hoped to persuade her to sell the Sitex stock-and seduce her as well. Her grief and curiously distant manner had induced him to hold himself in check. He had bided his time. But he had no intention of doing so any longer. Not now, not after Skye Smith's revelations last night.

He focused on the gossip Skye had relayed about Paula and Shane O'Neill. He had been stunned and disbelieving, had demanded to know the source. Skye had been only too ready to confide further. At the end of the evening he had walked home, bridling with anger and riddled with frustration. All these months, as he had held her hand and comforted her, Paula had been sleeping with Shane O'Neill. He knew Skye had not lied. After all, Sarah Lowther, Paula's cousin, had been the one who had spilled the beans!

He was delighted that Dale and his wife had been called back to Texas so unexpectedly. They had planned a foursome for dinner. He relished the idea of being alone with Paula tonight. His way was clear with her. Finally. At long last he was going to possess this most elusive of women.

Ross sat down on the sofa, put his martini on the Chinese coffee table, and took a cigarette, suppressing the sudden grin that had begun to spread across his face. He had not told Paula that Dale and Jessica had returned to the ranch. Why alert her, give her the opportunity to cancel? But he had given his housekeeper the evening off and telephoned the .restaurant to change the reservation to ten o'clock. That would give him ample time to make his moves.

Thoughts of her slender boyish body, the voluptuous b.r.e.a.s.t.s intruded, brought a sudden flush to his neck. He lifted "the gla.s.s, downed the rest of the drink, and went to the bar to pour another one. It was his third. He hesitated. Oh what the h.e.l.l, he muttered. I can handle my liquor.- Ross prided himself on his ability to drink gallons and remain a potent lover. His glance fell on the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, and he smiled confidently. After a few gla.s.ses of that and a little of his sweet talking, Paula Fairley would be much more susceptible to his masculine appeal.

Ross Nelson had almost demolished that third martini when the intercom rang. Leaping to his feet, he rushed out into the foyer to answer it, hardly able to contain himself. He told the doorman to send Mrs. Fairley up and stood waiting for her.

A few minutes later he was kissing Paula's cool cheek, ushering her across the hall and into the living room.

She paused in the entrance and swung her head, looked up at him, her violet eyes quizzical. "Haven't Jessica and Dale arrived yet?" she asked before she moved forward.

He gazed after her, watching the fluid movement of her body, the shapely outline of her long legs through the thin silk of the pale gray c.o.c.ktail dress. He almost salivated with longing. He could hardly wait to remove the dress, to strip her naked and revel in her beauty.

Paula turned to face him, catching him off guard. He blinked rapidly, hurried into the room, explained, with a nervous laugh, "They had to fly back at the last minute. An illness in the family." He stepped up to the bar, began to open the bottle of champagne. "Dale sends his apologies, and he told me to tell you he'll phone you tomorrow."

"I see," Paula said, seating herself on the sofa. "I'm disappointed they're not having dinner with us. I did have a few more things to discuss with Dale." She gave him a small smile. "Never mind."

"Yes," Ross murmured and carried the drink over to her. Sealing himself in the chair opposite, he lifted his own gla.s.s and grinned at her. "Well, Paula, congratulations! You've certainly pulled off a coup at Sitex!"

"Cheers, Ross," Paula said, took a sip of the champagne, " and then eyed him speculatively. "You're probably annoyed with me, angry that I finally decided to hold on to the Sitex stock. But-"

"Of course not," he lied blandly, wanting to keep: the atmosphere cozy and totally free of conflict. "It was your choice. Dale and I could only advise you. We only wanted to help you, Paula. As Dale jsaid to me at the bank this afternoon, International Petroleum is not going anywhere. I think Milton Jackson would always be interested in buying you out."

"I'm sure they would," Paula responded quietly. "And I do want to thank you for your concern, all of your help with the Sitex matter, and with my other American business. I'm most appreciative."

"My pleasure."

Paula leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs, trying to hide her surprise at his att.i.tude. She had expected Ross to be furious, knowing how much he valued Milton Jackson as a client of the bank. Dale, she knew, would always give her his support. But Ross Nelson was another kettle of fish. She was relieved that he was being so agreeable. He was always agreeable though, wasn't he? She sighed, realizing she would have to spend the next few hours alone with him. There was no way she could get out of dining with him. She decided to be gracious and get through the evening as best as she could.

Ross began to talk about her brother Philip, whom he had met the previous autumn when they had.both been in New York. And for the next half hour the banker kept up a steady stream of conversation about the family in general, her grandmother, and Harte Enterprises. In between he kept refilling her gla.s.s, downed another martini, and lit endless cigarettes.

At ten to nine Paula cut him short suddenly and asked, "Shouldn't we be leaving, Ross? For the restaurant, I mean?"

"No, not just yet. I m ^afraid I had problems with the reservation at Twenty-One'. They couldn't give me a table before nine-thirty, ten o'clock. We might as well relax here."

"Oh all right," Paula said, but she was irritated. She disliked eating when the evening was almost over.

As he talked, believing he was being entertaining, Ross continued to drink. He also scrutinized Paula intently, admiring her elegance and beauty. The dress she wore was simple, with a draped cowl collar and short sleeves. She wore emerald earrings and, apart from a watch, these were her only pieces of jewelry. She looked stunning, and the gray silk molded her figure in all the right places. Suddenly he was unable to keep his distance.

He rose, strolled to the bar cabinet, topped his gla.s.s, and joined her on the sofa. He rested his arm on the back and sipped his drink. His eyes held hers, and he smiled a slow warm smile. "You're looking exceptionally lovely tonight, Paula."

"Thank you, Ross." She returned his gaze, and her brow puckered. There was something in those hazel eyes of his that instantly alerted her, and she drew back slightly, pressed herself closer to the arm of the small sofa. She felt a sense of panic.

Ross placed his gla.s.s on the coffee table, and in one swift move he pulled her into his arms, brought his mouth down hard on hers. She struggled with him, tried to push him away, but his grip was firm ps he held her tightly. He forced his tongue against her mouth, forced her mouth open, and began to suck on her tongue and her lips. Heat ran through him, and he moved slightly so that he could grasp her left breast with his right hand. He squeezed it, pinched the nipple, increased the pressure of his fingers.

Paula continued to struggle, tried to disentangle herself from his arms, but he was a big man and strong, and she had no chance against him. He somehow managed to pull her forward, sliding her body down 'the sofa into a supine position, and then he fell on top of her, working his tongue on her mouth again. She clamped her teeth shut and moved her head to one side rapidly. He ran his hand over her thigh, lifted her skirt, slid his hand underneath, stroked her upper leg, and then worked his fingers against her crotch.

Paula, lying under the weight of Ross Nelson, was in a state of shock. She struggled hard to break free from his tenacious hold on her. He had leaped on her so unexpectedly, taken her totally by surprise, and only a split second after she had noticed the l.u.s.t burning in his eyes. She was horrified and revolted by him, and also terribly frightened. She knew she had to escape from him, from his apartment. Quickly. If only she could get her hands up to his face to scratch him. They were trapped under his bulk. She moved her head from side to side again, frantically avoiding his mouth without success. His hands were now ripping at her panty hose, and dimly through the roaring in her head she heard the nylon tear as he tugged at the crotch of the hose. Oh my G.o.d! His fingers were against her skin, pushing into her as he s...o...b..red against her face, his mouth slack and wet. Shudders rippled through her. She thought she was going to vomit. He was hurting her, trying to penetrate her with his fingers.

Tears sprang into her eyes, induced by the fear, the shock, the revulsion, and the pain as he pushed his hand harder between her legs. He stopped kissing her at last, drew back for breath. Paula opened her mouth and began to scream.

Ross was jarred from his exploration of her body, and he sat up swiftly, looked down into her tear-stained face, and clamped one hand over her mouth.

'Shut up," he hissed. "You know you like this, you b.i.t.c.h. Don't play the innocent with me. You've been getting it from Shane O'Neill for pionths. Now it's old Ross's turn."

He laughed loudly, and Paula realized that he was very drunk. She struggled, moving under him violently, easing herself to the edge of the sofa.

To pull her back, he had to remove his hand from her mouth. The minute he did she began to scream again. Once more he covered her face with his large hand, wrapped one of his heavy legs around her body, and pinioned her under him. "You've been playing the grieving widow with me far too long, Paula,"

he gasped, his glazed eyes roving over her lasciviously. His l.u.s.t was mounting by the minute, inflamed by the fight she was putting up. It brought a flushed and congested look to his face. "Come on, let's go to the bedroom," he mumbled, his words slurred. "You know you want to screw me."

Paula had been waiting for the right moment, and now she endeavored to nod her head, as if acquiescing to this suggestion.

She acknowledged him with her eyes, softening her gaze.