symphonies. He planned to make a quick, clean break with Eleanor Hernandez, and he had no intention of complicating the matter by getting involved with her.
No intention at all, he told himself again later that evening as he rang her doorbell.
Martina, dressed in boots, a denim skirt and anemerald blouse that flattered her dark hair and eyes, let him in.
“Big date tonight?” he asked her.
She flashed a bright smile. “My boyfriend is coming to get me and we’re driving up to Madison.”
“Madison? That’s a long trip in this weather.”
“Yeah, we’re going to spend a couple of nights with some friends of his. Go ahead and sit down. Ellie’s not quite ready yet.”
He sat on the sofa, talking casually with Martina while some part of his brain filed away the information that there would be no one in the apartment when he brought Ellie home tonight; it would be completely empty. Quiet. Private.
Not that it mattered.
He forced himself to focus on Martina. She had a flirtatious, sensual manner—except when she talked about business. Then she was as coolheaded as any of his vice presidents. He’d had a chance to talk to her several times in the last couple of weeks, and he liked her.
“What do you think of Ellie’s new acquisition?” Martina asked, waving a hand at the artwork resting on the coffee table.
It looked like a lump of mud. “Very unusual.”
Martina snorted. “It’s a piece of crap, that’s what it is.”
Eyeing the brown mass, Garek wondered if she meant the remark literally.
“But half the stuff she brings home is crap,” Martina continued. “Just let some crackpot wander into the gallery and tell her some sob story and she immediately opens up her purse. Just because her father was an artist and could never sell any of his work, she feels compelled to buy something from everyone.”
Garek frowned, but before Martina could say anything more about Ellie’s father, he heard footsteps behind him. Standing, he turned to see her coming from the bedroom. For a moment, all he could think of was how gorgeous she looked. A scrap of blue velvet clung to her breasts, waist, hips and thighs, emphasizing her smooth curves.
“Happy birthday!” She smiled up at him and held out a box that he hadn’t even noticed she was holding.
A flat, rectangular box.
Her smile made accepting the box a bit less painful. He opened it and stared down at the tie within.
Green musical notes floated down the length of it. The widest part featured miniature newsprint with a headline: PUKE ON NUKES. The whole thing appeared to have been splattered with a rainbow of paint.
“How…colorful,” he said.
“It’s a bit outrageous,” she admitted, glancing at his face a trifle anxiously. “But I thought you ought to loosen up and try something a little less conservative than the ties you usually wear.”
“Did an artist from your gallery design it?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I haven’t displayed any of his work. But he came into the gallery last week and he’s trying very hard to get established…”
He looked at her, then at Martina, who rolled her eyes before discreetly disappearing into her bedroom.
Suddenly, Garek wanted to laugh. Struggling to keep a straight face, he looked back at Ellie. “Then you’ll have to help me put it on, won’t you?”
Her radiant smile made the sacrifice worthwhile.
He pulled off his old tie, and bent his head so she could put the new one around his neck. His movement brought his face into close proximity with her bare shoulders and he inhaled the scent of the light perfume she wore. All desire to laugh disappeared. Straightening back up, he put his hands on her waist to steady her—or perhaps himself, he wasn’t sure.
Her waist felt tiny within the grasp of his hands. The tips of her breasts were only inches away from his chest. The slightest tug would pull her up against him…
“There you go.” She stepped back abruptly.
His hands fell to his sides and he looked down at the knot she’d tied with amazing speed and skill. “You’ve done this before.”
“I always tied my grandfather’s for him.” She sounded a little tense. “Let me get my coat and we can go.”
The club he took her to was small and dark and intimate. On the dance floor, she moved with a sensual Latin grace that sent his temperature soaring. Hecouldn’t take his eyes off her. The clinging blue dress made him want to run his hands from her shoulders down to her hips. He managed to