"I have no way of knowing if you looked at them or not," she said defensively.
More silence. Why was she feeling so thoroughly in the wrong here all of a sudden? It had felt like a legitimate concern on Saturday morning as she stood there staring at those scripts. But now she felt like a paranoid bitch.
"I didn't look at your scripts, Claudia," he finally said.
She let out the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She believed him. Maybe that made her an even bigger fool than she already was, but she believed him. To her knowledge, he hadn't lied to her yet. The band of tension that had bound her chest since Saturday loosened a notch.
"But you could have. If they'd been sitting there, outside of my bag, say. You might have been tempted to take a look at a scene or two. It would only be human nature. And who's to say the same thing wouldn't happen for me if we were at your place? We're busy people. Work invades all aspects of our lives. I don't want to be on guard all the time, and I bet you don't, either," she said.
"I think you're exaggerating. And I find that interesting. What are you really afraid of, Claudia?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Spare me the analysis, Dr. Phil. It really is that simple."
"Yeah? You sure it's not because we were so good together? Because you couldn't stop thinking about me all weekend?"
"Wow. That ego of yours has got its own zip code, hasn't it?" she said, even as she recrossed her legs again restlessly.
"Admit you dreamed about me."
How does he know this stuff?
"No. No dreams all weekend. Slept like a baby," she said.
"Hmm. I thought you were braver than this, Claudia," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"I thought you were a big, bad, bold woman of the world. I thought you weren't ashamed of sex how you like it."
"This is where I'm supposed to say 'am not' and fall flat on my back for you, right?" she asked dryly.
"I'd settle for all fours. Or against the wall. Or maybe on your desk. You've got a nice, wide desk, right?" he asked.
A ridiculous thrill ripped through her and she caught herself eyeing her desk assessingly.
"You want me to put in it writing? I'm not interested," she said a little desperately.
"Chicken," he taunted.
"Look at that-the president is on line three. I'd better take it," she said, slamming the phone down before her baser instincts got the better of her.
Her body was thrumming with need, she was breathing fast, and she suspected she was currently more liquid than solid. If he walked in the door right now, she'd have him out of his pants and inside her in no seconds flat.
Thank God he wasn't there.
Never in her whole life had she been so tempted to take such a stupid risk. It was amazing what great sex could do to a woman, it really was.
Fortunately she'd had enough self-control to protect herself from making the same mistake twice.
LEANDRO SAT STARING at the phone for a full minute after she'd ended their call.
He'd fought himself and his need all weekend and most of the morning. But the truth was he wanted her. And until he was involved with another woman-his future wife-he didn't see any reason why he couldn't have her again. That was the conclusion he'd come to-the self-serving, incredibly convenient conclusion-at about one minute to eleven that morning. Thirty seconds later, he'd been on the phone with her.
And why not? They were obviously sexually compatible. If the ground rules were clear, what was to stop them from exploring the chemistry between them? According to her, though, there were plenty of roadblocks standing in their way.
He'd be lying if he didn't admit she'd surprised him with her suspicions regarding him and her scripts. He had never cut corners in his career. Television was an industry full of secrets, rumors, big egos and big money, but as much as he wanted to be a success, he'd never taken anything that he hadn't earned. Regardless of how it had looked, utilizing the information about Ocean Boulevard's feature-length special had been good business sense. He hadn't gone trawling for the information, it had landed in his lap, and he'd have been a fool if he'd ignored it. Had he had a twinge of conscience at the time? Maybe. But since he hadn't been able to un-know what he'd been told, he'd had to act on it.
But if he'd been in her shoes, if she'd acted on confidential information to try to outmaneuver him, maybe he'd hesitate to trust her again. Especially after what had happened with Peta. So he wasn't entirely unsympathetic to her concerns. With another guy, at another time, they might be valid.
But now that they'd cleared the air, he figured it wasn't an insurmountable problem. She trusted him. He'd heard it in her voice when he'd offered her his reassurance. She trusted him, and she wanted him again, the way he wanted her. They could work around the confidentiality thing. As long as neither of them talked in their sleep, and they were discreet, he figured they were free to feast on each other for as long as their mutual lust lasted.
Except, of course, for the fact that she wasn't interested. Apparently.
He smiled to himself. She was a seasoned bullshitter, but he'd been inside her. He'd felt her shatter around him. He'd breathed in the scent of her desire.
Not interested, his ass.
Reaching for his mouse, he called up a search engine on his computer screen. At heart, all men were hunters. And Claudia was a worthy opponent.
His smile turning into an out-and-out grin, Leandro began to plan his campaign.
5.
THE FIRST PACKAGE arrived the next day. Claudia left the Tuesday morning pitch meeting to find a small, exquisitely wrapped box on her desk. It wasn't too much of a stretch to guess who'd sent it-she wasn't exactly inundated with admirers at the moment, thanks to her hectic work schedule.
Reaching for her phone, she buzzed her assistant.
"Gabby, what's the deal with this thing on my desk?"
"It came by courier while you were in your meeting."
"Okay. Thanks."
Definitely from Leandro, then.
Claudia picked up the small glossy black box, toying for a second with the knot of ribbon on top. She really wanted to open it-simply out of curiosity, that was all-but she didn't want to be tempted. She was already very tempted-by his body, and his voice and the excitement they generated together. But it really would be sleeping with the enemy.
Dropping the box into the bottom drawer of her desk, she told herself it didn't matter what he'd sent her, her decision remained the same.
Her determination held until mid-afternoon. Every time her mind turned away from work, it reverted to the same loop of thought. What had he sent her? And was she really so weak-willed that she was worried she could be swayed by the contents of one small black box? Because she was afraid the answer to that last question was yes, she put off the inevitable until she literally couldn't go five minutes without her thoughts turning to the contents of her desk drawer.
"Damn you," she growled under her breath as she finally wrenched her drawer open and grabbed the box.
Eyeing it as though it was about to explode, she gave herself one last chance to be sensible. Then she unraveled the elaborate bow and eased the lid off.
"You smug bastard!" she swore as she saw what she'd been agonizing over all day.
Nestled in amongst a bed of artistically crinkled black tissue paper was a single, perfect white feather.
He thought she was a coward.
She was still staring in outrage at his provocative gift when Grace stopped in her doorway.
"Hey, you got a minute?" Grace asked.
Claudia dropped the stupid feather back into its stupid black box and pushed the whole mess away from herself.
"Yep. What's up?" she said, making an effort to focus her thoughts.
"I wanted to run the changes for next week's block past you."
"Sure thing. Fire away," Claudia said crisply.
Grace gave her a peculiar look before sitting down in Claudia's guest chair.
"Okay. Since we've had to write Rianna out for a week because of her morning sickness, we had to fiddle with the B story for all five episodes next week," Grace began.
Claudia tried very hard to concentrate on what her friend was saying about the changes to one of the subplots, but her eyes kept drifting toward the black box. Every time she thought about the white feather inside it, her hands clenched into fists and she imagined what she'd say to Leandro if she had him in her office.
For starters, she'd never walked away from a challenge in her life. Ever. She'd systematically conquered all her fears-from spiders to snakes to thunderstorms-and she prided herself on always being able to hold her own. He had no idea the kind of challenges she'd conquered in her life. Just because he didn't understand the ramifications of them continuing what they'd started the other night didn't mean she was a coward-it simply meant she was smarter than him.
"Claud, is something wrong?" Grace asked after five minutes.
"What? No," Claudia said, dragging her gaze away from Leandro's gift.
"You sure? You're not pissed with me about something?"
"No." Claudia really focused on her friend. "Why on earth would you think that?"
"Maybe because you're scowling at me," Grace said. "And you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. And I swear I just heard you growl."
Claudia felt the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her face.
"I'm fine. Just a little...preoccupied with something to do with Heartlands," she said, opting for a half-truth. Normally, she wouldn't hesitate to ask Grace or Sadie's advice regarding man trouble. But Leandro was no ordinary man-he was her avowed enemy. And she'd screwed his brains out on her living room couch. And in her bedroom. And in her shower. She'd made such a big deal out of what an asshole he was for stealing their special feature idea that she felt distinctly embarrassed over succumbing to their mutual desire. She might be passionate-she might even be impulsive sometimes-but she was never stupid. And sleeping with her rival had been very, very stupid.
"Mandalor again, huh?" Grace asked. "What's he done this time?"
Claudia's gaze automatically slid across to the black box. Before Claudia could stop her, Grace leaned forward and flipped the lid.
"A white feather?" Grace asked incredulously. "What the hell is that about?"
"He's trying to be clever," Claudia fudged. "He thinks he's funny."
Grace was still frowning. "But a white feather?"
Claudia bundled the box and feather up and swept it into the wastebasket.
"Just a stupid joke. From something I said at the convention," she fudged a little more.
"Hmph. He really is an asshole, isn't he?" Grace said. "And he doesn't know dick. You're the gutsiest woman I know."
"Thanks, Gracie," Claudia said, even as guilt made her want to squirm. She told herself that technically what she'd said wasn't a complete lie, but it was hard to fool your own conscience. Mentally, she added another misdemeanor to the growing list of crimes committed against her by Leandro Mandalor. First, he tormented her with his hot kisses, then he drove her crazy with his hot body, and now he was messing with her head so much that she couldn't admit to having slipped up to her friend.
"Next time I see him, I'm going to kick him in his other shin," Grace said firmly.
"Make sure you're wearing those metal-tipped stilettos of yours," Claudia said. "And get a good run up."
By the time they'd finished discussing the following week's script changes, Claudia had successfully pushed the white feather from her mind. Leandro had had his little joke. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of responding in any way. And she certainly wasn't going to waste any more time dwelling on it.
The next day, another parcel arrived. A glossy lime-green box this time, big enough to hold a pair of shoes. But she knew better than to think that there was a pair of killer heels inside. Lips pursed, she marched into the photocopy room and dumped it, unopened, into the recycle bin. Dusting her hands, her lips primmed into a satisfied smirk, she marched back to her desk.
He might think he could sit back and goad her from on high, but if she didn't play the game, he couldn't win.
She was still congratulating herself on her willpower and determination when Sadie popped her head into her office before lunch.
"This is so weird-guess what I found in the recycle bin?" she said, and Claudia's face froze as she saw a stuffed toy chicken in her friend's hand.
He'd sent her a chicken. First she was a coward, now she was a chicken. For a moment, she saw red.
"I was dumping a bunch of story lines from last year and I saw this gift box in there and this was inside. I can't believe anyone would throw out anything so cute," Sadie continued.
Claudia cleared her throat.
"I threw it out," she said. "But if you like it, it's yours."
Sadie looked perplexed. "Why'd you throw it out?"
"I hate chickens," Claudia improvised. "All poultry, in fact. They give me the creeps."
Sadie looked at the comically cute plush toy in her hand, and Claudia knew she wasn't buying.
"Okay..." Sadie said slowly. "Is this anything to do with the white feather thing from yesterday?"
Claudia closed her eyes for a long beat. She should have known Grace would tell Sadie. No matter what, eventually they always told each other everything. They worked with each other, they were women and they were friends-it was inevitable that they knew each other's lives inside out.
"All right. Okay. I slept with him. There, now you know," Claudia confessed in an impulsive blurt.
"You slept with Leandro Mandalor and he sent you a stuffed chicken?" Sadie asked.