“Well …” she relented at last,“almostnever.”
His smile melted the last of her tension like a magic wand, hovering over her, making everything right. To her astonishment, she felt suddenly refreshed.
“Come on, Justine. Let’s go. I’m starved.” With firm command the large hand closed warmly over hers. Thoughts of an evening of leisurely bathing were fast forgotten.
Dinner was at a small French restaurant in the East Fifties. To Sloane’sescalope de veau provençal,Justine ordered a lightercrêpe de mer.A semisweet Chablis tided them over while the food was cooked to order.
“Do you have family in this area?” she asked, after the departure of the wine steward.
“I will soon. My two brothers are holding down the Atlanta operation until those headquarters are closed. Then they’ll be joining me here.”
“Two brothers? Also involved in CORE International?” At his nod she prodded. “How didyouget to be president?”
A lusty laugh brought boyish crinkles to the corners of his eyes. “You’re very direct, aren’t you?”
Shrugging, she looked down at the soft ruffle of her white blouse. “It’s often the fastest way to get information. I’m sorry if I sounded offensive.” Sincerity filled her green eyes as she dared to meet his gaze. His amusement puzzled her.
“Please, Justine. Never apologize for expressing yourself freely. I admire your ability to do it. As for your question, it’s a legitimate one. I happen to be the oldest of the three of us, with five years over Tom, who’s thirty-four, and six over Chad, who will turn thirty-three next month.” Justine made the mental calculation, as he must have known she would. That made him thirty-nine. As though anticipating her, he added softly, “My father was totally gray at twenty-eight.”
Her utter transparency brought a crimson flush to her cheeks. Hastily she tried to cover her footsteps. “Then it was a matter of seniority—the presidency of CORE International?”
“Not really. I’m better suited for the overall administration of the company than either Tom or Chad.”
“No modesty there …” she teased pertly.
“Modesty has its proper place.Factsare what is important when it comes to running a multimillion-dollar organization.” He spoke with patience, soft yet emphatic. “My training and strength is in administration. I have a better overall feel for the organization than do either of my brothers. Their interests are more specialized. Tom is a linguist by profession, Chad an engineer. They are both extraordinarily well trained—I couldn’t hold a candle to either of them in his own field! And they would no more venture to take over the general operation of CORE International than I would their individual departments.”
Justine could find no fault with his reasoning. It was her own that seemed misguided. “You’ve never married?” The words had bubbled up from nowhere. Her teeth dug into the softness of her lower lip as she wondered whether he would be offended atthisforwardness.
He leaned back in his seat, ostensibly comfortable with the question. “No. I’ve never married.”
“May I ask why not?” Though soft-spoken and in her own voice, Justine wondered what demon tossed out these marginally impertinent questions.
Again Sloane was not fazed. “It’s really very simple. I’d never found a woman with whom I cared to spend the rest of my life.”
The information settled slowly into her consciousness as she puzzled with his odd choice of verb form. But it was one mystery too many. “That’s funny,” she said, smiling. “I would have expected to hear some excuse about the demands of your work or the freedom and fun of the bachelor life. Certainly you must date?”
“I do.” He nodded, more enigmatically than ever. His expression was unfathomable, his eyes sharp, his silver hair shining, his jaw set firm, and his lips stretched into a half smile. There was a lazy satisfaction about him, a smugness at her curiosity. “Do you?”
Fresh on her attempts to picture the types of women that Sloane Harper might date, Justine was taken off guard. “Ah, yes. On occasion. I really don’t have time—” It was her own conscience that stopped her. “Uh … strike that!” She grinned in embarrassment, caught in her own trap. “I really don’tmakethe time. And there is a definite shortage of men who can accept my terms….”
“Soyouset the terms?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were the color of bright emeralds, glittering with personal conviction.
“And what might they be?” He brought both hands together before him, steepling his fingers pensively, confidently.
Held in a stunning visual bondage, Justine experienced a fleeting moment of panic. It was as though anything she might say to this man on this subject would be purely theoretical, for he would have his way in the end. Absurd it was, yet she felt that he somehow controlled her destiny.
“Ah …” she stammered uncomfortably, wrenching her mind free, then opting for the truth in what seemed the squaring off in a battle of wills. “I won’t become involved … deeply involved … with any man. I don’t want any long range commitments.”
“Sounds very cut-and-dried.”
“Perhaps.”
“Is it your career that’s so important to you?”
His look of well-tempered amusement spurred her on. “In part. I want my career, yes. But, even more importantly, I don’t want marriage.”
