Fire and Ice Page 4

  She heard bits of conversation over the noisy crowd. The rise in the crime rate and the last pay increase voted in by the Senate were some of the subjects she heard as she made her way through the crowd. She spotted her younger sister and brother from across the room. Sandra and Robert, Jr., were talking with her paternal grandmother and two federal court judges. Holly joined them and accepted a glass of wine from one of the waiters who moved smoothly among the guests. Her grandmother directed the conversation so that the judges were now talking with Sandra and she maneuvered Holly away from the others.

  Seventy-six years old, Nola Hollbrook Aimes used her age and frail appearance to browbeat her family until she got her way. At five foot and one hundred pounds, she still had the grace and style that had made her popular with the political crowd. More than one young politician thought Nola Aimes was a sweet old lady until her sharp mind and even sharper tongue caused him to give her respect.

  "What do you think of my new outfit, Holly? Nice, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it's very nice, Grandma."

  "Jean sent over an ugly gray dress that she wanted me to wear tonight, but I went to Neiman Marcus and exchanged it for this." The brilliant royal blue dress with a matching beaded jacket would have looked ridiculous on another woman Nola's age, but Nola still had style and could carry it off. Her short, thick gray hair was cut in a simple but elegant style. She looked at Holly's gown. "Did Jean choose that dress for you?" At Holly's nod, she said, "It figures. She buys a beautiful dress for you and she sends me a dress that I wouldn't be caught dead in. I swear, Jean must think I'm old." She glanced at her watch. "You were almost late." She paused and smiled at the mayor when he walked past them. "Stupid fool. I'm surprised he's still in office," she muttered, and turned back to Holly. "You know how Jean gets about these 'appearances.' You'd think the whole election depended on whether or not you showed up for these things." Her grandmother brushed a nonexistent speck of lint off of her jacket.

  "I know." Holly took a sip of wine. "I almost decided to pretend to be sick, but then I remembered that the last time I did that, she came over afterward with medicine."

  "Hmm, I'll have to remember that one. Well, we won't have to deal with this much longer."

  "No, it won't be long now."

  "Won't be long for what?" Her brother joined them. Robert had inherited their father's height and good looks. He'd cut his thick, curly black hair for a part in an upcoming movie. His high cheekbones and smooth reddish-brown skin had been inherited from a distant paternal Native American ancestor. From his mother, he'd inherited light amber eyes. His tuxedo hid his muscular build, but it was his boy-next-door face and his outgoing personality that made him stand out in the crowd— as well as on the movie screen.

  "Well, look who's decided to join us," Grandma Aimes said. "That young woman read you right, Junior." Her brother groaned at the pet name. "You're just a flirt, and you know it."

  "If I didn't flirt, Grandma, you'd think there was something wrong with me."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Don't try and change the subject." Robert placed a hand on Nola's shoulder. "What are you and Holly up to?"

  Nola hesitated, then looked around the room to see if anyone was close enough to overhear their conversation. She stepped closer to her grandchildren. "Holly and I are counting down the days until the elections are over; then we can get on with our lives." Nola Aimes motioned for one of the waiters. "And I'll get some decent food."

  Holly and Robert laughed. Food was Grandma Aimes's weakness. She liked all kinds of food— except "banquet" food, as she called it.

  "I'm glad the production of the movie is over," Robert said woefully. "Pascal's Restaurant catered for us, and I ate too much good southern food."

  "If I'd known that Pascal's was serving the food, I'd have come to see you on location more often," Nola said.

  "Right, Grandma," he said mockingly. "You didn't want to put up with Trey." His voice trailed off suddenly and he flashed Holly a guilty look. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay," she said softly. "Trey doesn't matter to me anymore."

  Nola shook her head before Robert could speak again. "So, when are you going to take me out to dinner again, Junior?"

  Holly could tell that they didn't realize that Trey couldn't hurt her now. They'll learn, she thought to herself. She listened as her grandmother and brother discussed a new restaurant that had opened in Midtown when a flash of light nearly blinded her. She had noticed the photographers when she'd come in but had lost track of them when she'd reached her grandmother. She turned her head in the opposite direction of the light. From experience, she knew that photographers were always ready to take a second picture when the person looked toward the flash of light. Damn those reporters. I can't wait to get away from all of this, she thought and glanced at her watch.

  Five more minutes before dinner was to be served. Then, the television cameramen and newspaper photographers would turn their attention exclusively to her father, which was exactly where she wanted their attention to stay. Holly didn't like the fishbowl existence her life had become over the last four years. As the voters of Georgia began demanding tougher enforcement of ethics laws, political mud-slinging had become the occupation of choice among candidates.

  When official after official was found guilty of wrongdoing, her father had become the golden example of the Senate. With his spotless record and charismatic personality, he became a symbol of what politicians were supposed to be, and the public couldn't get enough information about him or his family.

  "Well, well, well." Robert looked toward the doors. "Dad said he had a surprise, but I didn't expect this." Holly followed her brother's glance.

  Michael Williams stood just beyond the doors.

  Camera lights and flash units illuminated him as reporters and other guests moved toward him. His broad shoulders were accentuated by his black tuxedo jacket. He seemed totally at ease as the center of attention.

  He glanced up suddenly and looked directly at her. For a moment, she felt as if he could see through to her very being, as if all her defenses lay useless on the ground and Michael Williams could see the real her. Run! her mind told her. He held her gaze and she felt the danger of his presence like prey just before the predator moved in for the kill. Immediately, the room seemed warmer and the air a little heavier. A sense of anticipation spread through her body. This is stupid, she told herself, and looked down at her wineglass.

  She had been around handsome men before and hadn't felt the attraction she felt for Michael. She took a sip of wine and told herself to ignore him, but she found herself looking in his direction. Her hands tightened around the glass when he left the group and moved in her direction. He walked with an easy, sexy stride that made many heads turn as he moved through the room. Occasionally, he paused to speak with another person, but he never lost sight of his goal.

  Holly vaguely heard her grandmother call her name but she couldn't take her gaze from Michael. Tall, handsome, and very, very dangerous. Yes, danger was what she felt when he was near.

  "Hello, Holly." Michael stood in front of her.

  Even in her high heels, she had to tilt her head to look into his face. He was the perfect height for embracing. Where did that come from, she wondered. "What are you doing here?" she asked coolly.

  "Holly Aimes, you mind your manners." Her grandmother gave her a stern look, then smiled graciously at Michael. "I'm Nola Aimes. Robert Aimes is my son. These are my grandchildren, Robert, Jr., and Sandra. I take it that you and Holly know each other?"

  "Yes, Holly's company put in the alarm system in my house, Ms. Aimes. I'm Michael Williams."

  "It's nice to meet you, young man." Her pleasant smile melted and irritation took its place. "Oh, Lord, here comes that big mouth ..."

  Holly almost groaned aloud when she saw Ms. Banks heading toward them. Despite her small stature, Anna Banks had the biggest mouth and the sharpest tongue in Atlanta.

  "Why, Anna, good to see you," her
grandmother said, as she joined Ms. Banks, giving the rest of the group time to escape.

  Michael took Holly's arm and led them away. "Your grandmother is smooth."

  "Yes, she is. What are you doing here? I saw the guest list last night and you weren't on it." Her voice was full of suspicion.

  "I'm here to see you," he said, in a soft, sexy voice.

  She looked at him in disbelief. "You're here to see me?"

  "Yes. I believe in the 'If at first you don't succeed, keep asking and eventually she'll say yes' policy."

  "Oh, please."

  "It's true. The more you hang around and keep asking, the more the chance of a yes increases. I intend to get a yes from you."

  "You're wasting your time and mine. I don't go out with my clients."

  In the crowded room, an uneasy silence surrounded them. With her chin tilted, she looked into his eyes, determined to stand her ground. Then, as if a curtain had been lifted, the congenial talk-show host was gone and in his place was a dark, seductively dangerous man. "Our business relationship will come to an end sooner or later. I won't always be your client." Holly felt a shiver of apprehension. Before she could respond, the congenial talk-show host was back. "We don't have to go out. We'll just be two people who happen to do business, who happen to be in the same place at the same time, who happen to be sitting next to each other, who happen to be eating at the same time. While one person (that's me) apologizes to the other person (that's you). Dating will never be mentioned. I won't ask you to go out with me."

  Yet.

  The word hung between them. Had she imagined the change in him? She studied the man standing before her. His expression was unassuming and candid. She must be imagining things. Besides, there was no way she was going to get involved with him ... a man like her father and ex-fiancé who thrived in the spotlight. She was too close to getting out of the spotlight to let her plans be swayed by him. "Have you been to a political dinner before?"

  He raised his eyebrows. "I take it you're not going for the idea?"

  "No."

  The five-piece band played a sad rendition of a classic hit from the fifties. Holly wondered how much time she had before she could leave. Dinner had consisted of dry chicken breast with peach sauce, undercooked green beans with almonds, and for dessert, something that resembled a cup of Pepto Bismol.

  Her father had given his speech, and now was the time she hated most: dancing. So far, she had danced with her father, her brother, and various members of her father's staff. She felt like the time was dragging along. She was relieved when the song came to an end. The aide who had been her dancing partner seemed just as happy to end the dance as she was. Maybe she could slip away before anyone else noticed her.

  She edged her way to the back of the ballroom.

  "Leaving so soon, Holly?"

  The unmistakable voice of Michael Williams stopped her cold. Damn! Holly slowly turned around. "Yes, I'm leaving." The band began playing the slow jazzy Duke Ellington tune "Satin Doll."

  "How about a dance before you leave?" He held out his hand.

  She was about to refuse when she spotted a photographer poised to take their picture. Just what I need, Holly thought, as she reluctantly took his hand for the dance.

  His hand felt warm and rough. It wasn't the hand of a desk jockey but a hand that had been subjected to hard physical work. As he led her back into the crowd of dancers, she thought, I'll dance this one dance with him, and then I'm leaving. That thought quickly vanished when he took her into his arms.

  His heat seemed to surround her like the warmth of a dry sauna. The touch of his hand at her waist seemed to penetrate the fabric of her gown. She kept her gaze on one small button of his white shirt. Instinctively, she knew that it was safer to look at the button than to look at his face. He held her a touch closer than was acceptable, just close enough that she was very aware of their bodies touching but with enough distance that she couldn't really object. He didn't wear cologne, but his unmistakable masculine scent enveloped her senses. They danced in silence, but her body spoke to his in a wordless language.

  "Holly," he murmured, when the song came to an end.

  She looked into his intense dark brown eyes and she knew that she couldn't lie to herself. She wanted Michael Williams.

  "Somebody actually told me "no" today." Michael focused on one member of the audience. If he could keep one person laughing, then he knew his monologue was working. "Like that little word is supposed to stop me." He moved closer to the man on the second level.

  Lights beamed down on him from all directions, momentarily blinding him, but he continued to walk toward the audience. He knew every inch of the set and he knew exactly when to stop walking. He made eye contact with several people. He was tempted to concentrate on the group of college students to the right of the set, but the businessman on the second level presented a challenge.

  It was his job to make sure that six times a week he made the people in the audience and the television viewers feel like he was having a private conversation with them. He had to make them feel like they were in on a private joke.

  "I hate when people tell me no. I get a real bad attitude when they do that." He saw the light on top of one of the cameras turn on and he instinctively moved so that the cameraman could make his shot without ever losing the bond between him and the audience. "It makes me want to do just what they say I can't do." A member of the audience applauded and shouted, "Yeah."

  He pointed toward the man. "He knows what I'm talking about." He turned back to the camera. "I remember when I asked my mama if I could go to this party. It wasn't the party to beat all parties and the only reason I wanted to go was because my older brother got to go. What can I say, I was a teenager." Some members of the audience laughed. "She said I couldn't go. Then I had to go to this party. I begged. I pleaded and still she said no. The night of the party I asked her again if I could go. She gave me that 'If you ask me again I'm going to kill you' look. So I decided I was going. I sneaked out the house and walked two blocks to the party. I had a good time. I stayed out two hours past my curfew. It was great . . . until I got home. Everybody in the house, Mama, Daddy, and both my brothers were in my bedroom, waiting for me when I walked in the room. I got the worst punishment of my life that night and that was after Daddy whipped my butt. But ... I went to the party. So that person that said no to me," Michael looked directly into the lens of the camera, "and you know who you are . . . you're going to say yes. Whether you want to or not." Michael felt a sense of satisfaction when the man laughed. He had connected with the audience and sent a message to a woman who wasn't even there. A woman he was determined to know. She was a challenge, and he didn't pass up challenges.

  "Hello, I'm Michael Williams."

  The receptionist at the desk of Security Force dropped the pen she was using and stared at him. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Michael hid his smile. "I'd like to see Holly Aimes, please."

  The young woman stared at him for a few seconds. "She . . . she . . . she's not here." She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders in an attempt to regain her composure. "May I leave a message for her?"

  "No. I don't want to leave a message for her. Is her partner here?"

  "Yes, Ms. Moore is in. Let me see if she's available." She picked up the phone. "There is a Mr. Michael Williams at the front desk who would like to see Ms. Moore." There was a pause. "Okay, thanks." She hung up the phone. "Ms. Moore will be out in just a minute. Please have a seat."

  "Thank you." He paused, then looked at the name plate on the desk, which read "Robyn." He walked to the group of chairs and picked up a copy of Business Week . His khaki pants and short-sleeved rugby shirt seemed a bit casual in the office, but his clothes weren't as important as seeing Holly. He stared blindly at the magazine, his mind on Holly Aimes.

  In the two days since he had made his threat on his show, he had sent her flowers, a singing telegram, and a box of Godiva chocolates. Nothing had changed her an
swer. Holly had politely told him, in her soft southern accent, thank you for the gifts, then asked him to stop sending them because she didn't think it was appropriate for them to have dinner together. She had explained that she never mixed business with her personal life.

  He didn't know why it was so important to change her mind. Since he had moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta, he had met several women who were willing to have a casual relationship or more, if he wanted. None had caught his attention like Holly, and businesswise, her appearance on his show would boost his ratings even higher.

  She had tried so hard to keep her cool mask in place at the campaign dinner, but he had caught her looking at him when she'd thought he wasn't looking and he'd recognized the longing and desire in her eyes when she'd looked at him. That look had sent a bolt of fire through his body. He'd been relieved when she'd broken out of his arms and hurried from the ballroom. He needed space to understand the attraction he felt for her. Time and space hadn't helped him understand the attraction, but he knew that Holly Aimes was interested in him, and today he would begin a course of action that would tear down her defenses. He would use the very same excuse that she used to keep him at a distance: work.

  "Mr. Williams?"

  He looked up when he heard his name. Standing in front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was tall, at least six feet, and had a figure that made a man take notice. She wore a white linen suit with the skirt ending just above her knees, displaying the best set of legs he had seen in a long time. Her hips were softly curved and the belt emphasized her small waist. Everything about her, from her full, high breasts to delicately formed ankles, seemed to exude femininity.

  "Mr. Williams, I'm Pam Moore."

  "Ms. Moore." His gaze went back to her face. She had the face of an angel, but her eyes revealed her mischievous nature. "What can I do for you?"