when we went to Atlantic City. The fact is, Mr. Blaine, SysVal wouldn't exist today if it weren't for me.'
She looked first at Sam and then at Yank, daring them to contradict her. Sam was scowling and Yank was studying the beer pitcher. Neither of them said anything.
'Vision isn't enough to run a company, and neither is genius. A company needs somebody to do the work, somebody to see to the everyday details, somebody to get the job done. That person has been me. And if any of you-if any
Sam looked down at the table, refusing for the first time since she had known him to meet her eyes. Only Mitch met her gaze directly. He was tough. She could see that. And his stiff, starchy exterior hid the instincts of a street fighter.
'Aren't you being a little melodramatic, Miss Faulconer? Perhaps you'd better separate your romantic difficulties from company business,' His voice was silky with condescension.
She had no one to help her. Only herself. Her intelligence and her guts. If she didn't stand up to this man right now, he would gun her down and leave her for dead. 'This has nothing to do with my personal relationship with Sam. You've deliberately ignored me from the beginning, but you're not going to do it again. I told you that Sam wasn't good with details, so I'm not surprised that he seems to have forgotten to discuss one of those details with you.'
'And what's that?'
'SysVal already has a binding three-way partnership agreement. And I'm one of those three partners.'
Sam's head shot up. She saw consternation in his face, and realized that he had actually forgotten about the piece of paper she'd thrust under his nose that afternoon before they'd gone to Atlantic City.
'We all signed it, Mr. Blaine-even though one of us seems to have forgotten.' She didn't mention that the paper hadn't been witnessed, that it probably wasn't legal at all, that the socialite was once again trying to pull a hustle.
'I see.'
Her voice had begun to shake ever so slightly. 'I'm not just Sam's tootsie, Mr. Blaine, as you seem determined to believe. Whether you like it or not, I'm the president of SysVal.'
'That title doesn't mean anything!' Sam exclaimed. 'We were just using the Faulconer name on those business cards. It was your idea.'
'And without my name on those business cards, we wouldn't exist today.'
Sam's arm shot out across the table. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly down on the seat. His eyes were hard, glittering with anger. 'You're going to ruin this for us, you know that? You're going to fucking ruin everything. What difference does it make how we divide things up? If you and I get married, what difference does it make?'
The pain was so sharp, she had to close her eyes for a moment. A knife, diamond-edged and lethal, sliced through her. She wanted to buckle over and curl into a tiny ball. Whenever she had wanted to talk about their feelings for each other-about their future together-he had evaded her. Now he was using marriage as a bargaining chip to manipulate her, as a carrot to dangle in front of her so she would do as he wished. Her body managed to feel both cold and hot at the same time. For the first time, she wondered if SysVal was worth it.
Yank spoke, apropos of nothing. 'If I leave Atari, I won't have any health insurance.'
His interruption gave her the chance to steady herself. Later. She would think about Sam's emotional betrayal when she was alone. For now she would force herself to separate the personal from the professional, just as men had been doing for centuries. Like a child playing in a sandbox, she would bury every one of her feelings to be retrieved later.
Sam's fingers had loosened on her wrist. She drew away from him, then crossed her hands on the table to keep them steady. She forced herself to forget about Sam, to concentrate only on Mitchell Blaine. 'You have the reputation and the experience we lack. On the other hand, we have something you need. I've studied your career, Mr. Blaine. Sometimes you've been a bit too bold for your employers, haven't you? It must be frustrating to have some of your most innovative ideas curbed by men who are more conservative than you.'
She thought she saw a flicker of surprise, and she pressed her point home. 'At SysVal, you'll find the aggressive, creative climate you've been looking for-something to relieve that boredom that's been bothering you. Because of our inexperience, we don't have preconceived notions of how things have to be done. We have a chance to build a humane, progressive company from the bottom up-a company that cares about people as well as its product. The three of us would very much like to have you as a fourth partner, Mr. Blaine; however, as president of this company, I have some conditions of my own.'
Sam made a small exclamation, but she ignored him. 'Your offer of a $100,000 line of credit with the banks is generous, but not quite generous enough if you want an equal partnership. I handle the books, Mr. Blaine, and we're going to need double that if we want to put the self-contained computer on the market without going to the venture capitalists right away. I'd also like to see you toss in $25,000 of your own money as soon as possible to show good faith and get us out of our immediate cash bind.' She turned to Yank. 'Is that agreeable with you?'
Yank nodded vaguely.
'Sam?' She forced herself to look at him.
He had clamped his teeth together so tightly that a pale rim had formed around his lips. 'What the hell do you think you're doing? Mitch is holding all the cards. We're not in any position to bargain with him.'
'That's not true. This is our company. As much as we may want him to be part of it, we have the final say. Isn't that correct, Mr. Blaine?'
'Up to a point, Miss Faulconer. But only to a point.' His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it conveyed a cold authority. 'Without me, you won't have a company much longer.'
'Without you,' she said quietly, 'Sam will find someone else.'
Silence fell over the table. For the first time since their confrontation had begun, Mitch had lost some of his composure. She continued to press her advantage. 'Don't make the mistake of underestimating him. Sam is brash, arrogant, and lousy with details. But he has a gift. It's a gift few people have and even fewer know how to use, but he happens to be one of them. Sam has the ability to make sensible people do impossible things.'
'Sensible people like you, Miss Faulconer?'
'And like you, Mr. Blaine.'
For a moment he looked at her thoughtfully, and then he rose and tossed some bills down on the table. Without saying another word to any of them, he left the restaurant.
The air outside was chill. Mitch picked up his steps as he crossed the parking lot, the soles of his loafers slapping angrily on the pavement. He prided himself on his analytical mind, his ability to make decisions without being influenced by emotional overtones. But he had blown it badly in that restaurant tonight.
She wasn't anything like Louise. He couldn't imagine the woman who had gone into battle with him tonight abandoning a seven-year marriage without making any effort to confront her husband with her grievances. Despite her distant air, she was a fighter and not quite the dilettante he had imagined.
But then, maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was still so shell-shocked from his impending divorce that he couldn't judge women anymore. He slipped the key to his rental car out of his pocket and fit it in the lock. What would happen if she got her way? Would she grow bored and start looking for a new diversion?
'Mr. Blaine.'
He reluctantly turned his head.
Although she was walking toward him quickly, she gave no real appearance of haste. He had noticed that about her from the beginning-the restraint in her movements, the stillness about her, the closed, cool facial expression. Those mannerisms reminded him of someone else. Louise, of course. But no, that wasn't quite right. Now that he had watched Susannah in action, he realized that she wasn't like Louise at all. She was like someone else. But who?
She stopped next to him. He drew his eyes away from her and removed the key from the door lock. 'Haven't you finished raking me over the coals yet, Miss Faulconer?'
She started to speak and then stopped, no longer quite the confident woman she had been a few moments earlier. Her hesitation pleased him. He didn't enjoy finishing second place to a woman, and certainly not to one who was a neophyte.
'Just one more thing,' she said. 'I'd like to know why you dislike me so much. It's because of my father, isn't it?'
