definitely concluded, was better than less.
On impulse, she reached for her telephone and dialed the number that connected her directly with Mitch's private office. But before the phone could ring, he walked through her door.
'Mental telepathy,' she said, some of her tension slipping away merely at the sight of his solid, comforting presence. 'I was just calling you.'
He slumped wearily into the chair opposite her desk. 'Somebody left a bra in the hallway.'
'As long as the person who lost it isn't running around bare-chested, don't complain.'
Of them all, Mitch had changed the least. The blunt planes of his face had hardened a bit, and a few strands of gray had begun to weave through the sandy hair at his temples. But his body hadn't lost any of its tone. At thirty- seven, SysVal's Executive Vice-President of Sales and Marketing was still as solid as the Buckeye wide receiver who had won a place in Woody Hayes's heart.
Mitch was the most respectable corporate officer SysVal had, a wonderful piece of white bread who thought nothing of flying across the country to watch one of his kids play soccer, and was recently honored as the Bay Area Jaycees' Man of the Year for his civic contributions. Over the years, he and Susannah had developed a deep friendship.
She saw at once that he was exhausted. He had been driving himself for months, trying to win a multimillion- dollar contract with the state of California to install the Blaze III in hundreds of its state offices. The contract would provide the capitalization SysVal needed to finish up the work on the Wildfire and launch their new business computer ahead of the competition. Unfortunately, SysVal's competition for the contract was FBT, and Cal Theroux had been lobbying hard for the Falcon 101, FBT's new personal computer. Although the entry of giant corporations like IBM and FBT had legitimized the personal computer, it had also made things a lot tougher.
'Be honest with me,' he said, as he stretched out his legs. 'Do you think I'm stuffy?'
'You? Perish the thought.'
'I'm not joking. I want to know.'
'You're serious?'
He nodded.
'Yes. You're definitely stuffy.'
'Well, thank you. Thank you so very much.' He glared at her, a picture of offended dignity.
She smiled. 'Does this sudden soul searching have anything to do with your relationship with the beautiful, talented, and terminally obnoxious Jacqueline Dane?'
'Jacqueline is not obnoxious. She is one of the finest actresses in this country.'
'As she is quick to point out. Did you see that television interview she gave last week where she went on and on about the importance of making
He gave her his best stony-eyed gaze. 'I suppose you would prefer it if I started dating bimbos like Yank does.'
'You and Yank could do each other big favors by trading women for a few months. Yank needs to date someone with an IQ that's higher than the speed limit, and you need to find a woman who can lighten up a little. Honestly, Mitch, I can't believe Jacqueline had the nerve to call you stuffy. I think her face would crack if she ever tried to smile.'
'You just said I was stuffy,' he pointed out.
'I'm allowed to say that because I'm one of the best friends you have, and I adore you. She, on the other hand, only cares about dead philosophers with names no sensible person can spell.'
'I had my fill of party girls when I was married to Louise. I like serious women.'
Susannah shook her head in disgust. There was simply no reasoning with him. In the past six years, Mitch had had long-term relationships with three women, all brilliant, beautiful, and sober-minded. Susannah still couldn't make up her mind which one of them she detested the most. At heart he was a family man, and Susannah was afraid he might actually marry Jacqueline Dane. And if her suspicions were right, the actress would jump at the offer. Mitch had a funny effect on women. For someone who was basically a stuffed shirt, he certainly didn't have any trouble finding bedroom companions.
She knew she was beating a dead horse, but she plunged in anyway. 'Why won't you let me pick out some women for you? Really, Mitch, I know just the sort of person you need. Someone who's intelligent, but warm. Someone who won't try to mother you, since I know you hate that. A woman with a sense of humor to make up for the fact that you have absolutely none.' It wasn't true. Mitch had a wonderful sense of humor, but it was so dry that most people didn't appreciate it. 'A woman without much libido, since you're getting older and you probably don't have the sex drive you used to.'
'That's it.' He stood and glared at her. 'My libido isn't any of your business, Miss Hot Shot.'
'Touchy, touchy.' She tried to imagine herself joking with a man about his sex drive six years ago and failed. SysVal had changed them all.
He finally smiled. 'Now that you're filthy rich, you've turned into a real brat, do you know that?'
'We're all filthy rich. And I'm not a brat.'
She noticed the strain that had been evident when he had come into her office had dissipated. The company was a pressure cooker of activity with a new crisis popping up every hour, and she and Mitch had long ago discovered that baiting each other worked as well as anything else to relax them both.
An angry male voice blared through the loudspeaker. 'Whichever son of a bitch took DP27E's new HP calculator had better get the fucker back to the office right now!'
Mitch's expression grew pained, and he lifted a disapproving eyebrow toward the speaker. 'Susannah?'
She sighed. 'I'll put out another obscenity memo.' They had learned years ago that it was useless to lock up the loudspeaker controls. There was nothing the SysVal engineers loved better than breaking through anything that bore even a passing resemblance to a closed system.
She asked him about his visit to Boston. Over the years, Mitch's children had visited him frequently, and she had grown fond of them. She kept a framed picture nine-year-old Liza had drawn for her on her desk next to a paperweight David had made in his sixth-grade art class.
Mitch walked over to her window. 'I finally met Louise's new husband. He and I had a couple of beers and talked about the kids. He said they were getting along well, and he wanted me to know that he wasn't going to try to take my place with them. He saw himself as a big brother, not a father, that sort of thing. Heck of a nice guy.'
'You hate his guts, don't you?'
'I wanted to slam my fist right through his face.'
She gave him a sympathetic smile. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that Mitch was a much better friend to her than Sam had ever been.
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Mitch left. Her stomach rumbled and she realized she was hungry. Maybe she could talk Sam into leaving early tonight. It would be wonderful to have dinner at home for a change and spend an evening alone together-something they hadn't done in longer than she could remember.
She got up from her desk, deliberately pushing away the painful knowledge that Sam wouldn't want to spend an evening alone with her. She had made it a habit not to dwell on the problems in her marriage when she was at work, but it was difficult. As she walked out of the office, she forced herself to think about the company instead.
SysVal had become one of the most glamorous privately owned companies in the world. Thanks to Mitch's brilliant financial strategies, the original four partners had each held onto a whopping fifteen per cent of the company. Susannah didn't like to think about how much money they had. The amount was almost obscene.
As she turned the corner into the next hallway, she ran into two of the engineers who were playing with the radio-controlled car. She chatted with them for a few minutes and admired their toy. When she finally moved on, she wasn't aware of the fact that they still watched her.
Even though Susannah wasn't beautiful, there was something about her that drove the young engineers at SysVal slightly crazy. Maybe it was those tight jeans-those long slim legs. Maybe it was the way she moved-tall and proud. But physical appearance was only part of their attraction to her. There was the aphrodisia of her wealth and
