Stranded on an island in Australia's Great Barrier Reef, Damon Sutter and Mandy Blythe find themselves both infuriated by, and drawn to, each other.
Chain Lightning
By Elizabeth Lowell
DH Audio
Copyright © 1999
Elizabeth Lowell
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9781552041895
"What you need is a lover."
Mandy's head snapped up from the papers scattered across her desk. The movement was so sudden that it sent her silky, chin-length black hair flying, but a single glance told her that it was too late to deflect Anthea. The tiny dynamo who stood next to Mandy was already in overdrive; Anthea had that special gleam in her eyes, the one that came only when she had found a new "project." Mandy stifled both a sigh and a smile, pulled her scattered thoughts together and put away the masculine image that had sprung into her mind at the mention of a lover.
A thatch of unruly, sun-cured blond hair, strong; lean hands; jade-green eyes that never smiled.
"That's a wonderful idea," Mandy said cheerfully. "I'll stick up a bank and take my pick of the bachelors at the OCC auction tomorrow night." In neat, slanting printing she wrote on her calendar for the following day: Rob bank. Buy lover. Soonest. "Anything else? Have you found a replacement for Susie yet? Should I rob another bank and double the next receptionist's salary?"
"I have two excellent candidates."
Mandy was careful not to inquire whether Anthea's candidates were for the position of OCC receptionist or that of lover for one Samantha Blythe. Mandy prayed that it was the former. She didn't want to be the focus of her boss's unpredictable charitable impulses, especially on the subject of men. The last thing Mandy wanted was another waltz around a marriage ring with the kind of easy-smiling, honey-voiced liar her husband had been.
"Both of them are presentable and skilled," Anthea continued, numbering attributes on small, immaculately kept hands.
"One of them was recently widowed and the other isn't married."
A neutral sound from Mandy was more than enough encouragement for Anthea to continue her summary of the candidates. Nothing in her voice or demeanor gave a clue as to which position the candidates were slated to fill — office worker or bedroom athlete.
"Both of them had very clean, neatly kept hands, which is essential," the older woman said crisply. "They both look strong and healthy, but it's hard to tell without trying them out. On the whole, I don't think either one will require on-the-job training. They seemed to be self-starters."
Mandy made a strangled sound.
Anthea continued without a pause, not noticing the look on her executive secretary's face. "Education and a sense of humor would be nice but aren't necessary. After all, no one expects anyone in that position to do more than take directions and follow through with a one hundred percent effort and no shilly-shallying. In the final analysis, all the job really requires is cleanliness, a generous portion of stamina and a willingness to take direction without sulking."
"Stamina?" Mandy asked faintly, banishing the images in her mind and wondering if Anthea was taking her usual bluntness to new highs. Or lows.
"But of course. Stamina is vital if the job is to be adequately filled."
"It is?"
Anthea gave Mandy an exasperated look. "Dear girl, do you have any idea how many receptionists I've lost because they had delicate constitutions? Too many. Now I look for someone sturdy. When you applied for the job I almost didn't hire you. You looked frail. Too thin. Too nervous," Anthea said with typical bluntness. "If it hadn't been for that determined chin and those haunting gold eyes of yours, I would have turned you down without a tryout."
Mandy started to speak, then realized it was futile. Anthea was in full sail.
"I was wrong," Anthea continued without a pause. "You've been with Our Children's Children for eighteen months and never taken a sick day, even after I doubled your work load by making you into my girl Friday." The older woman blinked and focused suddenly on Mandy. "You've never taken a vacation, either, come to think of it. No wonder you've looked so wan lately."
"You haven't taken a vacation, either," Mandy pointed out, sidestepping the implicit question as to why she had looked so washed-out for the past week or so. If her middle-of-September memories showed on the outside, she'd have to wear more makeup. Nobody in her new life knew what had happened almost two years ago. Mandy preferred it that way. Pity was her least-favorite emotional flavor. "If you're feeling guilty about being a slave driver, may I point out that it has been four years since Sutter has had more than five days off in a row — and those days were spent traveling to some other desperate spot on the globe."
For a moment Anthea looked startled. "No. It can't have been that long!"
"Four years, two months, ten days and —" she glanced at the clock " — fifteen hours and thirty-two minutes, to be precise. The latter is by his reckoning, but I certainly wouldn't care to argue the matter with him."
Anthea's faded green eyes narrowed suddenly. "Did he call while I was out?"
"Twice. Once from the airport and once from his condo. He said, and I quote, "If Aunt Ant has signed me up for any more expert testimony on Capitol Hill, I'll box up the entire Senate and send it C.O.D. to hell."
Anthea sighed. "Poor boy. He does hate cities and committees. But he's so very impressive…."
Mandy barely caught herself before she muttered, "Amen." D. M. Sutter was very impressive indeed, whether it was as a land reclamation specialist, as a futurist or simply as a man. In the eighteen months she had worked for Our Children's Children, Mandy had seen Sutter only occasionally, always unexpectedly, and each time she had been unnerved by his sheer presence.
It was more than simply a matter of size. Mandy had known many men taller than Sutter's six feet one inch, or more heavily built than Sutter, with his lean muscularity, but none of the bigger men could have commanded attention in a crowded room just by standing quietly. Sutter could, and did. He had a rapier intelligence and unflinching pragmatism that showed in his jade-green eyes and in his face, tanned by foreign suns and drawn into harsh lines by having seen more human greed, suffering, fear and stupidity than any man should have to see.
"I got the feeling that Sutter wanted to go someplace…clean," Mandy said softly.
Shrewd, pale eyes measured Mandy. Few people except Anthea ever saw beyond Mandy's quick smile and sassy oneliners to the very private, intelligent and vulnerable woman beneath.
"You sound as though you would like to go there, too," Anthea said speculatively. "Somewhere clean."
Continues...
Excerpted from Chain Lightning
by Elizabeth Lowell
Copyright © 1999 by Elizabeth Lowell.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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