MC-125 Ch. 01-11

"Willful."

"Stubborn," she derided herself.

"Alluring."

Samantha looked at him, searching for the mockery in his manner but finding none. She remarked on his offhanded sincerity with her.

"Well, for starters I'm not intimidated by you," John replied.

"And why are you not?"

"You're human aren't you? You have needs, wants. You have dreams and aspirations like any one else. If I were to prick you, would you not bleed? True, you are headstrong but look at where you are. An admirable accomplishment."

"Most men would be jealous."

John snorted. "I'm not. That's not the life I want to lead. Being the president of a large corporation was your goal and you have attained it. I like my little niche in the company. To each his own is what I say. Besides, I think it's kind of sexy." John blushed when he let that slip. This was his boss that he was talking to.

Samantha looked away and studied the rim of her glass with her middle finger. An embarrassed silence hung in the air between them. "Excuse me for a minute," Samantha finally said. "I have to use the girl's room." John nodded.

What was he thinking?! He was hitting on his boss. Not just his overseer but the president of Pharmtech! John ordered another glass of wine.

"So," Erica commented. "Who's the hot date?"

"Date?"

"Yeah, the woman you've been talking with all night."

John looked up at the clock on the wall. Three hours had passed. "She's not my date. She's my boss."

"Couldn't tell from where I was standing. She likes you, I can tell. And you like her," Erica teased. "I can tell."

John sputtered. But it was true. He did like Samantha. She was intelligent and witty with a devilishly good sense of humor. Those beautiful green eyes of hers captivated him. Samantha returned. "How about some dessert? On me." John offered, the words flying out of his mouth before he thought it through. Those damnably green eyes totally bewitched him.

"Suggestions?"

"You like tiramisu?"

"You read my mind."

John ordered their dessert and continued his conversation with Samantha. "Well, now that you have time to get settled into town, let me informally greet you since I'm sure you've already been formally greeted to death." He toasted to her. Samantha returned the gesture with a sincere smile.

The two settled into a comfortable conversation again as dessert was served. They nibbled on the delicate cake until it was gone and Samantha ordered another glass of wine as she told John how she made her difficult climb to being president of Pharmtech.

"Sounds lonely," John finally commented. For the briefest of moments John saw the sad look in her eyes but she quickly recovered.

"Oh, hardly," Samantha answered off handedly. "I'm far too busy to feel lonely and there's always companionship when I have time."

In other words, John pieced together, she had one night stands to scratch her itch. He looked again, as she finished the last of the wine with a large gulp. She didn't fool him. John had seen that expression a lot lately, when he looked in the mirror.

"Well," John concluded. "I've had a wonderful evening talking with you tonight. But it's getting late. I'd better get going. You wouldn't want me to show up late for work tomorrow, would you?"

Samantha looked at him and laughed. "Very funny. At your position, you set your own hours. Research and development is one of those things that doesn't matter about how many hours you work as long you get results and quickly."

"True," John defended. "But I try to be there when everyone else comes in so they can come straight to me."

"My, you are rare," Samantha commented. "A researcher that works regular hours."

"Ha ha," John replied sarcastically.

"You're right, though," Samantha said as she got up. "It is getting late. Do you mind staying while I wait for my driver to pick me up?"

"I've got a better idea. How about I give you a lift? Um, that is if you don't mind riding a motorcycle."

Samantha's eyes shined with delight. "I'd love to go for a ride on your bike. I haven't been on one since college."

"Great. It's this way."

The two paid their bills and left a tip for Erica then stepped into the brisk winter night. Samantha shivered in the cold. John got his leather jacket from the coatroom and draped it over Samantha's trim shoulders. She thanked him as they walked side by side in silence.

"Impressive looking bike," she commented when she saw what he called his black steed.

"You like?" Samantha nodded. "It's a Ducati. The Ferrari of motorcycles."

"I can tell," she commented. "We pay you too well."

John laughed. "I thought you were impressed with my work."

"Yes, but I'm even more impressed with your bike."

"Well, hop on. Where do you live by the way?"

Samantha gave him the address and directions on how to get there. John nodded as he gave his boss a spare helmet then buckled his own on. Samantha put on John's jacket and they were off. John became acutely aware of Samantha's arms as they wrapped comfortably around his waist. The city's bright lights streaked by as they zipped passed local traffic then hopped on the freeway. John opened up the throttle and screamed down the open highway. He could hear Samantha laughing behind him as the wind wailed around them and he smiled behind his helmet's reflective visor. In no time, John had pulled onto the local streets of the quiet neighborhood. He slowed down to a muffled roar and pulled up to Samantha's house.

John sighed at the absence of Samantha's arms when she hopped off. He slipped off his helmet as Samantha did likewise and handed it back to him. "Thanks for the lift. I haven't had that much fun in ages."

"Sure thing. Anytime."

They waited outside for a moment in the dark, neither sure what to do next.

"Let me walk you to your door," he finally said.

"Hardly, I was going to watch you leave. You're at my house now."

"More of that headstrongness?"

"I suppose."

John smiled. "It was a pleasure having dinner with you. Perhaps..."

"No, we shouldn't," Samantha cut him off. "You work for me and it wouldn't be right."

John held her gaze as his bike thrummed between his legs. He nodded. "Okay. I can see how it could be dangerous for you. But maybe I'll see you around work." He gunned his engine and pulled a tight turn on her driveway. His engine roared as he sped off into the night.

Chapter 4

John tried, he really did. But he simply couldn't help himself when he raised his hand to his mouth and yawned. Well, at least he managed to be discreet about it. It was another company ball where every person of self-proclaimed importance got together to pat each other on the back. John sighed in disgust. He didn't even have to be here. He had already gotten what he wanted from previous parties. Besides, with the new President seeming to have a personal interest in his activities he decided not to pull any funny business.

Speaking of whom, Samantha was making her rounds hobnobbing with her underlings. John supposed that meant him as well but, like he explained to her last month at Allesio's, he wasn't intimidated by her nor did he consider her better than him, or himself better than her for that matter. He had learned lessons in power during his year of debauchery when he first explored the advantages of MC-125 coursing through his veins.

"Still wearing gloves, I see."

John braced himself as he looked up and faced the pair of breathtakingly green eyes. He surprised himself by how well he remembered every little detail of her enchanting face. "Well, it is a ball," he managed to reply. "And white gloves aren't totally out of place."

"True, but a little outdated."

"Call me old fashioned." She was testing him. Why, he didn't know.

"Trying to climb the ladder again, Mr. Arrons?" She was trying to unseat his aplomb by changing the subject to even more dangerous territory. Well, two can play at this game.

"Not really," he replied. Her eyes questioned him challengingly. "Actually, I came to see if you'd back out at another invitation to dinner with me."

Trapped! John smiled inwardly. Ms. Summers would have to back off now.

"Very well." John stopped himself from firing off his readied reply. She said what? "You can give me the details some time later. If you'll excuse me, I have other guests to entertain."

John watched her saunter off to the head of the AIDS research department as his jaw hit the floor. Trapped!

* * *

John's gloves were starting to irritate his skin as his palms sweat profusely within their leather sheaths. Steadily, he worked up his nerve and fingered the doorbell of the large Victorian estate. He waited outside in the chill evening air as he rocked his weight from the front of his feet to his heels then back again. God, when was the last time he actually went on a date? The large oak door swung open and John was greeted by those lovely green eyes.

"Hi," John managed to squeeze out of his throat and pulled out the bouquet of white roses from behind his back. "These are for you."

Samantha smiled at the offering and accepted them graciously then went inside to put them in some water. John noticed her graceful womanly figure beneath the white sweater and beige stretch pants she wore. "Still wearing gloves, John?" she asked when she got back.

"You keep bringing that up."

"You keep wearing them," she fired back. They both laughed. "So where are we off to tonight?"

"You look like a jazz person, so I thought we could head over to the 'White Saxophone' and get to know one another a little better."

"My, my. First date and you're already making assumptions," she commented.

"Am I wrong?" John challenged.

The redhead smiled. "I never said that. Yes, I like jazz. Let's go." Samantha looked in her driveway to find a deep forest green Lexus. "No motorcycle?"

John shook his head. "Not tonight, no. I thought we would be a bit more comfortable in a car tonight. We can ride my black steed another night." John opened the door and let her in then sprinted over to the other side and started up the car.

"More assumptions, Mr. Arrons? You seem to think that there will be a second date." She paused to look at her watch. "And we're hardly even ten minutes into the first one."

"Call me confident."

"Arrogant."

"True," he grinned as he pulled out of her driveway and headed for the freeway. They chatted while he drove until they reached their destination in the active part of downtown nightlife. John tossed the keys to the valet and escorted his date through the front door. The club was already hopping with activity. The live band was blaring a hot tune while patrons got drinks at the bar and listened at their tables. The whole place had a smoky aura to it, like from an old movie. John and Samantha found a table near the back so they could talk comfortably and still be able to hear the music.

"Nice place," Samantha commented. "I must say, I haven't had a good dose of live jazz in a while."

"Then I chose well."

"So far," his date commented.

John smiled. He could tell that Samantha was enjoying herself despite the airs she waved about. He had to wonder, though, why was she so determined to be difficult. He knew it was just an act. Hell, she knew it was an act. But why?

A waitress walked up to them and asked if they wanted anything to drink. They both perused the wine list and decided on a bottle of Merlot. Samantha looked at the menu next and asked what was good.

"Well, I never made a big deal about their food. I come here for the music. I suppose you might want to try the House burger."

"Burger and wine?"

"Sure, why not? Wine goes with everything."

Samantha was about to fire off a scathing remark but then thought better of it. He was right. The right wine could go with any food and a red wine could go well with a burger. John smiled to himself as he saw the inner conflict play across her face.

"You're really trying to be difficult, you realize," John commented. "Why not just enjoy yourself?"

Samantha cast an annoyed look at him but then softened her expression. "Is it that obvious?"

"Kind of," John answered off-handedly. "Look, I know that you accepted my invitation just to spite me on the battle field, so to speak, at the dinner party. I can understand that. But you could at least admit to yourself that you do enjoy my company." John smiled. "And admit that you were outmaneuvered, too."

Samantha grumbled a bit under her breath. "Alright. You got me. I do enjoy your company." She took a deep breath but her eyes remained as hard as stone. "And you had me cornered at the dinner party."

John decided to be tactful and didn't smile. "I'll tell you a secret, though. You completely surprised me when you agreed to see me. I didn't even consider that possibility. You are a dangerous woman."

A carnal smile etched across her face at the small victory; it sent a shiver up John's spine. "I know."

"My father always told me that I should be afraid of attractive women, doubly so if they're smart," John took a sip of his wine.

"Do I frighten you?"

"I think a better word would be terrify."

Samantha's head tilted back and let out a throaty laugh that made John's spine shiver in arousal. "So tell me, why do you wear gloves all the time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That is why I asked," she pressed. Her eyes bored into him.

John's forehead burned from the intensity. He took a sip of his wine and held her eyes in his. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do you want to avoid the subject?" Samantha fired back in annoyance. "I swear, you're as persistently mysterious as I am persistently stubborn."

"At least we agree on something," John commented. "How about we analyze your last comment a bit? If I am as enigmatic as you are headstrong, then I would have just as justifiable a reason as you do. So what we come down to is whether or not we are willing to bare our very secretive souls to one another." He let his words sink in. "Besides, I think it makes things far more interesting."

"You think you've got everything figured out, don't you?" she asked.

"I'm not the one that demands control of everything," John said suggestively. "But I have learned to control myself."

"Really?"

"Let's just say that I've had to learn."

"Then you mean to say that I can't control myself?"

"I find that there are two types of people, those that control themselves and those that control everything around them. Both are a means to have some sort of sense of security, false or otherwise."

"An interesting way of putting things. And since I appear to be the type that controls those around me I fall into the latter," she concluded. "I'll let you know that I am also in complete control of myself."

"Then why are you here, with me, tonight?" John asked. "You and I both know that it isn't safe to have a relationship with co-workers. Yet here you are against your own better judgment. I will admit to myself that I find you very attractive, 'frighteningly' so. Will you admit to yourself what is plain to me?"

Samantha's eyes flared challengingly, daring him to finish his train of thought. John knew he was toeing a fine line. If he went too far with the challenges she would be irritated with him and dislike him but, on the other hand, if he didn't go far enough she would grow disinterested. John had imagined about a woman like Samantha, had in fact dreamt of meeting someone as rare as her. Someone he couldn't control; someone who could possibly control him.

During his year of exploration and debauchery, giving orders and being thoughtlessly obeyed, he had discovered something about his power. The position of absolute power, or as absolute as was humanly possible, was a lonely place. A place without equals. It was one reason John donned the gloves.

John abandoned his maudlin thoughts and moved on to the promising hope sitting across from him. He took a sip of his wine as he watched the resolve in Samantha's eyes smolder until they began twinkling playfully.

"You really are arrogant."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I think I like that in a man." They smiled intimately at one another. John wasn't sure who slid their hand across the table, him or her, but he found her hand in his. Just then the waitress returned and asked if they were ready to order. John hadn't even given a thought; his attention was so focused on his date. They both ordered the House burger. "You realize, that this could be difficult."

"Yes, it could be." His thumb lightly caressed the back of her hand. God, how he wished that he could feel her skin on his. "But only if we run into problems."

"Oh, there will be," his date replied cynically, almost bitterly. "Have you ever heard of a relationship without complications?"

"Then I suppse that we'll have to resolve them as quickly as possible," John answered optimistically, then added. "For the good of the company, of course."

"Of course," she smiled, albeit sadly.

"Hey, let's not shoot down what we've just discovered over what has yet to happen," John tried to lighten the mood. "You're here, I'm here, and we are about to have a nice dinner while listening to good music."

John could see the cloud lifting from her eyes and then she smiled. "Do you always have to be so damnably right all the time?"

"Tell you what. If you prove me wrong you can rub my face in it all you want."

"If?"

"I'm arrogant, remember?" They laughed. Quiet settled on the two of them as their laughter died down and they listened to the music as they silently communicated through the lone contact of their hands. Dinner arrived shortly after and, reluctantly, they let go of one another. They made small talk and chatted about different esoteric topics. John found that she held the same views as he did about the economic structure of America. US foreign policy came up next, then American society, and then religion. Before they knew it, their table had been cleared away and nearly four hours had passed.

"It looks like you're keeping me up past my bedtime, again," John finally said.

"With the way you keep bringing up the end of the evening I'm beginning to think you're trying to get rid of me."

"Well, I can't let you see me turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight, now can I?"

Samantha smiled. "I never said you were a fairy tale come true."

"Ah, but my cockiness assumes you do," John joked.

"With all your posturing and innuendo, I'm beginning to wonder just how 'cocky' you are," the redhead remarked suggestively. John felt his face flush and his blood head south. The lusty flare in her eyes only served to fan the flames.

John found the evening's bill ledger and slapped a fifty in the fold and stood up. "Shall we?"

Samantha rose regally, like an empress queen. She took his proffered hand in hers and they strode out of the club. John opened the door for Samantha and then hopped into the driver's seat. The drive to her home was a blur as he made his way down city streets. Before too long he pulled up to her driveway. They got out of the car and talked on the cobblestone path that glowed like golden coals in the streetlight.

"I suppose you're going to watch me drive off again," John said, his emotions were a heavy mix of unidentifiable feelings.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd care to join me for a spot of coffee," she said. John knew exactly what the invitation entailed.

"I'm sorry, but I'd rather not," he answered regretfully. "I really should be going." Before she could voice a protest he lifted her hand to his lips and gently, but oh so passionately, pressed them to the back of her hand. He fought his insides, trying to void all thought from his mind, all desires, yet still convey the growing passion that he felt for her. The effort was goliath but he think he managed. Pleased with himself, John rose and looked at Samantha.