possessive to the point where it could hurt my career!"
"I'll be possessive, but I'm not irrational about it!" he snapped angrily. "Be reasonable, Calla. There aren't that many trips involved every year in work such as ours. I'll go with you on the necessary ones and I'll expect you to go with me when I travel. There may be occasions when that plan won't work out, but on the whole they should be few and far between if we limit our traveling to only the absolutely necessary trips! As long as we're both part of York Instruments," he added, smiling for the first time since he'd begun the tirade, "we should be able to control that part of our life very nicely."
"What you're really saying is that as long as I work for you, everything's nice and simple! You're still the one in charge!"
"You're really in a mood for a fight tonight, aren't you? Better eat your enchilada before it gets cold!"
The rest of the evening passed in a state of heightened tension for Calla. Slade refused to become involved in potentially dangerous topics, deliberately limiting the discussion to work, soaring, and other less emotional subjects. Calla's sense of self-discipline exerted itself and she followed his conversational lead with something like relief. It was as if they had both agreed upon a truce for the remainder of the meal.
But the tension persisted and on the way home it filled the intimate confines of the Mercedes.
"Will you kindly relax?" Slade finally said whimsically as he slowed for a light. "You feel like a coiled spring sitting beside me!"
"Not unexpected, perhaps, when you consider what happened last night after you took me home!" she remarked sardonically, gazing deliberately out the window.
"You have my word: no more judo if you refrain from swinging at me with a candlestick! Besides, I already told you this morning I'm going to try and handle you with kid gloves, remember? You don't have to be afraid I'll force myself on you, sweetheart."
"I'm not afraid of you, Slade. But I do prefer to avoid scenes such as the one you created last night!"
"Understood," he said obligingly as he halted the car in her parking lot. "I shall treat you as if you were made out of the finest and most delicate porcelain," he vowed. "If that's really what you want!" he went on to add with a laughing leer.
"It's what I want," she confirmed loftily as he walked her toward the door. "The question is, are you capable of restraining yourself that well?"
"Try me. Invite me in for a cup of coffee."
"That's how things started last night."
"Okay, make it tea. Or brandy. Perhaps I'll get drunk and pass out harmlessly on your couch."
Calla knew she was responding to the humor in him and surrendered. He really did look quite harmless tonight. And he'd behaved himself reasonably well all day.
"I have," she drawled slowly as she handed him her key, "some very good cognac. I don't pour it for just anyone, you understand…"
"I shall treat it with reverence," Slade promised, eyes gleaming with laughter.
Fifteen minutes later, the cognac warming from the heat of their hands cupped around the snifters, Slade stared down into the shimmering liquid and said very neutrally, "Come with me to Sedona tomorrow.
We've still got two days left in the weekend." He was talking about the colorful arts and crafts oriented town near the Oak Creek Canyon, an attraction for visitors and residents alike.
Calla sipped her cognac. "If you're asking me to spend the night with you in Sedona, the answer is no."
He nodded moodily. "I was afraid it might be. But it was worth a try." He set down his snifter and turned to face her as she sat beside him on the couch. "Well, since I'm not going to be allowed to jump ahead a few squares on the board, I suppose I'd better start working from where I am."
He reached out and removed her glass of cognac, putting it down beside his on the table. Very gently he put his hands on her shoulders.
Calla stiffened, meeting his eyes firmly. "Slade,
"I'll be possessive, but I'm not irrational about it!" he snapped angrily. "Be reasonable, Calla. There aren't that many trips involved every year in work such as ours. I'll go with you on the necessary ones and I'll expect you to go with me when I travel. There may be occasions when that plan won't work out, but on the whole they should be few and far between if we limit our traveling to only the absolutely necessary trips! As long as we're both part of York Instruments," he added, smiling for the first time since he'd begun the tirade, "we should be able to control that part of our life very nicely."
"What you're really saying is that as long as I work for you, everything's nice and simple! You're still the one in charge!"
"You're really in a mood for a fight tonight, aren't you? Better eat your enchilada before it gets cold!"
The rest of the evening passed in a state of heightened tension for Calla. Slade refused to become involved in potentially dangerous topics, deliberately limiting the discussion to work, soaring, and other less emotional subjects. Calla's sense of self-discipline exerted itself and she followed his conversational lead with something like relief. It was as if they had both agreed upon a truce for the remainder of the meal.
But the tension persisted and on the way home it filled the intimate confines of the Mercedes.
"Will you kindly relax?" Slade finally said whimsically as he slowed for a light. "You feel like a coiled spring sitting beside me!"
"Not unexpected, perhaps, when you consider what happened last night after you took me home!" she remarked sardonically, gazing deliberately out the window.
"You have my word: no more judo if you refrain from swinging at me with a candlestick! Besides, I already told you this morning I'm going to try and handle you with kid gloves, remember? You don't have to be afraid I'll force myself on you, sweetheart."
"I'm not afraid of you, Slade. But I do prefer to avoid scenes such as the one you created last night!"
"Understood," he said obligingly as he halted the car in her parking lot. "I shall treat you as if you were made out of the finest and most delicate porcelain," he vowed. "If that's really what you want!" he went on to add with a laughing leer.
"It's what I want," she confirmed loftily as he walked her toward the door. "The question is, are you capable of restraining yourself that well?"
"Try me. Invite me in for a cup of coffee."
"That's how things started last night."
"Okay, make it tea. Or brandy. Perhaps I'll get drunk and pass out harmlessly on your couch."
Calla knew she was responding to the humor in him and surrendered. He really did look quite harmless tonight. And he'd behaved himself reasonably well all day.
"I have," she drawled slowly as she handed him her key, "some very good cognac. I don't pour it for just anyone, you understand…"
"I shall treat it with reverence," Slade promised, eyes gleaming with laughter.
Fifteen minutes later, the cognac warming from the heat of their hands cupped around the snifters, Slade stared down into the shimmering liquid and said very neutrally, "Come with me to Sedona tomorrow.
We've still got two days left in the weekend." He was talking about the colorful arts and crafts oriented town near the Oak Creek Canyon, an attraction for visitors and residents alike.
Calla sipped her cognac. "If you're asking me to spend the night with you in Sedona, the answer is no."
He nodded moodily. "I was afraid it might be. But it was worth a try." He set down his snifter and turned to face her as she sat beside him on the couch. "Well, since I'm not going to be allowed to jump ahead a few squares on the board, I suppose I'd better start working from where I am."
He reached out and removed her glass of cognac, putting it down beside his on the table. Very gently he put his hands on her shoulders.
Calla stiffened, meeting his eyes firmly. "Slade,
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