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while another puts on sleeves, and so forth. The women you see standing up, moving around the
machines, are called floor ladies. They’re the supervisors.”
“How about those men there?” Dana asked, nodding toward two young men carrying the bundles.
Olsen chuckled. “They’re called, believe it or not, bundle boys. If a girl does it, she’s called a
bundle girl. They carry pieces of a garment to be sewn to the women who do that particular section of
the shirt.”
Dana watched, fascinated at the speed of the women as they ran the material out with deft, quick
hands. Olsen went on to explain that they had to meet a deadline and that their pay depended on how
fast they could sew.
They were in the cutting room, where tables ran the length of the building and men were busily at
work cutting out huge layers of cloth with what looked like jigsaws, when one of the office girls came
quickly toward them.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she apologized, “but there’s an urgent message for Mr. Devereaux. Mr.
Hall called from your office and said that a man named Winston was waiting to see you, sir.”
“Winston!” Adrian sighed heavily. “That’s right. Let’s go, Dana, I’ll bring you back another day
to finish the tour. Olsen, thanks anyway.”
“My pleasure, sir. If Miss Meredith would like to stay…” he offered.
“She comes with me,” Devereaux said in a firm voice, with a hard glance at Dana.
“Back down into the catacombs again, boss?” she asked in a sweet tone.
“You’ve got it, Persephone,” he murmured darkly.
He managed to get her outside and into the car without Pat seeing her, and she seethed at his
possessive attitude.
“You don’t own me,” she said quietly, on the way back to the manor. “I have a right to go out
with a man if I want to.”
“Man?” he scoffed. “He couldn’t be over twenty-six.”
She glanced at the hard expression on his face. “At least he isn’t over the hill, like some people I
could name!”
He turned slowly in the seat, and met her eyes levelly. His were dark and quiet and threatening.
“Little girl,” he said in a voice that chilled, “someday I’m going to make a point of showing you
just how ‘over the hill’ I happen to be. And it’ll be an experience you won’t forget, I promise you.”
She jerked her gaze away, blushing faintly. “Thank you for my lunch, anyway,” she said politely.
There was a deep, resigned sigh from the other side of the car. “Dana, this isn’t how I planned
your birthday to turn out,” he said, almost regretfully.
“What did you have in mind, sir?” she asked tightly. “Party hats and balloons and noisemakers,
and a little cake with my name on it?”
“Damn you,” he whispered deeply, and his hand shot out, catching her wrist to jerk her across
his lap and into his big, merciless arms.
She found her head thrust against his shoulder, his eyes blazing down into hers, his warm breath
whipping across her mouth.
His big hand found her cheek, his fingers caressing, his eyes searching hers in a silence that
seemed to last forever, the traffic noises drowned out, time suspended around them.
“This is what I had in mind,” he whispered softly, bending his head. His mouth whispered
against hers as the words had brushed her ears, softly, sensuously, seductively. “Don’t fight me this
time…little taffy kitten, don’t fight…”
His lips moved deeper and deeper against hers, the kiss hardening, his arms crushing, the need in
him like a fever burning her, consuming her.
Instinctively, frightened of the sensations he was arousing, she started to push against his broad
chest, but he caught her soft hand and drew it up against his mouth, kissing the palm.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmured gruffly, his eyes holding hers. “I know you’re a
babe in the woods, despite what I’ve said. I’ll never hurt you. Never.”
Her lips trembled. “But, you said…”
His hand brushed the tumbled hair away from her face. “Forget what I said. Dana, I’m just a
man,” he whispered, “imperfect and hot-tempered, fond of having everything my own way. But I’m
not a monster. God, why can’t you trust me? Even now, in my arms, your body trembles as if I’ve
whipped you. Why do I frighten you so?”
She lowered her eyes to his tie. “You know too much,” she murmured breathlessly.
“Not enough,” he mused, tightening his hold on her slender body. “Those seventeen years—they
bother you like hell, don’t they?” he asked bitterly.
Shocked, she looked up into his hard eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever given it a thought,” she
murmured, absently telling the truth.
His eyes sketched her face slowly. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you?” he whispered softly. “Just a
silky little girl. I think I know how Pluto must have felt.”
Involuntarily, her fingers went up to touch his broad, chiseled mouth, tracing its outline. “I’m
sorry about the bracelet,” she said gently. “But I thought it must be horribly expensive, and I had
nothing to give you in return…”
“Little Miss Independence,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Nothing to give me? How about a
kiss, Meredith? Just one, freely given and we’ll call it quits.”
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