Arm Candy. Jo LeighЧитать онлайн книгу.
you don’t, she thinks you’re cheating
If you’re jealous, she says it’s bad
If you’re not, she thinks you don’t love her
If you stare at other women, she accuses you of flirting
If other men stare at her, she’s flattered
If you want sex, she says you don’t respect her
If you don’t, she thinks you’re gay.
Source: Thomas, Megan “Men are Marvelous Creatures.” http://www.cs.berkeley.edu/˜mct/funny/woandmen.html
2
GLEN STARED AT HIM for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out whether or not he would move forward. “I’ll call her tonight,” Dan finally said with a slow grin.
“Great.”
The coffee aroma filled the kitchen, and Dan got down two mugs. “Can I ask how come you’re not the one who’s stepping up to the plate?”
“Hey, I’d do it in a minute, but I have to be in L.A. Besides, I think this will work out better.”
“Oh?” He got out the cream from the fridge, took it and the mugs to the butcher-block table. He nodded for Glen to take a seat, and made a pass at his pantry. He brought out a couple of boxes of cookies. By then the coffee was ready, so he carried the pot over and poured.
“Jessica and I go back to college, and I’d say I know her pretty well. Inside that ambition is one hell of a good woman. She just has to take off the blinders. See something of the world around her. From what I’ve heard, that seems to be your specialty.”
Dan sat down. “Curious perspective, and I suppose reasonably accurate.”
“Yeah. You two will be…interesting.”
“I wonder why she hasn’t just put the kibosh on the boss. Doesn’t he know there are laws?”
“According to Jessica, she doesn’t want the hassle. She’s planning a move upward after her campaign is a raging success.”
“Got it. Always looking at the next step, eh?”
“Never misses the details on a spreadsheet.”
“But almost gets hit by the bus?”
Glen grinned, and lifted his coffee mug. “To new adventures.”
Dan clicked his mug but, instead of taking a sip, he said, “Hey, why don’t you give Jessica a call now? See if she can meet me for a drink tonight.”
Glen pulled out his cell phone and dialed. By the time he hung up, the arrangements were made, and Dan had two hours to put together his counterproposal.
If it worked, it was going to be one hell of a lot more exciting than any race.
JESSICA CHECKED OUT her appearance in the window of the bistro. The weather had been kind to her hair, she’d reapplied lipstick in the cab, and her Donna Karan suit looked as if she’d put it on a half hour ago. Not that it mattered. She was the one doing the hiring, but still. The situation was just awkward enough to have a built-in nervousness factor of ten, minimum.
Dan Crawford. She’d done an Internet search on him, and what she’d seen had taken her utterly by surprise. The man was a very highly paid computer consultant and had worked for some of the biggest financial institutions in the world. His prices must be astronomical, causing her to call Glen back and make sure he hadn’t promised she’d pay the man her entire yearly wage. Glen had assured her that if Dan Crawford did this, it wasn’t going to be for the money. Which begged the question…
Why? Why would he give her odd little proposal a moment’s thought? What could he possibly get out of it, if not money?
She was about to find out. If she could get her legs working and walk inside. After a deep breath and a little pep talk, she yanked on the hem of her jacket, pushed her handbag strap up on her shoulder and walked inside.
Dorian’s was an upscale Wall Street bar. Martinis of all flavors dotted the tall tables in the bar, hoisted by the young and the restless go-getters in their Prada and Emporio Armani. Not much laughter, but a lot of chatter, caromed off walls decorated with three-dimensional art, mostly in shiny metals or rusted copper. It worked, especially with the oak bar and tables.
She walked a little farther, until she was midway between the door and the bar itself, then did a quick perusal. No one looked like Dan Crawford, although one young man to her right bore a marked resemblance to Colin Firth. She kept scouting.
Her reward came seconds later. At the far right edge of the bar, a man, alone, saving a seat, looked up expectantly. He was pretty damn close to Glen’s description. Around thirty-five. She couldn’t tell if he was six foot three, but he had that tall, lanky look about him. Dark hair, smooth, shiny, thick, parted on the right. Wide eyes, generous mouth, and a nose just a wee bit big for his face. Altogether a striking combination. A little too striking.
Glen hadn’t said anything about him being gorgeous. The word hadn’t come into play once. And she knew from experience that Glen knew gorgeous. So maybe it wasn’t Dan.
The man in question waved, quashing her doubts. He stood. Yep. Six-three at least. Smiling, too. A great smile. A smile that multiplied the gorgeous by a factor of six.
She pasted her own smile on her face and made her way through the crowd. He manfully held on to the two bar stools, chasing away a blonde with boobs the size of grapefruits.
“I really hope you’re Jessica Howell,” he said as soon as she was in earshot.
“I am.”
“Good because this is the only empty seat in the place. Guess I should have suggested somewhere quieter.”
“There isn’t anyplace quieter. Not around here at least.”
He held out his hand. Long, supple fingers, strong grip. Warm, but not at all damp. She felt her cheeks heat just from the touch, which wasn’t like her. Not at all.
“Sit. Let me buy you a drink.”
“I should be the one buying.”
“Next round, if you want,” he said. “What’s your pleasure?”
“A Merlot, please.”
He nodded, then turned to get the attention of the bartender as Jessica climbed up on the stool. Being so short, it was always an iffy proposition, but she didn’t flash anyone on her way up. She put her handbag on her lap and glanced at Dan. He was even better-looking close up. It was his lips, of course. Pouty, full, but incredibly masculine. Laugh lines etched on each side. If Marla were here, she’d wax rhapsodic about their kissability. Their smoochiness. Ah, that Marla. She had a way with words.
Dan put his credit card on the bar when the drinks arrived. He’d ordered a German lager, and he didn’t bother pouring it into the iced stein. Instead, he took a long pull from the bottle, giving her an enticing view of his Adam’s apple.
Her gaze moved down to his shirt. White oxford, well tailored, silk, she’d bet. It fit him beautifully, and she liked that he’d rolled up the sleeves a couple of turns. His jeans surprised her, but then she realized he wasn’t tied to a company, and he could wear any damn thing he liked. The jeans got her vote. They were good old-fashioned Levi’s and they fit his tall, yummy body like a glove.
He coughed, and she almost spilled her wine in an attempt to get her gaze up and away from where it’d been focused. Again with the blushing. Good God, what was the matter with her? She must be getting her period. She was never this…aware.
“Glen filled me in on your dilemma.”
“So he said, but I want to make sure you understand completely before we go any further.”
“Absolutely.”