Beware of Doug

by Elaine Fox

  It was impossible to tell which was correct.

  Once home, Lily went upstairs to pull out the red dress. Looking at it, she wondered if even it was seductive enough to jolt Gerald out of his sexual malaise. It looked a little too pert, too flirty. She needed something with serious sex appeal. Something that said Take me, you fool, I’m a mature woman with needs.

  She thought again about the bathrobe, and felt her insides rise to her throat as she remembered the bone-melting feeling of being kissed by Brady. What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped it? If they had gone upstairs to her bed, as she had wanted to, and consummated the act? Would she still have gotten that speech about the date diet?

  She closed her eyes and sat on the side of the bed. Probably. And it would have been that much harder to hear, knowing that she’d kicked up her heels like a ten-cent floozy and taken him, a virtual stranger, into her bed, only to be rejected later.

  No, she had to concentrate on Gerald. He was the one she wanted. He was the one she pictured at the altar—gorgeous in his tux—at Christmas dinners with her father, holding out his hands for their toddler to walk into. She could even picture their family photo, sitting on her father’s polished mahogany desk at work. It was too perfect. She couldn’t give up now, not because she’d gotten stupid with some hotshot pilot who happened to live next door.

  She tried to insert Brady into the mental picture frame on her father’s desk, but she couldn’t. For one thing, she couldn’t get him out of that stupid bomber jacket, so he clashed with her classic suit and the kids’ dressy clothes. No, a man like Brady would never make it onto that mahogany surface.

  Not that it was all about how he looked, of course. She wasn’t being shallow about it, just realistic. He was not the right type for her. And the picture frame merely encapsulated the fact that she couldn’t imagine even one conversation her father could have with the likes of Brady Cole.

  Lily stood and undressed, then pulled the slippery red dress over her head. She turned to the mirror. She’d forgotten how slinky the material was, how it clung to her breasts and hips, making her look slim and curvy all at the same time.

  She raised her hands to one of the spaghetti straps and let it down. Then she did the other. Cleavage abounded, and she blushed. Gerald would think she was loose. He wasn’t the type of guy to be drawn in by revealing clothes, was he? She dropped her hands. She couldn’t shake the feeling he’d like the blue dress better, the conservative wedding-guest one.

  Still, this was a special occasion. And she’d be damned if she’d settle for that little peck again tonight. She left the straps long and turned away from the mirror.

  Once she’d applied her makeup and done her hair, she went downstairs to the kitchen. She was wound up. Alternately nervous and full of dread, excited and apprehensive about what the evening held in store. She decided to pour herself a glass of wine and sit on the front porch. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, but she had yet to turn on the air-conditioning. The front porch would be the best place to wait for Gerald’s arrival.

  Sure enough, the porch was cool, and a nice breeze stirred the leaves on the trees in the front yard. Lily sat on her porch swing and sipped her wine, concentrating on the fact that she was here waiting for a date with Gerald Lawson, the man she’d pegged as her future husband the first time she’d seen him. And nothing in all that time—nothing for two years—had shaken that conviction except for that one stupid kiss. She was giving it way too much importance.

  About halfway through the glass of pinot grigio, Brady’s door opened and out he stepped, clad in blue running shorts and a white tee shirt. Before she could stop herself, Lily’s eyes scanned his body, taking in his muscular legs, his tight behind, and his obviously toned torso in the light tee shirt. Her mouth went dry.

  Brady stood on his front stoop, his eyes on the ground, looking for something. He held one shoe in his hand and his eyes seemed to be scanning the floor for the other one. He moved to the railing, gazed into the front garden, then around to the side. Then he cursed and headed back inside.

  A few moments later he returned, wearing an iPod around his arm and different shoes on his feet. With one hand on a porch column he proceeded to stretch his leg muscles, first by bending one knee and grabbing the ankle with his hand, then the other, then leaning on the railing and pressing his heels back. All the while he looked out into the street, oblivious to her presence, listening to something through the earpieces.

  He and Pen would look good together, Lily thought. He had a strong profile, upright carriage, and a confident way of moving that would complement Penelope’s supple grace. Penelope was athletic, too, both a runner and an excellent tennis player.

  Lily frowned, staring at Brady’s thigh muscles. Those thighs had almost been under her sheets. If she’d had her way that night, she would know them intimately now, right down to how the skin felt on her palm and the weight of the legs across hers.

  It took Lily a minute to realize those thighs were facing her. When her gaze rose up over his shorts and tee shirt to Brady’s face, she found him looking at her with a smile quirking his mouth.

  He pulled the earpieces from his ears.

  “How long have you been looking at me?” she asked, blushing.

  “Just a second. Why?” His smiled turned to a grin. “How long have you been looking at me?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t really looking. I was thinking. Just sitting here.”

  He stepped easily over the railing that separated the two porches. “You been out here long?”

  “Oh, a little while.” She took another sip of her wine and hoped the bulb of the glass hid her pink cheeks. She’d been caught gawking, and he didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he knew it, and liked it.

  “You look—nice,” he said, propping himself on the railing and tilting his head. His eyes strayed down to her cleavage and hung there long enough for Lily to feel like squirming.

  She scoffed. “Just nice?”

  He drew his eyes back up to hers, their expression serious. “Well, yeah. What were you hoping for? Bad? Sloppy? Ugly?” He shook his head and smiled. “Sorry, doll.”

  She laughed.

  “I was going for sexy,” she admitted, for no reason she could fathom.

  Except…maybe Brady could help her with this. Maybe he was the perfect person to tell her how to seduce Gerald. After all, they were supposed to be friends now. She should ask him, and see how he liked being “friends” like that.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re always sexy,” he said, eyes crinkled amiably.

  “Yeah, right.” She took a deep breath. “Gerald’s taking me to Augustine’s tonight. It’s a very romantic restaurant. And my friend, Penelope,” she said pointedly, “suggested I wear this dress.”

  He didn’t move but continued to regard her with friendly, contemplative eyes. If she’d been hoping for a reaction, it appeared she wasn’t going to get one.

  “Good call,” he said finally. “It’s a great dress.”

  They looked at each other a long moment before he stood up and moved toward her. Lily tensed.

  “But if you really want to look sexy,” he said, standing before her. He held out a hand, flipping his fingers up and down a few times. “Come on, stand up.”

  She frowned up at him. When he didn’t relent, she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

  “Then you need to do this.” His hands on her upper arms, he turned her around so her back was to him.

  She repressed a shiver, then jumped as she felt one of his hands at her shoulder, taking hold of a spaghetti strap.

  “May I?” he asked, his voice so close to her ear she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  “I—I don’t know,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “You’ll see.” He tightened first one strap, then the other, then put his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around to face him. He let his eyes gr
aze her—chest to knees—then adjusted one of the straps a little higher. The dress had moved up a crucial inch, concealing that cleavage Penelope had talked about.

  Lily placed a hand to her chest. “Did I look like a hooker?”

  “Not at all.” He took a step back, his smile smug. “But now you look sexy. It’s always best to make the guy’s imagination do some work.”

  She raised a brow in his direction. “I thought you said I always looked sexy.”

  “Sexier,” he amended, grinning.

  Dimly, Lily became aware of a car pulling into her driveway. She tore her gaze away from Brady’s and felt startled at the sight of Gerald’s black Jaguar, pulling up behind her old Mercedes in the driveway.

  “Damn, it’s a regular Europe an auto club here,” Brady said. “I’m surprised you don’t both have the same taste in nationality, though.”

  Lily shot him a glance. “I didn’t pick mine out. It was a hand-me-down from my father.”

  “Ah, that explains it.” He smiled.

  For a second she was completely confused. To have all these scintillated feelings for someone other than Gerald was so foreign to her, after two years of concentration on that target, that she had what felt like an out-of-body experience, watching Gerald pull up while she stood next to Brady on her porch—their porch.

  Which was the real man? Why was she going somewhere with Gerald when Brady was right here? And why was she here with Brady when Gerald was coming to get her?

  “The man of the hour,” Brady said, as Gerald got out of the car. “Don’t let that dress make you do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  She cut her eyes toward him. “And just what would that be?”

  His mouth curved, but his eyes weren’t in it this time. “I think I laid that out the other night.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said skeptically. “Which night would that be?”

  Brady laughed. “Touché!”

  But before she could add something about how she wasn’t only talking about the night he kissed her or the night he put her off, but the time he talked to Megan about Penelope, Gerald was coming up the walk.

  “Good evening,” Gerald said, flashing a brilliant white smile at her, then turning to Brady. “Hello. Brady, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brady said, reaching out to shake hands, just as Gerald’s foot hit the first step. “Good to see you again.”

  The two of them stood within two feet of each other—Gerald tall and elegant; Brady athletic and vibrant. She felt like she was looking at the all-male version of yin and yang. Gerald comprised all that had been civilized, Brady was all instinct and testosterone.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Gerald said. “Off for a run, I see. Or are you just back?”

  “I’m a little sweatier than this when I finish.” Brady laughed. “I’m just heading out now. You kids have fun.”

  With that, he took the stoop in a single bound and ran off down the street.

  Lily couldn’t help it, her eyes followed him.

  “You look wonderful,” Gerald said.

  She refocused on her date. He looked wonderful, too, as usual. And he was every bit as handsome as ever.

  He bent to kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to tonight. This is one of my favorite restaurants in town.”

  “I know.” He grinned, one dimple creasing his right cheek. “Your father told me.”

  “My father!” She looked at him, mouth agape.

  “Yes, he said this is where he took you.” He reached out and took her hand. She couldn’t help comparing his long, soft palms to Brady’s hard square ones. “And I thought, if it’s good enough for Jordan Tyler to take his daughter, it’s good enough for me.”

  “I can’t believe he even remembered,” Lily said. “That was about three years ago. He doesn’t get down here very often.”

  Gerald winked at her. “Maybe we can get him down here again before too long.”

  Lily’s insides jittered at his easy use of the word “we,” not to mention the implication that there might be a special reason to dine with her father. Her mind spun with the possibilities.

  “That would be lovely,” she murmured.

  He gave her a short bow, dark eyes shining. “Are you ready to go?”

  She couldn’t help an answering smile. Something was definitely up with him. He seemed more relaxed than she’d known him to be on a date. Butterflies awakened in her stomach.

  She looked around the porch, decided she could leave her wineglass on the table, and picked up her purse. “Ready.” She smiled. And she was. Penelope could have Brady.

  They were seated at the most secluded table in the restaurant, the one in the corner with the fish tank on the wall and the giant fern screening them from the rest of the room. Lily slid onto her seat feeling as if the night was about to burst with the fulfillment of all her dreams.

  They chatted easily over the menus, decided on courses that complemented each other—hers fish, his prime rib—then Gerald chose a bottle of wine.

  “Darling,” he said after the wine steward had poured and left. He leaned across the table and took one of her hands in his.

  Lily would never have believed she could hear someone call her darling and keep a straight face, but when Gerald did it sounded right. More than that, it made her feel warm all over, as if the word brought out the sun, and she had only to bask in it.

  “I have some news.” A smile played about his lips, and Lily thought, This is it. He’s made partner.

  “Your father,” he continued, “has entrusted me with a tremendous project, one that will assure my future with the firm in no uncertain manner. It is an opportunity for an origination, by that I mean a chance to make some money for the firm, that is far too good to pass up, so I’ve told him I will take this project on. But I wanted to talk with you about it first.”

  Lily ignored the fact that he said he’d already taken on the project, despite wanting to talk to her about it first. Clearly this was the partnership! And he wanted her to know that this meant their future was now.

  It all made sense. Of course, that was why he’d been holding her at arm’s length. He’d still been waiting on the partnership. How could she be so dense? He’d known it was close, so he’d asked her out, but he hadn’t gotten it yet, so he’d kept their relationship nonsexual.

  He’d been protecting her! He wasn’t impotent. Just wait until she told Georgia.

  “This sounds very exciting.” Lily leaned toward him, her eyes intent on his. She squeezed his fingers, felt his squeeze back. “I know my father thinks the world of you. It doesn’t surprise me at all that he’d entrust you with something big.”

  “This is big, all right.” He chuckled low.

  She imagined herself reaching out to stroke his face, hold his cheek in her hand. Congratulations, darling. She’d love to be the type of woman who could say that.

  “However,” he said, his visage going mock-stern, “it’s going to take a little sacrifice on both of our parts, I’m afraid.”

  Hell, I’m used to that. That’s the kind of thing she was the type of woman to say. Though she didn’t.

  “You see,” he said, “the project is in Hawaii. I’ll be gone about six, maybe eight weeks. Just until the end of the summer. But darling, after that we’ll have everything we wanted, everything we’ve planned on. I’ll be able to court you properly then. And I’ll be on the track I’ve been working toward my entire career. Your father as much as promised me that. Lily, are you as excited as I am about this?”

  “Hawaii?” she repeated, the word stuck in her head like a clog in a drain. “Hawaii?” she repeated. “As in the middle of the Pacific?”

  He chuckled but looked worried. “That’s the one. Maybe, if things are going well, you could come out for a weekend. It’s a beautiful place, you should see it. I wouldn’t have much time to show you around—this project is going to be very intense—but you could stay in the same h
otel, and we could have dinner together.”

  “So…you haven’t made partner?” she said, still stuck on her own expectations. His big news had been that he was leaving town? This whole fancy dinner had been about abandonment, not attachment?

  He sat back, his expression clouding. “Not yet. But don’t you see? This project will guarantee it. If I come through on this, your father as much as promised me the partnership when I return.”

  “In six, maybe eight weeks,” Lily said, repeating, “Weeks.”

  And in the meantime, she’d be living next door to Mr. Testosterone.

  “That’s right.” He nodded. “Don’t you think that’s wonderful news? We’ve been patient this long, Lily. Surely we can be patient a little longer, don’t you think?”

  Lily pressed her lips together and looked at her plate. “Forgive me, Gerald, but it seems to me that being patient has been a lot easier for you than it has been for me.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” he asked, sliding his hand out from hers and leaning back.

  “I mean,” she said, fixing him with a hard look, “that you don’t seem…frustrated, at all. While I’ve felt…frustrated!” She threw a hand up in the air, disgusted with her inability to communicate. Hawaii? Six, maybe eight weeks? She couldn’t get the words out of her head. They circled like vultures, feeding on any other thought. And he’d looked so pleased as he’d said them.

  He leaned toward her then, and took her hand again, squeezing hard. “I don’t pretend not to know what you mean, Lily,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Trust me, I feel the same way. Maybe you don’t see it—I didn’t want to act precipitously and scare you off—but believe me, those feelings are there. I just don’t want to do anything we might later regret.”

  She leaned toward him then, too, so that their faces were mere inches apart, their voices hushed. “But what would we regret? Gerald, if we both want the same thing, I don’t understand all the waiting. Especially now, with you going away. Is there something you’re not telling me?”