Ben shot his brother a patient smile. “Nonsense? Sorry, brother, but you have a lot to learn. Finding the right girl to love is what life is all about. When you meet finally meet her, you’ll understand completely.”
Wes couldn’t imagine any woman making him want to step into the role of husband and father. Not with the example Gerald had set for his sons.
“There is no right girl,” Wes told him. “Not for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. How are the wedding plans coming along?”
“Everything is on track, I think.”
“I’m assuming the wedding is going to be a big affair,” Wes stated the obvious. He’d already overheard his brother discussing an orchestra and enough bottles of expensive champagne to float a battleship.
“Ella deserves the very best. I’ve told her she can have anything she wants and I’m going to make sure she gets it.” His features grew soft. “When you really love a woman, Wes, you want to give her the world. When the time comes, you’ll understand that part of it, too.”
Wes could understand his brother wanting to give his fiancée the best of everything. From what he understood, Ella was raised by a single mom in a household with very little money. To make matters worse, her younger brother had cerebral palsy and needed extra care. What did surprise Wes was the amount of love and affection he saw on Ben’s face each time he spoke of his fiancée. Wes had never imagined his brother capable of such tender feelings. But somehow Ella had managed to bring out the gentle side of the tiger.
“I’m glad you want to make Ella happy. She does deserve it. But as for me, I’m content to let you be the married twin. I’m staying single.”
“Never say never, brother,” Ben warned. “When you stand up at the wedding as my best man, the love bug just might bite you.”
“I’ll be sure and wear plenty of bug spray underneath my tux,” Wes replied.
Chuckling, Ben started toward the door. “I’m off to lunch. Good luck on tomorrow’s remote. If I’m not in a meeting at that hour, I’ll try to drop by and watch you in action.”
“I’ll do my best not to let the company down.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Ben paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. “That’s one thing I never worry about.”
Wes might have lost the COO position to his twin, but he could never blame Ben for Gerald’s decision. No matter the rivalry between the two of them, he and Ben had the special bond of love that most twins shared. As far as Wes was concerned, their bond might get a bit frazzled at times, but it would never be broken.
“Thanks, Ben.”
Once his brother disappeared through the door, Wes left his desk and grabbed a heavy jacket from a small closet. Outside his office, he paused at his secretary’s desk. At eighty years old, Adelle should have been gray and prune-faced. Instead, her red, perfectly coifed hair was merely threaded with gray and her smooth skin could have been a poster for the Fortune Youth Serum. Wes figured most women Adelle’s age had given up working long ago. But Adelle showed very little sign of slowing down, much less heading for a rocking chair. Each day after work, she walked a mile, then stopped at her favorite bar for a gin and tonic.
At the moment, she was peering at him over the top of pink-framed reading glasses.
“I’m going down the street for lunch,” he informed her. “Is there anything on my agenda before one thirty?”
She glanced at a spiral-bound notepad lying on the left side of the desk, and Wes inwardly shook his head. The woman worked for one of the most technically advanced computer companies in the world, but she chose to use paper and pencil. Wes overlooked Adelle’s archaic work preferences, mainly because he liked her and couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. And as a secretary, she was priceless. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if she used a chisel and stone. All that mattered to him was that she always kept his office running smoothly.
“No. Nothing until two,” she declared. “And that meeting is with Mort. I’ve cut you thirty minutes for him. Is that enough time?”
Mort Conley was a member of the same developmental team that included Vivian Blair. The young guy was a guru at creating computer commands, but he lacked the creative imagination to create an innovate product on his own, like Vivian had with My Perfect Match. Still, Wes respected his enthusiasm and had agreed to look at a new app design related to sports fans.
“Should be plenty,” he answered. “And I’ll be back before two.”
Wes started to move away from the secretary’s desk, but she stopped him with another question.
“What did you do to Ms. Blair? She stalked out of your office like she wanted to murder somebody.”
It wasn’t unusual for Adelle to speak her mind with Wes. After all, she’d been his secretary for many years, and over that time they’d grown close. Still, it surprised him that she’d taken that much notice of Vivian Blair.
“I didn’t do anything to her. I simply told her to be prepared for the TV segment in the morning.”
Clearly unconvinced, the woman smirked at him. “Before today I’ve never seen as much as a frown on Vivian’s face. You must have said something mean—or threatened her in some way. What were you thinking? She’s one of the brightest workers on the developmental team! Along with that, she’s a sweet little soul who wouldn’t swat a bee even if it was stinging her.”
Vivian had hardly come off as a sweet little soul this morning when he’d voiced his personal feelings about her computer-generated idea of dating, Wes thought. To Adelle he said, “I wasn’t aware you knew Vivian so well.”
His secretary let out an unladylike snort. “You don’t have to have supper with a person every night to know her. Women have instincts about other women and plenty of other things. You ought to understand that, Mr. Robinson.”
Considering the vast difference in their ages, it seemed ridiculous for Adelle to call him “Mr. Robinson,” a fact he’d pointed out to her many times before. But she insisted that calling him Wes wouldn’t appear professional, so he’d given up trying to change her.
“Ah, yes. Women and their instincts,” he said drily. “They’re always right. I’m sure your late husband never argued with you.”
“Rudy always respected my opinion, God rest his soul. That’s why we celebrated fifty-five years of marriage before he passed on. You need to remember to respect Vivian’s opinion—whether you agree with it or not.”
Wes stared at her. “Have you been pressing your ear against the door of my office?”
“I hardly need to,” she retorted, then turned her attention back to the work on her desk.
As Wes made his way out of the Robinson Tech office building, he mentally shook his head. This morning, he’d heard all he wanted to hear about women and dating and love. Yet as he passed the area where Vivian Blair worked, he found himself wondering if she was still miffed at him. And wondering, too, if she ever went out to lunch with a man, or a romantic dinner in the evening.
While heading down the sidewalk to his favorite bar and grill, Wes very nearly smiled at that last notion. He couldn’t imagine Vivian Blair finding her perfect match in a dimly lit café with violin music playing sweetly in the background and soft candlelight flickering in her hazel eyes. No, she’d be looking for her perfect man in a stuffy computer lab.
*
The next morning before she left her apartment, Vivian gave her image one last glance in the mirror. Last night she’d agonized for hours over what to wear for the television segment. When Wes had suggested she not look so studious, her first instinct had been to go out and find a dress that showed plenty of cleavage and lots of leg, a pair of fishnet stockings and platform heels. If he wanted a ditzy bimbo to represent Robinson Tech, then she’d give him one. But in the end, she had too much pride to make such a fool of herself. She didn’t need to show Wes she could be sexy. She needed to prove that a compatible mate was far more important than flaming-hot chemistry.
Stepping back
from the cheval mirror, she adjusted the hem of the close-fitting black turtleneck, then smoothed her hands over the hips of the matching black slacks she’d chosen to wear. The garments weren’t frilly or feminine, but their close-fitting cut revealed her slender curves. And her golden hoop earrings were far more daring than the pearl studs she normally wore to work.
Wes Robinson would be unhappy because she didn’t look like a sex kitten, Vivian supposed. But she didn’t care. She was hardly going to change her style or her viewpoint for him.
Some fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in the underground parking garage of Robinson Tech and rode the elevator up to the floor that housed the developmental team, along with Wes’s office.
By the time she neared her work space, George was already there waiting for her to arrive.
Glancing at his watch, he said, “Damn, Vivian, I thought you were going to be late.”
“I had a bad night and slept through the alarm,” she explained. Actually, bad night was an understatement. She’d lain awake for hours, her thoughts vacillating between Wes’s infuriating remarks and concerns about the television interview. When she’d applied her makeup, she’d tried her best to hide the circles of fatigue beneath her eyes. “Do I look okay? I mean, for television?”
He let out a low whistle, and Vivian laughed.
“Thanks, George, for your vote of confidence. I definitely need it this morning. My stomach is fluttering like it’s full of angry bees.”
“I’ll go fetch you a cup of coffee with plenty of cream. That should help.”
“No! Thank you, George. My nerves are already frazzled enough without a dose of caffeine.” To be honest, she was about to jump out of her skin. The notion of being on national television was scary. Especially to someone who’d practically wilted into a faint when she’d been forced to give a salutatorian speech at her high school graduation ceremony. Yet if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit it was the thought of seeing Wes again that was really tying her stomach into knots. Which was ridiculous. She’d worked closely with the man for several years now.
Yes, but she’d never had an argument about love and sex and marriage with him before.
Turning to her desk, Vivian flipped on her computer and locked her handbag in the bottom drawer.
“Hey, Viv, good luck on the TV spot this morning. Are you ready to face the camera?”
Vivian looked around to see Justine, a fellow developer, standing next to George at the entrance of the cubicle. The petite young blonde wearing a short, chic hairdo and a tight pencil skirt was more Wes’s style, Vivian couldn’t help thinking.
“Thanks, Justine. I’m telling myself I’m ready whether I am or not. Actually, I wish you or George would take my place in this interview. I feel like I’m headed toward a firing squad.”
Justine laughed. “George and I aren’t camera-friendly. We’re tech geeks, right, George?”
The burly man chuckled. “Right. But with you representing us, you can show everybody that it’s our team that keeps this company in the black. Without our creations, they wouldn’t have anything to sell. If My Perfect Match becomes a hit, we might actually get the recognition around here that we deserve.”
“And a bonus to go with it,” Justine added on a hopeful note.
“Oh, thanks, you two,” Vivian said drily. “I really needed that added pressure right now.”
George glanced at his watch. “You’d better head on to the boss’s office,” he warned. “You don’t want to be late.”
Already turning to leave, Justine said, “And I’m going to go tune in to Hey, USA. Do us proud, Viv.”
Moments later, as Vivian headed to Wes’s office, the word proud continued to waltz through her head. Yes, she had pride in her work as a developer and pride as a woman who had her own ideas of what made relationships work. This morning when the camera started rolling, she had to make sure she was strong, persuasive and full of conviction, even if Wes believed her ideas were a bunch of crap.
When she reached Adelle’s desk, the secretary waved her onward. “I should warn you, it’s a madhouse in there, Vivian. Don’t let the chaos rattle you.”
“I’ll do my best,” Vivian told her, while thinking it wasn’t the broadcast crew she was concerned about; it was her irritating boss.
Resisting the urge to smooth her hair, Vivian opened the door to Wes’s office and stepped inside. In that instant, she realized Adelle’s warning was correct. The place was a jumbled mess of equipment and people. Behind Wes’s desk, near the vast window overlooking the city, lights and cameras were being set up to garner the best angle. Cables and electrical wirings were being pulled here and there over the polished parquet, while, across the room, a makeup person was trying to brush powder across Wes’s forehead.
“Get that stuff away from me,” he ordered the diminutive blonde chasing after him with a long-handled makeup brush. “I don’t care if my face shines.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Robinson, but the glare of the light—”
Before the harried woman could finish her plea, Wes quickly walked over to Vivian standing uncertainly in the middle of the room.
“Good morning, Ms. Blair. Are you ready for this?” He waved a hand to the commotion of the crew behind them.
She drew in a bracing breath, while trying to ignore the way his blue eyes were making a slow, deliberate search of her face. What was the man thinking? That she needed help from the makeup woman? The idea stung.
“I think so. I’ve been going over all the things I need to say about My Perfect Match. I just hope the interviewer asks the right questions. Do you know what anchorperson will be doing our segment?”
“Ted Reynolds. I rarely watch television, so I’m not that familiar with the guy. Are you?”
Vivian rubbed her sweaty palms down the sides of her hips. “Yes. He’s the darling of the network morning shows and the reason Hey, USA is such a hit.”
“Great. The more star power, the better for us,” Wes remarked, then suddenly wrapped his hand over her shoulder. “Are you okay, Vivian? You’re looking very pale.”
If she resembled a ghost, then the shock of his touch was taking care of the problem. Hot blood was shooting straight from his hand on her shoulder all the way to her face. He’d never touched her before. Not like this. Maybe their fingers had inadvertently brushed from time to time, but he’d never deliberately put his hand on her. Why had he suddenly decided to touch her today of all days?
Don’t be stupid, Vivian. The man is simply steadying you because you look like a wilted noodle ready to fall at his feet. That’s all it means. Nothing more.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I just want this to be over with so I can get back to work.”
She was trying to decide how to disengage her shoulder from his hand without appearing too obvious, when a member of the production crew spoke up.
“Mr. Robinson, it’s nearly time to go on the air. We need you and Ms. Blair to take your seats and let us wire you with earpieces.”
The thin young man with a shaved head, red goatee and skintight black jeans motioned to the two of them, prompting Vivian to ask, “Who is he?”
“A guy who wishes he was in Hollywood instead of Austin,” Wes said drily, then added in a more serious tone, “actually, his name is Antonio. He’s the manager of this affiliate crew.”
With his hand moving to the small of her back, Wes ushered her forward. “Come on. Let’s go put on our act.”
Act? Wes might be planning to put on an act for the camera. But Vivian was going to speak straight from the heart. Whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Three
Five minutes later, Wes and Vivian sat side by side in a pair of dark blue wingback chairs and stared at a monitor positioned in front of them, yet out of view of the camera lens.
A few steps to their left, Antonio stood at the ready, his finger pointed at the monitor. “Get ready,” he instructed. “As soon as this commercial ends, Ted wi
ll greet you and introduce you to the viewing audience.”
Vivian’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could hardly hear herself think. As much as she wanted to duck behind the chair and hide from the camera, she had to remain at Wes’s side and face the viewing audience.
Her hands laced tightly together upon her lap while her mouth felt as if she’d just eaten a handful of chalk. Just as she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t going to panic, she felt a hand at the side of her face.
Turning slightly, she realized with a sense of shock that the hand belonged to Wes and his fingers were gently tucking her hair behind her ear.
“So everyone can see your face better,” he explained under his breath.
As if Vivian wasn’t already shaken enough, the man had to start touching her like a familiar lover! The idea of being on television must be doing something to him, she thought.
Sucking in a deep breath, she resisted the urge to shake her hair loose so that it would drape against her cheek. “I think—”
Antonio suddenly interrupted her retort. “Here we go,” he warned. “Three, two, one—you’re on!”
Vivian straightened stiffly in her seat and stared dazedly at the television monitor, while inches away, Wes leaned comfortably back and, with an easy smile, gazed at the camera.
What a ham! During the years she’d been at Robinson Tech, she’d not heard of anyone in the company’s developmental team or its vice president being on television. Yet he was behaving as though he did this sort of thing every day.
Just as she was thinking Wes ought to go into the acting profession, Ted Reynolds’s image popped onto the screen. Dressed in a flamboyant, brick-red jacket and a blue patterned tie, he had subtly highlighted hair slicked back from his broad face. Through the earpiece she could hear his voice giving the two of them a routine greeting and introduction.
Once they’d responded to his welcoming words, Ted quickly slipped into the role of interviewer. When he asked Wes to give the audience an overview of the company, her boss smoothly went into a brief summary of what Robinson Tech was all about, and the huge strides it had made in recent years at providing the consumer with affordable, up-to-date technology for use in homes and offices.
Fortune's Perfect Valentine Page 3
