by Linda Cajio
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
She left him on that note. He sighed happily, watching her walk away. She was going to Boston with him. Anticipation raced along his veins. Granted, he’d have to maintain his distance, but they would be out of the office and the town. What that could short-cut in the end was worth the suffering. Very well worth it.
If he didn’t drown himself in cold showers in the meantime.
Unfortunately, Jake didn’t feel quite so pleased with himself that night when he called Charity.
“Are telephones off-limits?” he asked without any greeting or identification.
She chuckled. “It depends on how long you keep me on the line … and what you have to say.”
“I won’t keep you long.” He took a breath and plunged in. “We’re set for Friday on that presentation with DGF. Ten in the morning. So we’ll fly out after work on Thursday—”
“Excuse me?” Her tone was sharp. “Thursday?”
He sighed. “Somehow I knew you’d have this reaction. It’s too tight to try to get up there that early on Friday. Flying in Thursday night makes sense so we’ll be fresh in the morning. And in case of delays. You know, you’ve been acting like I’m going to throw you down and jump your bones any second.”
“That’s a wonderful euphemism for sex. My personal favorite. I can’t tell you the images it conjures up.”
“Charity—”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. Actually, I’m flattered that you find me attractive. Maybe under other circumstances I would be interested, but I’m sorry. I’m not …”
Just what he wanted to hear, he thought in disgust.
“… And you seem to be pressing the issue—”
“I’ve set my sights on that secretary in accounting, okay?” he said, desperate to say anything that soothed his damaged ego. If that was what she wanted, then fine. “The one with the blond hair and the great body. Your message finally got through loud and clear. Now that that’s out of the way, use your common sense. You know it’s logical to go up on Thursday. That’s when we’re going … unless you have some legitimate reason to reschedule. But it will still be an overnight deal.”
There was a long silence on the other end. So long, in fact, he thought they’d been cut off. Finally, she said, “I’ll be ready.”
“Good.” Relief washed through him. The circle had just tightened a little more. “Tell Mary. Do you think she’ll have any problem with Thursday?”
“It wouldn’t matter if she had. The king has spoken.”
Maybe he’d been more firm than he’d intended, Jake thought. “Charity, if the date is a problem, we can reschedule it. I don’t want either you or Mary unduly inconvenienced.”
“I’m sorry. My remark was uncalled for. Thank you for calling.” She hung up.
He took the receiver from his ear and glared at it. He really had been too strong. He thought about calling her back and apologizing but decided not to. He’d just be his normal sweet, businesslike, platonic self the rest of the week, and she’d realize she had nothing to fear from the trip.
Damn, but he hated platonic.
The blonde in accounting walked by.
“He’s got to be kidding,” Charity muttered, eyeing the overfluffed hair with corkscrew waves. It was a dye job or Robert Brown wasn’t the head of the history department at B.U. The woman looked as though she hadn’t eaten anything more than a carrot in the past five years. And she was a triple-A no-threat in the bra department too.
What did she care what Jake was doing? Charity asked herself after the blonde disappeared around the corner. She ought to be grateful he’d finally gotten her message and given up.
She ought to, but she wasn’t.
She’d made a fool of herself on the telephone the night before, and she wished she had it to do all over again. Why had she jumped to conclusions? Okay, so she’d out-and-out panicked at the thought of going away on a business trip with him. She’d been on them before—playing secretary, of course, at the presentations. It was part of the job. And he’d given her a wonderful opportunity by turning the presentation itself over to her, acknowledging her as a major player. She’d never done the presentation before. If only she had kept her mouth shut last night, she might have saved face. And she could have continued the flirtation with him. The truth was, she’d been enjoying it.
Now the blonde would be having all the fun. And she bet it wouldn’t stop with flirting. Not with that bim—
“Don’t you have work to do?”
Charity glanced up to find Dave standing over her desk, hands on his hips, glaring at her. Ever since he’d been at that all-male meeting of Jake’s the previous week, he’d been on a testosterone high. And there’d been another meeting at lunch that day. She pointed to the papers on her desk. “I am working, Dave.”
“You’ve been getting away with murder around here,” he said. “I’ve had enough of it. In fact, the sales department is about to find things are going to be different. No more goofing off, especially you women.”
Charity sat up straight, not sure she’d heard him right. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re always away from your desk. All of you are.”
“Dave, you know a lot of our job entails coordination with other departments.”
“And all of you goof off when you do.” Puffing himself up one last time, he turned away and stalked into his office.
“Son of a—” Charity muttered. Furious, she did the all-American thing and got up and went to the ladies’ room.
Inside, women were slamming their pocketbooks down on the countertop. Hers joined the others. All of the women were muttering vindictives at their male managers. Even the blonde from accounting. Clearly, all the men had come back from Jake’s latest meeting with machismo flowing through their veins.
What the hell was he doing to them?
“You’re in Room 567, Mr. Halford. Ms. DeMario is in 568 and Ms. Brown is in 569.”
Charity sighed with relief as the desk clerk handed out the room keys, plastic magnetic cards imprinted with the lock solution. Jake, she noticed, merely smiled, and Mary took her key without a blink. Mary was an older woman, with a husband and two grown children. She had gone back to school for engineering and taken several detours before winding up as a computer technician. Not the usual young male who favored that career choice, she was always interesting to take to presentations. First, she surprised the suppliers, then she dazzled them. Charity was more than pleased that steady, staid Mary would be between her and Jake that night.
She avoided Jake’s eyes as they rode up in the elevator, then walked along the corridor of the fifth floor. He had been the perfect gentleman on the plane, calling her Ms. Brown all the time. Actually, he’d chatted more with Mary than with her during the flight. She wasn’t sure whether to be aggravated or not by that. Logic told her not, but silly jealousy wasn’t listening. Why was she so bothered by him?
She could feel his presence, looming and intriguing, just behind her right shoulder as they walked, and she knew the answer. She liked him. Worse, she was attracted to him. Good thing she wasn’t going home with them tomorrow afternoon. She was staying on and having dinner with her parents, then taking a late shuttle home. The less she was around Jake, the better.
Mary stopped at a door. “Here I am.” She turned to the left and inserted her card in the door slot.
“I’m here,” Jake said, turning to the right. Charity glanced up sharply at his door number, positive he had the wrong room. He didn’t.
She looked around wildly, at her key number and at the sea of doors, terrified her sudden sure feeling was about to become harsh reality. It did.
Her room was directly next to Jake’s.
Four
Jake shut his door, tossed his two-suiter on the bed, and began to chuckle. He noticed the adjoining door to Charity’s room and roared outright. Fate, he thought happily. It was complete serendipity that he was in an adjoining hotel ro
om with Charity. Her face had been priceless when she’d realized it.
Nothing had changed, though, he reminded himself. He still had to be a gentleman on this trip. He’d promised. His amusement immediately faded. Charity’s needs and his needs weren’t matching up quite as he’d expected. Or at least not as quickly as he’d hoped.
And he couldn’t let her go. The moment he’d kissed her, he’d known it. She had felt something special too. He had tasted it in her response, felt it in her body. For most of his life he’d listened to women. For once, all he was asking was for one to listen to him.
He wondered if Charity intended to visit her parents while she was in town. He would very much like to meet them himself. From her description, they sounded exactly the opposite of their practical, no-nonsense daughter.
He had to come up with a plan. Unexpected and disarming. Maybe the short-term sacrifice now would ensure the long-term goal later. He grinned and started to plot.
Dinner went well.
Charity frowned as she shut her hotel room door. Jake had been Mr. Business all through the meal. He’d treated her charmingly and politely. Mary couldn’t possibly have guessed from his actions that he’d ever shown a personal interest in her. In fact, Charity herself couldn’t even tell! Not once, not by one little look had he acknowledged her on a more intimate level.
He must be really hooked on that blonde from accounting, she thought, and shuddered. If he could change affections that fast, then she ought to be grateful there was only one kiss between them. She could really have been hurt.
Scowling, she shoved away the thought that she already was hurt. The adjoining door, which had nearly sent her bolting out of the room earlier, was staying closed that night. Sighing, she changed into her simple cotton nightgown, pulled the curtains shut on the night lights of the city, and settled in the double bed with her presentation notes for the morning.
Within a few minutes she was restless. She’d worked on the presentation every spare minute in the past four days, and if she looked at her notes again she’d run screaming into the night. She may run anyhow, she was so scared about giving the presentation. Who the hell was she to think she could do it? Jake thought she could. The notion buoyed her, as it had all week. Still, rereading the stuff was only going to aggravate her already overly sensitive nerves. She tossed the papers aside, picked up the TV remote control, and began to flip through channels.
The telephone rang.
Charity jumped, her heart pounding. It was Jake. She was positive it was him, so positive she decided not to answer the phone. Immediately a voice inside her argued that it could be Mary. She might need an item she’d forgotten, or want to check on the specs for tomorrow.
The phone rang three more times.
Finally the thought of Mary won out, and she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello.” The voice was deep and masculine and familiar—and soft with innuendo. It definitely wasn’t Mary asking to borrow a pair of panty hose.
She smiled wryly. “Hello.”
“What are you doing?”
“Watching television.”
“The ‘after-hours’ movie?”
She looked at the screen and chuckled. “The Care Bears II: A New Generation.”
“No wonder you’re so repressed. Turn on Desirée’s Secret Dreams, woman, and see what you’re missing.”
“I think I’ll stick with Good-heart Bear.”
“I will admit Desirée isn’t nearly as provocative as you.”
She found herself smiling again. The late hour seemed to dissipate all her reservations. “I thought you liked the blonde from accounting.”
“Who?”
“The blonde from accounting. That’s what you told me.”
He laughed. “I didn’t know there was a blonde from accounting.”
“What! Come on. You brought her up in the first place.”
“I just said that off the top of my head that day. You had dented my ego pretty thoroughly, remember? I needed some sort of male-soothing defense.” His voice held amusement and speculation. “Maybe I ought to go take a look at this blonde—”
“She’s not your type.” Charity looked heavenward for forgiveness. “Besides, I think she’s mad at you. Most of the women at work are.”
“They are? What did I do?”
“Those men’s meetings of yours.” She snorted in disgust. “What do you tell them? They’ve come out of both meetings like supermacho men, heaving hairy chests and snapping orders. There isn’t a harmonious hunter-protector among them.”
Jake cursed. “They must have gotten it all wrong.”
“No kidding.”
“That happens sometimes to the insecure. They hear only what they want to hear. I’ll straighten them out.”
“I hope so,” Charity said, sighing. “Otherwise, the women will kill them.”
He laughed. “I bet you don’t think that’s a bad idea.”
“Nope. It looks very good to me.”
“I’m probably number one on the hit parade. Don’t worry, though. We’re having another meeting this weekend, a round-table discussion on what our fathers didn’t teach us. Usually that has them all sensitive.”
“Do you sell tickets to this stuff?” Charity asked. “I’d love to see that.”
“I bet. Are you seeing your parents while you’re here?”
She didn’t miss the change in subject, and wondered if he’d take the men to his spot in the woods. If so, she wanted to be right in her little cubbyhole of bushes when the festivity started. “I’m taking a late shuttle home tomorrow night so I can have dinner with them,” she answered him.
“Sounds good,” he said. “See, Charity? This isn’t so bad, talking about personal things.”
“It isn’t,” she admitted. Not so far.
“Of course, we’re both in bed—”
“Jake,” she warned.
“Just a reflex action of the male spirit. I’m really glad you’re here. I like you, Charity. You’re bright and easy to talk to.”
“But not beautiful.” She sighed. It was the story of her life.
“Actually, you are very beautiful. I’ve never said so because I figured you’d immediately attack me for being a chauvinist. You know, ‘like me for my mind, not my body.’ Admit you would have.”
“Well …” she hedged, but she was extremely pleased he found her attractive. He really wasn’t a bad sort. He just had strange ideas about some things—like dancing naked. She wondered if he would do it on the Common there in Boston. Of course, other women would see him then. Somehow the notion wasn’t quite the hoot it used to be.
“Well, what?” he asked. “Can I say you’re extremely attractive, and I like to watch you walk away? Or am I just allowed to think it? I promise I won’t think it about the blonde in accounting, whoever she is.”
She chuckled. “You know we shouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”
“I’ve been wondering about that too, but hell, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.” He was quiet for a long moment, then finally added, “That door between us won’t open tonight … even though I wish it would.”
His words whorled inside her, touching places that hadn’t been touched in years. Oddly, they felt as if they’d never been touched. Her blood slowly thickened and heated, sending its warmth to her nerve endings.
“Why aren’t you married?” he asked.
“I was engaged once,” she said, deciding talking was better than thinking. “You were married before, right?”
“Yes. My wife wanted Alan Alda, and I just couldn’t be that any longer.”
“I can’t imagine you as Mr. Sensitive.”
“I’m wonderfully sensitive in certain places—”
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
“Right. The dull stuff. There isn’t much to tell. We deferred to her career, until mine reached a critical point. I’d turned down every promotion that entailed moving, bu
t one was for a company in trouble, rather like Wayans. I refused the job. They went under. I didn’t turn down the next promotion, and my former wife threw a fit over my ‘chauvinism.’ She left me. I figured afterward that I was better off. All we had in common was her job. No children. She was never ready.”
That explained a lot, Charity thought, mentally chewing on the notion.
“How about your engagement?” he asked. “What happened?”
“I was very young,” she said, deciding to share. “But we argued more and more the closer we got to the wedding date, until we realized we weren’t ready.”
“Lived with anyone?”
“Yes. Twice, not including my fiancé. I never lived with him.” She wondered what Jake would think of her sexual track record, if it would give him ideas about them that she wasn’t prepared to deal with. “The last would have been a perfect candidate for your men’s movement. Neanderthal was about his speed. He was a big mistake.”
“He was a fool,” Jake said.
“Actually, I finally wasn’t. Still, when you’re nearly thirty and statistics say you’re more likely to meet a terrorist than a decent man, one does begin to grasp at straws.”
“Well, you’ve found me. Now all I have to do is convince you. I think I’ve figured out how.”
“How?” she asked, curious.
“This. We haven’t talked business once, you know. Now I’m going to get personal. What are you wearing?”
She glanced down at herself and said dubiously, “My nightgown.”
“I bet it’s silk. No.” His voice lowered. “It’s cotton, soft, soft cotton, so thin it’s almost see-through. You think it’s a nightgown like any other. But a man would find it sexy.”
Charity touched the material at her waist, feeling the softness of the fabric and her warm flesh underneath it. It was as if he’d touched her himself.
