His Little Black Book

by Heather MacAllister

  Oh, wait, no. The beach house. She’d reserved the beach house for him. But he wouldn’t drive down there tonight, would he?

  The very moment Cammy had the thought, Jonathan burst from the conference room. Alone. He stopped short when he saw her and in the seconds before her presence registered, he looked shell-shocked.

  So the meeting had not gone well. Was still not going well. She’d have to—

  “Cammy!” His faced eased into a Jonathan smile, yet his eyes looked a little wild. “What are you doing here?”

  “Staying until you finish your meeting.” As I always do.

  He shoved a hand into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone. “I didn’t mean for you to do that. Go on. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” Cammy turned off her computer and Jonathan headed back to the conference room.

  How strange. She wondered about it as she made her way to the parking garage.

  When she emerged from the elevator on the top floor, rainy mist sprayed her from the moment the door opened. The security lights glowed pinkly as the wind blew sheets of water across the uncovered roof.

  The only truly bad part of being Jonathan’s assistant was that she was considered a junior-level employee and assigned to the rooftop. She’d hinted to Jonathan that she’d been parking up here for three years, but nothing had come of his assurance that he’d “see what he could do.”

  Standing under the overhang, Cammy stared at the four cars left on the roof. Hers was in the middle on the outer row, the perfect position for getting scoured by gusts of rain-laden wind. At least it was a free car wash.

  She had an umbrella, not that it would do any good. Slipping off her shoes, she stuffed them into her purse. She kept her keys at the ready, waiting for a lull in the wind. Getting wet was a given, but she didn’t want to get blown over.

  As minutes passed and the rain didn’t lessen, Cammy considered returning to the office. Peck and Davilla had a break room with cots and she could even spend the night there. But due to the weather and the weekend, the building was nearly deserted and she’d be the only one on the fourth floor. Not good. Unless Jonathan decided to stay, but even Cammy wasn’t that desperate.

  The elevator dinged and she was surprised to see Gil emerge. She’d forgotten that he was still working in his office. “What are you doing up here?” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the storm’s noise.

  He blinked as mist speckled his glasses. Removing them, he dried the lenses on his shirt. “Somebody was in my spot this morning, so I parked up here.”

  “Did you report their license number to Human Resources?”

  He glanced up. His eyes looked exposed without the heavy glasses. His face seemed longer and thinner, too. It was a nice face, Cammy thought. Husband handsome her friends would say. The glasses gave him a completely different look.

  “It’s no big deal,” he said.

  That was generous of him because people were extremely territorial over their parking spots.

  Putting his glasses back on, he surveyed the lot. “Not letting up?”

  “There hasn’t been a break yet. Which car is yours?”

  “The black RAV4 over by the wall.”

  “At least you’re sheltered from the wind. I’m right out there in the open.” She pointed to her little red Kia.

  “I don’t think it matters. We’re going to get wet no matter what.”

  The roaring of the rain echoed in the parking garage. Cammy clutched her purse to her chest. “I’m ready to make a run for it.” She walked to the edge of the overhang.

  Gil touched her arm, shouting above the noise. “I’ll follow you out.”

  Cammy nodded. “Okay. One…two…three!” She ran into the rain and was instantly soaked. She kept running to her car anyway, opening it with her remote so all she had to do was grab the door and fling herself in.

  Slamming the door closed, she exhaled. Her bangs dripped water into her eyes. Brushing them aside, she checked in the rearview mirror for the black car parked behind her. Gil was already inside.

  Cammy arranged her wet slacks so they didn’t pull and put her shoes back on. After fastening her seat belt, she turned the key in the ignition.

  Nothing happened.

  She tried again. There was a click. Maybe. With the rain pounding on her car, it was difficult to hear. She tried again, but nothing. The engine wasn’t even turning over.

  Obviously some critical component didn’t like the rain. Great. Just great. She rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment, and then dug out her cell phone. Not that she had high hopes for prompt roadside assistance in this weather.

  Gil’s black SUV pulled in beside her. “Are you all right?” he mouthed through the window.

  She shook her head and he gestured for her to unlock the passenger door.

  Seconds later, he sat in her car dripping water everywhere and bringing the scent of wet cotton and a different brand of fabric softener than she used. His shoulders extended past the edge of the seat and Cammy’s car suddenly seemed very, very small.

  “Won’t start?” he asked.

  She shook her head as he reached across her to turn the key, tilting his head to listen. His arm was inches away from her thigh, which…bothered her. Cammy eased her leg away.

  Gil had her depress the accelerator while he cranked the engine again. Then he straightened, carefully withdrawing his arm to avoid accidentally touching her, she noticed. Well, that was awkward.

  “My guess is that something got damp and needs to dry out.”

  No kidding. She gave him a contemptuous look. “Ya think?”

  Gil peered at her through his rain spattered glasses. She immediately felt guilty. He was a nice guy just trying to help. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  He let a couple of beats go by. “No, you shouldn’t have. You’re angry and frustrated and you took it out on me.”

  True, but she’d expected him to brush off her apology, not scold her. When they’d been partners he’d never scolded her. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t apologized right away.

  Once again, he took off the black glasses to dry them, except there wasn’t anywhere dry on his shirt. He tugged a little fabric out from his waist band and drew her attention to his flat stomach and the way his wet khakis were molded to his thighs. When she realized she was staring at his lap, she jerked her gaze northward to check out the rest of him. His shirt clung damply revealing the broad shoulders she’d noticed earlier and a set of nicely muscled arms. Where had he been hiding those?

  Gil wiped his glasses with long, elegant fingers. Long, elegant, ringless fingers.

  They’d spent a lot of hours together when they’d been partners, but that had been several years ago. Was he seeing anyone? Even when they’d been stressed from lack of sleep and an impending presentation deadline, he’d always been so normal. No weird issues. No disgusting habits. Definite marriage material. Some woman should have snapped him up by now. Cammy, herself, might have snapped him up if they hadn’t been partners. And now that they weren’t, well, there was Jonathan. Jonathan who made her feel alive and witty and talented. Jonathan who needed her and depended on her. Jonathan who mentored her. And someday, Jonathan was going to realize he loved her.

  Gil was a great guy, but he’d done just fine without her. He’d mentioned a house, but not whether anyone was living in it with him. She should keep him in mind the next time one of her girlfriends complained that all the good men were taken. Assuming that he wasn’t taken.

  “It’s been a long day and you’re wet and hungry.” He slipped his glasses back on. “I can’t do anything about the first two, but I can feed you lasagna and a glass of red wine at Sorelli’s.”

  Her absolute favorite comfort/celebration/indulgent/ reward food at her absolute favorite restaurant. Cammy’s stomach growled. She hoped the sound of the rain covered it up. “That sounds heavenly.”

  “Great. Let’s go.” And he was out of her
car before she really decided to accept.

  Oh, why not? Grabbing her purse, she followed him

  But when she sat, drenched and dripping in Gil’s car, Sorelli’s didn’t seem like such a good idea. Flipping her hair behind her shoulders, she pointed out the obvious, “We’re all wet.”

  His gaze flicked over her. “Don’t worry about it.” He drove into the garage and began the downward spiral to the exit. “We’ll sit in one of the back booths.”

  Cammy didn’t remind him that it was a Friday night and the over-the-top, romantically decorated booths located in the odd nook left over from Sorelli’s kitchen renovations were always reserved weeks in advance.

  She knew because she’d reserved them for Jonathan many times.

  Gil drove to the street level and swung into Jonathan’s empty parking place right by the elevators.

  So he’d left already, Cammy thought. She almost objected to Gil parking in Jonathan’s place, but the entire level was deserted and Jonathan’s slot was the nearest to the elevators. It made sense.

  They descended to the tunnel system that ran beneath Houston’s downtown. The place was like a mall and crowded with people who had decided to shop or eat dinner before beginning the wet commute home.

  Cammy caught sight of herself in a store window and winced at her stringy hair. She’d been trying to grow it longer, but it didn’t like longer. It liked above the shoulders. Beside her Gil watched as she fluffed her wet bangs.

  Lucky man. He’d slicked back his hair once in the car, and then ignored it, revealing a high forehead she’d never noticed before. It made him look a lot more sophisticated and cerebral than the Gil she was used to seeing.

  “Stop worrying about your hair,” he told her. “This evening isn’t going to be a good hair night for anybody.”

  Great. So it did look as bad as she thought.

  Gil led her to the escalators that deposited them in the public lobby of the office tower next door to the restaurant. At the exit, he took her hand as they ran the few steps in the open before they ducked beneath Sorelli’s green awning.

  Other than the occasional high-five when something went well, Cammy didn’t remember ever touching Gil before. His hand felt warm and strong and, to be honest, she was disappointed when he let go. She had to admit she liked his matter-of-fact confidence in shepherding her through the tunnels to Sorelli’s welcoming foyer. Not that she needed shepherding. But it felt nice to be taken care of by a man for a change.

  She missed that feeling. It had been a while since she’d had a boyfriend. She’d hoped that she and Jonathan…well.

  Cammy swept her gaze over Gil as he spoke with the hostess, admiring how the parts of his body she’d noticed separately came together to form one very attractive man. Wait a minute. This was Gil. She blinked. Had he always looked like this? Really, wet clothes and slicked back hair shouldn’t have made that much of difference.

  Yes, it had been a long time between boyfriends.

  He grinned at the hostess and Cammy became suddenly aware that while wet clothes made Gil appear appealingly disheveled, she just looked sad and messy.

  She pointed to the ladies’ room. “I’m going in there.”

  Once inside, she used rolled hand towels from the basket by the sink to blot at herself and her hair. Just as she thought, it was kinking its way up to her shoulders. She tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed. Drowned rat was not a good look for her.

  She also touched up her makeup. If her hair was going to look bad, at least her face could look good.

  Why do you care? It’s just Gil.

  Yeah, but Gil was looking mighty fine. Cammy saw the way the hostess had smiled at him after barely glancing at her. She saw the way he’d returned the smile, too.

  She felt a little tickle of awareness when she thought about that smile. He’d never smiled at her that way.

  Oh, good grief. Why would he? And why was she even thinking about this?

  When she emerged, the hostess led her through a surprisingly empty restaurant to where Gil was waiting in one of the coveted back booths, a glass of red wine already in front of her place.

  Cammy gracelessly slid her wet slacks across the velvet seat. At least they were black in case the red dye in the velvet wasn’t colorfast. She raised her wineglass to Gil. “My hero.”

  GIL’S HEART GAVE AN annoying blip. How many times had he imagined a rescue scenario like this? Well, here it was. His heart’s desire.

  Ya think?

  It was a nothing remark; she’d been frustrated. Completely understandable given the circumstances. And she’d apologized. But she wouldn’t have snapped at Jonathan and Gil couldn’t get past that.

  Ya think?

  It was nothing, yet it was everything.

  Cammy took a sip of wine and her eyebrows lifted. “This is good.”

  “I remember that you drink cabs,” he said, “but Sorelli’s is trying out a new house red and want our feedback. If you don’t like it, they’ll bring you something else.”

  She took another sip. “I do like it. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. What is it?”

  “A cab-shiraz-merlot blend.” He watched her drink more. He’d planned to order her favorite cabernet just as he’d planned to order the lasagna. If he surrounded her with her favorite things, she’d feel happy and then she’d associate happy feelings with him—that was Gil’s plan.

  Ya think?

  He’d ordered the blend instead.

  It wasn’t a good sign that he was rebelling against his own plan. The wine choice seemed to be a success, though, since Cammy had already drained half the over-size glass.

  When the waiter brought their menus, Cammy waved them away. “I know what I want. The lasagna.”

  Gil wanted to order something different, but Sorelli’s lasagna was killer and he hadn’t eaten here in a couple of months. “I’ll have the lasagna, as well, and a house salad,” he told their server.

  “Two lasagnas and two house salads,” repeated the waiter.

  “No salad for me,” Cammy said. “I’ve had enough cold, wet things today. I’m going directly for the hot carbs.”

  Taking the hint, the waiter returned with an overloaded bread basket. As Cammy dived in, he started to ask if he could bring her another glass of wine, but Gil silently signaled him to bring the bottle.

  While Cammy dipped foccacia in herbed olive oil, the waiter refilled her glass and set the bottle on the table.

  “We’re not going to need the whole bottle,” she protested.

  Gil moved it to the side. “We might be here a while.” If all went well.

  “True. And if we’re going to be stuck somewhere, this is the place to be.” Cammy sighed happily as she looked around at the naked cherubs cavorting amid hearts and flowers and birds. “I’m glad you got a booth. They must have had cancellations because of the weather.”

  “Yes.” To Gil, it looked as though Valentine’s Day had thrown up in the booth.

  When he’d imagined his scenarios with Cammy, he’d neglected to imagine what they’d talk about or that there would be so many cherubs. Until this moment, conversation hadn’t been an issue since Cammy’s mouth had been filled with bread or wine. This was Gil’s shot to make her aware of him as a man. It was time to say something and he knew what he didn’t want to talk about, or rather who—Jonathan.

  Think happy. Think witty. Think amusing. Think fun. Not that there was any pressure. “The last time I was here with you we were celebrating your birthday.” Not a bad opener.

  Cammy looked thoughtful as she tore more bread. “I don’t…Oh, when we were partners! I remember. That was a long time ago.”

  “Three years.”

  “It seems like forever.”

  “Yes.” Where was the amusing wit?

  “You and Paul are doing really well,” she said.

  “It’s not the same magic you and I had, but it’s pretty good.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “You are to
o kind.”

  “Not kind. It’s the truth.” He sipped at his wine.

  “Not really.” She shook her head. “Most of the ideas we developed were yours. And you were so much better at writing copy and I’m not that great at drawing. It’s like, ‘what was I thinking?’ Why did I think I could make it in advertising?”

  Who had convinced her she was no good? Gil had his suspicions. “Cammy, your ideas inspired other ideas. I remember you as an idea fountain. You were the spark that lit the fire. The gas that fueled the engine. The rain that made the desert bloom.”

  “Oh, come on!” She laughed. “You always were a sweetie.”

  A sweetie. She thought he was sweet. He was not sweet. He was patient, the way a lion patiently waits in the shadows for the ideal moment to capture his prey.

  “That’s why I enjoy working with Jonathan,” she went on. “I’m learning so much.”

  Sometimes a lion has to steal prey from another predator. “And how are you using what you’ve learned?”

  She stopped dipping bread long enough to glance at him. “What do you mean?”

  He meant exactly what she suspected, that she was wasting her time, but he answered, “Are you analyzing data or looking to get back into the creative side, or what?”

  “No—I brainstorm with Jonathan, though. And he’s always very good about listening and then showing me how my ideas miss the mark or how they can be improved.”

  Gil carefully set down his glass before he snapped the stem. “That’s very generous of him.” Gil didn’t know whether he was angrier at Jonathan for using Cammy’s ideas or for making her doubt her talent.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  So much for fun and happiness. “Like what?” Gil’s salad arrived so he looked at it instead.

  “As though Jonathan is stealing my ideas.”

  “Is he?”

  “No!” Cammy took a largish swallow of wine. “I’m brainstorming with him the same way we used to brainstorm. Ideas grow from other ideas. You know that.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Gil topped off her glass.