Before pasting on a polite smile, he glared at Murray behind her, and she recognized the exact expression he’d worn for his photograph.
Involuntarily she looked at the magazine in her hands and turned the page past November to December. Yes, there he was, with his bare torso against a fireplace and a Santa Claus suit slung over his shoulder.
She swallowed and inhaled, unfortunately at the same time.
“You wanted to see me?” he asked when she’d finished coughing.
Ooooh, yes. “Please don’t be angry with, uh, Murray.” Lexi looked around, but Murray had abandoned her. “He thought I should meet you. I should have called first.”
“I never stay angry with men who bring me beautiful women in black leather.” He accompanied the flattery with a smile full of perfectly straight, white teeth.
Okay, this man was out of her league, but she’d known that before. Good grief, he was probably out of Francesca’s league. He was out of Francesca’s undenoear’s league.
He reached across his desk. “Spencer Price.”
Lexi clasped his hand, thinking of the long fingers she’d admired, for once not concerned about possible injury to her own. “Lexi Jordan,” she said, though he already knew that.
It was just that once she touched his hand and registered the warmth of it, the rest of the calendar picture came to life and Lexi was rendered speechless. She had absolutely no trouble at all visualizing him without the black T-shirt that advertised a computer chip he was currently wearing.
Spencer sat back in his chair and waited—waited for her to explain why she was there. She couldn’t quite form words yet. Actually that wasn’t true. The words forming were, Wanna take a dip in my gene pool? and Lexi was wishing she hadn’t been so hasty in buttoning up that other button.
He was just so incredibly handsome. It was the kind of handsome that takes a few minutes to sink in, and it didn’t help to see that he was aware of the effect he had on her.
This was not her finest moment.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Jordan?” he prompted, still polite, but reminding her that time was passing.
Lexi drew a deep breath, wished she had on Francesca’s cat suit and blurted out, “Will you come to my family’s Christmas dinner?”
3
SPENCER BLINKED. It sounded as though Lexi Jordan had just invited him to Christmas dinner. He scrambled to figure out the connection between them—there must be one. People didn’t go around inviting strangers to Christmas dinner.
Before he’d disappeared, Murray had mouthed something behind her and had acted like Spence should know what the heck he meant.
Jordan...Jordan. The name was familiar, but Spence couldn’t place it. Was she the daughter or sister of a friend? A donor? They’d never met, of that he was certain. With hair like a black waterfall against that white skin, she was strikingly unforgettable.
Long, silky, shiny hair like hers was a particular weakness of his—and he hadn’t known it until just now.
When she’d leaned forward to shake his hand, the ends of her hair had brushed across his wrist, sending more prickles through him than the leftover charge on a power supply capacitor.
“I’m sorry.” Smiling at herself, she shook her head, making her hair ripple. “I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that. I should explain.”
“Please.” Spence gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk.
Lexi looked down at it, but didn’t sit. Spencer stood up, peered over the desk and saw three circuit boards and a spool of solder on the seat. “Just move—I’d better do it.” He came from around his desk and picked up the circuit boards, looking helplessly for a flat surface to park them on. Ultimately he dumped them on top of the pile of Texas Men mail he’d been sorting through. “There.” He smiled and gestured.
She looked dazed, and in the moment before she sat, Spence automatically noted that she was no more than half a foot shorter than he was.
Good, he thought. Any shorter, and certain critical maneuvers during certain activities were a hassle.
Lexi was frowning as she stared at the circuit boards—no, she was staring at the letters under the circuit boards. Spence followed her gaze. Some of the women had sent pictures and he’d put those on top, thinking that they’d already made the first cut, since he wanted to know what his potential date looked like.
A photo of a bare leg that he knew was attached to a real babe of a cellist stuck out from the stack. Lexi tilted her head.
Spence didn’t know how much she could see from her angle, so he cleared his throat. “You were going to explain?”
“Oh!” She turned startled eyes toward him. “Oh.” She slumped and stared at the magazine in her lap. “I saw the write-up of your research team in Texas Men, and since I live in Rocky Falls, I thought that...” Her gaze drifted over to the letters. “It seemed silly to...so I...”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but for the moment Spencer was just enjoying watching her mouth move. She’d put on red lipstick, not the shiny gooey kind, but a frank red, which showed up against her pale skin. He liked the contrast.
A hand-lettered sign appeared in the doorway, drawing his attention away from her lips. It read “Lawrence Jordan.” A split second later the top half of Murray’s head came into view and his eyebrows wagged.
What were the guys up to now? Spencer kept his face blank. There was a rustling and the faint squeak of a marking pen. A dollar sign joined Lawrence Jordan.
Spencer determinedly jerked his gaze back to Lexi, as his peripheral vision registered more dollar signs and a moving arrow.
The arrow was pointing to her. Dollar signs and Lexi Jordan. Okay. He didn’t know the exact connection between Lexi and money, but until he did, he was going to pour on the charm. His smile widened to the point where the dimple in his left cheek would show. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his desk and toyed with the pens in a coffee mug. Open body language. Relaxed. Approachable.
He watched to see if she’d mimic him, maybe by relaxing her death grip on the magazine. She did, but only to grip the chair instead.
Her lips pursed. “I’ve never done anything like this before and I guess I don’t know the protocol for asking you for a date. Specifically, Christmas dinner at my family’s, but I’d like to see you at least once before then, so we’ll... Could you please say something?”
And Spencer found himself momentarily at a loss for words. He should have been paying closer attention. “Why Christmas dinner?”
Lexi’s face underwent a subtle transformation from flustered to something else—something harder. She tilted her head. “Why not?”
He kept smiling as he stared at the pen he tapped. “I can think of a hundred reasons why not.” He widened his smile as he met her eyes. “I’m interested in why I should.”
IF THE DAY HADN’T been dark and rainy, Lexi wouldn’t have been able to see the reflection in the window behind Spencer. Backward or not, a dollar sign was easily recognizable.
They’d figured out who she was—or rather, who her father was, and Lexi decided to use that fact to her advantage. Francesca had a naked cello picture, Lexi had a father whose job was to give away money.
The playing field was now level.
Up to this point, Lexi had been having a hard enough time coping with Mr. December in the flesh, what with Francesca’s leg staring at her.
The moment she’d seen Spencer Price, she’d known this was a lost cause. This was not the sort of man who liked being pursued by women. He liked deciding when, where and if he’d make the first move. Lexi didn’t know how she knew this, maybe it was something to do with the expression in his calendar photo. But she knew it was true.
She also knew that asking for a date and being turned down was more face-saving than running. Still, until she’d seen the reflection, she’d had to grip the chair bottom to keep from leaping out of it.
Now there was hope, except that she’d been a little premature
with the Christmas dinner invitation. She should have started with coffee and worked her way up.
Too late now. She was going to have to run with it—just as soon as she knew where to run. When in doubt, stall. “You want to know why you should come to Christmas dinner.”
“Yes.” He steepled his hands and looked at her from behind them.
He’d been smiling at her for the past several minutes. Lexi suspected he was trying not to laugh. “For starters,” she said, and held up his picture, “you’d get another opportunity to wear your Santa suit. Doesn’t look like it got much wear here.”
Well, that got rid of the fake smile. In fact, his glare matched the calendar picture.
The signs behind Lexi quivered. In the silence, yet another dollar sign was reflected in the window, and this one had an exclamation point with it.
She should give up and make a deal with him—be her date and meet her father. “The main reason you should come is because the music building is falling apart,” she said bluntly.
He dropped his hands. “What?”
“Littletree’s music building needs extensive renovations, more practice rooms, new pianos... everything, really. We’re losing out on the top student prospects and faculty. My father is chief administrating trustee of the Cultural Arts Foundation.” Lexi said that part very distinctly. “I want to approach him on behalf of Littletree, but I want him in a good mood. To be in a good mood, I must bring a...” Lexi searched for the right word. “Date” wasn’t exactly it.
“Prospective son-in-law?” Spencer supplied dryly.
That wasn’t it, either. Or was it? “Let’s say someone my parents would be thrilled to see me involved with.” Making Emily hoarse with envy was strictly a bonus. “I was trying to find just the right man when I saw the seven of you in Texas Men and decided I’d come over here to meet you.”
He didn’t say anything. Apparently she needed to spell everything out. “So I need this favor from you, and in return, you’ll get to meet my father.”
There. At least now if he agreed, he’d know what he’d be getting into and she wouldn’t feel guilty for subjecting him to the surreal experience of the Jordan family faking Norman Rockwell.
Spencer sat back in his chair with an expression she couldn’t read. “Impeccable logic. I’m impressed.”
“I’m also aware that Christmas is a family time, so I understand if you have other plans.” Lexi was proud of thinking of an unembarrassing way for him to refuse.
BEHIND HER, Gordon and Murray were mouthing “yes” at him. Spencer had finally figured out who Lawrence Jordan was, but right now, he had a bigger problem than funding, and an attractive solution had just walked into his office, saving him untold amounts of time and energy. Now he could quit going through the mail and get back to the budget. What a thrill.
“We’re a Christmas Eve family, and my parents live in Dallas.” Foster parents, but he didn’t think the distinction would matter. “So Christmas afternoon is doable.” He gestured, hoping the guys would take the hint and leave. They didn’t.
“You mean you’ll come?” Hope lit her eyes.
He hadn’t noticed her eyes before. They were kind of lost next to her hair and lips, but they were nice eyes. Blue when he’d expected brown. “There are certain conditions,” he said.
The sparkle faded. “There always are.”
He ignored that. “If I agree to play adoring boyfriend for you, I’ll need a return favor.” He opened and shut drawers, looking for paper. Finding a blank sheet without the lab logo, he cleared a space on his desk and pushed the paper in front of her, along with a pen he’d taken from the coffee mug. “I want you to write Texas Men and tell them...” Tell them what? “Let me see that,” he said, gesturing to the magazine in her lap.
Lexi handed it over.
Spencer looked for the letters column and read a couple of the notes. “Tell them what a wonderful time you had on our date, what a great guy I am, how glad you are that you called Texas Men—uh, better call them first so you can get into their computer.”
“At two ninety-five a minute?”
“Here—use the lab phone.” He turned it to face her, then jerked it back. “Wait, they probably keep track of the numbers and it’ll look suspicious if the lab’s shows up. Here, I’ll pay you back.” He stood and reached into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Keep it. I’m sure you’re worth two ninety-five a minute.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I think.” Gesturing to the paper, he said, “Start writing. I want to read it before you mail it to them.”
“Excuse me...Christmas isn’t for another three weeks. Won’t they find it a tiny bit strange that I’m raving about something that hasn’t happened yet?”
Did he have to think of everything himself? “Don’t write about Christmas. Tell them I took you out for pizza and a movie.”
“How lame.” Lexi sat back in the chair. “Nobody wants to read about pizza and a movie. They want to hear about a romantic date.”
Right. As a rich man’s kid, she’d never had to think twice about the expense of pizza and a movie. “So, what does that mean? The Wainright Inn?”
“After paying two ninety-five a minute to get your address, it better.”
“Why do you like that overpriced place?”
“It’s got atmosphere.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “Atmosphere means they put in forty-watt bulbs, light a couple of candles and double the menu prices. Or triple them, if they’ve got some second-rate musical entertainment sleepwalking their way through Broadway’s top tunes.”
Her eyes turned glacial.
“Oh, don’t tell me, it’s got memories for you, right? Figures. It’s the most expensive place in town.”
She sat straight in the chair. “My roommate and I perform there three nights a week. And we do not sleepwalk through anything.”
He winced.
A muffled groan sounded from outside his office door. Great. The guys must be eavesdropping, hoping to pick up dating pointers.
Giving her a rueful look, he said, “You probably shouldn’t mention this conversation in the letter.”
She looked off into the distance. “I can’t write the letter. I feel strangely uninspired.”
Spencer drew a long breath, then reached into the mail sack and dumped an armful of envelopes onto his desk. “You see this? If you won’t write Texas Men, then I’m going through this bunch until I find a woman who will.” He gave her a smug smile. “And I don’t think it’ll be too difficult.” Just for added emphasis, he picked up an envelope and slowly tore it open.
Lexi leaned an elbow on his desk. “Think of all the time it will take to charm somebody by taking her out for pizza and a movie. Especially when she lives in...”
Before he realized what she was doing, Lexi had plucked the envelope from his fingers and checked the return address.
“El Paso.” With a smile equal in smugness to the one he’d just given her, she tossed the envelope back to him.
And he tossed her words back to her. “Think of all the time it will take to find somebody to impress your parents at Christmas dinner.”
Her smile slipped. “No time at all. My father is Lawrence Jordan. I’ll buy a date if nothing else.”
And Spencer realized that was exactly what she was doing right now. Dinner in exchange for meeting her father.
He didn’t like the idea of being bought.
She stared at him. The flat expression in her eyes made him increasingly uncomfortable. To her, there was no future between them other than this business deal, and that bothered Spencer. Even in business deals, he liked the undercurrent that ran between two people who found each other attractive. It wasn’t always appropriate to act upon that attraction, but harmless flirting kept things from being boring.
Lexi Jordan wasn’t a woman who was bowled over by good looks—and he’d been trying. Other than being flustered at first meeting him, she’d given no sign that she’d found
him irresistibly appealing. She might be hiding her reaction, but Spencer wasn’t sure. And that was a new experience for him. He got the impression that it would take a lot to win her over. Might be interesting to try.
He exhaled. To encounter both Lexi and Tonya in one day was more than a man’s ego should have to bear.
He primed himself to be conciliatory. “Look. We both know we can solve our problems elsewhere, but we can save time by working together right now. How about it?”
She eyed him. “You must really need this letter.”
Spencer scanned the top of the pile, searching for any postmark within fifty miles. None. Several letters were from out of state. “Yes,” he admitted.
“If I write the letter now, how do I know you’ll show up on Christmas?”
So now he had to put up with insults, too? “Because I said I will! And let me tell you, I didn’t grow up with money. There was a time in my life when all I had was my word. You can take it to the bank—be—cause it’s guaranteed one hundred percent.”
Lexi flinched when Spencer said the word money. She’d grown up with the foundation money, all right, but it wasn’t hers. It wasn’t her father’s, either. He was the foundation funds administrator, but the Jordans hadn’t set up the foundation. People forgot the distinction, and her parents—especially her mother—didn’t go out of their way to correct them. The Jordans moved in the social circles of the foundation’s wealthy donors, but as far as Lexi knew, they were merely “comfortable.”
She decided not to correct Spencer’s assumptions. He wanted to meet Lawrence Jordan, so fine, she’d introduce him to her father—for all the good it would do him. The Cultural Arts Foundation didn’t fund scientific projects.
“Okay,” she said simply. Tilting the paper toward her, she started writing the date.
“Date it a couple of days from now,” Spencer instructed. “Wait. What’s today—Wednesday? Okay, say you call and mail your letter today.” He bounced a pencil as he thought. “Give it a couple of days to get to me and for me to call you. We go out this weekend.... Date it Sunday, or Monday.”
Mr. December Page 4
