My Sexiest Mistake

by Kristin Hardy

  “Like a baby,” she muttered. “You?”

  “Never better,” he lied.

  She stepped into the kitchenette, doing her best to keep her distance. “Is there any more coffee?” Caffeine was critical. After that, she could begin thinking about getting home.

  “Help yourself.” He gestured to the pot but stayed in her way, grinning when her elbow brushed him and she jerked. “Hey, how would you feel about leaving as soon as the conference is done today? Something’s come up. I need to be in Boston first thing tomorrow morning.” He took a drink from his mug. “The conference gets done at six-thirty. We could be home by ten.”

  “Actually, I was thinking about taking a shuttle home tonight from LaGuardia.”

  “Skipping out?” His smile was mocking. “Coward.”

  “It has nothing to do with you,” she answered too quickly. The hell it didn’t, she thought, and he raised one eyebrow as though she’d spoken aloud. “It just seemed efficient. There’s nothing on the schedule tomorrow that I need to see.” And there was no way she was going to stay another night here with Cade. There was only so much a person could take, and she didn’t trust herself.

  “Well that settles it, then. We can check our bags and meet in the lobby at seven. That way we’ll only hit the end of heavy traffic.” He took in her skeptical expression. “Oh come on. It’s three hours. You’ll waste at least that taking the shuttle, assuming you can even find a ticket at the last minute. If you discipline yourself, I’m sure you can get through the drive home without jumping me.”

  She couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “I think I can hold myself back.”

  “Make sure you do. I don’t want people thinking that I’m easy, you know.” He pressed a light kiss to her lips before she could react, then sauntered off into his bedroom to pack.

  11

  SHE PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE felt reassured that she could be gone for three days and come back to find that nothing had changed, Ryan thought as she walked into the Beckman Markham offices. Instead, she felt suffocated. If she’d been a different kind of person, she would have just played hooky, since she wasn’t due back in the office until Monday. No one would have been the wiser, and she’d have had a day to get Cade Douglas out of her system.

  Unfortunately, she’d been raised with a conscience, which was why she found herself walking in bright and early on Friday morning. Her faint hopes of sneaking into her office unnoticed were dashed when she saw Barry standing at Mona’s desk, files clutched in his stubby fingers.“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Mona asked, with as much relief at the interruption as enthusiasm, Ryan noted. “I thought you weren’t back until Monday.”

  “Yeah.” Barry glanced up from his files. “Whadja do, skip out early?”

  “Today’s sessions were mostly about real estate certifications, so I figured it made more sense to come on back. It’ll give me some time to work on that new course I’ve been building.” She picked her mail up off the counter and started to head toward her office.

  “Hey, speaking of classes, Douglas called this morning,” Barry called.

  Ryan turned around and frowned. “What did he want?”

  “Wants to tape your courses. He was saying something about putting video up on the Web site.”

  “He wants to tape me?” Ryan asked blankly. “Why?”

  “He seems to think you’re a hot ticket in the classroom, I don’t know,” Barry shrugged. “All I know is whatever he wants, we give him. Speaking of which, are you guys forming a team for that corporate charity shindig this year?”

  Ryan sighed. “If you mean the Boston Corporate Games, Barry, they’re next weekend. Adam sent you the team list a month ago, when you turned down our request for the sponsorship. Why, did you change your mind?” She couldn’t suppress a quick flick of hope. “I’ve got all the lists in case you want to match us.” The annual charity games funded a variety of worthy causes by getting local businesses to sponsor teams to compete in various athletic events. In the case of the Beckman Markham team, the money always came from friends and family—Barry had a selective deafness that he put into practice when his employees came looking for donations.

  He flapped a hand through the air. “Naw, I just wanted to make sure we were going to have people there.” He smoothed the sparse strands of his comb-over. “Douglas and his company are sponsoring part of the games. It’d look good for us to have a presence.”

  Ryan almost groaned aloud. She was cursed, basically. She should just resign herself that every place she went, Cade would be there. And temptation would follow. “Well, three of us are doing the 5K, and a friend of mine has volunteered to be the fourth. Without sponsorship, we couldn’t drum up enough interest for a softball team, so all we’re doing is the run.”

  “I want you to be sure to stop by and check in with him,” Barry said, ignoring her comment. “Let him know that we’ve got people there. He sounds like one of those guys who’s big on that kind of thing.”

  Barry, of course, wasn’t, which didn’t stop him from trying to cash in on the fact that his employees were. Ryan resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “I’m not leading the team this year, Barry. Adam is.”

  “I don’t care,” he said obstinately. “Douglas doesn’t know Adam from…uh, Adam. You he knows.”

  Including in the biblical sense, Ryan thought, which was where all the problems started.

  “You know, Barry, if you really want to look good you could have Beckman Markham sponsor the team or match the money we’ve raised,” she said lightly.

  “Nah, I think it’s enough that he knows we’re there,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away toward his office. “You make sure you stop by and talk with him, all right?”

  She sighed. When it came to Barry, subtlety was lost. Cocking her head, she caught a burble of noise from her office. “Whoops, that’s my phone,” she said hastily, giving Mona a quick wave.

  Hustling into her office, she glanced at the caller I.D. to see Cade’s name. She grimaced as she snatched up the receiver.

  “Videotapes?” she asked without greeting. “You want to make videotapes?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Sure, if that’s what turns you on. I’m thinking we rent a hotel room, get a good videographer and we can sell ’em on the Intern…”

  “Very funny,” Ryan said sarcastically.

  “Hey, you brought it up.” He smiled into the air, looking out the windows of his office to the daffodils nodding in the flowerbeds lining the front walk.

  “Why videotapes?” Ryan’s voice squawked out of the receiver. “I don’t even like talking into the camcorder at weddings, for heaven’s sake.”

  “You were the one who gave me the idea.” He leaned back in his chair and turned it sideways so he could prop one leg on the other knee.

  “I meant to help you with the online content,” she said aggrievedly. “Besides, the tapes I was talking about were already made, with a different instructor.”

  “I don’t want another instructor. I want you.” Didn’t he just, thought Cade. She may have spent the previous night in her house a dozen miles away from him, but he hadn’t slept any better than he had when they’d been in Manhattan, despite the fact that he’d worked until 2 a.m. on materials for his emergency facilities meeting that morning.

  “I don’t want someone out there taping me.”

  “Why not? You’re amazing in the classroom. You have them eating out of your hand.” Idly, he traced patterns on the polished top of his desk, feeling the smooth wood against his fingertips.

  “How am I supposed to be able to think with a camera staring at me?”

  “No whining,” he said mildly.

  “I’m not whining. That was a legitimate question. It was specifically not a whine.” Cade grinned at her affronted tone. “I’m going to look like a goob.”

  “Trust me, you won’t look like a goob,” He reassured her in amusement. “After a few minutes in front of the camera, you’ll relax
and everything will be fine.”

  “It’ll distract my students.”

  “Then we’ll tape without them,” Cade returned easily. He could field her objections all day until she ran down. He had no intention of letting her off the hook. “We need this as a resource for the future in case we lose you, remember? We’ll use the Beckman Markham classroom. Mona says next Monday’s good for you, so I’ve lined up a video team.”

  “I’ll look like a goob,” she muttered again.

  “No you won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

  There was a short silence. “Tell me you’re not planning on coming to any of these tapings.”

  “Wouldn’t miss ’em for the world.”

  “We don’t need you there,” she said darkly.

  “You say that now, but you never know when you’re going to want help. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you guys to go it alone this early in the process.” He grinned, imagining the expression on her face. “I’ll finalize things with Mona. See you Wednesday, cupcake.”

  “That’s Ms. Cupcake, to you,” she retorted.

  RYAN SAT IN FRONT OF HER home computer in T-shirt and jeans, working on the beginning of her latest novel. She was dying to know how her manuscript was faring with Elaine. It wouldn’t help anybody, though, if she just sat around twiddling her thumbs until she got the call before she started writing again. She needed to get cracking now. Already, her characters had come to life in her head. They’d struck sparks off each other and come back for more. Now they were having their first kiss.

  Unfortunately, all writing the scene did was make her want Cade.On the stereo, the sounds of Dwayne Allmann and Eric Clapton blasted forth in bluesy guitar riffs that were the aural equivalent of hot and nasty sex. Which she’d almost had the other night. She wasn’t sure if the fact that she hadn’t was reason for congratulations or regret. Her opinion changed from minute to minute.

  She’d dreaded the ride home from Manhattan, expecting three hours of tension and sparring. Interestingly, it hadn’t been even remotely awkward. The Red Sox were playing the Yankees at Fenway Park, so they’d listened to the game all the way home, first from the Yankee broadcasters, then from the Red Sox network. The distraction hadn’t stopped her from thinking about sex periodically—she’d have to be comatose before being near Cade didn’t make her think about that—but it was at a manageable level. He’d focused on driving, not staring at her with those unsettling eyes. It was almost relaxing.

  Until he pulled up in front of her house and walked up the front steps with her suitcase…

  The doorbell rang, startling her out of her reverie. Ryan looked at the clock and smiled, then hustled out of her flat and down to the main door, opening it a crack. “What’s the magic password?” she asked.

  “Sam Adams?” Becka answered, holding up a six-pack of beer.

  “That will certainly do for a start,” Ryan grinned, stepping back to swing the door wide. “Come on in. I picked up a copy of Pearl Harbor at the video store on my way home. All we need is a pizza and we’re ready to go.”

  “I thought infatuation killed your appetite,” Becka said once they were up the stairs and inside Ryan’s flat, setting the beer on the kitchen counter and tossing down her purse.

  “I’m not infatuated.” Ryan said, too quickly.

  “Yeah, right.” Becka pulled off her jacket and walked out into the living room to hang it up, then stopped. “Ryan,” she called in an aggrieved voice, “what are you doing with the computer on? I can’t believe you’re working on a Friday night. Don’t you get enough of it during the week?” She came back into the kitchen.

  “That’s not work, it’s my latest book.”

  Becka plucked a pair of bottles of beer out of the six-pack and put the rest in the refrigerator. “What’s the word on the contract?”

  “Any day, or so Helene says. The delay’s driving me nuts.” A fleeting frown of impatience flitted over Ryan’s face as she dug in a drawer for a bottle opener. “Anyway, I wanted to get a jump on things. Figured it would keep my mind off waiting for the call.”

  Becka leaned a hip against the counter. “What’s this one about?”

  “Head of a charity organization meets a dot-com entrepreneur.”

  “Dot-com entrepreneur?” Becka’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “You don’t say. Gee, were you inspired by anyone I know of, Miss I’m Not Infatuated?”

  Ryan flushed. “I told you, I’m not hung up on him.” She slapped the bottle opener in Becka’s hand.

  “So says the woman who called and told me come to dinner, you’ve got to hear the latest,” Becka said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m simply looking for your insight on a work situation,” Ryan said with dignity. “And now, if you’re finished, I’m going to order dinner.” She picked up the telephone receiver and punched in a number she knew by heart. “Hi, I’d like a large pepperoni—”

  “Veggie,” Becka called over her shoulder as she opened bottles of beer.

  Ryan sighed. “Sorry, make that a large veggie pizza.” She reeled off the address and hung up the phone. “Honestly, Becka, any normal person breaks down and eats junk food once in a while.”

  “I eat junk food sometimes,” Becka said defensively. “I got a turkey sandwich at the deli last week.”

  “Some people consider a turkey sandwich to be a healthy meal,” Ryan muttered.

  “That’s why Americans are in such pathetic shape. Only maybe ten percent of the people in this country eat properly,” she returned.

  “We can’t all live on lentils and wheat grass juice like you do.” Ryan poured them both glasses of water. “You’re a sick woman, Becka Landon.”

  “Oh, shut up and drink,” Becka ordered, handing her a beer. “We’ve got a pizza coming, what more do you want? Now let’s kick back on the couch and you can tell me what happened with loverboy this week.”

  “He’s not my loverboy. Anyway, first you have to fill me in on the new job.” Ryan stuck a package of popcorn into the microwave and punched the start button.

  Becka beamed. “It’s great. The team isn’t exactly clobbering the competition, but they’re all really young. It’s like watching puppies playing ball. They’re about that cute.” She took a swig of her beer. “A bonus I didn’t know about is that if any of the trainers for the Sox get sick, they call us up to the main club.”

  Ryan shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe you get paid for this.”

  “And paid well.” Becka laughed. “I keep waiting for someone to pinch me so I wake up. I can’t believe I’ve been so lucky.”

  “It wasn’t luck. You earned it, and you should enjoy every minute,” Ryan said. Behind her, in the microwave, the first kernels of popcorn began to pop. “At the risk of shooting a hole in your bliss, what’s going on with Scott?”

  “Speaking of waking up,” Becka said with a grimace. “I’ve decided to break things off with him. I’m telling him Monday night after he gets back from his muscle show.”

  “Really?” Ryan stopped to stare at her. “What happened?”

  Becka shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just cumulative frustration. The only person in Scott’s life is Scott. Everyone else, including me, is support crew.” She gave an impatient sigh. “Don’t get me started. It’s the same stuff I talk about every time. I’ve just gotten smart finally and realized that I deserve better,” she said decisively, pushing her red hair out of her eyes. “So tell me about Cade, it’s got to be more interesting.”

  “Yeah, there’s an old Chinese curse that says ‘May you live in interesting times.’” Ryan pulled the popcorn from the microwave and dumped it into a bowl. “Let’s go sit down,” she said, grabbing the beers and heading toward the living room.

  By the time the pizza arrived, they were sprawled comfortably on the couch and Ryan had reached the point in her tale at which she and Cade had arrived back home.

  “So we get to the house and I don’t know what to expect. I figure I’ll get
this big, heavy seduction routine again, and he just carries in my suitcase, gives me a peck, and wishes me sweet dreams.” She carried the pizza box into the kitchen and set it on the counter.

  Becka slanted her a look as she pulled plates from the cupboard. “You know, to a person who didn’t know you well, it would almost sound like you didn’t want the big, heavy seduction routine. Come on, this is me you’re talking to.” She set the plates down. “I don’t believe for a minute that you weren’t turned on by what happened in that hotel. Can you honestly tell me that if those people hadn’t come out onto the balcony that you wouldn’t have had sex with him? Can you?”

  Ryan looked down at the linoleum.

  “I didn’t think so. So my question is, if he wants to sleep with you and you want to sleep with him, then why aren’t you? I mean, this is exciting, romantic, all the stuff you’ve always talked about wanting. So why are you pushing him away?”

  “I don’t know,” Ryan said helplessly. “I don’t know if he really wants to be involved or if he just does it to bait me. I mean, this is my job we’re talking about, Becka. I don’t want to screw it up. And I really don’t want to make a fool of myself with someone I’ve got to work with.” She put a couple of pieces of pizza on each plate and carried them out into the living room.

  “So what do you think happened?” Becka grabbed a couple more beers and followed.

  Ryan blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know. He said he had an early meeting. Maybe he meant really early, you got me. It figures, you know? The one time I want him to make a pass at me, he doesn’t.” Sighing, she settled on the couch. “I suppose it was for the best, but jeez, you know, what’s really wrong with sleeping with him? It’s not like he’s my boss, at least not technically.” She stopped for a beat and threw up her hands. “What am I, nuts? I work with the guy. I’m crazy to be thinking about sleeping with him. But god, I just can’t get my mind off of it.”