Bad Behavior
Page 10
“So are weasels.”
Eric rubbed his arm with one hand while he dribbled with the other. “Gee, my shoulder really hurts, now. Maybe I’ll ask her to nurse it for me.” He brightened. “Hey, maybe she’ll wear one of those nurse costumes.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Eric shot and missed the basket entirely. “You know what your problem is?”
“Other than you?” Dom asked, nabbing the rebound.
“I mean your problem with Delaney.”
“I don’t have a problem,” Dom ground out, dribbling the ball with unnecessary force.
“Okay, your nonproblem. Chicks dig successful guys and she thinks you’re a grease monkey.”
“Can’t imagine where she got that from.” And coming clean was going to be a tricky business. He’d let it go on too long, and yet she’d made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with a stuffy business guy. The guy he was. Well, except for the stuffy part. Glowering, Dom turned and began working his way toward the basket with Eric working to block the way. “You and your bright ideas.”
“Hey, it got you laid, didn’t it?”
And then she’d started dismissing him for no reason he could figure out. At least if she’d still seemed upset over what had happened before, he could understand. He’d know what he was up against. But she’d laughed and acted as if it didn’t matter to her, as if she’d forgotten all about him.
The hell she had, Dom thought grimly, remembering how her body had clenched around him when she’d come.
“So anyway, here at home she wants someone more serious, a guy with a real career.” Eric crowded Dom from the side. “Of course, everybody knows I’m a lawyer. Maybe you should just leave it to me. Women think lawyers are hot.”
Dom bumped Eric toward the basket with his shoulder. “Yeah? You don’t see anyone telling grease monkey jokes, though, do you?”
“Don’t start with that again. And would you please shoot before we hit retirement age?”
“With pleasure.” Dom neatly pirouetted around Eric and surged toward the basket, leaping to dunk it in. He caught the ball and handed it over. “Time’s up and I’m ahead. Let’s eat.”
DELANEY STARED AT THE photographs for the DataStor project, all pinned up to the wall in the conference room. It was no wonder Liz Prisco hadn’t selected one of the shots. Oh, they were in focus, the color was good, the product showed. However, they didn’t have any zip, at least not the type that DataStor wanted. No va-va-voom. Not that putty-colored computer hardware lent itself to va-va-voom. You had to think outside the box. So to speak.
The problem was that va-va-voom wasn’t Janet’s speed—she specialized in well-executed but conservative ads for conservative clients. Instead of going with what Delaney and Liz had planned, Janet had gone with her instincts.
And her instincts had been wrong.
“Can we do anything at all with these, Geoff?” Delaney glanced over at her art director, who stared broodily at the images.
“Nothing like what they want. I could spend a ton of time working them over with PhotoShop and we still wouldn’t have anything suitable. We’d be better off reshooting.”
“That’s what I think, too. I just wanted to confirm it with you.” She rose. “Okay, let’s call it good for now. You have to get home to that little bambino of yours. How’s he doing?”
“Andy? He’s great. He learned to roll over last night. We put him to bed on his back and he was on his belly this morning when we came in.” Geoff looked tickled pink.
“Atta boy, Daddio. Must be the genes.”
“It’s pretty cool. I mean, I love my wife, don’t get me wrong, but she’s the same person from morning to night.”
“Most people are,” Delaney said drily.
“But that’s the thing. I leave in the morning and Andy’s one person and when I come home at night he’s someone else. He’s changing that fast.”
“Just think, in a week or two he’ll be able to mow the lawn.”
“Or play baseball.” Geoff chuckled, sliding his notes together. He nodded to the shots pinned up on the wall. “You want to take these down?”
“I’ll get them. Why don’t you hit the road?”
“Thanks.” With a jaunty wave he walked out the door.
Delaney’s smile faded as she stared at the art. A reshoot would cost money, money the client would have no interest in paying, given that it was a result of a command decision by the Vision Quest staff.
She probably should have skipped Mexico and stayed for the shoot, she thought as she took down the art. The surge of annoyance was immediate. There had been no reason for her to stay home. All Janet had needed to do was stick with the plan, but she’d tried to show Delaney up and in the process created a rat’s nest of problems.
Delaney gathered up her folders and walked out into the hallway, her heels tapping on the hardwood floor. The pale maple gleamed under the lights, all the better to set off the glass-fronted offices, and the vaulted sage-green ceiling that curved overhead.
End-of-the-day quiet was settling in as one by one people headed out the door. It always made Delaney itchy. She much preferred the bustle of a busy midweek workday, when the adrenaline ran high. Now, even Janet’s office, only a couple of doors down from hers, was empty. Still, Delaney had one thing to finish before she called it a night, and little as she might want to, she needed to get to it.
The e-mail proposing the reshoot.
Reshoot, as in shoot the messenger, she thought, positioning herself at her desk and feeling frustration afresh. So the question was who to tell and how to phrase it. If Janet hadn’t been a complete idiot, ignoring my concept, wasting the client’s time, alienating their marketing staff and shaking their confidence in our artistic judgment, everything would have been fine. As a result, the cost of the reshoot should come directly from her pocket. “If only,” Delaney muttered, deleting the paragraph.
As much as she’d have loved to send it, it probably wasn’t the best idea. She needed something more measured. Firm but not judgmental. Reasoned but not defensive. A dry accounting of the facts and the conclusion. She skimmed over what she’d typed and nodded. “That’s better.”
“You talk to yourself a lot these days?”
Delaney glanced up.
And all the breath left her body.
Dom stood there in a charcoal suit and a royal blue and silver tie, looking tall and dark and…
Clean shaven.
She blinked and something skittered around in her stomach. No Vandyke, nothing in the way. And all of a sudden she recognized him, really recognized him, bone deep. It wasn’t Dom. For the first time since she’d run into him again she saw Jake. She could see that mouth that she’d adored, that clever, clever mouth that had laughed and smiled and kissed her until she’d melted. Something stirred in her belly, something giddy and delirious.
Something she hadn’t felt in years.
“Nice office,” he said, stepping over the threshold. “So this is what you do? Marketing?”
She nodded, wanting to give her voice a moment. “Branding campaigns. Convincing the consumers of America to buy, buy, buy.”
“I bet you’re good at it.”
“Getting people to buy?”
“Branding.” He walked up to a blowup of a magazine ad she had framed on her wall. “You did the GoMusic MP3 player campaign?” he asked in surprise.
Delaney straightened. “My boss and I. Ex-boss,” she corrected.
“Great graphics. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” She could feel her cheeks tint with pride. “We had a good team to execute it.”
“It takes a good leader to get results, no matter how good the team.” His profile was toward her, straight nose, clean jaw and that mouth, that mouth. And she still could barely believe it.
Jake—Dom—was still busy examining the prints. “You’re the one to blame for the Find Your Friends line for Friend-Net?” he demanded. “Th
ose commercials used to drive me nuts.” He laughed and moved to study the next framed print.
The one right beside her desk, she realized, staring at his dark hair. Her pulse began to thud. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.” He abruptly faced her and she felt the punch of that direct gaze like a physical touch.
Breathe, she told herself. It was simple enough—air in, air out. And if she did, maybe her heart would stop feeling as if it would burst out of her chest. “You’re dressed up,” she said faintly. Really up, she checked him out as he sauntered toward her. If it was an off-the-rack suit, she shopped at the five and dime.
The butterflies were back.
He shrugged, gave one of those easy smiles that made him friendly, approachable. Mostly. “I had a meeting in the area. And I seem to remember I still owe you money. I figured I’d stop by and take you to dinner, make it up to you.”
“Dinner?” She tipped her head. “I don’t recall loaning you dinner. I believe I loaned you 500 pesos.”
“You want me to pay you back in pesos?”
She snorted, on steadier ground now. “I don’t want you to pay me back in dinner rolls.”
“The dinner rolls are the interest.”
“You’re going to give me interest?”
His teeth gleamed. “Darlin’, you’ve got all my interest.”
Involuntarily, her lips quirked. “Anyway, I can’t go right now. I’ve got work to do.”
“It’s six. The rest of your office is empty. What do you have to do?”
“E-mail.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’ve got a tricky one that I have to send tonight.”
“Oh, I can help you with that,” he said circling her desk.
“What, write an e-mail?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you out of here, sure.” He walked up behind her to read what she’d written and whistled.
“What?”
“Well, you know how to write a message that packs a punch. Assuming you want to get this person fired or reprimanded. Are they your report?”
Delaney cleared her throat. “My boss, actually.”
“Ah. You might want to rethink the wording a bit.”
“I want to be clear.”
“Oh, it’s clear, all right. That you want to make your life hell, I mean. Take out the opinions, strip it to facts that you can support.”
She frowned. “How do you know so much about it?”
“I run a business.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m a man of many talents. Want me to demonstrate?”
“I’ve seen your talents, thanks.”
His smile widened. “Not all of them. Look, let me try something. You don’t have to send it if you don’t want to.”
Before she could get up, he’d leaned in and reached his arms around her to get at the keyboard. And all she could think about was the heat of his body so close to hers, his cheek practically brushing her hair.
She swallowed. “You type pretty well.”
“No fair reading,” he chided.
But she wasn’t reading. Instead, she was staring at his fingers in fascination. Long, strong, skilled.
Just how skilled, she knew from personal experience.
He thought and tapped at the keys, thought and typed some more. And she watched, albeit paralyzed with lust. Finally, he deleted a couple of spaces and stopped. “There. What do you think?”
That the heat of his breath feathering over her cheek was a hell of a lot more interesting than any e-mail to Janet. “It’s, um, fine,” she managed. Then she made herself really read it and blinked. “It’s less direct.”
“I think you need to be. Facts only, followed by recommendations.”
“That’s what I did,” she protested.
“You were ticked and that was coming through loud and clear. This is the same information, only less hostile. Send it to your boss and see what happens. Don’t send to the upper guys until you find you need to.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
She read it again. “You’re right,” she admitted. “It’s good.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” She shook her head impatiently. “Look, I’m going to send this.”
“Wait until morning if you’re not sure,” he suggested. “That way you can take another look before deciding for sure.”
“No, you’re right.” With a few brisk keystrokes, she launched the message. “There. Done.”
“Excellent. Now can we go to dinner?”
“I don’t see how I can cry off now.” She swiveled her chair around to look at him and realized as she did so that he was still bent down, his mouth right by hers. That delicious, tantalizing, entirely too tempting mouth. Without thinking, she reached out to touch his cheek. “You shaved,” she said with what she knew had to be the world’s goofiest smile.
“I was getting tired of the beard anyway.” He leaned in closer. “Time for a change of scenery.”
“It’s you,” she whispered.
“It always was,” he said, his lips almost against hers.
And then they touched.
There was no brush of beard this time, no unsettling reminder of the differences. This time, he felt the way he had when she’d known him before, his lips soft and delicious against hers. She wanted to taste but oh, she wanted to feel first, the slow brush of lip on lip, the smooth, amused curve of his mouth as she traced it with her tongue tip. And then his mouth was against hers hard, taking the kiss deep, tasting, tempting until it became her world, the same way it had when they’d been kids. But they weren’t kids anymore and she felt the tugging pull of want. She was Delaney, the one who called the shots, but this was one that she couldn’t walk away from, not here, not now.
All she could do was stay and take, the low quiver starting deep in her muscles. And as his mouth left hers, she caught a breath.
Slowly he rose, drawing her up with him so that they were standing, their bodies pressed together. But he didn’t touch, his hands didn’t rove, he just focused on her face, his fingertips on her cheeks, his lips roving along her jaw, down along her throat. It was an entirely different sensation than when he’d had the beard.
And she was utterly seduced.
At the impatient tap of heels in the hall, they broke apart, turning to the door. A heartbeat later, Janet stormed in. “What’s all this about a reshoot?” she demanded. “We can’t—” She stopped, staring.
“Hello, Janet.” Delaney swallowed. “I thought you’d gone home.”
“I imagine you did,” Janet said icily, eying Dom.
Delaney cleared her throat. “This is Dom Gordon, a friend of mine.”
Janet’s smile was thin as paper. “Nice to meet you. Delaney—” she transferred her gaze “—perhaps you can send your…friend to the lobby so that we can discuss this ridiculous proposal of yours.”
“Actually, I was hoping that Delaney and I could finish our discussion,” Dom spoke up. Delaney stared at him as he walked over to Janet, his hand out. “Dom Gordon, Gordon’s Auto.”
“Janet Whitcher,” she said.
“I was talking with Delaney about a new branding campaign,” he continued smoothly. “We go back a ways. Knew each other in school.”
“Oh.” Janet’s expression thawed. “A new branding campaign?”
“Everybody’s got to do one sometime and it’s overdue for us,” he said. “Right, Delaney?”
She stared at him. “Right,” she said faintly.
“Anyway, we were going to continue talking about some options over dinner.”
“Gordon’s Auto, you said?”
“We’re figuring on a big campaign.”
An ambitious gleam flickered in Janet’s eyes. A new client, a big campaign—a way to look good. Suddenly, she was all sweetness and light, Delaney saw incredulously.
It was practically like being pushed out the door by a match-making mama. Delaney fought to keep a straight face as she walked out with Dom under Janet’s approving gaze. He’d been so smooth, he’d gotten Delaney off the hook completely.
They didn’t speak as they walked down the hall and pushed the call button for the elevator. The minute the doors closed, though, Delaney leaned against the wall and burst into laughter. “Did you see her face?” she gasped. “One minute she’s ready to attack, the next minute she’s fawning all over you. That was priceless.”
Dom pulled her in against him. “You’re priceless.”
“No, you are,” she said and pressed a smacking kiss on him even as she shook with mirth.
And he was. He’d just bailed her out big-time. It wasn’t free, of course; it basically meant seeing him, at least a little. And granted, she hadn’t intended to, but she’d never been particularly good at sticking with plans anyway. And he looked so good—he tasted so good—that she couldn’t really see the point in saying no. They could set limits later. Dinner and sex for one night wouldn’t hurt a thing.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked. “We could go fancy or scare up some tacos for old time’s sake—” he leered “—or maybe we should just go to my house.”
“Your house?” It wouldn’t be dinner, she thought as he ran his hand down her back and over her ass. Then again, she wasn’t sure she cared.
“I dare you,” he said softly. “Anyway, you owe me. I made you look good to your boss.”
The elevator doors opened to the parking garage. “You didn’t make me look good, you know,” Delaney told him as she stepped. “You’ve got me in deeper, now that I think about it.”
“How so?” he asked. “My car’s over here, by the way.”
“Your idea of a major campaign is different than Janet’s.”
“I doubt it.”
“Depend on it. GoMusic, remember? You’re thinking local papers, maybe local TV. She’s got national spots dancing through her head.”
“West and Midwest, maybe.” His voice was thoughtful. “The East will have to wait until after the IPO.”