Catch a Mate

by Gena Showalter

  “I’ll have your cubicles set up by the end of next week,” he said, getting them back to business. What would it take to purge Jillian from his system?

  He was afraid of the answer.

  “Right now,” he said, “we’re going to sit on the floor and play a game of cards.” He needed to relax and get his mind off his least favorite employee. “Loser buys the entire office lunch.”

  AFTER GEORGIA AND SELENE tired of her nonresponsive “yeahs” and “uh-huhs” and flounced away—she didn’t want to talk about Marcus’s favorite shade of lipstick and whether she’d “helped” him apply it—Jillian leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs under her desk. For several minutes, she simply simmered. Simmered and cringed and battled a need to cry, to scream. A familiar sensation lately.

  Marcus was her partner.

  He wasn’t just her boss, wasn’t just her greatest foe. Wasn’t simply the man she’d kissed and almost screwed against a wall. Would have screwed, if they hadn’t been interrupted. He was her freaking partner. Why had he chosen her? To make her miserable? Done! To make her quit? She was on the verge.

  God, if only Anne had given her a chance instead of shooing her away. By taking over CAM, Jillian would have had a ready-made income and a solid reputation to build on. If she opened her own place, however, she’d have to go into debt and would have no clientele for weeks, possibly months. That would be even worse than starting over at another agency and taking a pay cut. No, her reasons for staying were still valid, which meant quitting still wasn’t an option.

  Stuck, that’s what she was. With Marcus. As her partner.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  How was she going to survive both days and nights with him? He’d be tempting other women or watching Jillian’s every move. He might breathe on her, that sweet, warm breath that tickled her skin. Brush against her, a gentle caress, a hard touch. Already her heart rate quickened and her body warmed. Readied itself.

  He’d ruin her, that was for sure. Ruin her concentration, her peace of mind. Her good sense. Not that she’d demonstrated any of those things lately, she thought, shoulders slumping.

  Just then, her phone rang. Not wanting to talk to anyone but knowing she had to be professional, she placed the receiver to her ear. “Jillian Greene.”

  “Mom just called me,” Brittany said in lieu of a hello. “She was crying.”

  Not again. Jillian sighed and lowered her head onto her desk, pressing her forehead into the cool wood. “What’s wrong with her now?”

  “She put her profile on a dating site and so far no one has contacted her. She thinks all men hate her and no one finds her attractive.”

  “When did she post the profile?”

  “An hour ago” was the exasperated reply.

  “Dear God.” Inside her purse, her cell phone burst into a high-pitched crescendo. It was her brother’s ring tone. “Brent’s calling my cell. I’m not going to answer.”

  “He probably wants to talk about Georgia.”

  “No doubt.” Thankfully, the ringing stopped.

  A moment later, Brittany said, “Hang on. Someone’s on my other line.”

  “It’s probably Brent.”

  Brittany clicked over anyway. Silence claimed the line for over fifteen minutes. Jillian’s ear began to throb. She tried to work, to flip through the folder Marcus had thrown at her just before he’d entered his office. She tried to study the woman he was supposed to flirt with tonight, but her concentration was shot.

  Finally, Brittany came back onto the line. “Crisis averted,” she said happily.

  “What happened?”

  “You were right. That was Brent. Mom called him and he pointed out that she hadn’t pressed upload, so her profile never actually went live.” With barely a breath, she added, “Brent wants you to call him. He wants to know what Georgia’s wearing today.”

  Jillian’s lips twitched into a smile. “He’s such a perv.”

  Brittany laughed. “Yeah, but a cute perv. I just wish he’d get over Georgia and focus all that lechery on someone who’s actually available. She’s a nice girl and I like her, but I want him to have some stability, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Me, too.” They ended the conversation soon after and Jillian’s gaze slid to the wall clock. She sighed with relief. Lunchtime. Well, lunch for her. Since CAM employees didn’t arrive at work until late morning, they didn’t take lunch until later in the afternoon.

  Jillian stood, determined to hit the nearest restaurant even though she wasn’t hungry. Any excuse to leave. No way in hell she’d ask Marcus’s permission, though. Going into his office (which should have been hers), the very place she’d first tasted him, in front of the very men who’d witnessed her journey into ultimate stupidity/paradise…not going to happen.

  She stalked to Georgia’s cube, careful not to look toward the office. The blinds were closed, anyway. Her friend was talking on the phone while peering at her computer and frowning fiercely. She was muttering about “this stupid job.”

  “Let’s go to lunch,” Jillian whispered when Georgia paused for breath. She braced her hands on the side walls. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Georgia gasped and looked up. One hand clenched around the cell, the other fluttered over her chest. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Hang on,” she said into the phone. To Jillian she said, “Should I gather the others?” She began closing down the file she’d been reading.

  Jillian nodded. “Let’s go to Café Maxwell.”

  “Cool,” Georgia said, her frown easing into a grin. “It’ll be good to escape our cross-dressing boss.” Then her grin lost a little of its dazzle. “You do realize I can’t go to war with him now. He’d fire me.”

  “Yeah. He’s such a bastard.”

  “Should we tell him we’re leaving?”

  “I’m sure he ate his Smart Boy puffs for breakfast and can figure it out on his own when he sees our empty desks. Besides, informing him when we go on break isn’t one of his rules.”

  Georgia’s green eyes twinkled with wickedness. “I like how your mind works. See you there once I’ve rounded up the troops, then.”

  Jillian returned to her cubby, pausing a moment to see if she could hear what Georgia was saying to the person on the other end of her cell. Something like, “I didn’t answer my work line for a reason. I’m not going out with you.”

  Brent, she realized.

  She sighed and gathered her purse, clicked off her computer—thought she heard male laughter from Marcus’s office and flipped off the door—then quickly exited the building. She didn’t bother getting into her car; the café was just across the street. When the road cleared, she raced across, her flip-flops clacking rhythmically. The more distance she put between herself and CAM, the more relaxed she finally felt.

  This late in the day, between lunch and dinner and on a Saturday, to boot, she was able to snag a large empty table in back. The café was spacious, with square wooden tables, mosaic floor tiles in a dizzying array of colors and walls painted with murals of ancient Greek gods and goddesses. Jillian had always liked it here. A place of whimsy and art, of beauty and serenity.

  Georgia and the others arrived ten minutes later and all of them looked guilty.

  “What’s wrong?” Jillian demanded.

  Without a word, Georgia kicked out a chair beside her and plopped down. She crossed her arms over her ample chest. Selene, Becky, Danielle and Amelia did the same, expressions unreadable. And that’s when Jillian encountered a horrendous sight straight from her darkest nightmares.

  Marcus and his henchmen had come, as well.

  They were lined up, grinning wide, ridiculous grins. Even Marcus appeared happy. Had he been drinking? Jillian hopped to her feet, glaring at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I invited us,” Marcus stated unashamedly. He stalked around the table and claimed the seat on her left, careful not to touch her. “Now,
I want everyone to sit boy/girl, boy/girl. This is going to be a get-to-know-your-partner lunch.”

  Instantly a round of musical chairs ensued as everyone found their place. No one protested. Someone male said, “I prefer to do my getting-to-know-you horizontally.” The men laughed. The women pretended to be offended, but Jillian could tell they were amused. Grrr!

  “Since this is business, the company better pay the bill,” Jillian snapped. She’d needed time away from him, damn it, time to breathe without taking in his sinful scent. Time to just…be, without feeling his heat. Without imagining his hands on her body. But noooo. He’d managed to ruin that, too.

  “I’ll pay,” he said. “Happy?”

  She shrugged. She wasn’t happy, no, but her body sure was. Being next to him again stimulated every nerve ending.

  The men, she noticed, clapped and cheered and immediately ordered a round of beer. “Don’t let his generosity fool you,” Jake said. “He would have had to pay no matter what. He lost our poker game.”

  “Yeah, but I was going to pick up McDonald’s,” he grumbled.

  They’d been playing poker instead of working? So much for Marcus’s strict business ethic! Jillian waved the waitress over. “I’ll have a glass of Hpnotiq. No, I’ll have two. As soon as possible.”

  Marcus frowned at her, then held up his hand, stopping the waitress before she could flounce away. “She’ll have a ginger ale.”

  “I’ll have Hpnotiq,” Jillian insisted.

  His frown deepened. “You’re on the clock, Jillian, and we have an assignment tonight. You shouldn’t be drinking.”

  “You drank beer before our assignment yesterday and you didn’t complain about your friends ordering beer just now. I’m sure you believe in equality. If not, we can talk about a lawsuit.” She gazed pointedly at the harried waitress. “Make it three Hpnotiqs. And hurry. Please.”

  The gray-haired woman raced away before Marcus could stop her. She returned a short while later with the requested drinks. The requested alcoholic drinks. Jillian’s Hpnotiqs, and the men’s beers. The women placed their orders for diet sodas, then everyone ordered their meal.

  “You should like it that I’m drinking,” Jillian told Marcus. “Alcohol makes a woman easy, doesn’t it?”

  He only snorted.

  She drained the first glass in record time, followed quickly by the second, loving the taste of the bright-blue liquid as it burned through her. Ah, sweet relief. Maybe now she could be in Marcus’s presence without kissing—damn it, killing—him.

  After a few minutes passed, she propped her elbows on the tabletop and leaned forward. Her gaze circled the unwanted guests, keeping her attention off Marcus. “So. Are any of you married?” The question escaped her out of habit. She uttered it at least once a day, it seemed.

  “Hell, no,” said Adonis. She thought his name might be Kyle. “No,” said someone else. “Dear God, no,” said another. Rafe, the redhead, bellowed, “Not in this lifetime.”

  Jake didn’t say anything, but his expression was sad.

  “No bloody way,” said Marcus.

  She rolled her eyes. “A hazard of the business, I guess. None of the girls are married, either.”

  “I’m considering it,” Georgia offered in a soft, hesitant voice.

  “Is that a proposal?” Kyle asked, leaning toward her eagerly. “’Cause I accept.”

  “Hardly.” Grinning, she shook her head. “Who knows? I might decide to eschew the institution altogether.”

  He stabbed at his heart with his fist. “Just kill me, then. I no longer have a reason to live.”

  Georgia chuckled behind her hand before turning to Marcus. There was an evil glint in her eyes. “Oh, hey. I’m having a Heather Rae party next Wednesday. We’re going to do facials and apply makeup. Are you interested in coming?”

  “No,” he said, his voice heavy with self-derision. “I’m busy.”

  “Ah, but you’d look so good wearing cranberry eye shadow,” Jillian told him with an innocent smile.

  “I did like you in that lipstick,” Jake said.

  “Thank you, everyone. You’re too good to me.” Marcus winked at Jillian, his features completely relaxed, true humor in his eyes.

  The action surprised her. Feeling as if she’d been transported to another dimension, Jillian drained her last glass of Hpnotiq. Why couldn’t he have been this nice, this charming, when they had first met? He could have been, but he’d chosen not to and that knowledge made her irritation grow. “So who’s ready to break the ice? Anyone want to share their most recent bad kiss?” she asked, just to strike at him.

  “I have one,” Marcus muttered, losing his good humor.

  His friends snickered.

  Oh, God. She’d forgotten for a moment that they knew, that they’d seen her lip-lock with Marcus. Her cheeks heated. The waitress returned, thankfully, gaining everyone’s attention as she set down their meals. Jillian dug into her hamburger. She’d wanted a relaxing lunch; now she just wanted it to end.

  Silence passed between her and Marcus for a long while. Finally he said, “You shouldn’t have left the office without my permission.”

  “That wasn’t in your rules,” she reminded him without sparing him a glance.

  “It is now.”

  Of course it was. “Do I need your permission to go the bathroom?”

  “I’ll let you know,” he said, leaning into her. He didn’t say anything else.

  How could he smell so good? Jillian wondered.

  How could she look so bloody lovely? Marcus wondered. She was driving him insane! But, he had to admit, she challenged him as no one else ever had. She excited him, too.

  And wasn’t that just a pain in the ass? Why couldn’t she be like other women? Push him away completely or fall in love with his “aloofness” and, in turn, think that meant they were supposed to be together? He could forget her then. He could stop thinking about her at foolish times—like during a poker game with his friends, where he’d forgotten about his cards and folded with a full house.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jillian asked him quietly. For once, her tone was curious rather than infuriated. “Your face is all pinched with disgust.”

  “You,” he answered honestly, just as quiet as she was. “I’m thinking about you.”

  “Well, that’s nice.” She rolled her eyes—trying not to show just how much that hurt? “At least we feel the same way about each other.” He opened his mouth to comment, but she beat him to it. “So, what’s our assignment tonight?”

  “Did you not read the file I gave you?” He was annoyed by the way she spat the word our.

  “I meant to read it, but I got caught up in something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like family.”

  She probably expected him to complain, to tell her not to deal with family issues on company time. But he didn’t. He understood family and couldn’t help but wonder what problems hers was having. Irritating that he cared. “Our case is simple. The client suspects that his wife is going to bars and flirting with other men. I’m going to test her and see if she’ll pick me up.”

  “Well, well. I’ll finally get to see you in action. And not the Ronnie with an ie kind of action.” She popped a fry into her mouth. “Were you just blowing smoke in the conference room or do you really need a female partner to…I can’t even remember what you said we were supposed to do.”

  “Yes, I really do need a female partner.” He swiped one of her fries. “If I encounter a clinger, like Ronnie, you’re going to distract her so I can do my job. Believe me, you’re going to save me a lot of grief. I’m just pissed I didn’t think of this sooner.”

  “Oh, yeah. A clinger. I remember now.” She grinned, a true, genuine grin of amusement. “Had to deal with a lot of those, then?”

  “Too many to count.” He really did like her smile. Pretty, sweet, warm. And yeah, once again it turned him on. He was beginning to realize everything about Jillian turned h
im on. Angry, calm, humorous, didn’t matter. “It’s always been the worst part of the job. Well, besides telling the spouse what happened.”

  Just then, Georgia laughed and the sound of it floated across the table. He flicked her a quick glance. She was leaning into Jake, smiling up into his face as if he were her favorite brother in the whole wide world. Jake appeared highly amused, admiring, but not enslaved.

  The love of Jake’s life had died in a car accident a few years ago and Jake had yet to get over it. That’s why Marcus had paired him with Georgia. She was a beautiful woman. Exquisite, even, like the goddess paintings on the walls. Men fell at the altar of her beauty every day—her file said as much.

  He’d paired her with someone who could resist her.

  Marcus, too, would have been a good choice for Georgia’s partner. She did nothing for him. Once, she might have. But she lacked the intensity Jillian possessed, the…wow factor. And now that he’d encountered that intensity, that wow, nothing less would do for him. He focused once more on Jillian. Trying to do otherwise usually proved pointless.

  “Are you dating anyone?” The stupid question slipped from him before he could stop it.

  “No!” Jillian looked insulted that he’d even ask. A few of the others glanced over at them, but her dark glare had them turning away. “I wouldn’t have kiss—” She cut herself off and her cheeks reddened. She whispered, “I wouldn’t have let you borrow my lipstick if I were.”

  He liked that about her, such integrity—until he realized she didn’t plan to return the question. Did she assume he’d have kissed her even if he was seeing another woman? “I’m not, either,” he said stiffly.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Have you ever been married?” he pressed.

  “No.” She wrapped her delicate fingers around a water glass, sipped, didn’t face him. “Have you?”

  Finally, some interest. Except it was in a topic he didn’t want to explore further. “Yes.” He loathed the subject of his marriage and rarely discussed it. Not even with Jake. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t like Jillian’s answer had mattered to him. What did he care if she’d been married?