“Do I pay you that much money?”
“Hardly, but that's why God invented financial analyst boyfriends.”
Xandra arched an eyebrow. “As in plural?”
“I don't do singular. They're too complicated. That way if one breaks your heart, you've got the other for backup. And for that extra pair of Manolo Blahniks. Shoes make the whole heartbreak thing a lot less painful.”
“Don't you think it's a little inappropriate to take such expensive gifts from men?”
“Maybe.” Kimmy shrugged. “I don't really think about it. It's not like I ask for anything, or even expect anything. The men in my life are simply in tune to my likes and dislikes and I make them happy, so they want to make me happy in return. I don't see anything wrong with that, do you?”
Xandra saw all kinds of things wrong with it for herself. Then again, none of the men she'd ever slept with—three including Beau and their five-minute marathon—had ever been so wowed they'd wanted to say thanks for anything she'd done in the sack.
She opened her mouth to ask exactly what Kimmy did, and how she did it, that earned her such expensive gratitude, but then she forced her lips together. The whole image thing again.
Xandra turned her attention to the copy for the new Cosmo ad scheduled to run in the next edition. “Tell the agency that this is a go.”
“Will do.” Kimmy slid a folder overflowing with documents in front of her. “This is your to-sign stack. And when you're done, Albert's in the conference room. He said he really needs to speak with you.”
“About the new project?”
“I don't know. He just said to ask you to stop in on your way out.” She glanced at the empty carrot bag on Xandra's desk. “I've got more carrots in the break room if you're still hungry.”
“I'm starved.”
Kimmy smiled. “I'll get them before I head home.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I'm going out with Mike the mechanic tonight.”
“I thought you only did financial analysts?”
“I'm roughing it tonight. Besides, after all those smooth, manicured hands it's nice to feel a few calluses.” She gave a little shiver before turning her attention back to the carrots. “So do you want them sliced or whole?”
“Either.”
“Del Monte or sun-drenched Floridian?”
Okay, so even her carrot sticks had a brand name.
“Your choice.”
“I prefer Del Monte. They've got a fresher taste.”
“Sounds good to me.” Xandra watched Kimmy leave before closing her portfolio and turning her attention to the cost analysis her accountant had e-mailed her.
She stared at the blur of numbers and her stomach heaved. She hated the financial end of the business. She much preferred sketching a new design or researching materials or brainstorming packaging concepts. Which was why Wild Woman had started out as a temporary entity. A means to an end. The way for her to gain the attention of the big boys in the sex business, and prove to them that she was the best.
She was almost there. A few more weeks she'd have a perfected Mabel and she could kiss the cost analysis sheets good-bye forever.
In the meantime…She tamped down her churning stomach and concentrated on a particular row of numbers.
Forty-five minutes and a full package of carrots later, she approved the analysis, e-mailed her response, packed up her briefcase, and headed down the hallway. She was about to step into the elevator when she remembered Albert.
“I'm so sorry,” she blurted as she pushed open the door to the conference room where her team met for their weekly brainstorming sessions. “I got so busy that I almost forgot you…” Her words faded as she stared at the gigantic conference table.
Gone was the brass replica of her very first vibrator design. The marble top had been covered by a white linen tablecloth. A gold candelabra fitted with five slim white tapers stood at the center. The candles cast a play of light over the table, which was laden with every chocolate dessert imaginable.
There was decadent fudge cake. Scrumptious chocolate cream puffs. Rich chocolate brownies. Chocolate bonbons. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Chocolate mousse. Chocolate truffles. Chocolate.
The scent spiraled around her and slid into her nostrils. Her taste buds panted and every nerve in her body jumped to life. Her heart raced and her blood rushed almost as fiercely as it had the night before when Beau had been this close and she'd been that close.
She licked her lips.
“Do you like it?” The voice came from her right and she turned to see Albert standing just inside the doorway, an expectant look on his face.
“Are you kidding? I've had the neighborhood weight watch babysitting me for nearly a week. I can't even remember what a good piece of chocolate tastes like.”
“I know how much you love it, and while I know you're freaked out about the whole ten-pound weight gain, you're also under a lot of stress. Depriving yourself isn't the answer because then you'll just want more and when you finally give in to the craving, you'll be out of control. This way you can indulge while you're in control.”
It made sense.
“Besides, ten pounds is nothing.”
“Ten pounds is definitely something.” But at least it wasn't twenty pounds. And just because she might treat herself to a few bites didn't mean she'd totally shucked the idea of switching to a healthier craving substitute. It wasn't as if she were going to pop a brownie every time she wanted a smoke. This was a one-time thing. A treat for the past forty-five minutes she'd spent in cost-analysis hell. Some much-needed satisfaction after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning and thinking about Beau Hollister and how good he'd tasted.
She reached for a chocolate brownie. Sweetness exploded on her tongue and she groaned as she sank down into a chair. Okay, it wasn't Beau but it ran a pretty close second.
“Try these.” He held out the platter of cream puffs.
“Wonderful,” she said in between bites. To hell with Beau. “Too good for words.” She sampled each of the decadent desserts, relishing the sweet taste of sugar and rich cocoa, before reaching for the glass of wine he'd poured for her.
“If you liked that,” Albert told her, “wait until you get a mouthful of this.” He rounded the table to a small sideboard he'd set up. A few moments later, she heard the sizzle of fire and he turned back to her with a flaming plate. “The evening wouldn't be complete without the ultimate dessert. A rich, moist chocolate flambé.”
A few seconds later, the flames died down enough for her to spoon the dark, velvety cream into her mouth. She closed her eyes as the luscious taste sent a buzz along her nerve endings. “Why am I wasting my time with Mabel? This is the ultimate orgasm.” She savored another bite. “You're such a lifesaver. I needed this in the worst way.”
“I knew that.” The seriousness in his voice drew her attention. “I know you.”
She eyed him. “What are you talking about?”
“Since the dinner invite didn't work—”
“What dinner invite?”
“After the first planning session for Mabel, I suggested we have dinner.”
“You always suggest we have dinner when the team works late. People have to eat, after all.”
“I meant dinner, as in just you and me. Alone. Together. Us.”
“Oh.”
“But since you didn't get it, I thought I would bypass the whole five-course thing I had planned and go straight to the good stuff. I thought we could have a little dessert. And then maybe a little dessert.”
“You and me and dessert?”
A strange awareness crept up her spine as her gaze swept the room again, from the flickering candles, the immaculate white tablecloth and silver dishes, to the slow sweet evocative ballad by INXS pouring from a nearby CD player. It had been one of her favorite songs back in high school because of its powerful lyrics about worlds colliding and how nothing could ever tear two people apart.
Funny, but she hadn't noticed
the song before. She'd been too overwhelmed by the sight and smell of chocolate. But there it was, filling her ears and easing the dull throbbing of her temples the way the chocolate soothed her hunger.
“You like chocolate,” Albert went on, “and so do I. You like music and so do I.”
“I like Aerosmith. And Nickelback. And Beyoncé. And anything I can dance to.”
“Which includes this.”
“I never dance to this. I just listen to it. I like eighties music, too.”
“That's beside the point,” Albert told her.
“Which is?”
“We like a lot of the same things, Xandra. We both love Science Digest. We both get off on watching the New Invention channel. Not to mention, we both love the Jerry Springer show—”
“I just like to make fun. I don't actually enjoy it.”
“Right. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that we like the same things and we think the same way. And you're the smartest woman I know. You're attractive and you've got a great business sense. You're a whiz with numbers.”
“I hate numbers. They make me nauseous.”
“It doesn't matter. You're good with them anyway, and so am I.”
“Since when do you mess with any numbers?”
“I've never once had a bounced check and I can mentally tally my groceries and the seven percent sales tax before I get to the checkout stand.”
“And you're pointing out all of this because?”
“Do you like me?”
She frowned. “Of course I like you. You're one of my best friends.”
“Exactly. I'm one of your best friends because of all the things I just mentioned. Plus I'm creative and so are you.”
“You're very creative.”
“And I'm smart.”
“You are. You're one of the smartest men I know. And you're sweet, too.”
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“We're two for two with the Holy Commitment Trinity. We share the same interests. We both respect each other.”
“There's three points to the Holy Commitment Trinity, not two.”
“I know. The great sex part. That's what this is about.” He turned toward the table. “Seducing your taste buds is the first step to seducing the rest of you. I feed your deprived senses and you turn to putty in my hands. At least that's how it's supposed to work according to The Sensitive Seductress, which Chuck swears by.”
“What does Chuck have to do with this?”
“He's on this grandchildren kick, and since you're worrying over the whole baby thing, it got me to thinking that we could kill two birds with one stone—satisfy the grand-baby craving and utilize your eggs before they lose their potency.”
“I really appreciate the offer, Albert, but I don't think…” Her words faded as several things registered at once. Music. Chocolate. Grandbabies. Babies. Dessert.
“You're seducing me,” she blurted. “Ohmigod, you're actually trying to seduce me. You are, aren't you?”
“I think that's obvious.”
“But it wasn't.” Her smile widened as the truth stopped her cold. “I didn't have a clue. Until after I'd eaten some of everything on the table.”
“I don't know if I'm following you.”
“Don't you see? I was suckered into consuming a load of chocolate before I realized what this was all about. It was so subtle that I just didn't get it. So alluring. So romantic.” She spooned another bite of chocolate cream into her mouth before getting to her feet. “You're a genius, Albert.”
He smiled. “Really?”
“Definitely.” She grabbed a brownie and kissed his cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
“You're leaving? But what about killing two birds with one stone? I thought maybe we could start now.”
“I really appreciate all of this, but I just don't think we make a Holy Commitment match.”
“Not now, but if we do it a few times, who knows?”
“There's just no chemistry between us.”
“Maybe there could be if you gave it a chance.”
“We spend so much time together, if things were going to spark, they already would have. I just don't think of you like that.” She touched his shoulder and his gaze met hers. “Can you honestly say you think of me like that?”
He wanted to say yes. She could see it in his eyes. But in all the time they'd known each other, they'd always been open and honest. “You really don't feel any chemistry?”
She shook her head. “Not really.” She eyed him. “Are you mad at me?”
“Yes. No.” He shook his head. “I'm not mad. Disappointed, maybe. But not mad. I still think you're being hasty. We're perfect for each other in every other aspect. If we hook up, you wouldn't have to waste your time finding someone. And I wouldn't have to waste my time, either. We would have each other.”
“We already have each other. We're best friends.” She eyed him. “We are still best friends, right? Even if I don't help you and Chuck out with the grandbaby dilemma?”
“We'll always be friends.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Then can I borrow your blowtorch?”
Chapter Thirteen
For a woman who'd been rejected less than twenty-four hours ago, Xandra looked extremely happy.
Too happy in Beau's opinion.
She even said hello to him as she came up the front steps and picked her way past the construction clutter.
“Mary Caskell,” he said when she bent down to pick up the zucchini and mushroom quiche sitting on her doorstep. “From three houses down.” He pointed. “She said to tell you to call if you need to talk. Or if you're tempted to eat.”
Her smile faltered for a few heartbeats as she glanced in the direction he pointed. She cast another quick look over her shoulder as if someone might be watching her before turning her attention back to the door.
“Thanks.” The smile returned as she opened her door and set both her briefcase and the dish just inside. Then she headed back to the car to retrieve a very large cardboard box.
“Let me help you.” He set his sander aside and caught her halfway up the walk.
“That's okay. I've got it.”
“It looks heavy.” He reached for the box, but she held it out of reach.
“Believe me, it's not.”
“Look, I don't mind giving you a hand.”
“I don't want a hand.” She gave him a wide berth as she headed up the front steps. “Thanks anyway.”
“Look, maybe we need to talk about yesterday.”
“Have you reconsidered?”
“No, but I just want you to understand why.”
“Women want commitment and you're afraid I might turn into a stalker. That's it, isn't it?”
“Well, yeah.”
She smiled again. “It's okay. I understand.”
“Really?”
“Completely. A man has to look out for his best interests and it isn't like you really know me. I mean, you did know me, but I could have changed. Morphed into some crazed woman who has sex, then ends up boiling your pet rabbit.”
“I don't have a rabbit. I've got a Lab named Lola, and I doubt she'd fit into a pot.”
“Where there's a will, there's a way. The point is, you have to be careful. I understand that.”
“Good. I just wanted to make sure things were clear between us.”
“Crystal.” She turned to the house before pivoting back to face him. “But I do need to talk to you about the plans for the renovation.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not really. I just didn't see any mention of the den.”
“We're doing the standard repair and replacement on all the weathered wood.”
“But I was thinking that the room looked sort of blah and since you're an architect, maybe you could suggest something to give it some pizzazz.”
“This is a restoration project. We're not renovating.”
“Just some suggestions. Maybe differen
t flooring or new paint colors or some interesting trim or something to spice it up. After all, you're the expert.”
“I'm still pretty busy right now.” He turned to see Warren load the last of the tools into the back of one of their trucks. The man waved and said “I'll see you tomorrow,” before climbing into the truck.
Her gaze followed his. “Looks like your guys are finished for the day.”
“Yeah, well I'm not.”
“That's okay. Just knock when you're done.” She disappeared before he could tell her any of the number of reasons why he couldn't help her out.
Sure, he'd all but finished sanding the remaining pieces of trim outlining the porch—a day ahead of schedule. But he still had to head back to the office to check the status on the other jobs in progress and go over the requested supplies for tomorrow's schedule. After that, he was due at the hospital to see Evan. Then it was home to feed and water Lola. His youngest brother, Jake, would be calling later tonight. Jake always called on Tuesday. Hank on Wednesay. Mac on Thursday. That's the way it had always been since the three had gone off to college years back, then out into the real world.
Beau had responsibilities, and they didn't include playing personal architect to Xandra Farrel.
“If I were you,” he told her a little while later after knocking on the door and following her into the den, “I would consider adding some bookshelves and turning this end of the den into an office.”
While he had responsibilities, he was a full day ahead of schedule, which meant he had the time. And she had commissioned him to do the restoration on her house, which meant he was being compensated for his expertise. On top of that, he couldn't help but get the feeling that she was up to something, and he was curious.
“Bookshelves?”
“A freestanding bookshelf custom-made to fit this space.” Beau stared at the massive wall and his brain started to work. “Something in oak with detail to match the frieze work on the ceiling molding would be nice.” When she arched an eyebrow at him, he added, “I make furniture. Bookshelves, desks, chairs, tables—everything. It's a hobby. So if you want my opinion, I don't think I would alter the structure. Instead, I would fill the space with something that complements the detail that's already here.”
Sometimes Naughty, Sometimes Nice Page 13
