by Beth Andrews
She couldn’t let him take that away from her.
“Mr. Montesano,” she said, putting on her cool, professional smile. “How can I help you?”
He walked toward her desk, all confidence and charm, his hands in the pockets of his dark dress pants, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbow. “First thing you can do is call me Leo.”
“All right. Leo.” And why did that sound too friendly? Somehow...intimate? She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised to see you.”
Surprised. Flustered. Confused. None of which did anything for her equilibrium. And if a woman didn’t have that, what did she have?
He grinned and she wished she was better at reading people because for a moment, he seemed self-conscious. Almost sheepish.
That couldn’t be right.
“I’m a bit surprised by it myself,” he said, casually glancing around, taking in her office. “Have you worked here long?”
He was surprised? What did that even mean? Did someone kidnap and blindfold him and drop him off in front of her building?
“Penelope?”
“Hmm?” She blinked. Realized he’d asked her a question. “Sorry?”
His dark eyes lit with humor. “I asked how long you’ve worked here.”
She had no idea. Being around him killed her brain cells. Seeing him reminded her of how stupid she’d been last night, what a fool she’d made of herself. Embarrassment came rushing in, swiftly and sharply, heating her cheeks, turning her stomach.
She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands so she picked up a pencil. Then, because she had, she was forced to hold it. “I started here just over seven months ago.” There. That wasn’t so hard. She even sounded normal. Hooray for her. “How did you know where I worked?”
“I looked you up on the internet.”
“You looked...” She shook her head, finally laid the pencil down. “Why?”
“The usual reasons.”
She almost sagged against her desk. Of course. She’d been right when she’d told Emilia he needed her professional assistance. He’d helped her last night and now he expected something in return for that kindness.
Nothing was free.
And if she was able to give him the help he needed, they would be even.
Smiling, she gestured for him to take a seat. “I usually handle only corporate accounts, but I’m sure if I can’t help you with your problem, I’ll be able to find someone who can.”
He sat. “My problem?”
She waved a hand. “Whatever issue you’re having with your taxes. Or your finances.”
“I’m not here for business.”
Her smile slipped. “You’re not?”
“Nope. I’m here to see you.”
That didn’t make sense. “You’re here to see me? But not for business?”
He nodded. “Now you’re catching on.”
She wasn’t. She was afraid she was running way behind. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
He leaned back, looking for all the world as comfortable as you please. “I’m here to see you in a personal capacity.”
“You want a personal favor from me?”
Leo laughed. The rich, low sound scraped pleasantly along her nerve endings. “I guess that’s one way to put it.” He sent her an easy smile, his gaze direct and open. “I’d like to ask you out.”
“Out?” she asked weakly, the word muffled by the sudden roaring in her head.
“As in out on a date,” he clarified. Must be he sensed that her brain had ceased working the moment he’d stepped into the room. Then again, he was probably used to having that effect on women. The power of a pretty face knew no bounds. “Dinner. A movie. Or we could go into Pittsburgh, see a show.”
Her throat dried. She couldn’t feel her fingers, had to lock her knees to remain upright. Date? Him? Absurd. They were too different. He was too good-looking. Too smooth. Too young. Too...everything.
And she was afraid she wasn’t nearly enough.
She leaned her hip heavily against the desk. “I don’t think—”
“Or we could start slow. Have lunch. Or even coffee.” His voice dropped to a husky, sexy tone that could strip a woman of her inhibitions. And her good sense. “It doesn’t matter to me. Just a few hours. I’d like to get to know you better.”
She shut her eyes. Counted to ten. But when she opened them, he was still there, broad and earnest and, it seemed, completely sincere. “Why?”
The word hung in the air, bald and loud and yes, desperate sounding. Too bad. She wouldn’t take it back even if she could. She was too curious to hear his answer.
“Because I find you interesting.” He stood and stepped forward, his body and her own pride trapping her between him and her desk. “Because I’m attracted to you.”
Her breath locked in her chest. A thrill raced through her before she could stop it. He was attracted to her? That...that was impossible. Implausible. Incredible.
And terrifying.
He edged even closer and she pressed against the desk, the rounded edge digging into the back of her thighs. “How about it, Penelope?” he asked, drawing her name out as if savoring each syllable. He trailed the tip of his forefinger up her forearm, his light touch like a flame along her skin. “Go out with me?”
Dear Lord, but he smelled wonderful, a mix of citrus and spice that made her want to breathe him in. And when he smiled at her, his eyes dark with intent, she wanted to believe in fairy tales. Wanted to believe in foolish dreams.
But fairy tales were for children. And dreams were for people who didn’t know better. She wasn’t some naive girl waiting for a handsome prince to sweep in and make her life complete. She was a mature, sensible woman with a teenage son who needed her time and full attention.
A mature, sensible woman who was wise enough to know when she was in over her head. Leo flustered her, and she hated being flustered. She doubted that feeling would ever go away, even if they went on a hundred dates. She needed to be the one in control. She liked knowing what the right thing to do and say was, and with him, she wasn’t sure she’d ever have that ability again.
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “Absolutely not.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HIS SMILE SLIPPING into bemused, Leo curled his hands into fists. He’d barely touched her, yet his finger tingled as if he’d been burned. “Excuse me?”
Her mouth turned down at the corners—not an encouraging sign. Nor was the little vee that formed between her eyebrows. He had an insane urge to smooth the wrinkle away.
As if reading his mind, she crossed her arms, her shoulders rigid, her body language pretty damn clear.
Back off, buddy.
Never let it be said he was a complete asshole. He shifted away and she exhaled softly, then circled the desk. His gaze dropped to the sway of her hips, the material of her gray skirt cupping her ass, the hem ending just above her knees.
She was all buttoned-up and untouchable, her hair a smooth, shiny cap, her black blouse tucked in neatly, her feet encased in a pair of ugly pumps. A far cry from the disheveled, tipsy, barefoot woman he’d helped yesterday.
He found that even more fascinating. Couldn’t help but wonder which one was the real Penelope Denning.
Couldn’t wait to find out.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she said, facing him, though her gaze landed somewhere above his right shoulder, “but I don’t date.”
He raised his eyebrows. “At all?”
Her gaze flicked to his, then away again. “No.”
“Is that a religious thing?”
“It’s a personal choice.”
Or a convenient excuse, an easy way to brush him off. “Are you seeing someone?”
“I hope you’re not one of those men who assumes that if a woman has no desire to go out with him, it must be because she’s already involved with someone else.”
At her scolding tone, the back of his neck warmed. He squeezed it. Ha
rd.
“I’m not. I don’t think that.” But then, he wasn’t used to being turned down, either. Christ, but that smacked of the big ego his brothers were always accusing him of having. He dropped his hand. “I’m just curious as to what I can do to improve my approach. Call me a lifelong learner. Always trying to up my game.”
She sighed as if putting up with him was too much for her to bear. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”
He grinned. “Then there’s no reason we can’t get to know each other better.”
“Actually, there are several valid reasons.”
He couldn’t wait to hear them. He liked her voice, how she spoke in such clear, light tones. “Such as?”
She stared at him, began fiddling with the top button of her black blouse. Maybe not so unruffled, after all. She wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her fingers; he imagined himself brushing her hand aside and undoing that button himself, parting the silky material to reveal what was underneath.
His blood thickened; his groin tightened, reminding him he hadn’t had sex in over three months. Three long months. Oh, he’d had opportunities. When a guy looked like him, there were always opportunities, always women willing to warm your bed.
He just hadn’t been interested in any of them.
Until now. Until Penelope with her vulnerability and sad eyes, her perfect posture and that sexy mole.
“Can’t think of those valid reasons, after all?” he asked, liking how her cheeks turned pink when he teased her.
“For one thing,” she said, sounding like a schoolteacher explaining why her students shouldn’t run in the halls, “I’m recently divorced—”
“Yeah?” He picked up a palm-sized paperweight from the edge of her desk. Embedded in the glass was a black butterfly with an orange loop for its body, colorful wings and the word Believe scrolled underneath. He wrapped his fingers around it. “How recent?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
He set down the paperweight. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
She stared at the paperweight, then huffed out a breath and moved it back exactly where it had been. “Over a year.”
“Not all that recent then.”
“May I continue?” she asked, her tone causing the temperature in the room to dip a good ten degrees.
He waved his hand, enjoying himself and her. “Please.”
“Thank you. As I said, I’m recently divorced—” she glared at him as if daring him to argue with her; he wisely kept his mouth shut “—and concentrating on my career.”
“I’m not asking you to quit your job. Just have coffee. During nonwork hours, of course.”
“I’m focusing on my career,” she repeated, “and my son.”
Son? Leo glanced around, almost expecting the kid to appear out of thin air. “You have a son?”
“Yes. He’s my top priority.”
As he should be. He’d never dated a woman who had a kid before, but he would never ask someone to put him ahead of her child. “Kids love me,” he said.
“How nice for you,” she said, her tone bone-dry.
He grinned, realized he sounded like an arrogant ass. “I meant, I like kids. It goes both ways.”
He was crazy about his nieces and nephew. Wanted kids himself someday. Kids, a wife, a big house and sprawling yard—the whole marriage-and-family deal. Someday.
Today, all he wanted was to take a pretty, smart, interesting woman out for coffee.
And that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.
“Looks like your reasons weren’t so valid, after all,” he said. “So, what day and time works best for you?”
“I’m older than you,” she blurted.
He slid his gaze over her face. Gave a small shrug. “And?”
“I’m thirty-eight years old. You can’t be more than twenty-seven—”
“I’m thirty-two.”
She slapped the desk in triumph. “Exactly.”
“It’s six years. Not sixty.” But it obviously bothered her. He didn’t get caught up in age, though most of the women he’d dated were younger. Much younger.
But still, he made sure they knew where he stood. He never made promises he had no intention of keeping and he didn’t string women along. He didn’t have to use tricks, flattery or lies to get a woman into bed.
He knew the game, that push and pull between the sexes. Women held all the cards. The way they looked and smelled, how one caress could bring a man to his knees, one kiss could have him begging for more. Leo could play, had a few moves of his own, could work the angles as well as anyone.
But he preferred the direct route. Less chance of mixed signals. Or hurt feelings.
“Look,” he said. “I’m not interested in trying to take you away from your son or career. I’m not saying we should run off and get married. I’m telling you I’m attracted to you and want to get to know you better. No strings. No commitment beyond a coffee date.”
She made a sound, as if the air were leaking out of her. “At least you’re honest.”
If that was all he could get from her, he’d take it. “What do you say? Coffee? I’m off tomorrow.”
She was tempted. For all her reasons and excuses, she was still tempted. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she nibbled on her bottom lip. But she linked her hands at her waist, as though afraid to reach for what she wanted.
“I see no reason for us to have coffee when neither one of us is looking for a relationship,” she said, not sounding the slightest bit disappointed, damn her. “What other reason is there for dating?”
“Because it’s fun? Because you get to meet new people, find out about their lives, get to know them?”
“I’m not interested in getting to know you.”
Her words hit him, sharp and truthful. Her eyes widening, she slapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks red.
Half grimacing, half laughing, he ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Nice shot. Please ignore any whimpering you might hear. It’s just my ego dying a slow and agonizing death.”
“I...I apologize,” she whispered, looking as if she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. “That was uncalled for.”
He lifted a shoulder. “If that’s what you think, how you feel, then it’s not uncalled for. But I am curious why you feel that way. As you pointed out, you don’t know me so you can’t possibly dislike me. My brothers say that takes at least a few hours of being in my company.”
If she got the joke, she didn’t show it. “There’s no point in going through the whole ritual of dating. We’re obviously ill-suited. We have nothing in common.”
“That’s a pretty big assumption considering we’ve only spoken for about an hour.”
“On the contrary.” She sat behind her desk, linked her hands on top of its glossy surface. “It’s a perfectly logical conclusion. You’re a firefighter. I’m an accountant. You run into burning buildings, I sit behind a desk and work with numbers. You probably have an extensive dating history while I was married for many years. You don’t have children. I have a son who needs my time and attention.”
“You’ve got this all figured out,” he murmured. “Seems to me, we have quite a bit in common already. We’re both single and live and work in Shady Grove. We probably know several of the same people, read the same paper and have maybe even watched the same films.”
“All of that is superficial,” she insisted. “After fifteen minutes we’d run out of things to talk about.”
Who knew under that prim exterior lay such a stubborn soul?
“I take it you and your husband were opposites?” he asked, remembering what she said yesterday about people needing common ground to make a relationship work.
She bristled so much, he was surprised she didn’t vibrate off her chair. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were very compatible.”
“Yet it still didn’t work out.”
With a sigh, she sank into
the chair, looking defeated. “No,” she said softly. “It didn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wanting to touch her, to offer her some small bit of comfort. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She shook her head briskly. Refusing his apology? Wiping it away? He had no idea. “Your...interest...in me is...”
He rocked back on his heels, waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “Annoying? Flattering?”
“Misguided.”
Not what he’d been expecting. “I honestly can’t wait to hear why.”
“My...behavior...yesterday at my house, how I acted...that wasn’t me.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me. It was your evil twin.”
“I don’t have a twin,” she said and he wondered if she was always this literal. “Only an older brother.”
He cleared the laugh from his throat. “My mistake.”
“My personality, my actions and...chattiness...when we first met were all a side effect of too much wine, which came as the result of a disappointing day. So you see, you’re not interested in me. Not really. The woman you came here to ask out doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t believe that woman doesn’t exist,” he told her. “And even if I did, it doesn’t matter because I’m finding this side of you, this woman in front of me, to be just as interesting.”
She flinched. She actually flinched. Yeah, his ego was taking a hell of a beating today. Time to give the poor thing a break.
“But it’s obvious you don’t feel the same,” he continued. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She stood and walked around her desk to accompany him to the door, careful, he noted, not to get too close to him. “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”
“It’s my time and I don’t consider it wasted.”
Other than the repeated, brutal rejections, he couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed being with a woman more. When they were both still fully clothed, anyway.
“I really do appreciate the invitation,” she said. “And that you went to so much trouble, seeking me out and dressing up...”
