The clicking of keys started again, making her turn. She found Mike hunched over a computer keyboard. Not that she could see the keyboard for all the papers and books, videotapes, and computer disks piled on the desk and spilling onto the floor. To his side sat a drafting table with pencil drawings scattered across its surface. More drawings hung from thumbtacks in the wall, creating a cartoon storyboard. Oblivious to the clutter, Mike stared at the glowing screen as if in a trance.
Kate’s temper, always quick to spark, ignited. “What are you doing?”
Mike jumped so hard he knocked his cereal bowl off the desk. The remnants of Fruit Loops and milk spilled over a stack of notes. Cursing, he grabbed a T-shirt from the back of his chair to sop up the pastel-colored milk. “Jeez, you could warn a guy when you come into a room.”
“Well, excuse me,” she tossed back sarcastically.
“Oh, man.” Mike lifted the once-white T-shirt, which he’d won from his favorite radio station for knowing the answer to the morning movie trivia, and stared at it in disgust. And people wondered why he wore so many Hawaiian shirts. At least with them, stains didn’t show. Even if he accidentally washed one with something red, who could tell? “I loved this shirt,” he moaned.
“Do you realize I’ve been waiting for you upstairs for half an hour?”
Confused by the whip crack in her voice, he glanced at the clock readout on his computer screen and wanted to kick himself. “Oh, Kate, I’m sorry. Really. I meant to come right back upstairs, but I needed to get this one email off and—”
“S-sorry!” she stuttered, as if trying to come up with something scathing to say. As words failed her, color flooded her cheeks and fire sparked in her eyes.
“I guess I got sidetracked,” he offered with a sheepish grin.
Her eyes narrowed. “Has it occurred to you that this”—she flung a hand toward the room at large—“might be the reason you aren’t married?”
The comment confused him enough that he glanced about the room, trying to see it through her eyes. Most of it looked fine to him, except for the work area, which was admittedly its usual mess. “You mean because I’m a slob?”
“No! Because you’re already married—to your work!”
“Oh, that.” He breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t said anything about remodeling his workroom. There were, after all, certain lines a man simply could not be expected to cross. And a workroom was sacred ground.
“If you’re serious about wanting to get married,” she said, “the first thing you have to learn is that some sacrifices have to be made. When a husband continually puts his career first, how can he expect his marriage to last? Nothing can survive that kind of neglect. Nothing!”
“I realize that,” he ventured cautiously, worrying for one terrifying moment if she were about to cry for some bizarre reason. She remained dry-eyed. “But, has it occurred to you that working hard is one of the ways a man shows his family he loves them?”
“God, I hate that excuse!” She balled her fists. “And that’s all it is. When a man works eighty hours a week, it doesn’t make his wife feel loved. It makes her feel ignored. And you!” She jabbed a finger toward him. “Are the worst. You’re not even married yet, and you’re already putting your work before your wife. Or did you think I could do this on my own? Just go out and hit some poor, unsuspecting woman over the head, drag her back here, and install her in your bedroom and kitchen while you stayed down here happily playing with your computer?”
“Whoa. Wait a second.” He held up his hands. “I have no intention of neglecting my wife.”
“Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Prove it,” she repeated. “Right now. Turn off the computer and spend one day, one whole day, without doing any work.”
He thought of the sketches he’d just promised to email the director for the futuristic robot he’d been hired to create. A year didn’t seem long enough to pull off the project, yet he only had three months remaining before the film went into final editing. All of the groundwork had been done, the major decisions made, but the actual animation process had barely begun.
One look at Kate’s face, though, and he knew that if he said no, he’d lose any chance he had with her. His choice was that simple—pleasing Kate or getting the sketches emailed on time.
“All right,” he said slowly, telling himself that one day wouldn’t make that much difference. He could make up one day. Cringing, he hit the keys to save and close the file. Then he picked up the phone and called the director’s mobile line. “Hey, Stan, this is Mike. About those sketches—I’d like to play with them a bit more and get them to you tomorrow.”
“Is there a problem?” Stan Kelly asked, then hollered at a key grip to move a boom stage left, not stage right. In the background, Mike could hear the special blend of noise unique to a Hollywood soundstage. Hammers banged while crew members shouted and actors ran through their lines.
“No problem,” Mike said when Stan came back on the line. “I’d just like to smooth out a few rough edges.” As he spoke, he glanced at Kate and noticed her wide-eyed look of disbelief. “I’ll be sure and get them off to you first thing in the morning.”
“Fine. I’ll tell the art department to expect them tomorrow.” Before the line went dead, Stan resumed yelling at the key grip.
Mike exhaled sharply as he set down the cordless phone. The idea of taking a day off left him feeling a bit lost. He glanced at Kate. “Well, I’m yours for the day. What are you going to do with me?”
She blinked once, then her face lit with a grin. “Shopping.”
“Shopping?” He tried not to grimace. “So soon?”
“Absolutely. By the end of today, we’ll have a whole new you.”
Personally, he didn’t see what was wrong with the old him.
Chapter 6
“I will not buy that shirt.”
“Mike.” Kate exhaled in exasperation. “There is nothing wrong with this shirt.” Holding it against his chest, she could see it would fit him perfectly, even if the lack of color did make him look a bit bland. Still ... “Every man needs at least one white dress shirt.”
“Why?”
“Because—” She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to strangle him. And here she’d thought Jim was stubborn? “Dress shirts can be very sexy. They convey an image of power, success, confidence.”
“In other words, a man isn’t successful unless he stuffs himself into a monkey suit?”
She took a slow, deep breath, then wished she hadn’t as the masculine scent of his soap and skin filled her senses. He’d showered and changed into a short-sleeve shirt and navy slacks before they left his house. While the shirt wasn’t precisely Hawaiian in style, it was a long way from conservative. She had to admit, though, the man looked great in bold colors. Unfortunately, she’d always had a weakness for the bold and dramatic. And the fact that they’d driven to the mall in his vintage orange Corvette hadn’t done anything to discourage her libido.
She forced her mind back to the issue at hand. “You hired me to market you as husband material. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the first step in selling a product is to give it an enticing package.”
“You’re saying women find stuffed shirts enticing?” He looked baffled at the thought. He also looked completely out of place surrounded by walls of conservative gray suits.
“I’m saying that women are subconsciously attracted to power. Not a pleasant statement, but a true one.”
“Power meaning money.” He smirked.
“Sometimes, yes, but not always. For some women, power can come from intelligence or physical prowess or even artistic talent. Trust me on this one, I’m something of an expert.”
“Part of your training as a Wife for Hire?” He gave her a teasing wink.
She shook her head. “Actually, one of my many majors in college was anthropology, so I’m basing this on what humans instinctually look for in a mate.”
She flattened her hand against his chest to hold him off. A mistake, she realized, since his hard muscles felt entirely too good beneath her palm. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about women in general.”
“I’m asking you, though.” He covered her hand with his. The touch sent tingles down her arm. “What do you look for in a man, Kate?”
“Dependability.” She jerked her hand away. “Honesty. Affection. A sense of humor. And most of all, a man who values family.” With angry jerks, she refolded the dress shirt and stuffed it back in the display case. “Which is why it really irritates me when men spout nonsense like you did earlier, about working hard being a man’s way of showing his family he loves them.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Let me ask you something. If you dislike workaholics so much, why are you trying to dress me up like a corporate monkey?”
“Because we’re not talking about my likes and dislikes. We’re talking about women in general. And—Where are you going?” She scowled as he turned and walked away from her.
When he refused to answer, she hurried after him through the mahogany tables stacked with sale items, down the polished marble aisle of the department store, and into the sportswear department.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he began riffling through a circular rack of brightly colored, long-sleeve shirts.
“Shopping.” He pulled first one shirt then another off the rack until he held a fistful of hangers. “Isn’t that what we came here to do?”
“Yes, but—” She broke off as a salesman rushed over.
“May I help you, sir?” the clerk asked a bit frantically as he watched Mike all but strip the rack of size-large shirts.
“Yeah.” Mike dumped the whole load into the man’s arms. “I’ll take these.”
“I— I’ll put them in the dressing room.” The salesman staggered slightly under the weight.
“No, that’s okay, just ring them up.” Mike moved to the shelves of casual slacks.
“Yes, sir!” The clerk beamed in the face of such a straightforward, take-no-prisoners approach to shopping.
Kate ground her teeth as the salesman trotted off. “I thought you agreed to let me pick out your new look.”
“I said you could help me pick out some new clothes,” Mike answered. “Not turn me into something I’m not.”
“I’m not trying to turn you into anything,” she insisted. Personally, she thought he looked darn near perfect the way he was, but she wasn’t the potential wife they were trying to please. “I’m just sprucing up the package.”
“Kate.” He turned to face her, his eyes so direct, she squirmed. “I can think of only two times in my life when I’ve worn a white dress shirt. Both times were for weddings, and, quite frankly, if they hadn’t been my sisters’ weddings, I doubt I’d have worn them then.”
“Well, dressing for a wife hunt is sort of like dressing for a wedding,” she offered. Except she had to admit, bright colors brought out the richness of his tan and the blond streaks in his hair.
“It’s still false advertising,” Mike said, pulling two pairs of slacks off the shelf. “I have no intention of lying to my wife, before or after the wedding. Now which of these pants do you like?”
Even at a glance, she could tell he’d picked one size too big. She turned to the shelves. “Try these.”
“You sure?” He took the pants from her. “They look a bit small.”
“Trust me, Mike. On this one thing, just trust me.” Putting the others back, he unfolded the pair she’d selected and held them to his waist. A mouth-watering image sprang to her mind of exactly how delicious he’d look wearing clothes that fit. She quickly turned away. “Okay. I don’t suppose you’d consider a few ties to dress up those loud shirts you just bought?”
“Actually, I like ties. But I get to pick them out.” He motioned to the salesman to come get the five pairs of pants he’d chosen, all of them in the size Kate had suggested.
“You know,” she said, “I never would have pegged you as a clotheshorse.”
“I’m not.” He grabbed three more pairs of pants and handed them to the clerk. “I just don’t see any reason to waste a lot of time on something that is basically cut-and-dried. I mean, who in their right mind wants to spend a whole day at the mall combing through every shop when you can walk into one good department store, get what you came for, and be done for the next five years?”
Kate rolled her eyes at such sacrilege. “Come on, we’ll pick the ties out together while we discuss a game plan.”
“Game plan?” he asked as she hooked her arm through his and dragged him back into the aisle.
“For finding you a date. Last time I checked, dating is the first step toward marriage.” Reaching the lit cases of ties, she selected a conservative stripe. “I don’t suppose you’d consider a dating service.”
“About as much as I’d consider buying that tie.” He shuddered.
“All right, no dating service.” She held on to the tie and looked for another one along the same vein. “I guess we’ll have to use the traditional approach.”
“Which is?” he asked as he perused a section of psychedelic silks.
“Work, church, social gatherings.”
He stopped his search long enough to glance at her. “I thought dating coworkers was considered politically incorrect.”
“Only if it doesn’t work out. And even then, it can be acceptable as long as you observe a few basic rules.”
“What rules?”
“You pick someone who works with you, not for you, although they shouldn’t work too closely to you, like in the same department. And you need to keep the initial flirtation very light and nonthreatening so the work environment won’t become awkward if they’re not interested. So, umm ...”—she gave the selection before her undue attention—“are you interested in anyone you work with?”
“Hard to say since I’ve just started a new project.”
“Project?”
“Movie project,” he clarified. “So far, everyone I’ve met on this film is either married or male—not exactly my type on either score.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” she said, glad to learn he respected marriage vows. As for the other, she’d never thought for a moment he was anything other than a one-hundred-percent heterosexual.
“How about this one?” He held up a tie-dye pattern so wild her head spun.
“Honestly?” She laughed, because the tie suited him so well. “I think it’s great, but most women would take one look at that tie and run the other way.” She sighed when he kept the tie and reached for one with flaming chili peppers. “Tell me about the people you’ve worked with on past movies. Have you been drawn to anyone in particular?”
He considered the question a moment, then shrugged. “Not in particular.”
“I take it that means you’ve dated several coworkers.” She felt her hackles rise.
“I’m not sure I’d even call it dating—exactly.”
“And what ‘exactly’ would you call it?”
“You have to understand”—he turned toward her—“making a movie is sort of like joining a family. The crew becomes very close for the time they’re thrown together, then they move on to the next project, sometimes together, sometimes not. There isn’t a lot of time for anything as formal as dating in the middle of all that organized chaos.”
“Not a lot of time for dating? Great!” She waved a hand through the air, fluttering ties. “That’s just great! And since you’re in the middle of a film right now, when exactly did you plan to squeeze in time to find a wife?”
“Kate ...” He caught her hand and held it still. Her heart leapt as she stared up at him. All amusement had fled from his eyes. “One of the reasons I want a wife is because I need someone to do what you did this morning—pull my nose away from the computer and remind me there
is a whole world out here that has nothing to do with the movie industry.” His thumb moved over the inside of her wrist, making her pulse jump. “As much as I enjoy what I do, I want more in my life than that. I need more.”
Staring up at him, she wondered if she’d been wrong; maybe he was interested in her. While the thought made her heart race, it also sent fear swelling up into her throat. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind trying to lift her off the ground. How easy it would be to leap forward with her arms spread just to see if she could fly. And how painful it would be to learn that she couldn’t.
Stepping back, she eased her wrist free. “Yes, well ... considering how much you enjoy your work, I think your best bet would be to marry someone else in the movie industry.”
He looked ready to argue, then shrugged. “If that’s what you think.”
“When will you meet the rest of the crew?”
“This Saturday. Some of the cast and crew are flying in from L.A. to start the location shooting. The alliance is hosting a big Welcome to Texas bash out at the Lakeview Inn, where the crew will be living for the next month.”
“The alliance?”
“The Austin Movie Alliance,” he explained. “It’s a group of local actors, producers, scriptwriters, and old crew dogs that meet every month to figure out ways to promote the film industry in Texas. The average person thinks most movies are made in California or foreign countries. They have no idea how many movies are filmed in places like Texas. The alliance has a lot to do with that.”
“Sounds like a fun group.”
“They are. And before you even ask, the answer is no, I’m not dating, sleeping with, or interested in anyone in the alliance.”
“Too bad.” She frowned at her own sense of relief. “Although the party sounds like the perfect opportunity for you to scope out a potential victim—I mean wife.”
“Cute,” he said with a smirk, then his eyes lit on something behind her. “Now this is what I call a tie!”
She tried to move away when he reached behind her, but found herself trapped between him and the counter. His nearness engulfed her, bringing her senses to life.
Dear Cupid Page 5
