Mad About You

by Joan Kilby

“Firewall at your service.” She saluted smartly, then nervously bustled around, getting her coat out of the hall closet. “I asked Martin to call us a taxi. It’s probably here already.”

  Scott held her coat and she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “If you’re going to pretend to be my girlfriend we should observe the formalities, right?”

  “Right,” she said casually, as if she weren’t hyperaware of him standing so close. She turned and smoothed down his collar, fascinated by the pulse beating in his tanned skin at the base of his neck. What was she doing noticing his body in such detail? Yet she found herself adding, “We might have to hold hands or something, too.”

  He reached for her right hand and entwined his long fingers with hers. The warm pressure of his palm against hers sent a shimmer of electricity up her arm. “This feels strange.”

  “We’ll just have to pretend to like it.” She paused, wondering how far she could push this. “Maybe you should practice putting your arm around me.”

  “Like this?” He slid his arm around her waist and turned so they faced their reflections in the hall mirror. “We could pass for a couple.”

  “I guess.” Cassy forgot to breathe. Scott standing so close, with his hard body pressing into her side, sent tingles over, through, and around her, like a rising spiral of cartoon sparkles in some damn Disney movie. But hell. It was magic to be dressed to the nines and going out with the most wonderful man in the world.

  Daryl had been a nice guy—stable and kind—and he’d adored her. But something had been missing. Something was always missing with other guys—the spark that got her hot and bothered and sent her out of control. Sex was usually…competent. Often good, but rarely great and never spectacular. She knew what brought her to orgasm and she wasn’t shy about asking for it. But just once she wished a man would know intuitively.

  Just once she wanted fireworks, rockets going off, a moon launch in her bed.

  Gazing into the mirror, she mentally stripped away Scott’s suit. It almost felt indecent to do that to a friend but she couldn’t help it. Her imagination filled in the gaps in her knowledge. Broad shoulders, sculpted chest and abs, long and muscular legs. For a guy who spent so much time in front of a computer or a microscope, he had a great body. Besides his mountain biking, he kept fit by working out. His apartment was equipped with a gym and so was his workplace.

  What kind of woman turned him on? She’d met a few of his girlfriends, but they never lasted long enough for her to get to know them well. Mostly, they came from his mountain bike crowd—tough, athletic women with muscled bodies.

  Unlike her. She was round and soft and could stand to lose five pounds. Or ten. She should start using his home gym while she was here. Her fingers made a cautious exploration of his waist under the guise of renewing her grip. Beneath his shirt, she could feel nothing but hard muscle and bone.

  “Cut it out,” he said, squirming. “You know I’m ticklish.”

  She yanked her hand away and took a step back to press the elevator button. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was groping him. “We should go.”

  He straightened his jacket. “Do you think we need to practice kissing?”

  “Oh, God no.” If she kissed him, she didn’t know if she could hide her feelings. And she didn’t want those feelings to become a problem. Scott was a man on a mission. He’d be horrified if he knew what she was thinking right now, that she’d love to blow off the cocktail party and spend the evening in bed together.

  Forget her dream of fireworks, even supposing her fantasies about Scott came true. Their friendship had survived intact for twenty years. She wasn’t going to do anything stupid to screw that up.

  …

  Scott felt slightly queasy as he stepped into the lounge of the luxury hotel with Cassy on his arm. Around two hundred people were gathered among the potted palms below the three-story atrium. Maybe two hundred and fifty. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, but crowds gave him hives. The noise had a lot to do with it. Give him the peace of the forest, the quiet click of computer keys, or the genial laughter of a few close friends any day.

  He seemed to be the only person in the room who didn’t want to be here. The faces of the other guests were animated and the air buzzed with conversation, almost drowning out the jazz piano that played in the corner. All around them, people sipped from champagne flutes or highball glasses and nibbled on canapés.

  Scott stopped a passing waiter who carried a tray of champagne flutes and snagged a couple of drinks. He passed one to Cassy and scanned the room. “Do you see her?

  “Not yet.” Cassy took a sip and did her own survey.

  Scott flicked his fingers impatiently at his side. The sooner he made polite chitchat with Lorraine Dempsey, the sooner he and Cassy could get out of here and Cassy could put on something less revealing. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts took when she leaned over. He should have insisted she wear something more dignified, like an Amish dress and bonnet. Or a sweatshirt and cargo pants. Even her cat pajamas would be preferable.

  “Stop it. Why are you so nervous?” She grabbed his snapping fingers and held them. “You’re acting like a teenage boy in a brothel.”

  “She’s not here. Let’s leave.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I did some income projections today. We’re not talking millions of dollars. If your Dreamcatcher takes off it’s potentially worth billions.”

  “Not if, when.” Unobtrusively, he laced his fingers through hers, using the pretense of being a couple as a reason to hold her hand. It made him feel grounded to know his buddy was at his side. Someone he could actually talk to. And if he stood next to her he wouldn’t be constantly staring at her breasts. “I did my own calculations. They were rough but I figure in two to five years I’ll be in Microsoft and Apple territory.”

  “I’m upping my pay to ten percent of gross,” Cassy said. “Forget working for salary. I want a piece of the action.”

  “Okay.” As long as she found an angel investor for him she could have whatever she wanted. This deal meant everything to him, and not just for the money. It would be the culmination of years of work, and if successful, a vindication to all the folks who told him the Dreamcatcher was science fiction, an impossibility.

  And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of him wanted to show his father that he didn’t fucking need him.

  “Okay? Just like that, okay? I was joking.” She cupped his jaw and dragged his face to hers. “Why won’t you look at me?”

  Because your high heels bring your plump red lips mere inches from my mouth and that makes my palms sweat. Which was nuts. He was never nervous around women. Why was he freaked out just because Cassy had put on a hot dress? “You can have fifteen percent.” Just stop making me look at you.

  “Cripes, Scott. That’s no way to negotiate. When we find Lorraine you’d better let me do the talking.”

  He nudged her shoulder as a ripple in the crowd indicated a new arrival of importance. “Twelve o’clock.”

  Lorraine Dempsey, if this was indeed her, was big in every sense of the word—body, style, and presence. Tall and well-upholstered in Empire-line navy chiffon, with her dark-brown hair styled into a bouffant flip, she parted the crowd like Moses crossing the Red Sea as she made her way toward them, her all-male entourage in tow.

  Scott whistled under his breath. “Holy shit. She looks like she could bust my balls with her pinkie finger. She’s younger than I expected.”

  “She was forty-three last March. Born in Perth, Australia. She took over her father’s company after he died in 2001.” Cassy reeled off the facts she’d gleaned from the Internet. “Married three times but currently divorced. She likes to hunt, drink, and shoot trade unionists for fun.”

  Lorraine Dempsey stopped in front of Scott and Cassy. Her trio of male companions halted two steps behind her. The big, burly guy was probably a bodyguard. The slight young man in glasses could be a PA. The third man was middle-aged with a ve
ry white smile. Scott recognized him from political billboards at the last state election. From the corner of his eye, Scott spotted a small ring of onlookers and hangers-on watching them. The paparazzi also hovered, snapping the occasional photo, flashbulbs popping.

  “Scott Thornton, I presume. I hear you’re the sexiest man in Seattle,” Lorraine drawled in a gravelly Australian accent as she gave him a thorough once-over. “I reckon whoever gave you that label got it right.” She winked. “They also say you’re the smartest bloke in town. And that you’re into mountain biking.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Dempsey.” He shook her hand, liking her straightforward manner. “I’ve heard lots about you, too. This is Cassy, my financial consultant and, um, girlfriend.”

  “Scott’s more than just a pretty face,” Cassy said. “He’s a nanotechnology engineer, inventor, and entrepreneur. He’s got an exciting new product almost ready to launch. We’d love to tell you more about investment opportunities.”

  “I’m interested but not in the mood for business talk tonight. You can speak to Tod about setting up a meeting.” Lorraine beckoned over her shoulder and the young man with wire-rimmed glasses came forward, pulling out his BlackBerry. Then she linked her arm with Scott’s. “You and I can chat about mountain biking. I’d love to try it and I’ve heard the Pacific Northwest is the place to do that.”

  “I’d be happy to take you. There are lots of great trails in the area.” Scott exchanged a brief glance with Cassy. She nodded encouragingly. This was his cue to start schmoozing. No hardship there. Nothing he liked better than talking about mountain biking. “Come and sit down.”

  “Hell, yes,” Lorraine said. “My feet are killing me in these damn heels.”

  Cassy watched Scott lead Lorraine to a nearby love seat between two potted palms. So far this was going just as she’d hoped. The bodyguard stood watch at a discreet distance. The politician hovered uncertainly a moment, then waved to someone on the other side of the room and hurried off. She turned to Tod. “About that meeting…”

  “Ms. Dempsey’s schedule is very tight.” Tod scrolled through his calendar. “I can give you fifteen minutes on Monday morning at ten, five minutes at four on Tuesday, or eight minutes at noon on Wednesday.”

  “Is fifteen minutes the most you can offer for a billion-dollar return?” Cassy asked. “We need time to show you what our product can do. Explain future ideas for apps.” She glanced at Scott and Lorraine and her eyes narrowed. The older woman had her hand on his knee as she leaned in to tell him something. Did he need rescuing?

  “We’ve got a pretty good idea what it can do,” Tod said. “We’re looking at a similar product from PacTech.”

  “Scott’s is the original,” she growled. “Whatever PacTech’s got will be inferior.”

  Tod’s stylus was poised above the tiny keypad. “What day will it be?”

  The sooner they got their bid in, the better. And fifteen minutes was better than five or eight minutes. But the prototype wasn’t finished and she and Scott hadn’t even talked about the pitch. They were walking a fine line between making their move too soon and getting preempted by PacTech.

  “Let me talk to Scott. I’ll get back to you.”

  As Cassy turned to go, a thirty-something blond woman with a camera slung around her neck touched her arm. “I’m Jessica Mulgrave, reporter for the Tacoma Leader. I saw you with Scott Thornton earlier. Would you be his girlfriend, the one I spoke to on the phone?”

  Jessica was clearly eager for a human interest story among the boring talk of the trade delegation. As loath as Cassy was to speak to journalists, she had to maintain the fiction of being Scott’s girlfriend. “Yes, I am.”

  “Can you get me an interview with him? I just need a couple of minutes. Unless you’d like to answer some questions.”

  “Sorry, we’re here on business.” Cassy started toward Scott and Lorraine on the love seat. Lorraine was patting Scott’s knee and her other arm was draped along the couch behind his back.

  “I hear Lorraine Dempsey likes younger men.” Jessica smirked. “Especially rich, sexy younger men.”

  Cassy’s possessive instincts rose like hackles. She was supposed to guard Scott from unwanted advances. On the other hand, she didn’t want to put Lorraine Dempsey off. What should she do—run interference, or toss him over the firewall for the sake of landing Lorraine as an angel investor?

  Casually, she put her hands behind her back and slipped the opal ring her parents had given her for college graduation from her right hand to the ring finger on her left hand.

  “Actually, I’m Scott’s fiancée.” She held her hand out to show Jessica her “engagement” ring. The opal was chipped on one corner and the gold band scratched from years of use, but she brazened it out.

  Jessica peered at the ring doubtfully. “You two are engaged? You didn’t mention that the other day. And there was nothing in the magazine article to suggest he was about to get married.”

  “He proposed last night. We’ve kept our relationship private till now.” She glanced over at Scott. He and Lorraine had left the love seat and were coming this way. The next few minutes could be tricky.

  “That doesn’t look like the kind of ring a multimillionaire would buy his fiancée,” Jessica persisted.

  “It’s sentimental. And temporary, until we can shop for something more tasteful.” She smiled brightly at Scott as he approached and threw him a balled-up cocktail napkin. “Think fast.”

  He snatched it out of the air before it hit him in the face. “Hey, what was that for?”

  “Mr. Thornton.” Jessica turned to him. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

  “Er, thank you.” Scott glanced at Cassy, one eyebrow raised.

  “Sorry, darling, I spilled the beans.” Cassy twisted the ring around her finger. A dozen or so other guests were standing nearby, openly watching the exchange.

  “Can I get a couple of photos?” Jessica switched on her camera and began adjusting the settings. “When’s the wedding?”

  “It’s, um, next month.” Cassy had always wanted a June wedding. If she was going to pretend to be getting married to the husband of her dreams, she might as well get everything she wanted.

  “You sly dog.” Lorraine elbowed Scott in the ribs. “You didn’t tell me you were engaged. She turned to Cassy. “Scott’s offered to initiate me into mountain biking at Snoqualmie Falls next weekend. I thought we could stay overnight. It’ll give me time to look at his prototype.”

  “Wonderful. I love the falls,” Cassy said, making it crystal clear Scott wasn’t going anywhere overnight without her. “I’ll look forward to getting to know you better.”

  “Stand next to your bride-to-be, Mr. Thornton,” Jessica instructed. “That’s right. A little closer. She won’t bite. Act like you’re in love.”

  A ripple of laughter washed over the watching guests. More people drifted closer to see what was going on. Another reporter, scenting a story, hurried over.

  Scott’s arm went around Cassy’s waist. She swallowed hard as warmth spread from his splayed hand through the fabric of her dress and his jacket sleeve rubbed her bare back. Their practice session in his apartment hadn’t prepared her for engagement photos in front of foreign dignitaries and Seattle’s A-list. A flashbulb popped, blinding her.

  “Next weekend?” she whispered an aside to Scott as she smiled into the cameras. “You haven’t finished the prototype.”

  “I had to grab the opportunity when Lorraine offered it.” He gazed at her with faux adoration. “Engaged? What was wrong with dating?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Kiss her,” someone called out. The crowd took it up, cheering and clapping. Another person tapped their glass with a pen. “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”

  “We’re going to have to do it,” Scott said, his expression grim.

  Cassy’s heart did a backflip. “Anything to shut them up.”

  He raised a hand
to quell the clamor of the throng. “One kiss. Then I’d like you all to leave us alone and respect our privacy.”

  He drew Cassy in close. His eyes locked with hers. “We’ll make this quick. Get in, get out.”

  “Just to clarify. When you say, ‘get in, get out,’ do you mean tongues? Or not. Either is…”

  “I mean, brief.” His nostrils flared. A tiny bead of perspiration dotted his upper lip. “No tongues. We’re not going to feed the vultures.”

  “We need to be convincing…”

  Oh. The shock of his warm, firm lips on hers was electric. She softened, clinging to his shoulders, kneading his tense muscles beneath her palms. He started to ease back, his eyes confused and dark. With a low moan, she pulled him back in.

  “God help me,” he muttered, then angled his mouth to hers with an urgency that suggested he needed a savior because he wasn’t able to help himself. His arms tightened, holding her closer.

  Cassy parted her lips to allow him access. Dimly, she heard a flurry of flashbulbs going off but ignored them. Heat spread through her, pooling low in her belly, making her breasts ache. Her brain tried to say, this man is like a brother to you. Her body rejected that notion absolutely. Her heart was confused as all hell.

  Finally, they broke apart.

  “Well, I hope we convinced them.” The pulse in Scott’s neck was pumping at a frantic rate. His eyes, dark with desire, clung to hers before he turned away.

  “You certainly made a believer out of me,” she murmured as she stepped back to let Jessica interview Scott. Cassy tried to calm her breathing. No way had that been the kiss of a mere friend. Could Scott possibly feel more for her than he let on?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Scott tried to concentrate on his tech journal but it was hard to ignore Cassy sitting across from him at the breakfast table. How a woman in cat pajamas and bunny slippers could seem sexy was beyond him. Yet somehow she was. Possibly, it had something to do with the way her unbound breasts moved beneath the flannelette every time she reached for her coffee.