“Stupid shoes.” She bent down to take off the offending footwear. The world tilted as nausea assaulted her stomach.
No…not now.
Easing back up, she weaved back and forth, unable to focus on anything. She sucked in deep breaths to stave off the waves of dizziness but it didn’t work. Reaching out for Jeffrey’s arm, she closed her eyes. Maybe it would pass. Maybe…
“Kamber, what’s wrong?”
Opening her eyes, the whirling room tackled her senses, and the contents of her stomach made an abrupt appearance.
All over Jeffrey’s bare feet.
CHAPTER THREE
Lying on the dirty floor of the dressing room wasn’t elegant but necessary. Erik found a couple of blankets and, following her instructions, formed a makeshift pillow from them and put it under her shoulders. Taking herself slowly through the Epley maneuver made the nausea worse. Horrendously embarrassing but efficient. By the time she’d finished the exercise and could sit up, the worst of the dizziness had passed.
Lucky her. Now she could apologize again to the man sitting beside her. She looked at his feet and saw they were clean.
Jeffrey answered her silent question. “Erik took care of it since I refused to leave your side.”
“I don’t know what to say except I’m totally mortified. And my dress…”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll handle it,” Erik assured her.
Looking at her lap, she saw the dress was, most likely, beyond repair. Just like the evening and any hope she ever had of making a good impression on her very own Cupid.
Jeffrey tilted her face up with one finger and waited until she looked at him. “This is BPPV?”
She nodded and blinked rapidly against the tears welling up.
“This is why you ran away at the Christmas party?”
“Yes,” she whispered as the traitorous tears slid down her cheeks. “It wasn’t this bad but I had to get home just in case.”
“Kamber, why didn’t you tell me?”
Erik answered for her. “Because, honey, what man wants to deal with a woman who never knows when her world will pitch sideways? Regurgitated cosmo isn’t exactly romantic.” He patted her shoulder. “Sorry, sweetie.”
She smiled at her stylist and motioned for him to help her up. Things were still a bit fuzzy but she could deal with this level of discomfort. After all, she’d had years of practice. “I’ll call a taxi after I change clothes.”
“You have a way home,” Erik replied while smiling at Jeffrey who stood to his feet.
She opened her mouth to protest, but Jeffrey shook his head. “Counselor, don’t argue. Just take the deal. Besides, I still want to hear about this rivalry with Abby Perrick.”
Knowing she’d lost this one, she grinned. “Fine. But you need to cover the party before I go anywhere with you.” She pointed to his lap where the loincloth had shifted to reveal his black boxer briefs.
His laughter chased away any lingering awkwardness. “Party, huh? Be right back.”
Biting her lower lip, she studied his delicious backside and decided he must have played baseball in school. Probably catcher, given the muscular gluts and thighs. Mentally shaking her head, she focused on what she should say about Abby and the bidding. Sometimes the truth put a person in harm’s way. Having already been there much too often, she had no desire to feel vulnerable again.
And yet, how could she explore these feelings if she didn’t open up to Jeffrey?
Erik dragged a chair over, told her to sit, and knelt in front of her. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss him, Kamber. Any man who stands by a woman who loses her cookies on his feet is worth considering.” He looked over his shoulder then back at her. “Can I use that line, ‘cover the party’? It’s fabulous!”
* * *
Kamber stared out the window of Jeffrey’s car as he drove her home. After changing clothes at the hotel, she’d given him directions and didn’t know what else to say. Right now he stared straight ahead, frowning as if thinking about something. Well, if it kept him from cross-examining her, let him think.
Making a mental note to send someone for her car, she leaned her head against the seat. At least tomorrow was Sunday, so she’d have a day to recover. Monday promised to be pure hell with back-to-back appointments. She didn’t want to cancel, especially with the new client, Lucas DeSal. Word in the firm had it the man was richer than Zeus and had come to Tulsa for a specific reason. Robert Sullivan had given her the account and said to find out what Lucas wanted.
Jeffrey lightly touched her knee, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re almost there. Are you feeling OK?”
“I’m fine, but I appreciate you taking me home.”
“It’s no problem. Now I know where to come for our fantasy date.”
Shock made her response slow. “After everything that happened tonight, you still want to fulfill my fantasy?”
“Of course. Although, I’d like to know the reason you bid against Abby.”
More dodging with a hint of truth. She turned slightly to face him.
“We’re courtroom rivals, pure and simple. She doesn’t like to lose and neither do I.” He didn’t respond, so she gave him a little more, hoping it would be enough. “About a year ago we were on opposite sides of a negotiating table for a multi-million dollar contract. Abby came in confident she’d covered all her bases, but her client’s demands were ludicrous. I found a tiny loophole that gave my client everything she wanted, so Abby lost. Now every time we face each other, it’s war.”
Jeffrey pulled into her driveway, put the car in park, and turned to her. “So it was only about you winning over her? Nothing else?”
No. “Yes.”
Opening his door, he got out and walked around the car to open the passenger door. “I hoped for a more flattering motive, but I’m glad you won.” He smiled at her and she almost confessed to that flattering motive. “Let me help you into the house.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He closed the passenger door behind her. “I insist.” They walked to her garage where she lifted the security box and keyed in the code to open the garage door. He followed her into the house where she disarmed the alarm and closed the garage door.
“ OK, I’m inside, safe and warm. Good enough?”
Her breath caught when he stepped closer. “Not yet. I still need to know your fantasy. Only twenty-four hours, remember?”
What could she say without revealing too much? Reverting to an old lawyer’s trick, she kept it simple to keep him from the whole truth. “I’d love a picnic dinner with candlelight and exotic food, here, at my home. I’ll supply the candles.”
Cocking his head to one side, he studied her. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’m a plain, ordinary girl who doesn’t expect much.”
Lifting one hand, he caressed her cheek. “Now that’s where you’re wrong, counselor. There is nothing plain or ordinary about you.”
Kamber held her breath when he moved even closer and kissed her other cheek. The simple act stopped her world for a moment and felt more sensual than a passionate kiss. She smiled and walked him to the front door where he reached out to tuck her hair behind one ear, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin on her neck.
“I’ll be here tomorrow night with your fantasy meal.”
“Don’t you want to know what I’d like?”
“I’m pretty good at knowing what people want. It’s my job, remember? Do you need anything before I leave?”
“No, and thank you again.” She reached forward and tapped his chest. “I will replace your shirt.”
“Not necessary. See you tomorrow.”
Opening the door, he left her standing alone. Sheer willpower and a determination to not appear weak kept her from calling him back.
Then she remembered he wore black boxer briefs underneath those tuxedo pants. Pressing one hand over her galloping heart, she closed the door. Tomorrow seemed much too far away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kamber swallowed against the growing anxiety in her stomach. Jeffrey was due to arrive any minute. He’d called several times during the day to check on her, thoughtfully making sure she wouldn’t cancel. Thankfully, the BPPV symptoms were nearly gone after doing several more sessions of the Epley maneuver. And it would take more than a few dizzy spells for her to back out of this fantasy night.
She’d been cleaning all day, spent two hours getting ready—was it wrong to shave her legs three times?—and she had no idea what to expect from the evening or from him. A mid-calf length black skirt and scoop neck, red cashmere sweater made up the fifth outfit she’d tried on. Hoping not to appear overly eager, she had only set out three dozen candles.
If her constantly racing pulse was any indication, she was much more than eager. The words primed and ready came to mind. Flickering candles created a certain ambience, but did the fire she’d lit in the fireplace make things too obvious?
When the doorbell rang, she took a deep breath and opened the door to see Jeffrey dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a long black trench coat.
Oh, heaven help her, she loved the black coat.
Gripping the door to keep from leaping on him in a fit of lust, she smiled and stepped aside so he could enter. “Hi.”
“Your fantasy awaits, counselor.” He held a bouquet of roses in one hand and a large picnic basket in the other.
Closing the door, she smiled and took the flowers. “I can’t wait to see what you have for me.” The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. “Dinner, I mean…not…”
“I know what you meant.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Desire swept over her like a summer breeze, making her tremble.
He followed her to the kitchen where she found a glass vase. Filling the vase halfway with water, she arranged the flowers and held them up for his inspection. “The roses are beautiful.”
“Part of my master plan,” he replied while wiggling his eyebrows.
Kamber laughed and set the roses in the middle of her dining table. “Where do you want to have dinner?”
He took her hand firmly in one of his and led her into the living room. There was something about him holding her hand that made her feel safe. “I think the candles lead the way, don’t you?” Setting down the basket, he opened it and pulled out a large blanket, which he spread on the floor in front of the fire. “Have a seat and I’ll serve. Let me hang up my coat.”
She pointed to a closet and sat down. He opened the closet door, looking around the room as he draped his coat over a hangar. “You have a nice place, Kamber. Very welcoming and tastefully decorated.” He put his coat in the closet and stopped a moment before shutting the door. “I put a lot of thought into this meal. In fact, I was up most of the night planning what to do.”
“It smells amazing.” And since nerves kept her from eating all day, she was famished. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”
He sat beside her and pulled containers out of the basket, arranging them on the blanket. “Not just wonderful. It has to be perfect.” Plates, silverware and linen napkins were set as if for fine dining.
She watched his finicky motions and kept her tone light. “No, actually, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”
He stopped a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with striving to be the best in everything.” He lined up all the containers, largest to smallest. “Now, feast your eyes on this.” Lifting off lids, he revealed crostini and warm cheese, salmon on a bed of fresh spinach, and the crowning glory, fresh strawberries dipped in white chocolate. Next he pulled out a bottle of white wine and a corkscrew. With a flourish he presented the bottle for her approval. “2008 Domaine Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet.”
As he opened the wine, Kamber laughed. “I have no idea what you just said, but it looks great.”
Again he hesitated before popping the cork and pouring her a glass. When she started to take a sip, he stopped her. “At over two hundred dollars a bottle, you want to savor it. Breathe in the aroma first, let it settle on your taste buds, and then sip gently.”
It annoyed her to have him give instructions on how to drink wine, but maybe he was right. She lifted the glass to her nose and smelled a subtle smokiness. When she took a sip, her mouth was assaulted by a very dry, buttery taste with a tartness that made her want to pucker. Not to her liking at all. Doing her best not to grimace, she set down the glass. “Lovely.”
Jeffrey seemed pleased and prepared her plate. When he’d finished, he chose a few things for himself. “These are a few of my favorites, so I’m sure you’ll like them.”
His assumption irritated her, but she remained silent. How could he know what she liked since he hadn’t asked? The wine was certainly a fail.
He picked up a slice of the crostini with cheese and held it out to her. Leaning forward, she opened her mouth, bit down and nearly gagged. Goat cheese. She hated goat cheese but forced down the morsel, thankful she’d taken only a small bite. Picking up her wine, she tried to wash down the pungent taste of the cheese only to have the wine amplify it. She glanced up to find him watching her.
“Kamber, do you not like the cheese?”
Giving him what she hoped was a polite smile, she picked up a fork. “I’m so impressed you went to all this trouble.” Good, counselor. Dance around it and keep him happy.
Her words must have reassured him, so he popped one of the bread and cheese combos into his mouth.
“Mm, I could eat goat cheese on oatmeal in the mornings.” He chuckled as he chewed and swallowed.
She had no words, so she laughed with him. Turning her attention to the main course, she breathed a contented sigh. At least he’d brought salad and fish. Few things were as good as cooked salmon.
“Salmon happens to be my favorite.” As she prepared to spear the fish, he handed her a knife.
“You’ll need the knife. I marinated the salmon for several hours in a wonderful Italian dressing, but it will still have some texture.”
Since when? Salmon should flake apart. She took the knife and leaned toward her plate, utensils in hand. “Did you grill the salmon or bake it?”
“I seared it a few seconds on both sides, but it should be raw in the center.”
Raw salmon? Something else she couldn’t stomach, not even in the best sushi. Now what? Putting down her knife and fork, she cleared her throat. “Um, Jeffrey—”
Clattering utensils caught her attention. She looked up and saw the frustration on his face. “You don’t like any of this, do you?”
“I’m sorry, Jeffrey. It’s obvious you spent a lot of time on this dinner, but you didn’t ask me what I wanted.”
“You said a picnic with exotic foods.”
OK, Kamber, fall on the culinary sword like a good soldier. “You’re right, I should have been more specific. I’m sorry. But I do love strawberries dipped in chocolate.”
“It’s not chocolate,” he mumbled as he picked up a piece of the fruit and tossed it back into the container. “It’s an almond-soy paste spiced with white pepper.”
She couldn’t help it. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
His face became a composed mask. “It does to me. Besides, I looked it up online. Everything is perfect.”
She’d grown really tired of the P word. “Why is it so important that everything be perfect?”
“If we put the effort into making sure things are first-class in every area, life is much more rewarding.”
“If that’s the company line, it sounds prideful to me.” Standing, she walked into the kitchen to scrape her plate clean and to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She needed to pull back on the criticism. “Would you like some water?”
Sighing as if he were demonstrating extreme patience, he shook his head. “Maybe if your tastes were refined or you’d been taught to appreciate different foods, you’d enjoy what I prepared.” He stood and began packing things back i
nto the basket, making sure to put the food left on his plate back into the correct containers. It was all too meticulous for her tastes.
No, it was freaking anal retentive. Who knew this gorgeous guy would be so compulsive? And had he insulted her taste level?
“Jeffrey, just because I don’t like certain foods or wines doesn’t mean I’m uncultured. It means I have different tastes. And there’s no such thing as perfect. A so-called perfect image doesn’t get things done. It’s a mask to fool people and it’s self-serving.” She handed him her plate, watching as he neatly stacked it inside the basket followed by the blanket. The sharp sound of the basket lid slamming shut made her jump.
“I think this fantasy has become a nightmare.” His mouth thinned to a flat line and his eyes narrowed. “You’re saying I’m a fraud, that my business serves no purpose other than to stroke my ego.”
The evening had already been ruined, so she might as well put it all on the table. “No, I’m saying maybe you change people to posturing avatars instead of who they really are.”
Stomping to the closet, he yanked it open and pulled out his coat. “That’s not a fair judgment, considering you don’t have enough information. I’m more than hair and clothes, Kamber. A big part of my job is to help people become the best they can be. People come to me who don’t like their looks, their jobs, their clothes. They need to look and act a certain way to get what they want. I help them to become better.”
“Whose version of better? Theirs or yours?”
He stared at her for a moment. “What would you say if I told you that a slight change in your makeup would create a stunning effect? Would it matter?”
She picked up the basket and held it out to him. “Yes, it matters if it’s your version of what’s best for me. I decide that, not you.”
Valentines Heat II Page 6
