by Peggy Bird
Maybe he was out of town on business. Or maybe he had a girlfriend. She hadn’t seen a ring on his left hand so she’d assumed he wasn’t married, but he could have a significant other. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d try to meet someone when he already had a girlfriend, but you never knew. Marius wouldn’t fix her up with someone who was already taken, would he?
Unless he didn’t know.
The whole thing was driving her crazy. How was she going to find out why he wasn’t calling? Maybe Summer could ask Nate. He’d know if Taylor was out of town. Or taken.
No, she was being silly. Asking Summer to ask Nate was too much like middle school where you ask your friend to ask a friend if Bobby or Billy likes you before you ask him to hang out with you at lunch.
Luckily, an opportunity to do her own reconnaissance fell into her lap.
Summer had forwarded a packet of information to her from MBA that included the marketing plan Nate had promised, as well as suggestions he had for straightening out the mess with the zoning variance. She asked Bella to review it, read the comments and suggestions she had made, and add her own take on it. The material was in hard copy instead of an e-mail because the infographics he’d included were easier, Nate had written, to see on paper than on a computer. When she was finished, she was supposed to return it to MBA with her thoughts. Summer had even enclosed an addressed, stamped envelope for her to use. But she decided she’d rather give Nate her input in person. Late one Friday afternoon, after she spent two days going over the marketing plan and writing a memo with her comments, Bella called to see if Nate had some free time. When she was told he was in all afternoon, she headed for the MBA offices.
One way or the other, she was going to find out what was going on with Mr. Taylor Jordan.
Who wasn’t in his office when she arrived. Nate was waiting for her, however, and seemed genuinely pleased to discuss the questions and comments she and Summer had about his work. They reviewed everything and hammered out a few more details. She was about ready to leave when the door to Nate’s office opened and Taylor came in.
“Nate, I’ve got a problem I need ...” He seemed to suddenly see his colleague wasn’t alone. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone with you.” He nodded but didn’t smile as he acknowledged her. “I apologize, Isabella. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting. I’ll come back.” He turned to leave.
He was as good looking—as sexy—as she remembered him, damn it, but from his reaction, he was much less interested in seeing her than he had seemed the last time she’d been in the office. Guess her question had been answered—she was more interested than he was, in spite of his chasing her down the hall the last time she’d been in the MBA office.
Nate rose from his desk. “Hang on. You’re not interrupting anything. We were about finished. And I was just talking about you.” He turned to her. “I think I can incorporate all the comments and suggestions you and Summer made into the plan in the next couple days and e-mail the text to you both. I don’t think the infographics will change, so why don’t we save a tree and do it electronically this time?”
Taylor continued to edge his way to the door, avoiding her eyes. “You need to get your business wrapped up. I can do this later,” he said.
Nate was persistent. “No. Don’t leave. What we were talking about, other than that last bit of business, was Bella’s appalling lack of exposure to anything fun in Seattle. She hasn’t done much except work since she moved here. I told her she needed a local guide to show her around. You up for helping out with her dilemma?”
Of all the things she needed, a fix-up with Taylor by his senior partner would be the last. “No one has to be my guide,” she protested. “I’m perfectly capable of finding the Space Needle by myself.”
“I’m sure you are, but there’s more to Seattle than the Space Needle. Wouldn’t you agree, Taylor?”
For some reason, Nate was determined to make this work although she had no idea why.
“How about you walk Bella out to the elevator and see if you can interest her in engaging your services?” Nate said. “Then come back so we can take care of whatever it was you wanted to see me about.”
The look of discomfort on Taylor’s face said volumes about how unenthusiastic he was about the suggestion Nate had made.
“I also know where the elevator is,” Bella said. No way was she going to force herself on him, even for a short walk down the hall. Boy, had she misjudged his interest. She’d been off by a mile if the cool control he was now showing was any measure. It must have been something other than personal attraction she’d sensed. Maybe he’d seen her as a business opportunity. She wasn’t experienced with the ins and outs of how consultants marketed their services. Maybe they chased them through mutual friends.
But that didn’t make any sense either. She didn’t think he’d known who she worked for until he’d met her in his office, and by then, her company was already a client of his firm.
It didn’t matter. She’d been wrong. And it was only too clear right now. Look at the way he was frowning and avoiding her eyes. He looked like he’d been asked to take a long walk off a short pier.
However, he was a loyal partner in MBA apparently because in response to his colleague’s request, he straightened up, opened the door all the way, and said, “Of course I can walk you to the elevator, Isabella.”
She shook Nate’s hand and thanked him for his time. She heard Taylor say, “Back in a minute,” as she walked as fast as she could to the reception area and the elevator bank.
They stood in silence after she pushed the “down” button. It seemed to be taking forever for the car to arrive. Either time really was relative and was now dragging, or all the cars were on other floors being loaded with all the people and/or furniture on one floor so it could be delivered to another floor, totally bypassing where Taylor and Bella were waiting.
It was torture. Something had to give, and it was apparently not going to be Taylor. So, finally, she spoke. “I want to go over the revisions Nate and I talked about while our conversation is still fresh in my mind. I don’t feel like going back to my cubicle. Is there someplace downstairs I can hang out and read for a bit? Maybe a coffee shop or a bar?”
“There’s a bar on the ground floor. Most of us in the building go there from time to time. They even have decent food.”
“Sounds perfect. It’ll take me an hour or so to go over the changes we made and try to figure out what my next steps should be to get this project on track.” On an impulse that started her mouth moving before she could stop it, she added, “If you’d like to join me, I’ll buy you a glass of wine.”
The invitation was no sooner out than the elevator arrived and she got in, not waiting for Taylor to respond. Her legs were shaking; her mouth was dry. She couldn’t look him in the face. She had no idea why she’d been so bold. No idea if he’d show up. But the ball was in his court. This would show her once and for all if she’d been wrong about his interest.
Chapter Ten
Taylor watched the door of the elevator close but said nothing in reply to Isabella’s invitation. He didn’t know what, exactly, he should say. He knew what he wanted to do—in spite of knowing whom she worked for, in spite of swearing it wasn’t the right time and she wasn’t the right woman, he still felt the same electricity when she looked at him as he’d felt the first time they’d locked eyes. It was so powerful he wanted to run down the steps and beat the elevator to the first floor, grab her when she got out, and kiss her.
But he couldn’t. All the reasons he had outlined to himself over the past two weeks on an almost daily basis were still valid. It didn’t matter how attracted he was to her. There were too many things working against them, not the least of which was if she ever found out who he was and what he’d done, she’d either laugh at him or flat out hate him.
No, this wasn’t how he operated. He needed a nice, safe, appropriate woman who would go with him on nice, safe, appropr
iate dates, which would progress to a place where he could make a nice, safe, appropriate decision about what to do with the relationship. It was how he’d always assumed he’d find a wife.
Right. Look how well it had worked out with Allison. So well, he’d sworn he’d take time off before returning to his plan for finding a wife.
And he couldn’t let Isabella Rodriquez mess it all up. Could he?
His musing was interrupted by a woman’s voice asking him if he was getting on the elevator or not. From the tone of her comment, it wasn’t the first time she’d asked. He apologized, told her he wasn’t getting on, and, with a determined stride, went back to his office. Work was the answer. He’d bury himself in his projects and forget about those big brown eyes, the soft, dark curls, and her seductive smile.
When he saw the folder in his hand, he remembered what he’d wanted to talk to Nate about and, with a relieved sigh, tracked him down, intending to spend a few minutes discussing the details of a report he was responsible for writing.
It didn’t go as he planned.
He had no sooner walked into Nate’s office than his colleague asked, “Well? Did you set something up?”
“Set what up?”
“Taking Bella around the city.”
“Were you really serious? I thought it was company policy not to date clients. And if that’s not the case, why don’t you show her around Seattle?”
Ticking his points off on his fingers, Nate said, “One, I was serious. Two, there’s no company policy about dating clients, you’ve just never done it. Three, she’s not your client, she’s mine. Four, Bella’s new in town, all alone, and hasn’t had a chance to do much of anything except work. Five, I’m in the middle of a messy divorce and custody battle and can’t afford to be seen with a beautiful woman. Six, oh, hell, I have to move to a second set of fingers.”
“Okay, okay. I get your point. But since when are we an adjunct to Grey Line tours?”
“Don’t be such an ass, Taylor. You’ve been sulking ever since what’s-her-name broke it off with you. It’s time you got back in the game. And Bella’s an intelligent, beautiful woman who could use a friend. Can’t you do even one spontaneous thing and just take her around the city?”
“I do spontaneous things all the time.”
“Yeah, right.” He reached for the folder Taylor was holding. “Never mind. I give up. But it was worth a shot. What do you want me to look over?”
When they were finished reviewing the report, Taylor went back to his office and tried to focus on getting what they’d discussed onto his computer. It didn’t work. All he could see were those big brown eyes looking at him so hesitantly from the back of the elevator after she’d put herself out there and asked him to join her for a drink. He knew she’d be disappointed if he didn’t show up. But he knew she’d be even more disappointed if she ever found out the truth about him.
Finally, after almost an hour of doing absolutely nothing except going over yet again the reasons he shouldn’t pursue Isabella Rodriquez any further, he decided to get the hell out of Dodge. Once he got home, he wouldn’t have to think about what kind of temptation she posed. Or, at least, he hoped he wouldn’t.
Waiting for the elevator, he continued his little internal pep talk. All he had to do was walk out the door and get the bus. He’d get home in no time at all. He had leftover Chinese in the refrigerator and dozens and dozens of choices on his TV. Or he could browse Netflix and watch a movie. He’d simply immerse himself in mindless programming. There. Easily done.
First, of course, he had to get past the Conference Room, the bar run by a former public relations guru and frequented by most of the tenants in the building. He wouldn’t glance in. Wouldn’t look to see if Isabella was there. She was probably gone by now. She wouldn’t hang around waiting for him when it was obvious he wasn’t going to show up. He had nothing to worry about.
He got to the first floor and couldn’t seem to take more than a step or two away from the elevator, frozen in place by the sudden fear she had waited for him. She would be sitting in the bar. She’d look up with her sweet smile when she saw him, and he’d be toast.
Maybe he should take the back way out of the building so he wouldn’t have to pass the bar and be lured in.
The mumbled curses of the people trying to exit the elevator broke through his obsessive musings. He knew he was being a pain in the butt, but his feet refused to move closer to the front exit. He murmured apology after apology as the crowd surged out, more eager than he was to get to the door.
After the door to the elevator closed, he finally moved, planning to give a wide berth to the bar. But as he reached a spot opposite the bar’s glass wall looking out on the lobby, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside. To make sure Isabella was okay. If she was there. Not that she would be. She’d have long since gone home.
But she hadn’t. There she was. Seated at one of the small cocktail tables, she had a half-full glass of wine in front of her as well as a sheaf of papers. Chewing on a pen in one hand, with the other, she was twisting a curl around her forefinger. A slight frown created a crease between her eyes, a crease he wanted to erase with the pad of his thumb. She looked ... cute was the word that came to mind. Cute and adorable. Not the usual words he’d use to describe a woman he was attracted to, but they were the only words he could think of at the moment.
Well, sexy, too. The table was small. He could see her slender legs crossed under it. With the foot not on the ground, she was bouncing her completely inappropriate red shoe on the tips of her toes. It was mesmerizing to watch. Twist the curl. Bounce the shoe. Twist the curl. Bounce the shoe.
This time his feet wouldn’t stop moving but took him straight to the table where she was sitting. When she looked up and saw him, a smile lit up her face and warmed him all over.
“You came. I wasn’t sure you would.” She indicated the chair opposite her. “Can I get you a glass of wine? A drink?”
He dropped to the chair and shrugged off his raincoat. “Ah, sure. That would be great.”
“Which?”
“Which what?”
“Which do you want—a glass of wine or a drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
She looked around for the server, caught his eye, and indicated they needed another glass of wine. “So, did you get your problem sorted out with Nate after I left?”
“Yes, of course. But before we get to the small talk, can I explain something?”
“What do you need to explain?”
“I imagine you think I’m some sort of nut case, the way I chased you the last time you were in the office then ignored you today.”
“I’m not sure I’d describe it that way, but it did seem a bit… ... well, maybe odd is the best word.”
He could feel his face flushing slightly. It made him uncomfortable. He never blushed. How the hell did this woman put him so far off track? “I’m not sure how to explain. Where to begin.”
“The beginning is usually the best place.”
“I guess the beginning is, I’m a very organized person. I plan everything carefully. It’s how I get things done. How I feel comfortable.”
The server interrupted with his glass of red wine.
“Anyway, I’ve always been careful about my social life. The relationships I’ve had with women are usually based on friendship or a business connection. Never an across-a-crowded-room meeting. I’ve never in my life chased a woman the way I chased you after seeing you in a crowd.”
“I’d hardly say you chased me.”
“It feels like I did. I saw you. I wanted to meet you. I tracked you down. It’s as close to stalking as I’m likely to get.” He took a large gulp of liquid courage.
Although she smiled as she said it, when she commented, “I’ve never much liked the idea of being stalked,” he frowned. Had she objected to his attention? His expression must have registered with her because she quickly added, “But I didn’
t feel stalked. Really.”
“Seriously? I think that’s close to what I did. Calling Marius? That’s not me. Showing up at an art gallery to meet someone I don’t know? I’ve never even had a blind date because I don’t like the uncertainty of it.” The stem of his wine glass suddenly seemed of infinite interest requiring him to study it carefully.
“Well, technically, you’re still safe there because you didn’t show up on time for the fix-up.” She was making fun of him, he was pretty sure.
“Yes, well, that’s another thing out of character. I’m never late for anything.”
He paused before looking up from his glass. “Then, I’ve always had a policy not to date my clients. It’s too complicated. Too likely to interfere with doing good work.” He drank about half of the wine left in his glass. The alcohol was making it easier to be honest with her. “And my job… ... my career… ... has always been the most important thing in my life.”
“And it shows. According to Nate, you made partner sooner than anyone in the history of the firm.”
“Yes, it’s true.” He couldn’t figure out why Nate would have told her that. “How did the topic of my partnership come up in conversation?”
“I asked about you.” She raised an eyebrow at him and laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you noticed what happened when we shook hands. I’m not immune to chemistry. I hoped you weren’t either. So I asked about you.”
“What else did he say?”
“Not much. He said told me you work with tech firms and small start-ups. Said you were hellishly smart. He didn’t warn me off you by telling me about some company policy about dating clients, although he did tell me you were unattached at the moment.”
“Well, it’s not official company policy. It’s unofficial, I guess you can say.”
She leaned across the table and touched his hand.
“Taylor, I’m not your client. My boss is your boss’s client.”
