And before he could answer, she slipped into her apartment and locked the door, leaning against it as she listened to his footsteps move down the hall. A minute later, they faded into silence. Betsy closed her eyes, only half aware that she had lifted her hand to touch the place on her cheek where he had brushed the rain away.
Then she remembered how completely in sync he was with Rob. A real love match there, even if it wasn’t a permanent one. Strangely deflated, she pushed away from the door, and the water dripping onto her shoe reminded her she was still holding Matt’s newspaper rain hat. “Crap,” she muttered, grimacing as she held it gingerly in front of her and quick-walked into the kitchen to deposit it in the trash bin.
She was about to toss it away when the thick, black border at the bottom of the back page caught her attention. It surrounded an announcement laid out in equally bold, eye-catching print. The paper was limp with rain and wrinkled from the way she’d crushed it in her hand, but still readable.
Smiling, Betsy plopped down at the kitchen table, wet clothes and all, to give it a closer look. Smoothing a finger over the page, she read through the text twice and nodded.
Appeal to the tenant leadership’s vanity, Rob had advised. Appeal to their greed and desire for the limelight, was Matt’s contribution.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” A bubble of hope rose inside of her and the seed of an idea began to form. Before going to work in the morning, she’d swing by the newspaper box again and pick up a fresh, dry copy of the paper. Then she’d have to come up with a suitable pitch, and as soon as she felt brave enough, she’d have to do the scariest thing of all—face the good leaders of the tenants’ association with her counterproposal to eviction.
They’d probably tell her to stick her suggestion in her ear. But at least she’d have given it her best shot, and she supposed no one could be expected to do more than that when confronted by a force of nature like Lorena Lattimer.
****
Matt paused in the doorway of Betsy’s building and looked up at the sky. It was leaden but, thankfully, the rain had stopped, so he ditched the idea of taking a cab. Instead he bounded down the steps and began walking back to Rob’s place, striding briskly along the street and forcing himself to concentrate on the shop windows he passed so he wouldn’t think about the way Betsy had looked at him for just that one brief moment when they’d stood at the elevator.
If she’d invited him in, he would have suggested another lesson, one that lasted for days.
Which would have been a mistake.
She was already on his mind too much for it to be healthy—definitely while he was awake but, even worse, while he slept.
He’d dreamed about her again last night. Not about some unrecognizable, one-size-fits-all female, but about Betsy Kincaid herself. Her face, her body, those luscious breasts of hers. It was all as clear to him as if she were right there in bed beside him. Or under him or on top of him. Which were the two places he really loved having her.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, her always there in his nighttime head, but he knew it couldn’t be good, and it would have to stop.
He frowned.
But how did you keep your subconscious mind from serving up unwanted images and channeling them into a night filled with magnificent wet dreams? There was only one solution he could think of. He’d have to stop sleeping. Yeah, that was the ticket.
Unfortunately, giving up sleep would mean he’d be more or less brain-dead at work. Which probably also meant he’d wind up losing every case he worked on and send his legal career right into the toilet.
With a groan, he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned down the street where Rob lived, wondering if he’d made a mistake in agreeing to help her buy a dress.
No. It was the right thing to do. He’d package her in the sexiest getup he could find, send her off to screw with Tyler’s brain instead of his, and be done with her forever.
****
When Betsy left for work the next morning, the tenant leadership was gathered in the lobby handing out flyers.
Lorena Lattimer happily thrust one at her as she passed. “Information about our next meeting, It’s scheduled for a week from Wednesday, and we’ll be discussing our recent communications with management about the building’s vandalism situation.”
Mae Keegan fluttered a smile at Betsy. “I’ll be bringing my prize-winning Black Forest layer cake and my peach pie with the special cookie crust.” She patted Betsy’s hand with the reassuring affection that one sugar addict shows for another. “I know you’re going to enjoy them.”
For his part, Evan Huffnagle gave her his usual cold-fish look and nod, the one that said, you are not a babe, and I am not interested in ogling you.
Not that Betsy cared, so she nodded a cold-fish greeting politely back to him, smiled brightly at Mae, and calmly returned Lorena Lattimer’s challenging look. No quaking for her this time. Not that she felt brave. But she was working on it, getting a little better every day. By the night of the meeting she vowed she’d be able to present her plan with the same kind of ballsy panache she intended to display when she faced Tyler at the company party.
“I’ll be there,” she told Lorena as she stuffed the flyer in her bag and left the building.
****
“Either more great sex or you ate a pound of chocolate last night,” Flo said when Betsy entered the office an hour later.
Betsy stopped in front of the reception desk and stared at the woman. “What?”
“You’ve got that walk going again.” Grinning, Flo sat up straighter and moved her shoulders in a sexy little shimmy. “In spades. And the only times I’ve ever seen that walk is after great sex or great chocolate.”
Betsy smiled. Neither. It was just that she’d figured out how to help the Donnellys, and she’d done it on her own. Well, almost on her own, with a little help from Rob and Matt and the all-important eureka words they’d thrown at her. “I’ll never tell.” She winked at Flo.
Flo’s suggestive laugh followed her as she turned and headed down the hall to her office. “You just did,” she called after Betsy, happily choosing wrong selection A instead of wrong selection B.
She rounded the corner and came face-to-face with new-hire April, the gorgeous brunette she’d once seen Tyler drape his oh-so-friendly arm around.
Granted, the girl looked hot in her short-short skirt and boob-enhancing sweater—the kind of hot that would turn Evan Huffnagle’s eyeballs into gaping cinders—but this time Betsy didn’t fold up and slink away to her office.
After all, this time she was the woman who had a plan for saving a family in need. Equally important, she was the woman with the sexually sated walk, and today, after work, with Matt’s help, she’d get a party dress to fit that walk.
So no folding and slinking for her. Instead, she gave the girl a bright, good-morning smile. “Hi, April, how’s it going?”
April flashed her own bright smile. “Good, really good. A lot of people here have been totally cool about helping me.”
Betsy nodded, and then the words slipped out before she could stop them. “Like Tyler, you mean? He’s usually totally cool about helping.”
“Definitely. Him, too.”
“Right.” Betsy struggled to keep her smile in place. “Really helpful guy.”
“Totally,” April agreed.
“Good-looking, too.” Oh God, her mouth was firing away on all pistons, and she couldn’t seem to control it. Betsy breathed a silent sigh. All right, so maybe the truth was, she was a sucker for punishment and just didn’t want to control it.
“Sure,” April said. “He’s okay, but…” She shrugged.
Betsy leaned closer. Something cosmically important was obviously about to slip through April’s luscious lips. “But what? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
April hesitated, then glanced around as though making sure no one else was close enough to hear. “Well, he’s awfully blond.” She wrinkled her nose. “You kn
ow, too vanilla.” Moving closer to Betsy, she carefully lowered her voice. “You won’t tell anybody I said that, will you?”
Betsy shook her head and flashed a conspiratorial smile, liking April more and more the longer she talked to her. “Never. It’s just between us.”
April smiled back, not conspiratorially but totally relieved. “Thanks. First time I met you I knew I could trust you.”
“Uh-huh.” Betsy tried to seem pleased by what was meant to be a compliment. But, damn, it was also the story of her life. In school, her girlfriends had always trusted her, too. Mainly they’d trusted her around their boyfriends. Translation—they didn’t think she was sneaky enough, or sexy enough, to be able to steal a gorgeous guy away. “Well, it’s nice to be trusted,” she said lamely.
“Totally.” April nodded. “And you can trust me, too. I mean…you know, about everything. Even guys. The only kind I totally groove on are the dark, dangerous-looking ones. You know, dark eyes, dark hair, totally sexy dark stubble on his face. Like my boyfriend Marco. God, how that kind turns me on.”
Betsy stared at her. Okay, do not let this woman get within a mile of Matt. Then she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It didn’t matter, since Matt moved to a different sexual vibe. Totally. “Right. That kind can be sexy. Uh, totally sexy.”
“Damn straight.” April giggled like a ten-year-old with the body of a lingerie model. “You know, I’m really glad we had this talk.”
Betsy nodded. “Oh, me, too. We’ve got to do it again.”
“Definitely. See you later.”
She turned to go, and Betsy watched the woman hip-swivel her way down the corridor, looking as if she’d recently had some pretty hot sex herself. Way to go, Marco. Betsy walked into her office, smiling at what she’d just discovered.
So Tyler had struck out with the beautiful, brunette April. Poor baby. Of course, he was probably still burning up the sheets with the beautiful, blonde Lisa. But so what? Once he realized she could sizzle just as much as any standard-issue, blonde bombshell, he’d curse the day he cut her loose, drop to his knees, and beg for forgiveness.
And being the magnanimous person she was, of course she’d forgive him. After putting him through total hell first. Betsy grinned as she turned her computer on and got to work.
Chapter Fifteen
Betsy looked at the clock on her office wall and smiled. Quitting time. Which meant it was also time for her to meet Matt downtown for some important shopping. Well, important to her, not necessarily to him, even though he’d been kind enough to say he’d accompany her on her search for the perfect party dress.
Nice guy to help this way. Great in bed, too. But she didn’t want to think about that part of their relationship. It always made her feel strange, being physically so much in sync with a gay guy who knew how to turn her on the way no straight man had ever done.
Don’t think about that part of the relationship. She forced it from her mind—but just barely—and gathered her things together so she could meet the man whose horizontal skills she didn’t want to think about.
Then she closed her office door and started down the hall, moving with an ease she’d never felt before. Maybe it was just her imagination, but since Matt began coaching her, her body seemed different, not just sexually aware but more comfortable in its skin. She sensed that her movements were different, too. Not only in bed but even when she simply walked down a hallway, as she was doing now.
Tyler was coming toward her.
No sweat. She didn’t even break her stride when she realized that in another second or two they’d be passing each other in the narrow corridor. During the last four weeks she’d passed him before…not often, but a few times…and she’d never been less than civilized toward him. It was a tribute to her acting ability that she’d managed to pull it off so well, right?
As he got closer, he nodded to her.
Betsy stopped and smiled pleasantly as her thespian chops kicked in to save her from performing a stealth sucker punch to his unsuspecting gut. “Tyler.” She was grateful her voice was every bit as good at faking jovial office camaraderie as her smile was.
“Betsy. Heading home?”
“No, I’m going to—” She paused. Somehow, I’m going shopping for a dress to sizzle in didn’t seem to cut it, so she ditched the straightforward in favor of the elliptical. That was always so much more intriguing.
“I have a date.” She quickly pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Don’t want to be late to meet him.” Did his smile waver? Sometimes Tyler’s mouth movements tended to be naturally unsteady, so she couldn’t be sure about that.
“Of course not.” He politely stepped back to let her pass. “I wouldn’t want to make you late. Have a nice date.”
She inclined her head to him and smiled what she hoped was an annoyingly enigmatic, Mona-Lisa smile. “Thank you, Tyler. I always do.” She turned away from him as one delicious thought echoed happily through her mind. Gonna get you, babe. Just wait ’til you see me in my new party dress. Then let’s hear you tell Charlie Flynn or anybody else that I don’t know how to sizzle with the best of them.
Keeping her head high, shoulders back, and movements smooth as silk, she walked to the end of the corridor, her steps brisk, like the steps of a woman eager to reach the new man in her life. As she turned the corner, she glanced back.
Tyler was watching her, his head tilted slightly to one side as though taking her measure.
For his benefit, she did a slow hip swing to make her walk more interesting. So there. She smiled with evil satisfaction. Let him take the measure of that.
Then she went downtown to meet Matt and buy herself the kind of dress that wouldn’t just make Tyler Matheson’s head tilt to one side; it would make his whole damn cranium go spinning off into space.
****
When she arrived at the department store where they’d arranged to meet, Matt was already waiting near the front entrance for her, his hands thrust deep into his pants pockets, his face expressionless.
“Hi.” She smiled to let him know how pleased she was to see him and how grateful for his help. “Thanks for coming.”
He smiled back at her, but it was a small smile and a tight one.
Betsy peered at him more closely. “You all right?”
Nodding, he took her arm and led her into the store. “Fine, just fine. Come on. Let’s get you your fancy dress.” His voice sounded strained.
Betsy gave him another close look. Hmm, what was going on? “Matt?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her or slow his pace. He just continued walking past the rows of cosmetics counters like a man on a mission, his steps fast and resolute as he kept his hand locked tightly around her arm and piloted her toward the bank of elevators at the back of the store.
Okay, he’d obviously had a bad day. She bit her tongue to keep from yelling something that would make his day even worse—something like, What the hell is the matter with you? Instead, she did the ladylike thing and kept her mouth shut, obediently following when he stepped into a waiting elevator and pressed the button that would take them to Special Occasion Dresses, Fourth Floor.
“This is it,” Matt said a few minutes later as they entered a carpeted area illuminated by soft lighting and decorated with mirrored columns, where a few befuddled men sat, evidently waiting for their wives or girlfriends to come out of the dressing rooms and proudly model their fancy new duds.
For a moment, she watched Matt as he stood beside her, staring at the rows of party dresses hanging all around them—a veritable forest of lace, satin, spaghetti straps, and necklines that plunged down to there.
“Mmm,” he finally murmured thoughtfully. Then he turned to her and murmured another thoughtful “mmm” as his gaze traveled over her body, sending an unexpected wash of heat through her skin that she knew was worse than inappropriate. It was completely ridiculous.
“What?” She tried to not sound peeved, or as
ridiculously hot as she felt.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed as his eyes continued to sear into her. Then he flashed what she could only call a “Eureka!” smile. “Size six.” He nodded and headed across the room to the racks of size-six dresses.
Betsy rushed after him, totally baffled. “That’s right, but how did you know? Have you been looking at my dress labels?”
He stopped abruptly and turned back to her. “Didn’t have to. I know your body, remember?”
She stopped abruptly too. Boy, his voice was tight, and that stare, what did that mean? But what startled her most of all were his words and the renewed wave of heat they sent flashing through her at the memory of just how well he did know her body.
With a brusque shrug, he moved off again to find the sixes. “Anyway, I have three sisters.” His tone turned from strangely tense to jarringly casual. “I can tell a size two from a size four from a size six at fifty paces.”
Betsy followed him again, trying to make sense of his crazy attitude.
He had already found the right rack and was rummaging through the offerings, his back turned to her, shoulders hunched in concentration as he pulled a lacy black concoction from the rack, held it up to study it, shook his head and put it back, then selected a short-sleeved, midnight-blue dress and gave it the same quick once-over, followed by the same categorical rejection.
Five minutes and at least three times that many dresses later, he took out a sleek, clingy length of hot red material that looked to Betsy suspiciously like something straight out of a horny guy’s wet dream. This time, he didn’t shake his head and relegate the dress to the reject pile. This time, he smiled, nodded, and held it out to her. “Okay. This is the one.”
Betsy stared at it wide-eyed. Would there even be enough space between her body and the snug fabric to allow for at least some pasties and a pair of bikini panties?
“Here, try it on.” He flashed a grin as he pushed the hanger into her hand.
She reluctantly took it from him, thrilled that he was finally smiling, but definitely not thrilled with his selection. Sure, she wanted a sizzling dress that would hit Tyler right in his Lisa-obsessed gut, but that sense of wanting had been in theory and, let’s admit it, in her dreams and fantasies. Actually, seeing the outfit in the flesh, so to speak, suddenly left her feeling just a little shaky and more than a little uncertain of her ability to wear it with the right amount of sexy bravado.
Operation Sizzle Page 17