Taking a breath, she opened her purse and pulled out her trump card—something that would probably excite Mr. Huffnagle’s eyes even more than any pair of breasts did, and would definitely turn both Mrs. Keegan and Mrs. Lattimer into the best of good neighbors.
“Besides, I saw this advertisement last week.” Smoothing out the folded paper she’d extracted from her purse, Betsy waved it under their curious, collective noses. “A local good-government group is offering one thousand dollars for the best-looking apartment building in the area. They want a building with an active and dedicated tenants’ association that will help maintain the premises while also fostering an atmosphere of neighborly concern among the residents.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Keegan fluttered. “A thousand dollars. What a lovely idea.”
Mr. Huffnagle cleared his throat austerely as he forced his eyes back into their overheated sockets and swung their focus from her boobs to the paper in her hand. “Sounds like us.”
“It is us.” Mrs. Lattimer jumped to her feet so she could get close enough to snatch the paper away from Betsy and stare at it, nodding as she read the glorious words. “One thousand dollars, a write-up about the tenants’ association and its leadership in the newspaper, and a certificate of merit from the mayor’s office.” She looked around at the others and smiled.
From what Betsy could make out, it was a new kind of smile—the smile of a freshly minted, high-minded leader.
Then the lady’s posture changed too. She stood visibly taller and straightened her shoulders.
Betsy nodded to herself with satisfaction. Yep, definitely a leadership upgrade going on there.
“She’s right.” Lorena Lattimer passed the article to Evan Huffnagle, who read it and in turn passed it to Mae Keegan. “It’s all there, and it’s definitely something we should work for. I propose we scrap the eviction plan, ask management to do the same, and survey the residents instead to find out what the association can do to help them. I also propose we see about forming a tenant task force to help spruce up the building. I have a lot of leftover paint from when my kitchen was renovated last year. Intricate Ivory. Very nice color, and Lord knows, the halls could use some nice color.”
“Capital idea,” Evan Huffnagle said. “I second it.”
“I second it, too,” Mae Keegan chirped up. “Or third it.” She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“One other thing before the meeting ends,” Betsy cut in. “I think it’s wonderful that we tenants are lucky enough to have a leadership that’s so responsive and civic-minded. But since we all live in such close quarters in this building, I think it’s also important that we acknowledge the need to give our neighbors privacy when they want it.” With a pointed smile, she turned and looked directly at Mrs. Lattimer. “Don’t you think it’s important to acknowledge it?”
Mrs. Lattimer flinched but kept her newly acquired community-leader smile firmly on her lips. “No question about it. Neighbors should help neighbors when they need it, but also respect their privacy.”
Betsy nodded and snapped her purse shut. Okay, so it wasn’t all about doing good deeds with this group. Greed, vanity, and the desire for public recognition—aka, the limelight—were also potent incentives. Granted, they weren’t her favorite motives, but if they could get the job done, so be it. She’d happily take whatever help she could get.
“Wonderful.” She beamed a confident smile from one to the other to the other of her building’s suddenly community-minded tenant leaders. “I’m glad we all see eye to eye on this. It’s been a pleasure meeting with you. But now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. I have a party to attend.” A party where I am going to sizzle my heart out.
Tugging her coat closed just as Mr. Huffnagle’s gluttonous eyes swung her way again to get one more sneaky peek at her breasts, Betsy turned on her spiky heels and headed for the door, smiling a cheerful kick-butt smile.
Chapter Twenty
Betsy was still smiling when she reached the party. After her heady encounter with Mrs. Lattimer, she felt more kick-butt and self-assured than ever, and it showed in the way she confidently checked her coat at the entrance so that when Tyler first saw her, he could get a good juicy look at the new, more seductive Betsy Kincaid in her seriously sexy dress. Then, still radiating the casual coolness she had always wanted to possess, she strolled into the ballroom where the festivities were already underway.
A red-and-gold banner welcoming employees to the company’s tenth-anniversary celebration hung across one wall. Beneath it, a band played, only intermittently audible above the laughing babble of the partygoers.
Looked like a good turnout.
She plunged into the crowd, looking around for a tall, light-haired man she could sizzle with. She didn’t see anyone like that, but her attention was drawn to another type of tall man—broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, with thick, dark hair. She couldn’t make out his face, but the rest of the package was spot-on, right down to the way he moved his hand when he gestured at the man he was standing with. Betsy stared at him, her mouth going dry.
Matt.
She felt a familiar pull toward him, a pull she knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t obey. Then he turned, and she saw his face.
Not Matt.
Good. She blinked to clear her mind of the stupid fantasy that it might be him waiting there for her, ready to restart their argument. Or maybe to restart something else they’d once had. Better that it wasn’t. So much better. She fought to assure herself. Since the confrontation more than a week ago, Rob had phoned her several times, begging her to forget her anger and talk to Matt. But she’d refused, just as she’d refused to accept Matt’s new address when Rob offered it to her. There was no reason for her to know where he lived. It would just have been a total waste of time and effort because she would never visit him. Never.
She watched tall, dark not-Matt for a moment, then turned to walk in the opposite direction. A voice stopped her.
“Betsy.”
And a hand came down lightly on her arm.
She looked around, looked up, looked right into the pale-blue eyes of her potential sizzle-partner, the man she’d really come for. And he was smiling down at her, his expression beaming as though he was glad to see her. Not just politely glad, but really, really glad.
Betsy glanced behind him to see if he’d brought a date, but he seemed to be alone. Just the way she wanted him.
“I saw you when you came in a few minutes ago.” He was still touching her arm. “It was hard not to see you. You’re looking very…nice…tonight.”
She smiled. Yes, with that line, he was definitely alone. So she went into her act, the one she’d been practicing in front of the mirror for the last few days, the one that said, I am hot, wild, and smokin’, and you’re a fool if you don’t pay attention. “Why, thank you, Tyler.” She deliberately smoothed her palms along her sides, causing the already clingy material of her dress to cling even more. “It’s a new dress.”
His eyes made a laser-fast trip to her chest and his Adam’s apple did a cute little, oh-God jiggle.
Mission accomplished.
He cleared his throat and forced his gaze away from her mammaries and back to her face, obviously a much more acceptable body part for him to ogle in public. “No, I’m not just talking about the clothes.” His hand was still lying like a dead weight on her arm. “There’s something else about you. I’ve noticed it in the office, too. You’ve…I don’t know…changed.”
His hand finally came alive and began a slow, massaging motion—undeniable proof that her mammaries had captured his attention, right down to his crotch.
Betsy laughed the soft, seductive laugh she’d been rehearsing for just such an occasion. “Well, we all change, don’t we, Tyler? That’s what life’s about, isn’t it? Either change and grow, or else stagnate.”
Tyler moved closer. “Well, you definitely haven’t been stagnating.” He dipped his head a little, coming into semi-intimate proximity to her head. “I
’ve really missed you, Betsy. I wanted to tell you at work. A couple of times. But I didn’t know if you’d appreciate it.” He shrugged, looking appropriately apologetic. “I mean, considering the way we parted.”
On a crowded street corner, surrounded by bumper-to-bumper traffic, and with a blonde waiting in the wings.
She fought not to bare her teeth, vampire-style, at the memory and instead bared them in a slow smile. “You should have tried, anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t have minded. It’s always nice to be missed.”
“And you were.”
“A lot?” she prodded. Might as well get the man to admit his pain while he was happily leaving his fingerprints on her upper arm.
He moved even closer. If he took another two steps, he’d be standing behind her.
“More than I ever thought possible.” His voice was low, almost a whisper in her ear. Then a pause, a nod of his head toward the other side of the room, and the man she hoped to sizzle with slid his massaging hand up her arm and around her shoulders. “Have you been out in the garden yet?”
Betsy smiled at him. “No, I haven’t.” She shook her head in a way that sent her hair brushing over her bare shoulders. It was a slow, seductive movement she was sure he’d notice and appreciate.
He did. His eyes widened, his mouth curved into a smile, and his hand tightened on her shoulder. “You really should see it, then.” Without waiting for her agreement, he steered her toward the open French doors across the way, his intentions as clear as glass.
She didn’t mind. Her intentions were pretty clear too, and approximately the same as his, so she willingly let him lead her out onto the terrace, down a flight of wide marble stairs, and along a paved path.
A lawn spread out before them, edged by trees and studded with flowerbeds. Roses, lavender, and orange blossoms scented the air…a gentle wind rustled through the foliage…and the night sky looked alive with a thousand glittering stars.
What better setting for us to sizzle together?
“Nice, isn’t it?” Tyler echoed the same idea.
She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you are.” He gently pulled her behind a tree for…well, at this point, they both knew for what.
He turned her around in his arms, and Betsy looked up at him, preparing to sizzle. “Really?”
“Really.” He drew her closer. “I can’t believe how different you suddenly seem.”
Perfect. Just the kind of thing she wanted to hear. Matt never said anything that nice. All he did was call her desire to sizzle dumbass.
Of course, he did once say she had a beautiful body, but that was probably only because he wanted to sleep with it. And he did insist her sexual reactions were phenomenal, but he could have meant he was such a good lover that she couldn’t help responding. And during their blowout in Rob’s apartment, he did claim he almost burst into flame when he was near her, but then he went and spoiled it by saying he was a fool for feeling that way. Well, to hell with him! At least Tyler appreciated her newfound sizzle, dumbass or not.
He gently took her chin in his hand and raised her face, and then he kissed her as if their breakup had never happened. Not slow or tentative, but with open-mouthed assurance, his arms pressing her against him for full chest-to-thigh contact.
It was probably the fastest few minutes of seduction she’d ever had. Then she thought of Matt. Her time with him wasn’t the same thing. No seduction involved there, only a crass calculus on both their parts about what a physical relationship would mean—training for her—masculine satisfaction and a collection of rollicking orgasms for him. All right, rollicking orgasms for both of them. Big deal. This way was better. Of course it was. She held Tyler the way she used to do before he told her to get lost and she met Matt and saw him looking cute and silly and hot in his glow-in-the-dark condoms.
With an effort, she pushed away the memory of those condoms. Concentrate on Tyler’s kiss. He was certainly concentrating on it. So completely, it surprised her.
God, it wasn’t that hard to turn the guy on. If only she’d known it a few weeks ago, she never would have needed Matt and his lessons and his tickling and his lovemaking and his heat. She frowned.
Heat.
She wasn’t feeling hot, and she should be. With Matt, she was always hot, right down to her toenails. It must be the breeze. Don’t think about Matt’s damned heat. She forced it from her mind as she pressed closer to Tyler, grabbing him as if he was the best damn sizzler in existence, and giving him her all. Because he deserved her all, and he was worth it. How could he not be? Everything about him was hot.
Yet somehow she felt…cold…uninvolved…nothing…or at least not much, just a little lukewarm enjoyment.
He slowly lifted his head and smiled at her. “You know, this is a really dull party.” His voice was husky and happily breathless. “Maybe we could go somewhere that’s more interesting and do something that’s more exciting.”
For some reason, Betsy hesitated. But this was what she wanted, what all those sessions with Matt was leading up to. So she sensibly got into sizzling mode again, even though it wasn’t the easiest thing to do since her throat had started to turn scratchy and her nose had developed a vague tingly feeling. But she soldiered through anyhow. No way was she going to miss this chance she finally had to show Tyler just what a sizzling woman she was. “I love excitement.” She performed a small shimmy against his body, a movement that had him all but drooling with anticipation.
“So do I, if it’s done with the right person.”
“And that person would be…?”
He shimmied back at her. “From the looks of it…and the feel…you. Come on, I want to say goodnight to someone. Then we can go somewhere else. Somewhere completely private.”
He took her hand, and they retraced their steps back to the French doors. As they walked, she cleared her throat once, twice, three times, because the scratchiness seemed to be worsening. Then it suddenly hit her—something that had eluded her during all the months she’d been with Tyler. She didn’t just dislike the damn aftershave he wore. She was allergic to it. Well, fine. Once they were officially together again, that stuff would be the first thing to go. All right, the second thing, right after Lisa and her unparalleled body parts were permanently consigned to the dustbin of history. She had never thought about putting her foot down and demanding he change the scent before, even though she’d never really liked it. But women who sizzled would never stand for tingling noses and scratchy throats. And neither would she!
When they reached the terrace, Tyler turned to her and gently squeezed her hand. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.”
Betsy nodded, grateful for a few minutes by herself to think and regroup. She needed time to figure out some things. Such as where they should go—his place or hers—how she should act once they got there—demure, flirtatious, or jump his bones as soon as they arrived. She took a breath…what the hell she was doing seducing a man who didn’t singe her toenails?
Tyler disappeared into the ballroom, leaving her alone with her plans. She frowned. And with her doubts.
A waiter went by carrying a tray, and Betsy snagged a glass of something that looked like the kind of fruit punch they’d had at her high-school prom. She took a sip, tasted the alcohol in the concoction—definitely not like her high-school punch—and knew she’d better abstain unless she wanted to end up with her head bent over a toilet, the way she’d done with Matt.
She sighed. Matt. Who hadn’t held it against her. Who hadn’t held her desire to get sexy for another man against her either. Who hadn’t even held her bikini waxes against her. And who never wore aftershave that made her feel as though she was becoming asthmatic. She bit her lip. Matt. The man she missed. The man she wanted. The man she loved so damn much she felt like crying.
And she’d ruined things between them by screaming at him, criticizing him, making fun of his condom
s.
She thought about those condoms, all bright and glowy as they came toward her, and a vague hope blossomed inside of her. So she’d messed up ten days in the past. But this wasn’t ten days ago. This was now, ten days later, and certainly after ten days of acting like a fool, she was entitled to another chance, the chance to set things straight and be totally honest.
Flo had said his emotions were just as clearly on display as hers. Betsy had dismissed the receptionist’s observation at the time, but maybe it was true, and she’d been too blind or too caught up in her own selfish ego to see it. It didn’t matter. She had to find out if Flo was right. And she had to do it now, even if it earned her the worst rejection of her life.
She could do it. She’d already shown that she could sizzle. And if she could sizzle with a guy she didn’t care about, she could do that and more with a guy she loved like crazy. Squaring her shoulders, Betsy walked into the ballroom to find Tyler and tell him she definitely was leaving. Alone.
She worked her way through the crowd and finally caught sight of him at the refreshment table, tapping someone on the shoulder. The other man turned, and she was only vaguely surprised at his identity—Charlie Flynn, Tyler’s good-time office buddy.
Tyler beckoned to the other man, nodding toward a door at the side of the room. Together they headed for it, swallowed up a minute later by a shifting mass of partygoers.
She put her punch glass down, then picked it up again in case she needed a sip of liquid courage to see her through, and tracked them to the door and out of the ballroom. She walked slowly down the length of a wide, carpeted hallway.
“You’re really leaving now? So soon?” Charlie said before Betsy reached the alcove where the two men had gone to talk.
Stopping, she craned her head to look around the corner at them, a little guilty about scuttling Tyler’s plans.
His answer was delivered in a self-satisfied, disgustingly amused voice. “Damn right, I am, before I lose the chance for some hot, no-strings-attached sex.”
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