"Hurts just as much."
"No one said love was painless. But isn't that better than feeling nothing at all?"
"I sincerely doubt it." She blew out a long breath. "Well, I guess I have three choices." Ticking them off on her fingers, she said, "One—I can continue my affair with Matt, assuming he's willing, and let the chips fall where they may."
"Pros and cons of that?"
"Pro is I'd get to be with the man I've unfortunately allowed myself to fall in love with. Con is that when the chips fall, as they inevitably will, I'll be left with a broken heart, and an impossible work situation that could derail my career."
Kate winced. "What's choice number two?"
"Stay as far away from Matt as possible and pray that my feelings will lessen over time."
"Not to discourage you, but I don't think there's enough hours in the day for all the prayers that plan would require. What's the third option?"
"Strike up a conversation with the dark-haired Adonis at the bar and hope for the best. If he can make me forget Matt for even one minute, I'm willing to give it a try." She cracked her knuckles, rolled her shoulders, then stood. "Wish me luck. I'm goin' in."
* * *
Comfortably dressed in a beat-up Mets sweatshirt and jeans, long-neck bottle of icy beer in one hand, TV remote in the other, Matt sat in his favorite recliner and aimlessly channel surfed, trying his damnedest not to think of the one thing he couldn't erase from his mind.
He was failing completely.
He glanced at the clock: 10:00 p.m. Was she still out on her date? Probably. She was likely at some romantic restaurant right this minute, smiling at Brad the dentist. Or maybe dinner was over and they'd gone back to his place. Or her place.
His fingers tightened on the cold glass bottle, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a futile effort to banish the image of another man enjoying her company. Touching her. Kissing her. Making love to her.
Seeing her today at work had been nothing short of torture. The instant she'd appeared in the break room, he'd wanted to touch her. Throughout the remainder of the day, it had required an incredible amount of effort to get any work done. Yet even when he'd managed to do so, part of him had always been on "Jilly alert."
He heaved a long sigh and shook his head at his own folly. Clearly he harbored deep-seated, masochistic tendencies to allow himself to get involved with another coworker. How many freakin' times did he need to make that mistake?
His even bigger mistake had been his gross miscalculation in his ability to forget Jilly. Had he actually believed he could share a weekend of sexual fun and games with her, then simply place the entire affair into a neat little file labeled "over and done with"? Good God, he needed to have his head examined. Oh, he'd known some awkwardness would enter into the mix, but he'd figured they'd both just move on.
Problem was, he had absolutely no desire to move on. And he definitely didn't want her to move on. No, he sure as hell hadn't counted on feeling like this. So … dismembered. Like someone had ripped out his heart, and grabbed his soul while they were at it, then dumped them both in the East River. He thunked his head back against the soft leather headrest. What the hell was wrong with him?
I'll tell you what's wrong, his inner voice said, coughing to life, although why you can't figure it out yourself is beyond me. Jeez, for a smart guy, you've dropped the ball this time. You're in love, you jerk.
Matt's eyes popped open and he sat up as if a giant spring were attached to his ass. In love? No, surely he couldn't be that masochistically insane.
But the words you're in love reverberated through his brain like a death march, and as much as he wanted to refute them, he couldn't. He'd made the same damn mistake all over again—falling in love with a woman he worked with—a situation that had disaster written all over it. If he'd thought indulging in a brief affair with Jilly was unwise, falling in love with her took home the Olympic gold for stupidity.
He dropped the remote and dragged his hand down his face, trying to stave off the panic nipping at him. Maybe this isn't love, his brain stated hopefully. Maybe it's just a case of severe lust gone crazy.
But as much as that would offer a great relief, his heart instantly rejected the suggestion. This wasn't just lust. He knew what mere physical attraction felt like, and what he felt for Jilly went waaaaay beyond a mere wanting to get her naked—although he couldn't deny that he wanted that too.
No, there was no doubt he loved her, damn it. He'd loved Tricia, yet what he'd felt for her paled to beige in comparison to the feelings and emotions Jilly inspired. He cared for her, wanted her—both in and out of bed—with an intensity that stunned him, Jilly was simply more important than anything else.
Looking back, he realized that he'd harbored a latent attraction to her for a long time. Over the past year, he'd enjoyed their verbal sparring matches at the office, and matching wits with her over ad campaigns. Liked that the challenge of competing with her brought out the best in his work. Admired her professionalism, even though he hadn't entirely trusted her, thanks to his experience with Tricia.
But Jilly had proven her integrity and had won not only his trust and admiration, but his heart—and he had so not been looking to give that away. Especially to someone with whom he shared the predicament that one of them was going to be the other's boss.
Well, he might not have been planning to fall in love, but fall in love he had. Now he just had to decide what the hell he was going to do about it. And while he had no clue, he did know one thing—sitting in his apartment while she was on a date with some other guy was simply not going to work. It was time to make some plans.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^
Jilly spent the remainder of the week doing everything in her power to stop thinking about Matt. She devoted her hours at the office to working on current projects with single-minded determination. She stayed in her cubicle, studiously avoiding the break room. On Wednesday morning, she caught several glimpses of Matt—and each time her heart performed a somersault—but then was granted a reprieve as he spent most of Wednesday and all of Thursday out of the office with clients. Unfortunately "out of sight" did not translate into "out of mind."
Instead of returning to her quiet home after work on Wednesday and Thursday, she'd dragged Kate to several more clubs. With the same determination that guided her days, she danced with bankers and stockbrokers, chatted with accountants and salesmen, laughed with lawyers and techies. And hated every single minute of it.
Plus, she tortured herself wondering what Matt was doing while she hit the clubs. Was he doing the same? Was he dancing with someone else? Touching someone else? Making love to someone else?
By the time Friday rolled around, she was ready to admit defeat. She and Kate, accompanied by Ben, were supposed to make the club rounds again after work, but after three days of that, Jilly knew she couldn't stomach another such outing. She'd tried to forget Matt by meeting someone else, but there simply wasn't anyone else she wanted to meet. Her plan to banish him from her mind and push her feelings for him aside was a spectacular failure. Damn it, the man she wanted—the only man she wanted—was Matt. And it was time she did something about it.
But what? The thought of admitting her feelings gave her the willies. Yet the thought of remaining apart from him gave her even worse willies. Surely he'd turn green and head for the hills if she blurted out, "I've fallen in love with you." Of course, there wasn't any law that said she had to admit all of her feelings. She could just admit, "I find you devastatingly attractive and want to resume our affair." Her body and hormones were certainly all for that solution. Oh, sure, you guys are all for it, her heart balked, but I'm the one who risks being flattened like a bug.
Good grief, it was true. Indulging in an affair when one party—and only one party—was in love did not bode well for the party in love. And that was her.
Before she could give the matter further thought, her phone rang with the buzz tha
t indicated an interoffice call. She lifted the receiver, and her boss's deep voice greeted her, requesting she come to his office.
"It's regarding Jack Witherspoon and the ARC account," Adam said.
With butterflies flapping in her stomach, Jilly replaced the phone on its cradle, then hurried down the hall toward Adam's office. Adam's bland tone hadn't provided any clues as to whether he was about to impart good news or bad news. But either way, her career and life were about to change. She would either walk out of Adam's office as Matt's boss—or Matt's underling.
As she approached Adam's secretary's desk, Debra smiled. "Go right on in, Jilly. He's expecting you."
Forgoing the urge to press her hands to her jittery midsection, she knocked once, then entered. Her knees trembled a bit as she crossed the expanse of pale blue carpet, and she gratefully sank into the leather chair across from Adam.
He steepled his hands and regarded her with a grave expression that engulfed Jilly with a huge wave of foreboding.
"Well, Jilly, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. I'm afraid you didn't get the ARC account."
Adam's words buzzed through her brain like a swarm of angry hornets. Disappointment lodged a golf-ball size lump in her throat. Damn. She'd wanted that account so much. Had worked hard for it, and had coveted the next step in her career that winning the account would have provided—not to mention the financial security the bonus would have brought her. Yet, mixed in with her disappointment was an unmistakable surge of happiness for Matt. His campaign and ideas for ARC were excellent, and if she couldn't have the account, she was glad he'd have it.
Clearing her throat to dislodge the lump, she said, "Naturally I'm disappointed, but Matt's ideas for ARC were innovative and cutting edge. I know he'll do a great job for ARC."
Adam nodded. "Yes, I'm sure he would have—as I'm sure you would have—had Jack Witherspoon chosen either of you, which unfortunately he did not."
Jilly stared. "I beg your pardon?"
Adam spread his hands in a "what can I say?" gesture. "In spite of the weekend at the winery, and putting my two best people after him—"
"You mean pitting your two best people after him," Jilly observed archly.
Adam shot her an unrepentant grin. "I did what I thought was best to increase Maxximum's odds of winning the account. Unfortunately we didn't win."
"Have you told Matt yet?"
"No. Ladies first."
"Who did Jack decide to go with?"
"A new exec with our chief competitor, the Enterprise Agency," Adam reported, "who recently joined Enterprise from the Opus Agency in L.A. A woman named Carol Webber."
Jilly froze at the familiar name. "Carol Webber? Have you met her?"
"Yes. Just this morning. Jack introduced us."
"Is she a tall, slim, attractive blonde with a small beauty mark above her lip?"
Adam nodded. "That's her." He shot her a curious look. "You know her?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Jilly quickly filled Adam in on Carol Webber, the "nurse" who'd charmed Jack at the winery. "Obviously she found out Jack was going to be there, and she showed up with the intention of luring him away from Maxximum," Jilly fumed.
"And she succeeded."
"I wonder what Jack's reaction was when she told him she wasn't really a nurse?"
"Clearly he wasn't all that devastated," Adam said dryly. He shrugged. "It's unfortunate, but we've both been in this business long enough to know that playing dirty often reaps results. And while I'm not happy about losing out on ARC's account, it's over and done with, and there are other potential clients to consider—which is the next thing I want to discuss with you. Millenium Airways has just signed on with us, and I'm looking for someone to head up their campaign. There's a sizable bonus involved, not to mention some free flights on the airline. There'd also be a lot of traveling involved with the account. You interested?"
Interested? In heading up a prestigious account like Millenium Airways? A bonus? Free flights? Travel? She'd be crazy not to be interested. It sounded incredible. So why was she hesitating? Yet even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer.
"Listen, Adam, as much as I appreciate the opportunity, I think you should give the Millenium account to Matt."
Adam shot her a hawklike look. "Why is that?"
"Because he'd do a great job. I recall him once mentioning that he worked on Global Airways' last campaign at his previous firm, so he has experience with the airline industry. And even though Jack Witherspoon didn't choose Maxximum, Matt's ideas for ARC were brilliant. Personally, I think Jack made a huge mistake."
"Are you telling me that you think Jack should have chosen Matt's ideas over yours?" There was no mistaking the surprise in Adam's tone.
"I think we both came up with excellent ideas, but there was a simplicity to Matt's that really appealed to me. He's very talented." She smiled. "I am, too. But I think Matt is a better choice for Millenium Airways, therefore, I respectfully decline."
Adam's narrowed gaze seemed to cut right through her, and Jilly experienced the uncomfortable sensation that he could divine her thoughts. "Something happen last weekend I should know about, Jilly?"
"No. I just believe in assigning the best person to the job for the good of the company. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I think I'm the right person. In this particular case, however, I think Matt is."
"Well, I'll certainly take that under advisement." Adam stood, indicating their meeting was over. Jilly rose, shook his hand, then exited the office. She walked quickly to her cubicle where she gathered her overcoat, laptop and briefcase, then headed toward the bank of elevators. She had a meeting with a client in thirty minutes, but her thoughts were far away from the new ad campaign she was about to present. No, all she could think about was Matt, and what a great job he would do for Millenium Airways.
* * *
By the time Jilly left her client, it was nearly six o'clock. Since she was only three blocks from Penn station, she decided not to return to Maxximum's offices, but go directly home. She'd already called Kate and canceled their club hop. She was tired and her feet hurt. All she wanted to do was strip off her suit, throw on her rattiest sweats, and dig into the double chocolate brownie fudge ice cream beckoning her.
During both the short walk to Penn, then her thirty-minute Long Island Railroad train ride, she thought about Matt. Good grief, there could be no doubt that she loved the guy. If she didn't, she never would have done such an unprecedented thing as decline Adam's offer to head up the Millenium Airways account and suggest Matt for the position. But Matt deserved it. And he really was the best man for the job.
He's also the best man for you, her inner voice stated emphatically during the short drive home from the train station to her modest, Cape Cod house. Jilly heaved out a long sigh. Yes, he was. And over the course of this weekend, she planned to apply herself to formulating a plan of action for convincing Matt to resume their affair. Surely it shouldn't prove too difficult. He'd seemed open to the idea at the beginning of the week. Yes, being with him, and having to endure the eventual end of their affair would be painful, but, damn it, not being with him was already painful—so why not suffer with him instead of alone? One thing was for sure—it was time to cash in her chips and claim her prize. And as ill-advised as it might be, she wanted Matt for her prize.
She turned onto her quiet, tree-lined street. Holiday lights twinkled in windows, forcibly reminding her that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. The remnants of last weekend's snowfall coated the lawns with a blanket of white, bringing to mind a vivid, aching image of her snowball fight with Matt.
She slowed as she drew closer to her house, peering through the darkness at the black car—a very familiar black car—parked in her driveway. Her heart skipped a beat, then thumped hard.
With her insides quivering, she pulled in behind the Lexus. Almost immediately, the driver's door opened, and Matt climbed out. Her headlights played over him, dressed in
a dark wool overcoat, a Burberry plaid scarf tucked around his neck, one hand jammed into his coat pocket while the other clutched a plain, brown shopping bag. He looked tall and beautiful and serious and good enough to eat. And here.
But why was he here? Well, she certainly wouldn't find out sitting in the car, and she definitely wanted to know. Drawing a bracing breath meant to calm her jangling nerves—and which utterly failed—she turned off her ignition. Be calm, be cool. Great advice. Only problem was she felt extremely uncalm and uncool.
Grabbing her purse and other belongings, she slid from the car, then bumped the door closed with her hip. Forcing a display of nonchalance that deserved not only an Oscar but an Emmy and a Golden Globe as well, she said, "Well, this is a surprise."
"Not an unpleasant one, I hope."
Jilly cocked a brow. "Depends on why you're here."
"I'd be happy to tell you—" his gaze drifted toward the house "—if you'd like to invite me in." When she hesitated he added, "It's kinda cold out here, and I forgot my gloves."
Another image of their snowball fight flashed through her mind. He'd forgotten his gloves then, too. The image was followed immediately by a mental picture of them kissing in the snow.
"How did you know where I live?"
"Well, I'd love to dazzle you with my brilliance and say it was very complicated and required a great deal of detective work, but actually I just looked you up in the Nassau county phone book."
"Ah. Mystery solved. How long have you been waiting?"
"About an hour."
"And how did you know I'd even come home tonight?"
Something flashed in his eyes. "I didn't," he said softly. "But I hoped you would."
Surely he had to hear her heart beating. She could hear the thump, thump, thump in her own ears. And the rapid puffs of cold vapor emanating from between her lips were surefire giveaways of her uncalm, uncool state.
Commanding her legs to move and her eyeballs to quit gawking at him, she nodded toward the cement path leading to her front door. "Well, I don't want to be responsible for you freezing to death out here, so c'mon in."
A SURE THING? Page 17