A SURE THING?

by Jacquie D'Allesandro

  A quick grin flashed across his handsome features and he fell into step beside her. "Thanks."

  Half a minute later, they stepped into the small, ceramic-tiled foyer. Jilly flicked on a pair of switches that illuminated the front picture window with tiny, blinking holiday lights, and lit up the small Christmas tree set in the corner.

  Matt yanked his gaze away from Jilly before he gave into the overwhelming urge to mess up her perfect chignon, and instead focused his attention on the simple, yet tasteful den furnishings. Pale walls, cushy sectional sofa, glass-topped coffee table adorned with a pile of magazines, television and stereo set into an attractive oak entertainment center. Framed photos were scattered on end tables, and several 8x10s hung on the wall, all depicting Jilly with an attractive woman who was clearly her mother, and a smiling man—based on the resemblance, obviously her father.

  The room reflected so many of the things he loved about her—it was neat, comfortable, warm and inviting. Beyond the den he saw the unlit eat-in kitchen.

  "Nice place," he said with a smile that he hoped didn't announce his nervousness.

  "Thank you. It's a great neighborhood, and I was lucky enough to buy the house just before the Long Island housing prices increased from 'insane' to 'completely insane.'" She accepted his coat and hung it in a small closet near the door. "I rent out the upstairs, which helps considerably with the mortgage. My tenant, Mrs. Peterson, is a gem. She's a widow, and I inherited her when I bought the house."

  "Did I take her parking spot?"

  "No. She's in Florida for the holidays, visiting her son. I really miss her. Having her here makes living alone not so … alone."

  "Yeah," he said softly, his gaze roaming over her face, then resting on her beautiful lips. "Alone stinks."

  He heard her swallow. Then she closed the closet and nodded at the shopping bag he still gripped. "What's in there?"

  "I'll show you in a minute."

  "Okay." Her hand swept toward the sofa. "Make yourself at home. Can I get you something?"

  His gaze flitted over her no-nonsese black suit, and a dozen things she could get him instantly streaked through his mind. He forced himself to shake his head. "No, thanks."

  She moved to the sofa and sat, then indicated he should do the same. He settled himself, leaving several feet between them on the overstuffed cushion, and placed his shopping bag near his feet. Her gaze darted to her watch, and his stomach clenched. "Am I keeping you from something?" he asked. Or someone?

  "No. I was just wondering why you were here—and how you managed to arrive before me, especially driving from Manhattan with the crazy Friday-night traffic and all the Christmas shoppers on top of that."

  "I left the office early. In fact, I left the office right after I spoke to Adam."

  She blew out a long breath. "Pretty unbelievable about 'nurse' Carol Webber pulling in ARC's account, huh?"

  "Actually, having been the victim of such underhanded tactics before, I unfortunately find it quite believable. Sickeningly so." Reaching out, he clasped her hand, cradling it between his palms. Her eyes widened slightly at the gesture, but she didn't pull away. Warmth raced up his arm at the feel of her soft skin, and he squelched the urge simply to yank her into his arms and kiss her until neither one of them could think straight. He hoped that would happen. But there were things that needed to be said first.

  "I have a confession to make, Jilly. There were times, before our weekend at the winery, when I suspected you might use such underhanded tactics, and I want you to know I'm sorry for that."

  She raised a brow. "Actually, Matt, I think there were times at the winery when you thought I might use more than my creativity to land a client."

  "You're right. But I learned very quickly that I was dead wrong. In fact, I learned a great deal last weekend. Would you like to know what?" Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers, giving him hope that she was not as calm as she appeared.

  "If you'd like to tell me."

  "Oh, I would. When I started at Maxximum, I immediately pegged you as the person to beat. You were talented and beautiful, and I buried my instant attraction—an attraction I refused to admit even to myself—by thinking of you as an Ice Princess. And my rival. I realize now that I was subconsciously trying to win back what was stolen from me at my previous job."

  He shook his head at his own foolishness. "But I learned during our weekend away that I couldn't have been more wrong. In an industry filled with vipers and sharks, you restored my faith that there are still people who possess integrity and a sense of fair play." He brushed his thumbs over the back of her hand. "I also learned that you have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I learned that I could laugh again and trust again. I learned that it's somehow possible for a woman to not only possess beauty and brains, but a wicked sense of humor, the softest skin I've ever imagined, a killer throwing arm, and for her to smell better than anyone on the planet."

  A shaky smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. "How can you say that—have you met everyone on the planet?"

  "I don't need to. I just know. In here." He laid one hand over his rapidly beating heart. "I learned that the last week without you was torture, and that the thought of facing another day, let alone another week, like this past one is just impossible."

  Jilly's breath caught at his softly spoken words. Clearly Matt wanted to pick up their affair where they'd left off. This was exactly what she wanted—right? Yeah. She should be turning cartwheels. Except for that huge brick wall looming on the horizon labeled The End of the Affair into which she would eventually crash. Still, he'd been honest about his misconceptions about her, and she owed him nothing less than the same.

  Drawing a bracing breath, she said, "I also have a confession to make. While I'd admired your talent from day one, I'd labeled you the sort of bossy, take-charge kind of guy who raised my hackles and whom I've always avoided like a case of the hives. But I learned that there's a difference between taking charge and being thoughtful—that just because you wanted to do something for me didn't mean you were trying to take over."

  "Seems like even though we knew each other for a year, we didn't find out the important stuff until last weekend." He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from purring like a kitten at his touch. "Jilly, Adam told me what you did—turning down the Millenium Airways account, telling him to offer it to me instead."

  She cleared her throat. "I thought Adam would keep that information to himself."

  "That was probably his intention. He didn't tell me until after he'd offered me the account and I turned it down and deferred it to you."

  Good thing her jaw was permanently attached to her face or it would have plunked right onto the floor. "You turned down the chance to head up the new Millenium Airways campaign? Are you nuts?"

  "That's an odd question from someone who did the exact same thing."

  His dark blue gaze searched hers with such intensity, she had to press her thighs together to keep from squirming. "Well, I had my reasons," she said.

  "I'd love to know what they were."

  Because I love you and I wanted you to have the account. "Because I honestly believe, with your previous airline campaign experience, you're better qualified to handle the account." Yeah, that, too.

  He shook his head, clearly bemused. "Your generosity amazes and humbles me." Again his gaze probed hers. "Is that the only reason, Jilly?"

  "Yup." At least it was the only one she was willing to share at the moment. Something that looked like disappointment flashed in his eyes. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, and she battled to ignore the tingles dancing up her arm. "Me declining in your favor makes sense due to your prior experience," she said, "but what possible reason could you have for bowing out and recommending me instead?"

  "Because I think you're brilliant. Creative. The epitome of professionalism. Because I respect and admire you. You've been at Maxximum longer than me, and I think you deserve i
t more than I do. And I wanted you to have the opportunity you deserve."

  Warmth spread through her at his praise. "You're going to make me blush." No sooner had the words passed her lips than she felt heat suffusing her cheeks.

  He reached out and touched his fingertips to her flaming skin, chuckling softly. "That's amazing. You say you're going to blush, and it happens as if on cue. Like the Disney animators were standing by, paintbrushes in hand."

  His words only served to heat her face further. "Sorry. I can't help it."

  "Don't apologize. It's lovely. Refreshing. And incredibly sexy."

  Jilly's heart tripped over itself—at his words, and at the unmistakable desire simmering in his eyes. Flustered, she asked, "With each of us recommending the other, I wonder what Adam plans to do?"

  His brows raised. "You don't know?"

  "No … but it sounds like you do."

  "'Fraid so. He gave the Millenium account to David Garrett."

  Jilly stared. "David Garrett? The new hire?"

  "That's the one. Adam thought it would be good experience for him and, unlike us, David jumped at the chance."

  After taking several seconds to digest the information, Jilly shook her head. "Well, ain't that a kick in the ass."

  He laughed. "It certainly is." His expression sobered. "Jilly, there's something else I want to discuss with you. The reason I came here tonight was to let you know that I want to—"

  The shrill ring of the telephone cut off Matt's words, and Jilly bit back the frustrated aaargh! that rose to her lips. Damn, it was supposed to be "saved by the bell," not "cursed by the bell." She debated just letting the answering machine pick up, but on the off chance that it might be a message she wouldn't want Matt to overhear—like Kate calling from a club to tell her that she was missing out on a slew of eligible hunks—she decided she'd better pick up.

  "Excuse me for just a moment," she murmured, rising to pick up the receiver in the kitchen.

  Matt watched her leave the room, then raked his hands through his hair and sizzled a death stare toward the unseen phone. Talk about crappy timing. Jeez. Nothing worse or more painful than a case of propositionus interruptus.

  While she was gone, he nervously leafed through an entertainment magazine from her coffee table collection, trying not to strain to make out the low murmur of her words drifting from the kitchen. When she returned five minutes later, he abandoned the magazine. She plopped down on the cushion next to him, a bemused expression on her face.

  "Have you ever noticed," she said, "that whenever something bad happens, the universe somehow manages to right itself by making something good happen?"

  Thinking about how Tricia had been a bad thing for him, and Jilly was such a good thing, he answered, "As a matter of fact I have noticed that."

  "Well, it's been proven true once again. You'll never believe who that was on the phone."

  "Based on your expression, I'm guessing it was the folks at Publishers Clearing House and you're their newest millionaire?"

  "No." She flashed a grin. "Although that would be great. It was Joe, that nice man we met at Galini Vineyards."

  Matt's brows shot up. "What did he want? Did you win a free bottle of wine in his monthly drawing?"

  "No, and all I can say is it's a good thing you're sitting down. Turns out Joe's last name is none other than Galini. He doesn't just work the winery—he owns the place." Excitement all but glowed from her. "But the incredible part is that he also owns Tribiletto Vineyards in Italy."

  Matt simply stared. "Tribiletto, as in the Tribiletto Vineyards—one of the foremost wineries in the world?"

  "The very same. He left the day-to-day operations of Tribiletto to his sons, and started Galini Vineyards as his pet project, hoping to get a foothold in the United States. He called to say that he was very impressed with us—he liked our 'sense of fun and sincerity.' He's looking to go national with the local Galini label, and wants to tie it in with the Tribiletto label. What he needs is a good ad campaign, and he asked if we would be interested in meeting him for lunch next Wednesday at the Trigali Grill on Fifth Avenue—his company owns the restaurant, by the way, and he said it could also use some updating in its advertising." She was practically bouncing in her seat. "Think of the business this will bring to Maxximum! How's that for a rebound from David Garrett getting the Millenium account?"

  "I'd say the universe has definitely been realigned. Well, except for one thing."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "You and me."

  She went perfectly still. "You and me?"

  "Yeah. I'm afraid we're still off-kilter. But as I was about to tell you before the phone rang, I want to fix that."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  He entwined their fingers and gave her hand a light squeeze, encouraged when she squeezed him back. "About our affair … how would you feel about continuing it?"

  An expression that morphed from relief to unease flickered across her face. "I don't think we can deny that doing so would make working together … difficult—"

  "Exactly," he broke in, unable to hide his relief. "Which is why I don't think we should continue our affair."

  Jilly felt as if she'd been stabbed through the heart. His words echoed through her mind, filling her with a hurt unlike anything she'd ever before experienced. And he looked … happy? Forcing a breath into lungs that felt as if they'd been steamrolled, she murmured, "I … see." A total lie, because she didn't see at all. "Then why are you here?"

  "To give you this." He reached into his shopping bag and pulled out a wrapped box the size of a paperback book, only deeper. Handing her the package, he said, "Open it."

  Hoping he wouldn't notice her shaking fingers, she untied the bow. He didn't want to continue their affair, but he'd driven all the way to her house and brought her a present? Good grief, and they said women were hard to figure out?

  Setting the ripped wrapping paper on the coffee table, she opened the gift box, then pushed aside several layers of gold tissue paper to reveal a hand-size ceramic statue of a snowman. A snowman holding an arc of mini snowballs. Jilly's eyes goggled as she read the message spelled out on those little white balls: I Love You.

  Certain she'd developed a freakishly sudden need for reading glasses, she carefully lifted the statue from its nest of tissue, then turned it toward the light. She sucked in a sharp breath. Holy smokes, it really did read I Love You.

  Her gaze swiveled to his. "I don't understand."

  He raked his hands through his hair. "Damn. Not the three words I was hoping for." He studied her face, and clearly she looked as stunned as she felt because he said, "I've surprised you."

  "Surprised doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling." Hope raced through her, barreling over her confusion. "I mean I don't understand how one minute you can say you don't want to continue our affair, yet in the next give me this. What do you mean?"

  He shifted closer to her, then cupped her face between his hands. "I mean I love you. With all my heart." He leaned forward and kissed her so softly, so tenderly, with such restrained passion that Jilly's insides turned to syrup. When he pulled back, she had to struggle to catch her breath. Who the heck had stolen all the oxygen from the room?

  His serious gaze searched hers. "You said that surprised doesn't begin to describe what you're feeling. Any chance you'd like to deal me in on what you are feeling?"

  Jilly looked at him, so earnest and handsome, his heart in his eyes. And the floodgates of her own heart simply opened. He'd laid his cards on the table, and it was time for her to do the same. "I feel that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for so much as a minute. I feel that you're all the things I've ever wanted in a man, all tied up in an incredible package. And I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet because I just found out that the man I love loves me back."

  He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and murmured something that sounded like thank you, God. When he opened his eyes, he smiled. "And just how
do you know that you're the luckiest woman on the planet? Have you met every woman on the planet?"

  "I don't need to. I just know." Pressing her hand over the spot where her heart slapped frantically against her ribs, she perfectly mimicked his earlier response. "In here."

  "You love me."

  She turned her face and pressed a kiss against his palm, which still rested against her cheek. "Very much."

  "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that." He nodded toward the snowman's box. "There's something else in there."

  "More presents?"

  "’Tis the season, you know."

  As if in a daze, Jilly set her snowman on the table, then fingered through the tissue paper until she found a small silver key. Holding it aloft, she asked, "What is this—the key to your heart?"

  "Something like that." Again Matt reached into his shopping bag then gently placed the item he withdrew onto her lap.

  She stared at the shoebox-size metal strongbox, completely mystified. "What's this?"

  "It's the best strongbox on the market, completely fireproof, and virtually indestructible. A must-have for hiding all those valuables you don't want to risk falling into the wrong hands."

  Okay, so it wasn't the most romantic of Christmas gifts, and clearly he was the sort of guy who preferred to buy his holiday presents at the hardware store rather than Victoria's Secret, but she could live with that. Practicality was good. She smiled. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. But don't thank me until you open it."

  Jilly's heart tripped over itself. Clasping the key, she inserted it into the silver lock. Then drawing a deep breath, she lifted the lid.

  Everything in her stilled as she stared at the contents. The entire bottom of the strongbox was covered with a layer of chocolate-covered marshmallows. White chocolate letters, scrawled across the top of each marshmallow, spelled out the question, Will You Marry Me?

  Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. Good grief, she really did need those reading glasses. But when she reopened her eyes, the message, incredibly, remained. Tears misted her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. This man … this wonderful, generous, sweet, kind, romantic, beautiful man was going to be the death of her. But, wow, what a way to go.