"He insisted I apologize. I didn't, of course, because I was putting on the ruse I'd stumbled, that I didn't pinch her butt like she claimed."
"You pinched her butt?"
He whistled. “Damn nice one, too. Firm, toned. Perfect contour for my hand."
"You can tell all that from one pinch?"
"You bet, sugar. When it comes to women there are just certain things men know. Our instincts are as sharp as a hawk's."
"Are your instincts telling you now I'm having doubts about donating my annual ten-thousand dollar contribution to your Theatre of the Arts Foundation next year? Hmm?"
"You wouldn't. We need that money. Think of the kids."
"Sounds to me like you wouldn't want to risk losing it, now would you?"
"No,” he said flatly.
"I didn't think so."
"What do you want me to do now?"
"Don't leave town any time soon. I don't know when or how, but I'm sure I'll need your dramatic services again. I want you to be on call."
"On call? But I scored tickets to the Nebraska and Texas A & M game next weekend. Me and a group of the guys are planning on driving down to Texas. We're all set for this huge tailgate party."
"All right, you don't have to beg. Go. But after that, hang close."
"Okay. Okay. Whatever you say. Look, I've got to go. I've got to get these false eyebrows off, they itch like crazy.” The sound on the line switched from Rory's voice to a dull hum, telling her he'd disconnected.
She pushed the button on her phone, ending the call. Things were in motion. Maybe not quite how she'd envisioned, but moving along, nevertheless. As long as her end goal was realized, she didn't care how she got there.
* * * *
Casey zipped her car into the driveway of her town house and cut the engine. The delicious aroma of the Chinese takeout they had decided to pick up, instead of going to the French restaurant, filled the interior. The wonderful smells of Mongolian Beef and Sweet n’ Sour made it a little bit easier to focus on the food rather than the grumpy man sitting beside her, but not much. Since they'd left Heather's, Alex had been quiet and reserved, as if he pondered serious answers to serious questions.
Stealing a glance at him, she noted his striking profile. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, full lips. Alex Roy was all male, no doubt about it. And in spite of his current mood, he was still the handsomest, most tantalizing man she'd ever met. If she managed to convince him to stay, this had potential to be one scrumptious job.
"Nice place,” Alex said, his voice mixing nicely with the steady thrum of the rain on the roof of her car. “Have you lived here long?"
"A while."
"Looks pretty big. Any roommates?"
"One."
"Oh."
Casey smiled at the flicker of disappointment in his voice. Even though he was trying hard not to be, she was confident he was interested. Over the years she'd dated enough men to recognize all the signs of attraction.
She stole another glance at Alex out of the corner of her eye and caught him admiring her legs in spite of the unsightly runner. Why in the hell hadn't she thought to ditch the hose while waiting for his plane?
But by the gleam in his eyes, the runner was irrelevant. The man was definitely interested. If she played this right, she'd have no problem convincing him to stay in Omaha for the Gridmore job.
"Shall we go in? I'm starving,” she said, anxious to get things hashed out between them so they could move on to the fun of talking design.
"Sure."
"Why don't you grab your suitcase? You need to get out of your damp clothes."
"Sounds great."
Together they scooped up the bags of takeout, a bottle of wine and Alex's suitcase. The rain, now falling in a steady downpour again, re-soaked them both by the time they made the short dash from the car to her front door. Once inside they temporarily deposited their dinner on an entry table and shed their coats.
"Here, let me take that,” Casey said as she hung Alex's bomber jacket in the closet before removing her own. Standing there in his checkered flannel shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans spotted with rain, he reminded her more of a lumberjack then an architect. The look suited him.
She was one lucky girl. One hundred percent male perfection stood in her foyer. Yummy.
A steady pounding broke the silence as four furry feet bounded down the wood laminate hallway, bringing the direction of her reckless thoughts back around one-hundred and eighty degrees.
"Brudy, there you are,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder.” The Golden Retriever slid to a halt on the slick floor, sat on his haunches, and lifted a paw. Casey knelt down, accepted his offering and said silent thanks for the distraction the dog provided. He barked twice before racing back down the long hallway.
"Nice homecoming,” Alex chuckled.
"It's an evening ritual.” Casey stood. “By the way, he likes you."
"He didn't even notice me. How can you tell he likes me?"
"Oh, he noticed you all right. The fact he didn't bother you means he likes you."
"And if he didn't like me?"
"You'd be flat on your back and I'd be calling 911.” She laughed.
"Uh-huh. Thanks for warning me before I set foot in your door. I might've been mauled to death."
"Nah. I wasn't worried.” Casey picked up the bags of Chinese and headed for the kitchen. “I knew he'd like you."
"You knew?” Alex followed behind, bringing the bottle of wine and his suitcase. “How could you be so certain?"
Because I like you. Casey decided to keep that little piece of news to herself, and flipped on the kitchen light. She set about gathering plates and wine glasses. “Brudy and I have been together a long time. We know each other's tastes and quirks."
"Really?” he asked with disbelief.
"Not a pet owner, Alex?"
"Not since I was six. And then it was only for a short time."
"Parents say no?"
"No. They gave me a puppy for my birthday one year, but he ended up getting hit by a car a few days later."
"Oh, I'm so sorry.” Casey set aside two plates and turned to him. “That must have been terrible."
"Yeah, it wasn't easy. Things happen, though, and life goes on.” He shrugged and gave her a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Casey's heart pinched. There was no missing the sadness the memory held for him. She'd had a number of pets while growing up and remembered all too well the heartbreak she endured when losing one of her beloved, furry friends.
But getting stuck on a morbid topic wasn't what she had in mind for this evening. Keeping things light, simple, and on business was paramount. No matter how much she wanted to rip that flannel shirt from his body.
"It's a bit chilly in here,” she fibbed, hoping to distract herself from the outrageous direction her thoughts kept straying. Thanks to Alex, she actually felt like she needed to turn on the air conditioning. She hurried from the kitchen by another door that led directly into the dimly lit living room. Heading for the large stone fireplace on the left side of the room, she sat on the hearth and she set the flames to glowing within a matter of minutes.
Brudy nudged her arm as if to say he approved, then trotted over to the plush couch, jumped up onto the cushion and snuggled down into his usual spot.
Casey returned her attention to the fire, the flames adding to the already cozy atmosphere of her living room. If she wanted to sway Alex to her side she needed every advantage, and the proper atmosphere for a relaxed evening was crucial. Especially after the minor fiascos she'd faced at both the airport and at Heather's.
When it came to business, Casey preferred to always be professional, and to be in control. Several times today she'd lost some ground in that department, and now she deemed mixing in a dash of sex appeal a necessary tactic. The trick with relying on seduction in business was knowing how much to use, and when.
Although in Alex's case, she wasn't sure any type of sexual undertones we
re a good idea—for her sake. The guy had a knack for making her heart trip all over itself the way it was. Two little words from him would have her falling at his feet.
The flames leaped high and danced in the grate. That's how she felt—like those logs trapped in blazing heat.
"So, when do we eat?” Alex asked. “I'm starved myself."
Casey froze, certain she hadn't imagined the suggestive undertones in his words. Her nerves twitched.
"Right after you and I get out of these damp clothes.” She stood, turned around and bumped into Alex.
"Oh!"
Alex steadied her on her two-inch heels, his firm and gentle hold exuding a suggestiveness she'd never experienced before. His gaze caught and held hers captive. Mesmerized, she watched as his dark eyes flickered between tinges of anger and desire. A dangerous combination, she knew, but she couldn't pull herself away.
He brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. “I've got nothing against spontaneous sex,” he said, his voice low and seductive.
Warmth that had nothing to do with the fire behind her inflamed her skin. Neither do I, she wanted to shout. With mere inches separating them, Casey struggled to stay composed, to act the professional. Alex smelled of rain, leather ... and man, turning composure into a foreign word. Her knees weakened.
And, ah hell, she couldn't breathe. How was she supposed to focus on business when she couldn't even take a normal breath around the man?
His gaze didn't waver and the glow of the fire added to the smoldering intensity brewing in the depths of his eyes. A low moan escaped Casey's throat. On its own accord, her body leaned into him as though drawn by some unknown force. A force she was powerless to stop.
It would be so easy to fall into bed with this man. So much time had passed since she'd been in an intimate relationship. She was ready. Needed it. Wanted it.
But then, she wanted and needed chocolate everyday, too, and she didn't let herself indulge in the pleasure. Well ... more like her wardrobe didn't allow it. If she could limit her chocolate intake, she could limit her daily dose of Alex as well.
Yeah, right. What the heck for? Life was short. Didn't they always say you should eat dessert first anyway?
Casey reached out to touch him, dying to know the feel of the shadow of whiskers dusting his chin.
"Since we might be working together,” Alex said, “we should probably abstain from such indulgences."
Casey's hand stilled in mid-air, his words hitting her as fast and hard as if he'd punched her in the stomach. Oops. She was getting way ahead of things here. She hadn't had a serious date in months. Maybe she was losing her touch when it came to men.
No. She was simply overacting due to a day that rivaled her worst nightmare. What she was dealing with here was a man full of ambivalence—one of the most dangerous types of men there was to get involved with. If she wasn't careful, he'd rev up her libido, screw up her hormones, and drive her insane.
And what was it he'd said moments before? Might be working together? Might was positive, but she had a feeling she still had a ways to go to convince him to stay. She took a deep breath. Alex Roy was going to be one major challenge for her control department.
"I never said anything about having sex,” she said, feeling more off kilter around Alex than any other man before him. A muscle ticked at his jaw and she realized she'd said the words with more force than intended.
Way to play it cool, Case. So, she wasn't having the same effect on him as he was on her—a major blow to her already fragile relationship ego. She took a step back, frustrated and slightly embarrassed by the blunders she kept making around him.
He released his hold and let his hands fall to his sides.
Disappointed by the loss of his touch, Casey resisted the urge to grab his hands and put them back around her waist.
Brudy lifted his head from his resting spot on the couch and barked, breaking the awkward silence surrounding them.
"You can change your clothes in the spare bedroom,” she said. “It's the third door on the right."
"Thanks,” he said dryly. Alex widened the space between them. Picking up his suitcase, he headed up the stairs without saying another word.
Casey groaned. Again she wondered if this lousy day could get any worse.
* * * *
That was one helluva close call. Alex shook his head, silently reprimanding himself as he climbed the stairs. Another move like that one and he wouldn't have to worry about turning down the job. Casey would kick him all the way back to Denver. What the hell had he been thinking, letting his guard down like that?
He hadn't been thinking. That was the problem.
Alex stopped at the top of the stairs and saw only three doors, all on the right. Casey had said the spare bedroom was the third room. He opened the door, flicked on the light and found the bedroom fashionably decorated, but obviously used very little. That's funny. Casey had said she had a roommate, but this room showed no evidence of regular use. This room was exactly what she'd called it, a spare bedroom—used only when company came, or as a place to stash out-of-season clothing.
She and her roommate must then share a bed, making their relationship far more than a co-habitation designed to save a few bucks each month. Alex didn't want to care whether Casey was involved or not, but he did.
"Cool it right now, Roy. You're not here for a woman. This is business.” He tossed his small suitcase on the bed and pulled out a dry pair of jeans. After changing, he made his way to the bathroom and hung his jeans over the gold shower rod. Nabbing a towel, he rubbed the soft terry fabric over his head and worked most of the dampness from his hair.
The bathroom was as spic-n-span as the bedroom. If someone used this bath on a regular basis, they were a neat freak. Casey obviously had a master bath off her room. And again he found himself wondering what kind of relationship she had with her roommate. Must be pretty darn serious if they both shared a bed and a bathroom on a regular basis. Alex forced his mind away from that dangerous direction, but as he neared her bedroom door the impulse to take a peek inside nagged at him.
He stopped and stared at the honey oak-colored door. What would he find in there? The latest fashions? Expensive, intoxicating perfumes? Silky, mind-blowing lingerie? He'd bet all three. In spite of the mishap at the airport with the old man, he knew Casey had class and style. The fancy red number she'd worn today accentuated every dip, every curve of her luscious body and proved her tastes ran on the expensive side.
So did this house. With its vaulted ceiling, stone fireplace, and open staircase, this was no efficiency home. This was a high-dollar-a-month mortgage.
And she was high maintenance—with a capital m. But then, what woman wasn't.
A noise sounded on the other side of the door and Alex realized Casey must be inside changing her clothes. Stepping away he headed for the stairs, not wanting to get caught lollygagging at her door. That would make a good impression, he thought sarcastically. He'd already put his foot in his mouth, he didn't want her thinking he was a snoop and a pervert, too.
Sure, he'd love nothing more than to catch her in a few strategically placed pieces of silk, but this trip wasn't about pleasure, or putting his already fragile reputation on the line again. Over a mouthful of Chinese he'd stand strong and break the news he wasn't interested—in the job that is. True, he'd be interested in Casey if he let himself be, but he wouldn't. A woman only complicated a man's life and caused more trouble than the sex was usually worth. Alex had learned that piece of wisdom the hard way.
Keeping this meeting with Casey strictly on a business level was the right course to follow. Deal with the problem at hand, accept the outcome, and head home. No more slip-ups like earlier tonight. No matter how bad he'd like to have spontaneous sex with Casey, after he got done telling her thanks, but no thanks, dessert would be out of the question.
Alex paused halfway down the stairs and glanced out over the living room. Her dog lounged comfortably in his spot on the s
ofa, the fire blazed, and soft music hummed from the stereo.
Even though the room was decorated with sophistication and style, the deep rich colors of rust and sage fabrics on the furniture gave it warmth. The added extra touches of oversized pillows, thriving green plants, and several rustic paintings hanging on the walls all gave the room a comfortable touch. A touch that a man could appreciate and feel right at home with.
Did her roommate have a say in the decorating scheme, he wondered? A hint of jealousy filled his bones. He forced the thought away as fast as it had hit and finished his trek down the steps. Circling around the sofa he sat on the hearth with his back to the fire. The heat and comforts of the room felt good after being doused with a fall rain. Way too good.
James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 02] Page 4