Vibrizzio (The Big V #1)

by Nicki Elson

  He carried the bowl over and leaned back on the counter, watching Lyssa grab each ear with a set of tongs and lower it into the water.

  When they were all in, he said, “Weren’t you supposed to let the water boil first?”

  “Was I?” She scrunched her face.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Lyssa stared at the pot, willing it to start boiling, and debated whether or not to remove all the ears until it did.

  “While we wait, why don’t you tell me more about Operation No More Men?”

  Her face warmed, and it wasn’t from any steam rising from the pot. “What do you want to know?”

  “First of all—why?”

  She shrugged. “Real men always disappoint me.”

  “So you’re going to date fake men?” Hayden sucked in a sudden gasp, and Lyssa’s eyes snapped to him. “Andre Agassi! You think you’re going to replace men with him?”

  Eyes back on the pot, she cursed inwardly, Boil damn you!

  “Oh ho ho, this is rich. What did that programmer do to you? Or more likely, what did he not do right with you?”

  She narrowed her eyes and turned back toward him. “I thought you were going to leave this aspect alone, but, for the record, he did everything just fine.”

  “I left it alone while you were still dating him. Now he’s free game. So come on, if he’d been properly peeling your layers, there’s no way you’d think real men could be replaced by the likes of Agassi.”

  Instead of responding, Lyssa studied him. Beneath his bravado, she detected something else—his impossibly blue eyes bored into her, seeking something. Before she could figure out what it was, he shook off his intensity, and one corner of his lip curled into a devilish smirk.

  “Do you actually picture Andre Agassi when you’re … ”

  Bubbles rose to the surface of the water, and Lyssa adjusted the temperature to keep it from boiling over. “Very funny,” she deadpanned.

  “Well then, who do you picture?” He gave her shoulder a slight, flirtatious nudge.

  Her eyes flicked toward the door. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”

  “I’ll stop as soon as she gets back. Promise. Come on … tell me.”

  She blew out a long sigh, wishing he’d drop it but not seeing any harm in answering. “Sometimes it’s a faceless guy but mostly fictional characters.”

  “Like … ”

  “Like Han Solo, Mal Reynolds. Doctor Who.”

  “Which Doctor?”

  “Mostly the tenth. Sometimes the ninth.”

  “How very nerdy of you.”

  “Hey, there had to be some benefits to my boyfriend forcing sci-fi on me.”

  “You never fantasize about real guys?” One of Hayden’s eyebrows arched in a challenge.

  “Every once in a while Larry Potash pays me an imaginary visit.”

  “The news guy on channel nine?” The incredulous pitch of Hayden’s voice made her break out into a fit of giggles.

  “What? He’s sexy.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. So … do any women ever make it into your fantasies?”

  Gravel crunched outside, and Lyssa said, “Oh darn, looks like this conversation has ended.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Lula came in carrying a covered tray and a bag with a logo of a winged pig. “Didn’t figure you’d be up for slaughtering your own swine. That corn almost done?”

  Dinner passed uneventfully with Lula talking more about her granddad and asking them questions wholly unrelated to anything to do with Project Pineapple. Hayden had apparently been sincere in his desire to not renew business talk until the morning. After clearing the table, Lula told them to leave the dirty dishes on the counter and then said, “Someone will do them in the morning.”

  She then revealed that the farmhouse had an excellent Internet connection, so Lyssa and Hayden settled into opposite corners of the living room with their electronics. Lula said goodnight and went upstairs to where Lyssa presumed she was spending the night. After nearly two hours, Lyssa yawned. She was reluctant to return to the creepiness of her designated bedroom, but sleep called.

  Changing out of her clothes as swiftly as she’d rushed into them, she crawled under the covers, turning her back to the window. She’d forgotten to pull down the shade, and moonlight filtered through the lace curtains, casting shadows onto the opposite wall. A breeze blew through the branches, making the shadows dance, and she watched their eerie movement until her heavy lids closed and she slipped out of consciousness.

  She bolted upright as a clamorous bang woke her. The breeze had picked up, and branches of nearby trees flailed wildly. Figuring the wind must’ve blown a loose branch against the window, she settled back into her pillow and closed her eyes. Before sleep reclaimed her, she recalled the fuzzy details of the dream she’d been having. Hayden was there. She was pretty sure he hadn’t been wearing a shirt. And he’d been delivering the morning news. While he talked, he’d pulled out a … a corncob? Oh my, it’d been a vibrating corncob, and he’d been using it on her. Another bang on the window distracted her from the memory, and by the time she’d recovered from the new fright, only the barest details of the dream remained.

  * * *

  The sun shone through the window the next morning, giving the bedroom a less threatening aspect. Lyssa showered and dressed, running through the list of questions she and Hayden would have to force Lula to answer. When she entered the big room, she found Hayden sitting in a wingback chair. He held up a piece of paper. “I found this on the kitchen counter.”

  Lyssa came over and took the message, reading:

  As my granddad said, it all comes down to the individual. You’ve met me, the real me, and now you need to decide whether or not I’m a person you can trust and believe in. I’ve left and won’t be back before you leave, so I’ve hired a limo to take you to the airport. It’ll be at the house by ten thirty. That should give you plenty of time to wash the dishes from last night. Eggs are in the fridge and cereal in the cabinet. -L

  “Wow,” was all Lyssa could say at first, and then, “I thought we were supposed to be saved by the bell. Instead, we keep getting it rung.” Hayden raised his eyes to her without an ounce of emotion in his expression. “Er, sorry for the bad punnage. I presume she’s officially off the list of potential candidates?”

  “Are you kidding?” A spark of determination flickered across his features, and his cocky grin returned. “Now I want her more than ever.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lyssa woke an hour before her alarm went off. She was in a premium hotel room in Dallas and nervous about meeting Delicious Hawaii’s full board of directors. She knew she’d never be able to fall back asleep. Rather than lay there and work herself into an anxiety attack, she went to her makeup bag and pulled out Vibrizzio. Back in the bed, under the puffy, down-filled duvet, she sighed upon feeling the gentle vibrations against her flesh. But as her mind drifted toward Jean-Luc Picard telling her she was the only woman he’d ever loved, she thought of the pie graph.

  “Arg!” Jamie had screwed up the first version and was supposed to have revised that section of the presentation, but Lyssa realized that she’d never verified the change with her own eyes.

  Pulling her bikini briefs back on, she went to the desk and pushed the button on her laptop. While she waited for it to warm up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of the ultra-clean hotel room. She had a king-sized bed with top-of-the-line bedding and linens all to herself in the mini-suite. Since DH was hosting a party at the hotel later that night, Hayden had sweet talked Beecher into letting him and Lyssa exceed the usual hotel budget and book rooms there. She even had her own private soaking bathtub—her first thought upon seeing it was to wonder if the Pocket Rocket was truly waterproof.

  After clicking into the PowerPoint document and verifying that Jamie had come through, she thought of several more things to quadrup
le check. By the time she’d reassured herself that everything was as it should be, her alarm blared. She rushed over to the bed and flicked it off, then fished through the bountiful blankets to retrieve her little friend and found it still vibrating at a low hum.

  “Dammit.” She hated to waste precious battery life.

  The meeting went smoothly and ended with the board voting to approve Ardent Capital Management. A lengthy tour of DH’s facilities followed, leaving Lyssa and Hayden with just enough time to get back to their hotel, log their notes from the day, and get ready for the party.

  Lyssa entered the banquet room alone, greeted by the twang of traditional island music. Strings blended with the ping of a xylophone and the winds of some kind of bizarre flute. Wearing a bright pink V-neck, white capris, and a pair of flip-flops, she suddenly felt underdressed compared to the grass skirts and shockingly vibrant flowered shirts surrounding her. Apparently, the DH employees took the Hawaiian theme all the way. Splotches of color in the form of tropical flowers decorated the center of each of the dozens of round tables, and tiki torches stood near the three bars and the stage.

  “Hey, there she is,” said an accountant—or was it a quality control specialist—whom Lyssa had met earlier that day. He pointed both of his index fingers at her and lifted his thumbs, curling the rest of his fingers in. “Bang. Bang.”

  Lyssa smiled. She was used to being associated with Al Capone whenever she introduced herself as a Chicago native. “Hi, how are you?”

  “Charles,” he said, reminding her.

  She nodded and splayed her fingertips across at the top of her chest. “Lyssa.”

  “I remembered. Have you met Karen?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lyssa chitchatted with Charles and Karen, and every once in a while someone else she’d met during the day strolled by and teased her about being a Cubs fan, even though she didn’t really care one way or the other about the Northside team. Sometimes the newcomers stayed to talk longer, sometimes they didn’t, and somewhere along the way she got “lei’d.” As the DH crew consumed more drinks and the heavy appetizers proved to be a poor substitute for an actual dinner, they drifted away into their natural cliques. At one point, even Charles and Karen moved on.

  Lyssa hadn’t seen Hayden yet, and now scanned the huge banquet room, spotting him talking and laughing with a small group across the way. He somehow maintained his professional air despite the ring of flowers around his neck and the small paper umbrella tucked behind one ear. She only watched him for a few seconds before his eyes lifted to meet hers, as if he’d sensed her looking, and his grin widened into something warmer and more genuine than what it’d been moments before. She took an instinctive step toward him, barely thinking to excuse herself from the people she’d been semi-talking to, and then picked up her pace, suddenly eager to get to him.

  “This is Ken,” Hayden said as soon as she got there, “and you remember Larry and Jean from earlier.” After exchanging smiles, they went back to the conversation they’d been having before Lyssa had arrived, and she was satisfied to stay quiet and listen—she’d reached her limit of forced small talk with strangers. While letting her gaze wander, she was surprised to feel Hayden’s hand slip into hers. “You don’t have a drink,” he said. If the umbrella in his hair hadn’t been enough of a clue that he’d been imbibing along with the rest of the guests, the slight slur in his voice confirmed it. “Hey guys, I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, nodding to the others before moving his hand to the small of Lyssa’s back and guiding her away.

  At the board meeting, no formal mention had been made about the wildcard pool, but as Hayden steered her to the nearest bar, he bent his mouth to her ear and said in a low voice, “I had a good talk with Shep out in the lobby earlier, filled him in on our visit with Miss Lula Bell last week. He’s still all for pursuing her and offered to have his team give a go at cracking her.”

  At the bar, he ordered a Mai Tai, and as he turned to hand Lyssa the voluptuously curved glass, his eyes scanned her from painted toenails to shimmery lips. He quirked an eyebrow and frowned. “Where’s your coconut bra?”

  She ignored the question. “Does Shep want me to set something up with Lula?”

  “Nah, he said he’d take care of it. Just e-mail his assistant her contact information and files when we’re back at the office. Tonight, we enjoy ourselves.” He clinked, or rather clunked, her glass with his pineapple, then pulled the umbrella from behind his ear and tucked it behind hers.

  She took a sip of the fruity, rum-heavy beverage and looked around the huge banquet room. The island-flavored music had all been instrumental, but then a portly man wearing nothing but a boldly colored skirt and a puka shell necklace moved up to the microphone, and the music turned distinctly modern.

  Clusters of people moved toward the dance floor, and Lyssa officially felt like an outsider. It was very nice that Shep had invited the consultants to the employee event, and everyone had been politely friendly, but she was ready to get a Mai Tai buzz on and head back to her room to properly enjoy the soaker tub.

  “Are they … are they playing Hall and Oates?” Hayden asked.

  “Who?”

  “Daryl Hall and John Oates … my God, Bates, have you never even heard of a spectacular decade called the eighties?”

  A familiar lyric caught her attention, and her eyes snapped to the skirted musicians. They could only be described as bebopping as they plucked their strings and tapped their bongos in a wholly unique rendition of “You Make My Dreams.” She’d never before seen moobs quite so active and bouncy.

  Hayden busted out laughing. “Oh man, we’ve gotta dance. Drink up.”

  A minute ago, Lyssa would’ve told him to forget it, but there was something about the enthusiastic swivel of the lead singer’s bulky hips and the high pitched “Oowooh ooh ooh” of the backups that made her want to get out there and cut loose with them. She slammed back half her drink, stopping before giving herself in ice headache, and took Hayden’s outstretched hand, letting him pull her to the center of the bobbing bodies.

  They stayed close, and she followed Hayden’s lead. As he lip synched, he somehow managed to combine total dork with sexy, keeping his brilliant eyes on her and sliding his hands loosely over her hips to keep her moves in time with his. After a while, she gave up trying to pretend she could dance at all and jumped back, shouting, “Cabbage Patch!” Sweeping her hands in front of her in a circle, she fisted them and jerked them in toward her body.

  Hayden didn’t hesitate to shout, “The lawnmower!” He dropped his hand at an angle toward the floor and pulled it back, kicking his foot back at the same time.

  Lyssa laughed. “Do the swim!” She alternately shimmied her arms out in front of her to imitate swim strokes and then plugged her nose, holding her free hand up in the air and wiggling her fingers as she swayed her hips almost all the way down to the floor and back up again. Hayden had joined her in that last move, and they noticed a circle had formed around them.

  “Looks like they want a show.” Hayden winked, and they continued to shout out ridiculous dance moves that got steadily stupider as the song went on. By the time it ended, Lyssa was almost out of breath, and a sheen of sweat covered her.

  The notes of another song began, this one a bit slower, and Hayden wrapped his hand around the back of her head, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her damp forehead. “I think we’ve embarrassed ourselves enough for the night. Want some fresh air?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Hayden grabbed two bottled beers from the metal trough near the door to the patio before they strolled out onto the flat, sand-colored stones. The expanse spread out toward small vignettes—each one had a small, round fire pit surrounded by deck chairs on one side and a circular bench on the other. A half wall backed the curved benches to provide privacy. The soothing flicker of the flames and the barely audible whispers of the patio’s few occupants made it feel to Lyssa as if they’d stepped into a different u
niverse from the raucous one inside. The band’s songs were only muted background out here, and cool night air replaced the heat generated by the swirling bodies on the dance floor.

  Lyssa and Hayden passed several seating areas in silence before he gestured toward a vacant one. There were no chairs, so they both sat on the bench. The stone was close enough to the fire to have absorbed some of its warmth, and Hayden spotted a basket with blankets in it, so he pulled one out for Lyssa to drape over her lap and cover her bare ankles and toes. They faced away from the building and out toward the lights of the city.

  “Pretty,” Lyssa commented.

  “Yeah.” Hayden took a sip from his bottle and leaned back, looking up toward the inky sky. “Nice to have this meeting over with, isn’t it? I’m going to sleep a whole lot better tonight.”

  “You were nervous?”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “You weren’t?”

  “Well, yeah, of course I was, but you … you seemed to take it all in stride. I didn’t know you ever got nervous.”

  “Are you forgetting the night of the Boston Massacre? I was freaking out from the moment Carlo called.”

  “That was freaking out?”

  He shrugged and lifted his bottle for another sip. “Guess I keep it well hidden, mostly. Everyone gets stressed—and a certain level of nerves are a good thing, keeps you alert, doesn’t allow complacency to set in.”

  “True.” After a moment of not-uncomfortable silence, she asked, “Is that why you switched from Taft-Hartley to corporate? You were getting too comfortable, complacent?”

  His gaze traveled back up to the sky. “That was part of it, but not the whole reason. I don’t intend to stay in consulting forever, and it seemed like a good idea to broaden my experience, beef up the resume.”

  “Oh.” Lyssa hid her frown by taking a long swig of her beer. Of course, he was planning to leave one day. Isn’t that what everyone did eventually?

  “Hey, I said no work talk. Tonight’s supposed to be all pleasure.”