by Tawny Weber
She’d written articles on that very theme. Romance by the Numbers: Ten Steps That Work On Every Woman. Or her series called Developing a Signature Style, based on tried and true textbook romantic gestures.
It all came down to bullshit. To spinning the pitch just the right way to achieve the goal. For most men, that was sex. Which brought her back to the question of why waste time with romance?
Tessa’s shoulders drooped, her body suddenly feeling as if it weighed a ton.
God, she was jaded. Was that why she shunned romance?
Because she didn’t like being disappointed? Because no man had ever moved beyond the textbook steps?
Well, there ya go.
One more thing she didn’t want to know about herself.
Tessa sighed, then resumed pacing the room.
She’d spent the entire weekend, ever since Saturday night’s engagement party, fuming. She’d tried to work her sexual frustrations off at the gym, and then to bury them in a double-caramel-fudge sundae delight.
Nothing had helped.
She couldn’t rant to Livi. Under normal circumstances, her best friend would have been gratifyingly sympathetic, appropriately outraged and completely supportive. But where Romeo was concerned, nothing was normal.
So Tessa had done the next best thing.
She’d hit the office first thing this morning, knowing that her partner would be holed up here obsessing over the specs for the next issue’s publication.
“There, in the middle of hot and heavy, the guy turned me down,” Tessa grumbled, as irritated at the fact that she, with her excellent verbal skills, had now repeated that same sentence at least nine times as she was with the sentence itself. “Can you believe the arrogant ass?”
“Why?” was all that Maeve muttered, her lanky body hunched over her computer like a gnome over its treasure. A brilliant tech, she’d been wooed by Silicon Valley numerous times. Tessa knew she stayed as much out of loyalty to the company the two women had built with Jared Welch right out of college as it was that Maeve was a woman with strong opinions and strict working-condition requirements.
Which included calling her own hours, insisting on being able to lock her door and ignore everyone until she wanted to talk to them and working barefoot year-round.
Tessa glanced at Maeve’s feet, crossed yoga-style on her lap, noting that today’s polish was virulent violet with hot pink polka dots.
“Why? What do you mean by why?” Tessa asked, hoping that somewhere in this conversation, some of Maeve’s brilliance would translate into usable advice. Or at least something comprehensible.
“Why is the guy an arrogant ass if he turns down sex? I mean, a woman turns down sex and she’s justified. So why is it different for a guy?”
Because no guy had ever turned her down. Tessa kept that fact to herself, settling for sending a scowl at the back of Maeve’s head.
“By that logic, he’s a tease, then,” she said, stabbing her finger in the air as if poking an imaginary Romeo in his very hard, very sculpted chest. “And teases suck.”
Maeve sighed. “You ever get going with a guy, thinking it’s going to end in hot sex, then for whatever random reason, change your mind?”
Dammit. Tessa growled low in her throat, but couldn’t lie.
“Of course I have.”
Once, she’d walked out on one with his boxers around his ankles. Not because he had a pair of elephant ears tattooed to his upper thighs. But because his trunk had been the size of a peanut, he claimed because it was scared of her mouse. Talk about a turnoff.
Wait...
Had she turned off Romeo?
“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” Tessa asked in shock. Feet glued to the floor, she gaped at the back of Maeve’s head.
Oh, God. Had Romeo found something wrong with her? The way she kissed? She’d thought he’d been totally into it. His mouth had been wild. Hot and, well, focused. He’d been totally into their kiss, dammit.
So was it her body?
Her knees turned to water at the thought. Her stomach pitched into the toes that were stuck to the floor, before bouncing up into her throat so fast Tessa felt as if she was going to throw up.
It wasn’t as if she thought she was God’s gift to men, or that she was so conceited to believe herself irresistible. But she’d had enough success with the opposite sex over the years to know that she did hold a certain amount of appeal. Added to that, she made her living writing about the games between the sexes, and statistics supported her belief that men were, generally speaking and given the right circumstances, horndogs who’d do it with anyone who offered.
And their circumstances had been right, dammit.
He’d been into the kiss and hot for her body.
Hadn’t he?
Tessa bit her lip, thinking back to Saturday night. Heat swirled through her at the memory, assuring her that any and all of those kisses had been freaking awesome. She had enough experience to know if a guy was faking his reaction, and she knew damned well that her record of no man ever faking with her still stood strong.
“He’s playing games,” she insisted, as much because she believed it, but also because she really needed to believe it. “He has no idea who he’s messing with.”
Maeve’s cackle echoed off her computer monitor. “He’s got you good and hooked, so I’d say he knows exactly what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with.”
Her feet finally free again, Tessa resumed pacing.
“That’s ridiculous,” she railed with a wave of her hand. “I’m not hooked. I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”
“You walked away from sex,” Maeve pointed out, finally turning in her office chair, the cracked black leather creaking in protest as she arched her back and stretched her long arms overhead, bangles clanging together as she did.
Pursing her lips, Tessa debated nitpicking the fact that Romeo was the one who’d turned down sex. But she knew Maeve well enough to know that the minute she did, her friend would point out that he hadn’t turned down sex so much as put parameters on what she had to do to get it.
That was the problem bitching to someone as brilliant as Maeve. She was so damned picky about the particulars.
“I walked away from a cliché that was being dangled as a hook to get sex,” Tessa explained, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head snickering that it was more as if she’d run away from an emotional temptation with so much weight that if she tried it, it’d sink her.
“Riiight,” Maeve drawled. “A cliché. Because that’s your deal breaker.”
“You’ve said it yourself a million times,” Tessa said, trying to keep the defensive edge out of her tone. “Clichés are lazy.”
“In writing. But the cliché of wanting to use romance as foreplay? That takes an effort. Focus and forethought. Nothin’ lazy about that.”
What’s with all the F words? Tessa wanted to add foreplay and fornicate to the list, but resisted since she knew exactly which word Maeve would shoot back.
“So what’s your point?” Tessa asked instead.
“My point is that games can add spice to sex.” Maeve arched one slender brow as she uncurled herself from her chair. On her feet she stretched again, her misshapen mustard-colored sweater bagging at the hips of her purple acid-washed jeans. She crossed the office with her mile-eating stride, filled a gallon-size coffee mug with juice from the minifridge. “If you wanted that hot sex, you’d have played it out until you got what you wanted. You always do. Since you ran instead, you might want to ask yourself why.”
“I only went for it with the guy to prove something,” Tessa muttered. “Why would I prolong that with silly games?”
“That’s the end of my advice for the day. Which is why I said ask yourself, not ask me.” Maeve cur
led back into a pretzel in her chair, spinning it to face the computer and resuming her hunched-over position.
And that was that. Maeve was finished humoring her with conversation.
But Tessa wasn’t through talking. That was how she figured things out. With words, said out loud, to other people. Except she’d clearly chosen the wrong person to say them to today.
But there was nobody else.
Unable to stand her tangled welter of thoughts but hoping it’d help keep her mouth shut, she started pacing again.
Guys weren’t supposed to confuse her.
Since she’d donned her first training bra, she’d had a firm grip on the male psyche. She’d always seemed to understand what made them tick, why they thought the way they did, what motivated them and where their thoughts were.
Even in those handful of times that their thoughts weren’t on sex.
Not that she was a cynic, per se.
Nor was she afraid of the emotional intimacy something like romance could inspire.
Was she?
She’d gone after Romeo because she’d wanted to prove she still had her edge. To show herself that she could handle whatever drama came her way.
And now look at her.
Tessa groaned—actually groaned out loud—as her thoughts tangled together, tripping over themselves in confusion.
Maeve’s sigh, dripping with irritation, was a work of art as it echoed through the room.
“Have you told Livi how you feel about this guy?” the other woman asked, her focus on the magazine’s layout again instead of Tessa’s trek from one end of her office to the other.
“Livi? Are you kidding? She’s got stars in her eyes and her ears are filled with cooing doves and giggling cupids,” Tessa said with a wave of her hand. “Besides, she likes him. If I tell her what an egotistical creepazoid he is, she might get upset.”
“Right.” Maeve actually looked up, peering at Tessa over the rim of the funky glasses she’d donned for the close-up work she was doing. Blowing one bright orange corkscrew curl off her nose, she nodded. “Because Livi’s not used to you being all forthright and outspoken.”
Tessa rolled her eyes at her partner.
“She’s pregnant. She never thought she could get pregnant and now she is. Added to that she’s all goofy over the baby daddy, she believes that love lasts and she’s, you know—” Tessa threw her hands in the air “—Livi.”
“Right. Your best friend, the woman you spent last year touring the country with while teaching fitness freaks how to bump and grind their way to weight loss.” Maeve made a few more clicks of her mouse without looking at Tessa, then glared at her thirty-inch computer screen before clicking some more. “Weren’t you college roommates, too?”
Tessa stopped in front of the floor-length gilt mirror, checking the tuck of her sheer black blouse in the waistband of her pleated leather skirt. She ran her hand over her hair, slicked into its elegant ponytail, before giving Maeve a bland look.
“So?” she asked.
“So I’m pretty sure Livi knows that you’re opinionated, hardheaded, sexually aggressive and pleasure oriented.”
Well.
Tessa blinked a couple of times, then strolled over to perch her hip on the only clear spot on Maeve’s desk. She lifted the stack of cover mock-up boards and tapped them against her knee while giving the other woman a narrow look.
“What?” Maeve asked, when she finally noticed the hard-eyed stare.
“Do I have any other traits you’d like to add to that list?” Tessa asked in her most sardonic tone. “Like maybe that I don’t kick puppies or that I’m diligent with my dental care?”
Maeve reached into her high-piled stack of carrot curls and pulled out a pencil, made a note on the ever-present pad of paper at her elbow before sticking the number two back in her hair and giving Tessa a grin. The smile made her look less like grumpy gnome and more like a sexy siren.
“Well, you’re also savvy, sophisticated, talented and loyal. But that’s not the point. The point is, Livi isn’t going to go into shock when she finds out you’re hot, horny and hooked on the idea of doing the mattress mambo with her best man.”
The only thing that kept Tessa from sliding off the desk in shock was her leather skirt.
“I called the man arrogant and egotistical before listing the many and varied ways he irritates me,” she said, trying to ignore the heat in her belly as she imagined doing the mattress mambo—or any other horizontal dance form—with Romeo. “From that you got hot, horny and hooked?”
If forced, she might fess up to the hot and horny. But she’d be damned if she’d admit the hooked part. Even to herself.
“Call it my super skill. I suss these things out.” Maeve leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her ratty sweater while giving Tessa an impatient look. “You’re falling for the guy. So give in to the cliché, do him and get it out of your system. Otherwise get over this crap about protecting Livi by not talking about it.”
“I’m sure my system will be fine,” Tessa said dismissively. “And why are you pushing me to dump this on Livi?”
“Because you keep trying to talk to me, which is driving me nuts,” Maeve said. “In case you haven’t noticed in all our years as partners, girly chitchat isn’t my thing.”
An understatement on par with calling Gabriel Thorne’s effect on her body a little interesting.
Tessa had met Maeve in her last year of boarding school, both of them miserably out of place, each for her own reason. They’d bonded over sarcasm and hot chocolate and somehow stayed friends through the years.
So when Maeve had moved back to San Diego after college, one thing had led to another, and pretty soon the two of them and another friend from school—Jared—had launched Flirtatious.
“Speaking of, just where is Jared?” Tessa asked, glancing at her watch. They’d had an 8:00 a.m. meeting scheduled and she’d spent most of that hour bitching to Maeve with no sight of Jared.
“Late.”
“Late seems to be the new black with him.”
“He’s up to something,” Maeve muttered, her attention sucked back into her computer screen.
“I got that, too,” Tessa said with a heavy sigh, not thrilled to have her suspicions confirmed. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since you nabbed the Patrón account. And the Gucci ad. It got worse after the Marriott chain did that string of features.”
“He’s flaking off because I brought in new accounts?”
Granted, accounts weren’t really a part of her job description. She wrote the articles, did interviews, oversaw the freelance columnists. But last year she’d met a lot of influential people during her tour with Livi. Those people turned into contacts, those contacts into contracts.
Which meant more money for the magazine, bigger distribution and better profits. So why would that be a problem?
Maeve’s left hand flew over her keyboard while her right danced over the track pad, but Tessa knew her scowl wasn’t the result of concentration, or because of the complexity of her work.
“Not flaking, conniving. He’s putting in twice as much time, but after hours.”
“How do you know that?”
“He’s logging on to the server. Pulling financial records for the past two years, running client lists, compiling subscription numbers.”
It didn’t take Tessa long to add all that to her own suspicions. Her stomach clenched, a million ugly scenarios flashing through her mind.
“He’s trying to sell us out?”
“Maybe.” Maeve tore her gaze from the computer to give Tessa a long look. “Or throw us under.”
Tessa sank into a file-covered chair, ignoring the slide of papers beneath her butt as she tried to think through the problem.
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“What do we do? Do we accuse now or watch and wait?” she asked quietly, trying not to put any inflection on either choice. But her mind was screaming watch and wait, watch and wait.
Maeve must have been on the same wavelength, because she just shrugged.
“Nothing to accuse him of yet,” she said. “If we jump in now with our women’s intuition and a bunch of half-assed suspicions, he’ll just bury what he’s doing.”
“He won’t stop, though.”
“Nope, just make it harder for us to figure it out.”
Tessa nodded. She should be glad, since that put her and Maeve on the same page. But since the page itself sucked, it was hard to work up too much enthusiasm.
“What do we do?” she murmured, feeling lost.
“Like you said, watch and wait. Forearmed and all that,” Maeve said with a shrug. “Guess we each need to figure out what we’re going to do when things change.”
That they would change went without saying.
* * *
MAEVE’S WORDS WERE still playing through Tessa’s mind when she rode the elevator up to Livi’s apartment that evening. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy change. She just preferred to be the one initiating it. Which meant she always made sure to initiate it in small, easily assimilated bits.
Not in a giant swoop of change pouring through her life like a huge wave, wiping out every damned thing all at once. Between the problems at Flirtatious, the changes with Livi and feeling as if she were losing her sexual mojo thanks to Romeo, Tessa was on complete overload. One more change, even something as simple as hearing that they were repaving the parking lot at her apartment, and she was pretty sure she’d run screaming into the night with her head on fire.
And, oh, God, when had she become such a drama queen?
Tessa let her thankfully fire-free head rest on the elevator wall as she took a few deep breaths and tried to settle her crazy thoughts into some semblance of order. The last thing Livi needed was one of her dinner guests showing up stressed out.
Especially not if the other dinner guest was part of the cause of that stress. Tessa might be frazzled and prone to drama, but she reminded herself that she was also an expert on men. And because she was, she would make sure that Romeo didn’t get the better of her two visits in a row.