"The board pushed your father into giving you an opportunity," Trish agreed.
"With a baby-sitter who's not going to let me do a single thing they wouldn't approve of." Even Cil a could hear the sour note in her voice.
Paige considered. "That's kind of their job, isn't it?"
"That doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Is this a 'poor baby' moment?" Sabrina asked sympathetical y, laughter in her eyes.
Cil a pushed out her lower lip. "Yes."
"Oh, poor baby," they al said in a chorus, the ones nearest patting her.
"Thank you," Cil a said with dignity.
"So enough of the 'poor babys,' what's the guy like?" Delaney wanted to know.
Cil a sighed. "Gorgeous."
"Tel ," she demanded.
"Cheekbones you could cut titanium with. Dark hair that kind of fal s over his forehead. Great body, fabulous shoulders." Remembering the way they'd felt under her fingers had her drifting off for a moment.
Delaney gave her an amused look. "You could tel the shoulders part through a business suit?"
"Not exactly."
Paige raised a manicured eyebrow. "How not exactly?"
"Wel , we, um, sort of slept together."
"What?" The level of synchronization was impressive, Cil a thought, considering it came out of six throats simultaneously.
"You're taking charge of the situation right away, I see," Delaney said in admiration. "Get 'em by the bal s, their hearts and minds wil fol ow."
"That's not how it went. I slept with him before I knew who he was."
Trish frowned. "Okay, now I'm confused. I thought you saw him at the meeting."
"Wel , we got started a little early." And Cil a told them the story of the flat tire and the poolside meet. "So we're flirting like crazy, and the next thing I know, we're up in my room playing strip poker."
"For which you just happened to have a deck of playing cards," Thea said dryly.
"I believe in being prepared," Cil a said haughtily.
"Who won?"
"He did."
"That's convenient," Sabrina observed.
Cil a snorted. "Not even. I wanted to go to bed with him. I didn't necessarily want to be the first one to get naked. He hustled me."
"You know what they say, if a man is good at one thing, he'l be good at another." Delaney's eyes brightened. "Was he good in bed?"
The thought stil sent butterflies through Cil a. "He was amazing. I mean, like seeing-God amazing. And that was without even closing the deal.
Neither one of us had a condom," she explained.
Kel y stared. "Just foreplay?"
"Wel , there's foreplay and then there's foreplay, particularly when you have an inventive man on the premises."
"So what are you going to do now? You have to work together, right?" Paige was nothing if not practical.
Cil a shot her a look. "We have sex on the conference table. What do you think?"
Delaney gave a leer. "Bet the board would love that."
"Seriously, though," Paige pursued, "you're going to have to work this out."
Cil a released a loud breath. "Wel , we both agreed it wasn't going to be a problem—to put it behind us. Then again, that was before we found out we were going to be working on this project. That's going to make it kind of hard because we had real y great chemistry together."
"You're in a situation where you need al the control you can get," Thea told her. "Sleeping with him's going to put you in a one-down situation."
Delaney snorted. "What planet are you living on? There's no better way to get control of a man than through sex. She plays her cards right, he'l be putty in her hands."
A bearded man walked by their table. His hair had the same sweep to it as Rand's, and that quickly Cil a was back in her room at the hotel, listening to the sounds of the atrium fountain and feeling Rand's hands sliding over her.
"I've got to go to the rest room," Sabrina said. "I'm dying, here. Cil a, no more talking until I get back," she ordered.
As soon as she walked away, Paige leaned forward. "Okay, Cil a, we'l get back to you in a minute, but we've got to talk about Sabrina's shower."
"It's barely even May. Isn't this a little early?" Cil a asked.
"She's getting married at the beginning of July. We need to have the shower next month."
Delaney looked puzzled. "How'd that get pawned off on you, Paige? Kel y, I thought you were best chick."
"Maid of honor."
"Whatever. Aren't you supposed to do that?"
"I'm going to Boston next week with Trish to cover the filming of her script. I figured Paige would do a better job keeping a handle on the details."
"Anyway, we can have it at my house, though I'l need help. Kel y's in charge of getting her over there. We'l have to talk later about the rest of it,"
Paige said, glancing over her shoulder at the rest room doors.
"Like the toys?" Delaney asked. "Someone's got to go get her something real y raunchy."
"I nominate you. I just tried to get a vibrator for another friend's shower and, trust me, it's not the easiest job."
"Don't be so prim, Paige," Delaney chided her. "Just go to an adult toy store."
"What do you think I am, a wimp?" she replied scornful y, adjusting the lapels of her gray silk jacket. "I went to one and it was just gross."
"Offended your delicate design sensibilities?"
"More like offended my infectious disease sensibilities. I wouldn't trust anything that came out of a box there, not with those clerks. We won't even talk about the way it looked."
"Tacky?"
"Not if you like displays of giant dildos, I guess. It was sort of like walking into a Penthouse photo spread."
"Look on it as a way to broaden your horizons," Kel y told her.
"I'm al for broadening my horizons, but not when it means carrying a box plastered with naked women up to some drooling guy at the cash register."
Thea frowned. "I'd probably just go to a catalog."
"Don't go there," Cil a warned her.
"Why not? It seems like it would be simpler."
"Not in the long term. They sel your name. I got a vibrator that way one time. A month or two later, al these real y explicit adult film catalogs started showing up in my mailbox." Cil a could just imagine what would have happened if her mother had seen one when she was visiting. "And then it got worse, I started getting catalogs for throwing stars and knives, and subscription offers from Soldier of Fortune. Apparently, the thinking is that people who like toys are also into porn and violence."
"Thea's right," Paige said. "Why can't normal stores sel them? It shouldn't be that hard in this day and age."
And the wheels began to turn slowly in Cil a's head. Why not, she thought. She was looking for a way to distinguish Danforth Annex from the rest.
Danforth Annex, a store about unapologetic sex. Why couldn't they carry a smal , discreet line of toys and lotions? Why couldn't they provide a place for women to buy sex products in a comfortable environment?
She tuned back in to the conversation.
"We've been through the sexual revolution and beyond," Thea was saying. "Isn't it time for reputable stores that a person's comfortable going into started stocking some of this stuff?"
"What stuff?" Sabrina asked from behind them.
"Sex toys."
"What brought that up?"
They al looked at one another blankly. "Um, Danforth Annex is going to start carrying them," Paige said hastily. "Isn't that right, Cil a?"
The corners of Cil a's mouth tugged up into a smile. "Sure is."
6
IT REMINDED CILLA of a nightclub, al bright color, flashing lights and loud music. The woman next to Cil a nodded to the beat as she picked up a pewter and gold tank dress knitted in a pattern that looked vaguely Aztec or Mayan or something ancient. It ran about twelve hundred dol ars; Cil a knew because she had it hanging in her closet at home.
&n
bsp; Par for the course for a Saturday afternoon at Diavala's. Indeed, the crowd that packed the store, or many of its neighbors, for that matter, wasn't a bit shy about plunking down the plastic when they found something they liked. As she'd told the board, the money was out there if a shop had the right chemistry.
She loitered, watching a woman across the shop exclaim over an Anna Sui miniskirt that Cil a had tried unsuccessful y to get Danforth to carry. It was a frivolous pale green dotted with flowers, with flirty ribbons at waistline and hem. The buyer would find a good look, the store would make a few hundred dol ars and everybody would be happy. Stifling the perennial urge to browse the rack herself, Cil a walked outside.
She'd spent the previous hour working her way through the shops at the expensive end of hip Melrose Avenue, and it was almost as though she'd been club hopping. The atmosphere felt that good. And the Danforth Annex atmosphere felt that bad. Cil a pushed through the door and resisted the urge to yawn.
It was the taupe that did it, she thought. The taupe, the ecru, the camel, accented here and there with a daring bit of cream. The window displays alone would have turned her off. The store was silent, the clothing dul , the very air seemed enervated. In a word, boring. The thick carpet underfoot muffled her footsteps, and those of the sales associate, with her smooth French twist and her painful y subtle—taupe—clothing. "May I help you?"
"No thank you, I'm just looking." Cil a roamed through the boutique, a scaled-down carbon copy of the Danforth flagship store. She couldn't figure out how they'd ever thought it would fly. The hushed decor, discreet stock and unobtrusive salesclerks might have worked wel in the Rodeo Drive location, where an atmosphere of luxury was the order of the day. Here on Melrose, though, the clientele demanded more: fun, excitement, the unexpected.
And she was going to do her best to give it to them.
The front door opened and a tone sounded—discreet, natural y—as Rand stepped into the shop. Awareness rol ed through her. It had been over two weeks since she'd seen him. His hair was a bit longer, his eyebrows straighter than she remembered. He'd come in business casual—khakis and a rough-weave shirt that reminded her of a kilim rug, in earth tones accented with blue and red. It made his shoulders look very solid and wide.
"Fresh off the airplane?" she asked as he walked up, nodding at his clothes. There was something so sexy about long sleeves rol ed up to show a man's forearms, Cil a thought, staring at the sinew and muscle exposed by his shirt.
"It's Saturday," he said easily. "I figured I get time off from suits for good behavior."
"Fair enough." Without thinking, she held out her hand to shake. And heat dragged her back to the mindless urgency of those hours in the desert. It was impossible to block memories tangible enough to have the curl of tension growing within her.
"So what's the plan?" Rand asked.
Cil a blinked. Focus, she reminded herself. Whatever was between them, they had a job to do. She took a deep breath. "First we need to get the lay of the land. After we look around here, you should see some of the other shops on the street."
"Already done," he said easily.
It didn't surprise her. Rand Mitchel clearly liked to be prepared. "So you see what we're up against."
"Kind of hard not to." He looked around the store. The salesclerk was staring avidly at him, Cil a noticed with a little frisson of annoyance. He didn't seem to notice his audience. But then again, he wouldn't.
"The look's got to go," she said, starting to drift. "I have a friend who's an interior designer. I'l bring her in for a consult. She can give us something more exciting."
"Have her do an estimate. We'l get a couple more and make a decision then."
"Paige is the right person. Six months, remember? We don't have any time to waste."
He stopped and turned to look at her. "You can waste time by rushing into things, too." He wandered toward the back of the store where the shoes and handbags were displayed. "I'm sure your friend's a good designer but we've got a lot riding on this. And we've got a budget. Let's think this through."
"Trust me, I have."
"Team project, Cil a," he reminded her. "We've got to agree."
She subsided, fuming. The salesclerk lingered nearby, openly curious, and Cil a gave in. "Fine," she told him. "Let's go grab some lunch and rough out a plan."
* * *
THEY SAT BY THE WINDOW in a Vietnamese restaurant and ordered lemon shrimp soup and pad viet. The waiter took their menus and disappeared.
Rand leaned back against his chair and studied Cil a. There was a gloss of sophistication on her today that had been missing in the desert. Then again, she was different every time he saw her. How was it, then, that every time he had to fight the pul of fascination? Whether it was the reckless sexuality of the woman at the resort, the bruised ambition of the woman in the board meeting, or the striking style of the woman sitting across from him, the facets of her personality drew him in.
Enough, he lectured himself. Bad enough that he'd slept with her then. It was patently foolish to get caught up in her now. There was a job to be done, and that was what he needed to focus on. It was one thing to take chances with his personal life; it was something different to take risks professional y.
He'd learned that the hard way.
Rand stirred. "So are we going to be able to work together, here?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I don't think it was what either of us was looking for when we walked into that conference room. You wanted free rein."
"And you wanted to stick with your glam project in Europe. Looks like we both got thrown a curve."
He studied her. "That's right, you were the curvebal pitcher, weren't you?"
"Don't blame me for this."
"You were the one with the big ideas."
"And you were the one who told them you had a better way."
Their waiter stopped to drop off iced tea for them both. Rand reached out and unwrapped his straw. "Me and my big mouth," he acknowledged.
"Like I said at the meeting, I agree with you in this on general principles."
"Good thing, because otherwise it's going to be a pretty hairy six months."
"I also said I wasn't prepared to go as far as you, so why don't you tel me what you've got in mind and we can see how far apart our ideas are."
Irritation flashed in her eyes. She kept control of it, though, he thought with approval. You needed passion about your work to do anything effectively.
You needed control for the same reason.
She moistened her lips. "The store needs significant changes to become competitive with the surrounding properties."
"Check."
"Starting with the name."
He shook his head. "We can't afford it. We don't have a budget that's going to cover a remodel and signage, let alone a ground-up rebranding campaign. Besides, Danforth brings a certain cachet."
"The Danforth name is the kiss of death around here. Didn't you see that street? Those shoppers don't want to go to a store they associate with the ladies who lunch."
"It doesn't change our financials."
Cil a considered. "Okay, how about this? We keep Danforth Annex in the places where we can't easily get rid of it, but we shorten it to the Annex in advertising, on bags, anywhere we can. You've got to admit, it's catchier," she said persuasively.
She had a point, he admitted. Short and punchy beat long any day, and the nickname angle worked. "Okay, the Annex, it is. What else?"
"A complete remodel, structure, color, furnishings," she ticked off on her fingers. "The taupe has got to go."
"Taupe? What's taupe?"
"You know, the color of the wal s."
"Oh. Beige. Like the carpet."
"No, that's ecru."
Rand frowned. He didn't know what ecru was, but he knew the carpet was beige, just like the wal s, just like the island that held the cash register.
"You women and your colors," he muttered. "Why don't you just
cal it what it is?"
"I am. It's ecru."
"Like the couches."
"No, those are camel."
He sat on that one for a minute. "This is real y al just a plot," he said final y. "Right? It's like a secret code or something so you can make us guys feel like we're clueless."
She laughed then, and the sound dragged him away from thoughts of business, making him wish it could just be the two of them, finding pleasure in one another's company. Finding pleasure, period.
"It's to pay you back for al the things you stuffed down our shirts in first grade," she told him. "We like to torment you."
The way memories of her had been tormenting him for the past two weeks. "Okay, forget the color thing. Let's get back to your wish list."
"My to-do list," she corrected. "After al , it's basical y my project."
"I seem to remember it being handed to both of us, and since we're both responsible for its success or failure, let's cal it as it is," he said pleasantly.
The look she shot him this time was more turbulent. And beyond anything, the intensity in her eyes reminded him of the way she looked right before she came.
Before she could say anything, the waiter brought their food. The ceremony of distributing the soup, the mint and basil leaves, the bean sprouts and nuts took several minutes, but final y the waiter left them to eat.
"The store has to have energy," Cil a said, apparently deciding to ignore his comment for now. "That means something special. Paige has a design degree. It's not just about color and fabric for her. She's equal y capable of tearing down wal s, building in new ones, doing whatever we need to get a real y original look."
"And I'm not saying we don't use her. I'm just saying we need to have a couple of people to choose from."
"And I'm saying that by the time we get proposals from our field and make our decision, we'l be two months along. The calendar is not our friend right now, and maybe that means we have to do things differently than you'd like." Her eyes chal enged him. "Paige has a break between projects right now. She could have us ready to open in two weeks."
She had a point, he admitted grudgingly, but no good manager took someone on blindly. "I want to see her portfolio and a proposal before we do anything. If I like it, we go forward. If we don't agree, we get additional candidates."
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