by Kait Nolan
Since she thought she had hired him, he supposed that made sense.
Chapter Six
Ronnie looked up and frowned as Todd Dexter pushed through her office door. His hands were behind his back, and he grinned like Dennis the Menace.
“Delivery for you, Miss Shay.”
He extended his pale hands toward her, schlepping close to her desk. His clammy fingers brushed hers when he dropped the handles of the pet-themed paper bag onto her desk. Ronnie shivered at the touch. Like petting a snake.
His gray eyes widened. Todd looked between her and the gift bag. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“In a few moments.” What did it matter to him anyway? He acted as if it was from him. She shuddered at the thought.
“It was delivered to the receptionist, but since I was passing this way.”
“Thanks, Todd. I’ve got a prospectus to write.”
He shuffled his feet. His scraggly hair flopped in a failed attempt at a deep side part. Ronnie refused to open the gift bag, focused on her computer.
After the spicy pinch of his cologne dissipated and his footsteps were nothing but a memory, Ronnie pushed her keyboard aside for better access to the bag. The cute print, black paw prints frolicking with navy blue cat dishes, set her lips twitching.
She fingered the gift tag. Behind a nearly transparent striped cat were scrawled the words: Keep the cat happy. He signed it simply: Michael.
Her heart leapt in her chest. This guy had to be the most thoughtful man in the world.
Peeking inside the bag, she nudged the crocheted mouse aside. The catnip-infused toy would send her pet racing around the apartment. Maybe she would save it for the next time she traveled out of town.
The two cans of premium sliced meats in gravy would delight her picky feline’s palate. She fed him a can of food each day to supplement the veterinarian recommended hard nuggets filling his personalized dish. Not this brand though. Something cheaper and whatever was on sale. Could she afford the premium? Sure, but it seemed like such a splurge when he gobbled up the store brand without complaint.
Before she could change her mind, Ronnie opened her personal email. Not too gushy, but she had to thank him for such a considerate package. Major thanks you from the bottom of his round stomach. Trying to get to a girl through her cat? That’s a new one.
She grinned as she clicked the send button.
Then she returned to the prospectus. She would meet with her manager to compare notes on it tomorrow.
~*~
Her gaze strayed away from her computer and toward the gift bag. Again. Since the package’s arrival earlier in the afternoon, it had distracted her with regularity. With only fifteen minutes until her scheduled work hours ended, why not give in?
Read the card one more time.
As she reached for the tag, her phone buzzed. An outside call transferred to her phone. Business, most likely.
“Veronica Shay.”
“You sound so professional.” Her mother sniffed after she gave the compliment, turning it into something else.
“I’m working, Mom.”
“It’s nearly five. I called for an important reason.” Then she paused. Ronnie fingered the card. “I need to know if I’ll meet your Mr. Bond during my birthday weekend next month.”
Your Mr. Bond? Was it that time of year already? Since her mother retired to a close-knit community near Tucson, she hosted an annual birthday celebration. Throw yourself a party. It drew tons of notice from her neighbors.
“I doubt it.”
Her mother gasped. “Why not? Doesn’t he want to fit in with your family?” A nightmare thought.
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“Of course it does.” Her mom clucked her tongue. Ronnie imagined her mother shaking her skillfully colored flaming curls.
“This couldn’t wait until I was off work?”
“I want to know if I need to bring in reinforcements. I’ll be calling your brother and sister next.”
Ronnie rolled her eyes. Her gaze landed on the gift bag, and her lips twitched. Even her mother’s meddlesome ways couldn’t steal the preciousness of the thoughtful delivery.
“Did you even ask him?”
“I’ll mention it.” Or not.
“Why don’t you give me his number? I’d like to personally invite him.” Not happening. Not even if a cocked and loaded gun was pointed at Ronnie’s temple.
“There’s work to finish so I can get out of the office.”
“I hate when you give me the brush off. Your sister never does that.” Always the comparison where she fell short of Angeline’s perfection. And her counselor wondered why she couldn’t talk to her mother about the abuse?
“Talk to you later, Mom.” Ronnie pushed the disconnect button before her mother could respond. The woman whined and wheedled as well as any five-year-old.
After logging out of her work email, Ronnie clicked the icon for her personal email, wondering if (hoping?) Michael might have responded to her earlier note.
Yes, there was a new message from him. In fact, he’d sent a response within an hour of her original message. Someone was checking personal email at work again.
Veronica-
I can get to the girl through the cat? I hadn’t even considered that angle. I just wanted to keep him from distracting you during our call tonight. My selfish motives aren’t nearly as diabolical as yours.
Is it seven yet?
M. B.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard, creating a reply before her mind realized what was happening.
Michael-
Major will be in kitty drug heaven with that mouse, but he’ll still manage to distract me. He’s a cat, after all.
My mother called. She wants to meet you at a family gathering in Tucson. Do you make virtual appearances?
I’m beginning to think Virtual Match is complicating my life beyond measure.
Talk soon,
V.S.
A quick scan determined no typographical errors would mar her grammar standards. She clicked the send button and logged off the computer.
Time to get home and spoil her cat.
~*~
His long fingers drummed on the desktop beside his computer. The words of Veronica’s email chilled him. And her comment about Virtual Match? Did that mean she wasn’t as interested in him as their conversations made it sound?
He padded into the kitchen, pulling a hard lemonade from the refrigerator. A girly drink, his brothers said. Was it his fault he thought beer tasted like vomit? Not that he needed liquor in his life.
He twisted off the lid and swallowed one mouthful, swishing the second over his teeth before easing it down his throat. The alcohol obliterated the taste of anxiety that had been creeping steadily upward from his gut.
She liked his gift. Hopefully he hadn’t stepped beyond the bounds of the contract she made with Virtual Match. He knew it was time to step up his efforts. If she cancelled the program, he needed their relationship to be secure enough so he could introduce himself in real life. Giving up their daily interaction wasn’t an option. A hollow pit yawned in the center of his chest at the thought.
A reminder chimed on his cell phone. Time for the evening text session with Veronica.
His fingers closed around his phone, and he gamboled across the living room, collapsing into his recliner, kicking the footrest up.
Another swig of lemonade warmed a path to his stomach. That heat couldn’t compare to the bonfire pulsing through his veins with each heartbeat. He stared out the darkened window. How should he open the evening chat?
He set the bottle on a folded envelope he used as a coaster. Not that the scarred cherry end tables needed much protection from a sweat ring. It’s your friendly feline drug dealer.
He smiled, considering her reaction to that statement. His cat allergy didn’t keep him from liking the fur balls. Reaching out to a woman’s pet seemed like a smart way to win her over. And he neede
d all the help he could get.
VSHAY: He has to wait until I’m out of town to sample those. But he thanks you for the food.
MBOND: Seafood or holiday buffet?
He pictured the cans sliding across the counter at the pet store. And now, in Veronica’s kitchen, with her delicate fingers curling back the pull tab. You’re in over your head.
Tinker bell chimed.
VSHAY: Holiday buffet. He’s cleaning his face as we speak.
MBOND: Really dug in, huh?
He took another swig of lemonade, contemplating the stereo across the room. Should he turn on some music? Most of the time, he liked background noise to keep the condo from feeling lonely.
VSHAY: It was a thoughtful gift. Thank you.
MBOND: Keep the cat happy. Right?
VSHAY: More like spoiled.
Now what should he say? Without a natural opening, he floundered. Like real life, only not as stressful because he had time to mull over possibilities. Take a moment. Don’t take a chance and say the wrong thing.
MBOND: When will he get the mouse?
Seemed like a sly way to find out when she would be traveling again.
VSHAY: Mom’s birthday weekend.
MBOND: Time to talk about that now?
VSHAY: Not very subtle. Sorry.
Another smile relaxed his face. While considering a response, he rotated the slick bottle through his palm. He had never understood the nuances of hints, so her forthrightness eased his social awkwardness. He tapped out the real question: Was I invited?
It didn’t sound like he had been. More like Veronica was complaining about the increasing pressure from her family to meet him. Was he ready for that if it happened? Dizziness swirled inside his head. Fluttering behind his breastbone answered the thought. Meeting her was a dream. The afterward could be a nightmare.
VSHAY: According to my mom you were.
MBOND: What about you?
Time stretched. His stomach knotted, and his tight throat almost refused to swallow the lemonade. Jiggling his foot at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings did little to ease the sickening sensations. Why was he pushing this? She didn’t want a real boyfriend. Why would a gorgeous woman sign up for Virtual Match otherwise?
VSHAY: It’s outside the responsibilities of your contract.
He stared at her message. Was she brushing him off? Or was she hinting that he would have to decide if he wanted to go over and above the service agreement with Virtual Match?
Drumming his short fingernails against the bottle soothed his fraying nerves. His conversational ineptitude blinked like a neon sign.
MBOND: So that’s a no?
He prayed that response would suffice.
VSHAY: You’ll thank me. I promise.
Doubtful. Not when his dreams were filled with face-to-face encounters. The thought of holding her hand motivated him to send a gift to her cat. No matter how obnoxious her family might be, meeting them would be worth it because it meant spending time with her.
With a sigh, he burrowed the hopes further into his heart. Major thanks U 4 leaving the mouse behind.
Someday he might speak his heart. But not today.
Chapter Seven
“Isn’t it great to be in love?” Angeline chirped. Ronnie could imagine her green eyes sparkling and her bow-shaped mouth stretching wider than her cheeks.
“In love? I wouldn’t know.”
“That gooey feeling that makes you melt whenever you talk to him.”
“Sounds like chocolate on a sunny day. Messy.”
Angeline tsked. Ronnie pictured her sister shaking her finger. That tugged her lips into a smile. Teasing sisters is the best.
“Why are you being so negative about this? Being in love is a good thing.”
“It makes you happy,” Ronnie said. She rubbed her palm over the chill granite counter. “But I haven’t known Michael long enough to be in love with him.”
“But he makes you laugh, right?”
Ronnie had no rebuttal for that question. She hadn’t smiled and laughed so much since she couldn’t remember when. And she didn’t want to attempt it. The black abyss she wished to forget stood between her present and that distant happy childhood.
“So does a Tom Hanks movie.”
“And your insides get mushy when you’re with him, don’t they?”
Not that Ronnie had ever been with Michael in person. However, denying her physical responses to their nighttime conversations would be the worst sort of lie. Heart pounding and fluttering in private places was supposed to be the stuff of fiction.
“So you’re telling me love is nothing more than flutters in my chest and a pounding pulse?”
“I knew it!” Her sister’s jubilant crow forced Ronnie to pull the phone away from her face. She glared at the device, wishing her sister could be withered by her expression. “You’re falling for him.”
“Falling sounds painful.”
“Love is bliss.” Ronnie pictured the way her sister and her husband stared deeply into each other’s eyes on their wedding day. If the other person had the same emotional devotion, perhaps that would be wonderful.
“I’m not looking for love.”
“I think love might be looking for you.” At Angeline’s giggle, Ronnie rolled her eyes.
“It’s nice to have companionship. There can’t be more when he’s so far away.”
“Tell Tony that. Remember his correspondence-only love affair before he got married?”
Yes, Tony was an exception to the norm. Throw that in my face. Ronnie frowned, unwilling to compromise her own expectations. Loving a man would be too dangerous.
“I’m happy for you and Michael.” Her sister took a more serious tone. “I wish you’d reconsider inviting him to Mom’s.”
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Did you?”
Busted. “No. He’s supposed to be coming to San Francisco the weekend before that.”
“Right. Tony is hoping to meet him, do a double date.” Yeah, her brother could hope until fog stopped hovering over the bay. She would manufacture an excuse when the time came.
“We should make it a triple date.”
Ronnie shook her head. “Let’s not overwhelm the man.”
“You’re right.”
The sinking in her mid-section felt ten shades of wrong. Good thing she could think on her feet.
~*~
Michael’s text came at the top of the hour. Ronnie gave her PowerPoint screen the evil eye. Teleconferencing made her job more difficult. She needed to be in the room with her clients so she could read their body language. Watching those small shifts in mannerisms and posture gave her insight, which allowed her to tailor her spiel before they voiced concerns or objections.
She clicked the save icon before lifting her phone to read the message. Hump day!
RONNIE: Too much work for this week to be half over.
MBOND: All work & no play
Makes Ronnie dull. Not that she considered work less fulfilling than play. Until Michael came along with his flirtatious texts and emails. She rolled her shoulders and shook away negative thoughts. Only someone paid to interact with her would joke about her career. People who knew her understood its importance.
RONNIE: Big teleconference on Friday.
MBOND: A new client?
RONNIE: Existing, but a new recommendation for their future.
MBOND: U can handle it
RONNIE: I prefer face-to-face meetings.
Major jumped down from the windowsill, tail waving like a flag as he strutted across the room.
MBOND: Not F2F now
Her cat rubbed against her shins, glaring at the computer still monopolizing her lap. Ronnie shoved the lap tray onto the side table, scooting back into the chair’s embrace.
Was this guy seriously comparing their flirtations with a sales presentation?
RONNIE: Not the same thing.
MBOND: Cuz I’m already sold on you?
<
br /> A smile pushed her frustration away. He knew what to say to lighten her mood. How was that possible after a few hours of texts? Maybe the profile she’d given the company helped him. For the life of all that was good, she couldn’t recall asking for someone with silly puns.
RONNIE: I can read objections in expressions and mannerisms. With face-to-face I can refute them before someone says anything.
She sipped from her sport bottle, wrinkling her nose at the flavorlessness of plain tap water.
MBOND: UR quick on UR feet. Me? Not
RONNIE: Programmers don’t need to be.
MBOND: Architect. System designer.
She smiled, hearing indignation at her misspeak of his job title. She imagined blue eyes flashing, full lips pouting. Maybe better not to think of his lips. She licked hers.
RONNIE: Feeling a little defensive?
MBOND: Wrong
RONNIE: Sounded like it.
MBOND: My body language says otherwise.
Ronnie pulled the lever that lifted her footrest. She wiggled her hips deeper into the cushions and stroked her cat’s fur.
RONNIE: Now you know why I hate teleconferencing. Let me finish this and get back to you later.
MBOND: How will I survive ‘til then?
Laughter spilled out, washing away the remainder of her earlier frustration. This man knew how to talk to her, even though they had never met face-to-face.
She pulled the computer back onto her lap, ready to finish the presentation. Her heart leapt at the thought of talking to him again.
And for once she didn’t berate herself. He liked talking to her, too. Maybe he even liked her.
~*~
He paced the length of the condo. Again. It had been two hours since his last response to Veronica. His fingers itched to type out another message. How could he go to sleep if he didn’t get to talk with her some more?
In his rush to text her at their usual time, he’d stacked the dishes in the sink. Now, he rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. With more force than necessary, he snapped a detergent tablet in the soap dispenser. A push of the button set the cycle in motion. He wiped and dried the counter. An overhand toss sent the used linens into the open washing machine.
Now what?