Mr. Right There All Along

by Jackie Braun

  He squinted sideways at her. “You do?”

  She nodded to add emphasis. “Of course, I do.” All the while, she was thinking, he had to be lying.

  The rigid set of his shoulders relaxed fractionally. Simon really did have nice shoulders and the cotton pullover he was wearing did them justice. It was just snug enough to show off some of the definition that his regular workouts had created.

  “Mmm.”

  His brows tugged together. “Chloe?”

  Good God! What was she thinking? Bad, bad Chloe.

  “Hmm. I said, hmm. You know, it’s a kind of humming sound that can be taken for, um, well, an affirmation.” Or the prelude to an orgasm. Though she was barely managing to tread water, she decided to dive in again. “As in, I believe you when you say that I look fine.”

  He exhaled and the beginning of a smile lit his face. “So, we can go now?” he asked.

  “Yes. Right after I pick up that book.”

  Just that fast, he was frowning again. “But you just said that you believe me.”

  “And I do. I know I look fine.” And, gee, could there be a more tepid word in the English language to describe one’s looks? Fine made plain seem almost like a compliment by comparison. “For the reunion, I want to look spectacular.”

  She rolled the R at the end to give the word its due. His eyes pinched closed for a moment. When he spoke, his words came out clipped.

  “You already do.”

  “No, Simon. You yourself just said I look fine. Fine is a far cry from spectacularrrrrr.”

  When she turned to browse the books, he exhaled sharply and she heard something extra slip out. This was no petty potty oath like the last time she’d thought she’d heard him cut loose. Nope, this was the mother of all bad words—the very one for which his own mom had washed out his mouth with a ghastly lavender-scented bar of soap when they were in fifth grade.

  She turned back. “Did you just…swear?”

  “Why would I swear? What reason, Chloe McDaniels, would I possibly have to swear?”

  She knew a trap when she heard one. God knew, her mother had laid enough of them during her teen years.

  “Simon?” She eyed him in confusion, not at all sure why he was suddenly so mad.

  He presented her with his profile and the silence stretched. Just as it was becoming awkward, he plucked a book from the shelf and held it out to her. “The Best You, Ever. Knock yourself out.”

  His smile was forced, but she didn’t comment on it. In truth, she wasn’t sure what to say. Millicent was still perched on her high stool behind the counter.

  “What’s this?” the older woman asked as she rang up the sale. “Another self-help book? What did I tell you when you purchased the last one?”

  “You, too?”

  Millicent frowned.

  “Chloe needs more improvement,” Simon said. “She wants to be spectacularrrrrr for our ten-year high school reunion.”

  Okay, the rolled R just sounded ridiculous when he did it.

  “A class reunion, hmm?” Millicent’s smile was both sad and knowing. “I’ve gone to every one and can tell you I don’t know why I bother.”

  “Why do you say that?” Chloe asked.

  “I don’t care about any of those people, well, except for the friends I had, and I keep in touch with those on my own. The ones who are still living, anyway.” Simon grunted.

  “The others,” Millicent was saying. “They’re still keeping score.”

  Simon was nodding, feeling validated, no doubt.

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Chloe told herself. Out of her mouth came the words, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, at the tenth, it was about being married. Not many of us were career women back then. Even if we went on to college, the goal was an M-R-S degree. I’d already walked down the aisle twice.” Her lips pinched into a frown. “Didn’t score me any points, believe me.

  “At the twentieth, the gossip was over who was divorced or having an affair.” Millicent cleared her throat. “My ears burned all night.

  “At the twenty-fifth, the talk was all about what colleges our children had been accepted to or were attending, or who they were marrying. At the thirtieth, tongues were wagging over who still looked the best.”

  “It took till the thirtieth for that?” Chloe asked before she could think better of it.

  “Actually, that was a recurring theme throughout my reunions, much as it was back in high school.”

  “Some things never change,” Simon muttered.

  “Let me guess,” Millicent said. “There were some girls who made your life miserable and maybe a boy or two who failed to glance your way.”

  “Right on the girls, wrong on the boys.” Chloe shrugged. “I didn’t find any of them to be all that interesting,” she admitted. “They were so boring and immature. Well, except for Simon.”

  “Ah. So, who did you go to parties and school dances with?”

  “Simon, of course.”

  Millicent’s smile turned canny. Chloe didn’t trust it. Before the older woman could say anything, she thrust her charge card into Millicent’s hand.

  “Put it on this, okay?”

  “Delaying the inevitable?”

  Millicent’s question, accompanied as it was by a sly wink in Simon’s direction, left Chloe wondering if she was talking about paying the bill or something else.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Prettiest Smile

  “WOULD YOU BRING Chloe and me some coffee?” Simon said to his secretary just before she exited his office.

  It was a Monday morning, his schedule had been power-packed with back-to-back meetings, but when Carla had buzzed a moment earlier to tell him Chloe was in the reception area wondering if he could spare a moment, he’d had no problem clearing out his office and his schedule.

  He needed a break, a few minutes away from the buttoned-up stiffs, many of whom were far older than he was, and who either didn’t get his offbeat sense of humor or, worse, pretended that they did and laughed out of obligation.

  Chloe’s impromptu visit offered him the perfect excuse to end one meeting early and delay by half an hour the next one.

  At least, that’s what he told himself, ignoring the little pop of excitement he always experienced when she sought his company out of the blue.

  “No coffee for me, thanks,” she said.

  “Would you prefer tea?” Carla asked.

  Chloe shook her head. “They both stain my teeth.”

  Last week, Chloe had shown up for one of their morning runs with dazzlingly white teeth. Her smile looked fantastic—as far as he was concerned, it always had been one of her best features—but now in addition to all of the other don’ts on her long list of ingestibles, she’d added beverages that could dim her newly brightened pearly whites.

  “I suppose red wine is off your list, too,” he said once they were alone.

  “I switched to chardonnay,” she admitted. “Which pairs better with salads anyway.”

  He squinted at her blinding smile.

  Salads were pretty much all that she was eating these days, despite his regular lectures on the importance of protein and complex carbohydrates.

  “The reunion can’t come soon enough,” he said on a sigh.

  “It can for me. I have a lot left to do.”

  From his vantage point, she’d already made a lot of progress. She’d dropped a couple of pounds and was definitely taking more care with her appearance. Case in point, the outfit she had on today—a flattering printed blouse and pencil skirt paired with rounded-toe flats that had a flirty little bow stretching over the vamp. Her frumpy, figure-hiding days apparently were over. She shifted in her seat, tugging at the hem of her skirt. Standing, the garment fell just above her knees. Sitting, it pulled to midthigh and posed way too much of a distraction, which was why he regretted that he’d moved to the sitting area in his office rather than staying at his desk. With a wide expanse of polished cherry between the
m, he wouldn’t have been able to see her gorgeous legs.

  “I’m thinking of having the gap between my front teeth fixed. That’s why I came by today. I wanted to get your opinion.”

  His gaze snapped from her thighs to her mouth. She offered a toothy smile. Even so, he was sure he’d heard her wrong. “What?”

  “I asked the dentist about it when I was in for the whitening treatment,” she said. “They got back to me today on costs and…and, well, payment plans. My insurance won’t pick up anything, since it’s considered cosmetic. Same for the whitening, but that cost considerably less.”

  “You’re getting braces?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Her lips pursed in exasperation. It was an expression he knew well and one he was perversely fond of. For that matter, he even found it a turn-on, which was not exactly what he needed at the moment.

  She was saying, “It would take months for my smile to be corrected with traditional braces. The dentist suggested porcelain veneers. I may be able to get away with only a couple, and truthfully, even that is more than I can afford. But that would fix the gap, at least. With, say, half a dozen more, the dentist says I could have a Hollywood smile.”

  Just what she felt she needed, apparently. But Simon honed in on one word and snorted. “Corrected? There’s nothing wrong with your smile.”

  She did the exasperated lip purse again before opening her mouth and pointing. “I can spit a watermelon seed through this gap.”

  “Stop exaggerating. A sunflower seed at most. But even if you could spit a watermelon seed, so what? Lauren Hutton has a much bigger gap between her front teeth and she was a successful model.”

  “I’m no Lauren Hutton.”

  “You’re absolutely right on that score. You’re way better looking.”

  “That’s so sweet,” she said. But he knew her too well. The words were code for, “Yeah, right.”

  So, he tried again. “Why would you want to look like everyone else? Your differences are what make you who you are. Hell, they’re what make you so damned hot.”

  His face grew warm afterward. He imagined his cheeks were turning a blotchy shade of red as they always did when he was embarrassed. It was an inherited trait passed down from his father, yet another thing to hold against the old man.

  “You think I’m hot?” Of course he would have Chloe’s full attention now.

  Simon shifted in his seat and affected a considering pose that allowed him to obscure the lower half of his face behind one hand. Over the years, he had called her pretty and attractive and a host of other complimentary adjectives, mostly in answer to her prodding question, “How do I look?”

  After the “fine” debacle at the bookstore, he’d even added spectacular to his repertoire. But hot? Never. Somehow that description seemed more personal. It seemed too personal. It crossed the invisible line in their relationship that kept them just friends.

  Lovers found one another hot. Friends didn’t, or at least they shouldn’t.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve overheard guys talking.”

  “What guys?”

  His plan to redirect her interest had worked. That was the good news. But now he was at a loss. He couldn’t exactly name names, although that was precisely what she was expecting.

  “I…um…”

  “Oh, my God! I know!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. A pair of rounded eyes studied him.

  She’s figured it out. Simon wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sick. She knows I’m not only lying to her right now about other guys, but that I’ve secretly had a thing for her for years. She’s…

  “It’s Trevor!”

  Clueless.

  “Trevor?”

  “He’s the guy you overheard saying I’m hot.”

  “Chloe—”

  “Oh, my God!” She slapped the hand over her mouth a second time. Simon wanted to slap his forehead.

  “He hasn’t said hot in so many words.”

  In fact, Chloe’s name had never come up in any of their conversations, and why would it? Despite her recent nagging of Simon to introduce her and the lawyer who was helping handle the acquisition of a smaller competitor, he hadn’t.

  Trevor was a nice enough guy. He played a decent game of one-on-one basketball and could talk trash with the best of them. And he was good at his job. Top-notch, in fact. He’d come on the highest recommendation and with a boatload of experience and credentials, including a Harvard law degree and five years as a junior partner at one of Manhattan’s biggest firms. But he was a player.

  Simon had figured that out during their first lunch together, when the guy had flirted shamelessly with their waitress, gotten the young woman’s telephone number, even though he’d told Simon he had a date that evening. Since then, he’d seen the guy leaving the building with half a dozen other women, each one more lovely than the last.

  Player. Definitely.

  No way was Simon going to introduce someone like him to a woman as sweet and trusting and terminally romantic as Chloe.

  “But are you saying he’s interested in me?”

  “Chloe, he’s interested in everything with two legs and a pair of breasts,” Simon said in exasperation.

  “You’re just being overprotective.”

  Forget terminally romantic, the woman was terminally dense when it came to men who were all wrong for her.

  “So, when are you going to introduce us?”

  When hell freezes over. But Simon said, “He’s been out of the office a lot lately. Off in a former Soviet country, doing some work for another client. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. It could be weeks.”

  Carla came to the door then. His secretary had foul timing. “Trevor is here.”

  Simon worked up a smile. “Gee. Back from Uzbekistan already?”

  Carla frowned in confusion, but didn’t challenge him. Rather, she said, “Apparently he didn’t get the email I sent about delaying the next meeting.” She glanced in Chloe’s direction. “Will you be much longer?”

  “No.”

  “Actually, we’re finished.” Of course, Chloe would say that. Of course she would hop up with a smile on her face, all talk of veneers forgotten, when the man entered the office.

  “Sorry,” Trevor said when he spied Chloe. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting something personal.”

  “Personal? No way.” This from Chloe, whose whitened teeth were blinding now. “I just dropped in to chat with Simon. He and I are old friends.” Was it his imagination, or did she place way too much emphasis on the words old friends? “I’m Chloe McDaniels.”

  She stuck out her hand, which Trevor shook, a smile spreading across his face like an oil spill. “I’m Trevor Conrad. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “A man can hope.”

  Simon felt his blood pressure spike. His face probably was turning blotchy again, this time from irritation rather than embarrassment. Chloe’s expression was rhapsodic. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

  “I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he told her as he grabbed her arm just above the elbow. “Be back in a minute, Trevor. Have Carla get you a cup of coffee.”

  Wouldn’t it just figure that the man said, “No, thanks. I’m cutting back on coffee. It stains my teeth.”

  In the hall, Chloe sighed. “Can you believe that? We have something in common.”

  Simon thought his head would explode. Before he could get a handle on either his emotions or his tone, he snapped, “You can’t really be interested in him.”

  “I don’t want to marry him and bear his children, but sure, I’m interested. A nun would be interested.”

  His heart sank, weighted down with an emotion he refused to admit might be jealousy let alone something more damning. “He’s a player, Chloe.”

  “I know that.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m not a complete idiot, Simon. But player or not, the girls at th
e reunion would eat their hearts out if I showed up with him.”

  His blood pressure dipped a little, although not nearly enough. “So, your intention is just to use him?”

  “Don’t worry.” She patted Simon’s cheek. “I promise I won’t hurt him. I’ll leave him heart-whole and capable of performing his job here for you.”

  Simon snagged the hand that had just patted his face and pressed it tight against his heart. “I’m not worried about Trevor. He can take care of himself. I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you hurt. By him. By anyone.”

  She blinked, swallowed. “You’re serious.”

  “Never more so.”

  He leaned forward, intending to kiss her cheek, but his mouth came to rest against hers. He’d kissed her before, hundreds of times. On the cheek. On the forehead. He’d even kissed the back of her hand in a gallant gesture that had been completely wasted on her since she was still loopy from laughing gas after having her wisdom teeth pulled. But he’d been careful not to kiss her on the lips. For this very reason. They were way too tempting.

  The moment lengthened.

  The dinging from the elevator just before its doors opened was what snapped him back to his senses. He pulled away, but slowly. And he could have sworn Chloe leaned after him before righting herself and offering up an uncertain smile that showed that sexy little gap.

  “Don’t change that,” he said softly. His raised one hand and cupped the side of her face. “Don’t change anything.”

  Don’t change anything.

  Simon’s words echoed in Chloe’s head long after they parted ways. True, he’d said those words or ones with a similar meaning dozens of times, especially recently. But hearing them had never had quite the effect they’d had on her today. He’d sounded so adamant and sincere. He’d looked so…well, gorgeous. And when he’d kissed her…

  It was just a kiss, she reminded herself. A friendly peck that she was blowing out of proportion. Except, friendly pecks were usually on the cheek and the giver didn’t linger and pull back slowly, almost as if in regret. Nor did the receiver of such a peck lean forward, disappointed to find the contact ending and wishing, foolishly, that it could last and turn into something more.