Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  “The IPO?” She frowned. “Whose IPO?”

  “Gordon’s.”

  “You mean your Gordon’s? A garage?”

  “A chain of garages, actually.” There was a flicker of something—guilt?—in his eyes.

  “A chain?” she repeated carefully. “How big a chain?”

  “Oh, three hundred or so across the West.” He cleared his throat.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You told me you were a mechanic.”

  “I can still change your fuel pump. I’m just more in administration these days.”

  “You said your business was your dad’s garage.”

  “It is my dad’s garage. We’ve just added to it.”

  “I’ll say.” It all added up, the suit, the e-mail, the smooth manner, the confidence. He was the exact opposite of the slapdash guy she’d fallen for in Mexico.

  He was the kind of self-satisfied guy she avoided like the plague.

  “So why the big act when we met?” she demanded, not sure who she was more angry at, him for lying or herself for being so easily seduced.

  “That was Eric.”

  “You never bothered to correct him, though, did you?”

  “And you liked it,” he said, startling her with the edge in his voice. “You liked that I went off to private school but it came to nothing.”

  It cut too close to the truth for comfort. “I think you’re making assumptions.”

  “Yeah? Well, you were making assumptions, too.”

  Fine. She’d concede him that point. But still…“I’m not the one who was lying.” She folded her arms and glared. “So I guess you’ve got the big bucks.”

  “Not really.”

  “But after the IPO you will.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Who’s the real you, the guy in Mexico, or the suit up here?”

  “Maybe they both are.”

  She nodded at the perfect drape of his jacket, the rich gleam of his tie. “I don’t see too much of the Mexico guy in you right now.”

  “More snap judgments?”

  “When it comes to lying, uh-huh.”

  He let out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry about that one. It was a gag I let go on too long and it wasn’t fair. I screwed up, all right? Done. Now, come on, I’ll buy you dinner. You can throw rolls at me.”

  She wasn’t about to let herself be amused. “You are so dreaming,” she said shortly. “Forget dinner. You have business to propose, then come into the office and do it on the clock.”

  “Business to propose? You mean like this?”

  And before she could react he’d dragged her to him, his mouth fastening over hers.

  This kiss wasn’t teasing, it wasn’t about soft exploration. It was hard, demanding. Overwhelming. He didn’t kiss so much as devour, tasting her, taking it deep until desire rose up to scorch her. As though the embrace of moments before had been but a primer, his touch ignited full-blown need. She gloried in his taste, in the feel of his rangy body against hers as he pulled her close.

  Her world had once consisted of many things. Now it all came down to Dom, touch and taste, scent and sound. Only vision was missing because her eyes were closed, her limbs weakening as his flavor seeped into her. She knew she had every right to be furious with him, but she could only clutch at his shoulders and let her head fall back.

  She made a noise of surrender.

  And he released her. Stepping away, he adjusted his cuffs. “I guess that’s that. I’ll be in touch about the branding campaign. And as far as the rest of it goes, I think we’d be smarter to meet outside of the office.”

  And turning, he strode away.

  9

  DELANEY HAD NEVER BEEN A fan of going to bed early. Somehow, she was always sure that something truly interesting was going to happen while she was unconscious. Once she was asleep, though, she liked to stay that way. Being woken up by her clock radio always made her cranky.

  Being woken up by a noise that wasn’t her clock radio—like, say, the phone currently shrilling in her ear—made her even more so.

  In self-defense, she reached a hand from underneath the covers and dragged the handset off the receiver.

  “What?” she demanded bad-temperedly.

  “You still in bed?” A male voice asked.

  Dom, she thought. “Of course I’m in bed. Where are most normal people at seven in the morning?”

  “Seven a.m. isn’t early. Besides, it’s seven-ten already.”

  “Says you. I start work at nine. Seven-thirty is plenty early to get up.”

  “I guess you’re one of those mole people who likes to sleep in.”

  “When people let me,” she muttered. “What do you want? How did you get this number, anyway?” Five nights had passed since that last irritating—and completely hot—kiss. And it was her annoying secret that she’d answered the phone each time it had rung, expecting it to be him.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  It depended on how you defined sleeping well. If it meant that she’d had a quiet, restful night, no. But the color cinema of her dreams had featured stereo 3-D movies starring Dom Gordon, and if she’d woken feeling edgy, at least she’d been spectacularly entertained. She made a grumpy noise.

  “Did you dream about me?” he asked.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” He was a suit, a conservative, the last kind of guy she liked to go out with.

  So why was it she stirred in the night, hot and humid with thoughts of him? “What do you want now?”

  He chuckled. “You have to ask?”

  And that quickly, she was back in the heat and urgency of Mexico, twisting against him, biting at his lips in demand as his hands drove her up and over to come, shaking against him. That had been another person, though, a different guy than the one on the phone with her now.

  But he had that mouth.

  Resolutely, she forced her mind back to the present. “I didn’t have to pick up this phone, you know.”

  “And I’m forever grateful you did.”

  Her voice held the ghost of a laugh she couldn’t quite suppress. “And you’re calling, why?”

  “I’m stuck at the airport waiting for a flight.”

  As though on cue, a boarding announcement blared out in the background. “Jeez, can they get any louder with that?” she asked.

  “They don’t want you to miss out on any of the good stuff,” Dom told her.

  “Me? What about you?”

  Dom grinned as he reached his gate. “I don’t want you to miss out on any of the good stuff, either.” He heard her impatient huff—or was it a snuffle of amusement?—through the phone.

  “Did you call for any reason besides waking me up?”

  He’d called because he’d wanted to hear her voice because, for some reason he didn’t quite understand, for the first time he wanted someone to know he was leaving town. And maybe care.

  “Actually, I called to check the status of the branding campaign,” was what he said.

  “You were serious about that?”

  “Absolutely. Eric’s been on me about it for the last month.”

  “Eric works for you, too?”

  “Sure. He’s legal and biz dev.”

  “And I suppose he can dev his biz better if you rebrand?”

  “Bingo. The fact that you didn’t recognize Gordon’s Auto tells me we’ve been falling down on the job. We need to change that now that we’re going public. I’m thinking television, print, Internet. Maybe even direct mail.”

  “You’re a busy boy.”

  “I am. I’d be happy to meet with you to discuss it. When’s that going to be, anyway?”

  “Never. I’m still ticked off at you, especially now that you woke me up,” she added sulkily.

  He suppressed a laugh. “You’ll get over it. Besides, you need me to deal with Janet.”

  “Dream on.”

  “Oh, my dreams have been good. Not quite as good as the real thing, but enough t
o keep me interested.” He thought about her, agile and silky warm in his arms and felt the ever-present desire for her ratchet up. “I’m sure we could do better.”

  “No way.”

  “Come on. Are you really still mad at me?”

  “Dogs get mad. I’m angry.”

  Her school-marmish tone had him smiling. “Any idea when that’s likely to end?”

  “It’s not,” she grumbled.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you were born stubborn.”

  “So were you.”

  “Exactly.”

  He laughed. “I bet I could wait you out but I think we could be more efficient. Tell you what. I’m out of town doing the road show for the IPO presentation through Thursday. Be mad at me until I get back. That way we can multitask—I’ll be working, you’ll be busy getting over your mad so I can take you out to dinner before I leave again.”

  “Road show? Is that where you fly around the country to stand up in front of a bunch of financial types and impress them with your fancy suits so they buy your stock?”

  He looked down at his Armani. “I think the idea is to impress them with the business, but I’m happy to be the best dressed guy in the room.”

  “I dare you to show up in jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “Not even for you.”

  “You know the punishment for wussing on a dare.”

  “That I have to spend hours licking every inch of your body? I’ll be home Thursday. You can collect then.”

  “No.”

  “Friday?” he asked hopefully.

  “Maybe never. I’m still mad at you.”

  “Dogs get mad, remember? You’re angry. Only not very, I think. In fact, I’m betting it’s less and less all the time. One of these days soon, you’ll be on the phone begging to see me.”

  She chortled. “That’s quite an imagination you’ve got. Did you learn that at St. Joe’s?”

  “Just a natural talent. Hang on a minute.” He rummaged in his computer bag for his BlackBerry.

  “What are you doing?”

  A sequence of tones heralded the announcement for first-class boarding. He rose, still tapping. “Sending you my cell phone number. That way you’ll have it when you find yourself desperate to hear my voice.”

  “You seen the weather report for hell lately?” Delaney asked.

  “Unseasonable frost, I hear.”

  “Hmmph. You never did tell me how you got my number.”

  “It was easy,” Dom said, handing his ticket to the gate agent. “I’m a CEO. We delegate.”

  THE MESSAGE WITH HIS CELL phone number was waiting for her when she arrived at her desk later that morning. Just so you’re prepared when hell freezes over. It was signed Jake the Snake.

  Unwillingly, she smiled.

  Then scowled when her preview pane showed a message from Janet, asking her to come to her office. With a noisy breath, Delaney rose and walked out into the hall. Most people would have stuck their head in and asked for the information; Janet preferred the psychology of having her reports come to her—even when they were fifteen feet away.

  Delaney tapped on Janet’s open door. “You wanted me?”

  Janet held up a finger, barely glancing up from her computer screen, and continued typing. Delaney stifled a sigh as she sat in the client chair. Give her men to work with any day. With men, you knew where you stood. They didn’t play the petty power games. They said what they meant and when they were ticked, you knew it.

  As opposed to women like Janet, who made Machiavelli look like an amateur. Although Delaney had to admit, Janet had surprised her about the DataStor memo. Her boss had reread it, processed it and come back to Delaney with the approval for a reshoot without further discussion.

  Delaney supposed she had Dom and his memo-writing to thank for that, which probably meant she owed him.

  She wasn’t at all sure what she thought about that.

  Several seconds passed and finally Janet clicked her mouse. She faced Delaney and folded her hands. “What’s the situation with G.A.C.?”

  “G.A.C.?”

  “Gordon’s Auto Centers. That’s what they’re branding around now. You should know that,” she said reprovingly. “Now you had a meeting with Gordon. What’s the status on the account?”

  Delaney cursed herself for not seeing that one coming. “It’s not an account yet. It’s still a proposal.”

  “Have you made progress? You met with him Thursday.”

  “That was two working days ago,” Delaney pointed out.

  “Four if you count the weekend.” Janet didn’t miss a beat. “You should have at least gotten a proposal out. Have you called him?”

  “I’ve talked with him,” Delaney told her. It wasn’t a lie. Exactly. “He’s been busy. He’s off meeting with potential investors, talking about the IPO.”

  “Landing that account would go a long way toward making up for your DataStor fiasco.”

  Her DataStor fiasco? “I’m not sure that ‘fiasco’ is the right word,” Delaney said as calmly as she could. “DataStor is still our client. I was in meetings with Liz most of Friday, brainstorming future campaigns.”

  “You should know bad will doesn’t get erased so easily. And they have yet to commit to 2008.”

  “Trust me, I know that. But they will.” She resisted the urge to cross her fingers. “I’ve been putting in the time, which is why Gordon’s—”

  “G.A.C.”

  “—G.A.C. hasn’t gotten its proposal. I’m working on it today, though.”

  “You’ll pardon me if that doesn’t put me at ease.” Janet’s tone was sharp. “Now, I’ve got a status meeting in half an hour to defend the DataStor decision. It would be nice if I could at least give them something about Gordon Auto Centers.”

  G.A.C., Delaney thought, resisting the urge to say it aloud.

  Oh, yes, Janet would tell them what was happening with DataStor, all right, and Delaney’s name would come into it with maximum stridency. Although, if Janet had something to brag about, maybe she wouldn’t focus so much on DataStor.

  And maybe Delaney could keep herself from being quite so much of a scapegoat. “I can write up a quick summary but it’s all very preliminary. He’s not even close to signing yet.”

  “Get him there,” Janet ordered. “I don’t care if it takes lunches or dinners or mocking up a campaign. Cultivate him. Oh, and make sure you get him to the clients’ reception next week.”

  “He’s traveling. I don’t—”

  “Bring him,” Janet repeated. “We’ll have the board there. He can meet them, get a better idea of what the company’s all about. And then we can get him signed.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “No, we won’t see,” Janet said. “Do you have any idea how much a newly public consumer company is likely to spend on branding? You need this, Delaney.”

  Or Janet needed it. “Is that all?” Delaney asked, because she didn’t trust herself to say more.

  Janet glanced over at her computer screen and nodded. “You can go.”

  Fuming, Delaney walked out and back to her office. The last thing she wanted to do was call up Dom and start love bombing him. Okay, so she’d pretty well decided to have an affair with him, lie or no lie, but not like this. She’d figured on letting a week go by, then e-mailing him about a drink. If she called him up this soon about coming to a company function, he’d assume it was an excuse. One of these days soon, you’ll be on the phone begging to see me. She wasn’t about to give him that much power.

  With a man who had the lethal charm he had, she needed all the control she could get.

  Clenching her jaw, she dialed his number. Voicemail, she prayed, let it just go through to voicemail. After all, he’d said he was at the airport. He’d probably be in flight, phone off. There was a click as the signal connected.

  “Miss me already?” Dom asked.

  She blinked. “You told me you were flying,” she accused.

>   “I was. I did. To San Francisco. I’m already here.”

  Not nearly far enough away for her peace of mind.

  “So were you calling because you want my body?” he asked.

  “Hardly.”

  “You know you do. You might as well admit it.”

  She hated the fact that he was right. “Look, I’m not calling about us—”

  “Then you admit that there is an us?”

  “Sixteen years ago there was an us. Now is not an us. Mexico was a…a…”

  “Tryst? Affair? Naked fling?” he supplied helpfully.

  “A one nighter.”

  “It lasted for three nights, as far as I can recall.”

  “A three-night one nighter. You’re not my type. I don’t do suits.”

  “I don’t know, I thought you did me pretty well.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “Janet, however, for reasons that escape me, desperately wants your business, which is why I’m calling.”

  “And here I thought it was my irresistible charm.”

  “I think I can hold out against you.” Barely. “She said cultivate, so I’m cultivating.”

  “Cultivate, huh? So what else do I get? Dinner? Box seats at a Dodger game? Maybe I ought to milk this a little.”

  Delaney cleared her throat. “Vision Quest is having a cocktail reception for clients next Monday night. Janet wanted me to ask you to come.”

  “Are you going to be there?”

  “Of course.”

  “So ask me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ask me to come.”

  This was hardly control. She ground her teeth together. “Will you come to the—”

  “Only if you’re my date.”

  “Oh, gosh, it’s a client function,” she returned with patently false regret. “I can’t be your date.”

  “Sure you can. If Vision Quest wants my business, then I want to be courted. I want the limo, the company flack—that would be you—dancing attendance on me, the whole nine yards.”

  Delaney glowered. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely. Besides, it’s practical. I’ve got to take a redeye out that night to the East Coast. If you get a car, I can just bring my bags and go from there.”