In other words, he was bored shitless.
He was also suffering from a slight attack of guilt. He hadn’t pulled his groin muscle on purpose. God, no. But he also hadn’t forgotten he’d given Annie the afternoon off as she’d accused him of doing earlier. How could he? Annie and Collin had been planning Dave’s big homecoming party nonstop for the last two weeks. He wasn’t deaf.
Hell, when he thought about it, he could practically recite Collin’s five-star gourmet menu word for word.
And okay, so maybe he had derived a tiny bit of pleasure out of assigning Annie to attend the meeting so she wouldn’t be able to pick her Mr. Wonderful up at the airport. But not because he was jealous. Annie could date anyone she wanted. He’d just never liked Dave. The guy had shifty eyes, the kind that never made direct eye contact. He also had a wimpy handshake. Shifty eyes were bad enough. But shifty eyes plus a wimpy handshake equaled one thing: a guy who couldn’t be trusted.
Matt just hoped Annie figured the dude out for herself sooner instead of later. He and Annie might have their differences, but if the jerk hurt her, old Davey boy would have to answer to him.
“What the hell?” Matt grabbed the corner of the bedsheet to cover his nude body when his cleaning lady suddenly burst into his bedroom unannounced. “Jesus, Lil. Have you ever heard of knocking? I’m not exactly decent here.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Lil said in a gravelly voice compliments of too much whiskey and Marlboro cigarettes. “And don’t flatter yourself, toots. You’re not my type.”
In spite of her rude behavior, Matt had to smile. When he’d signed up with the cleaning service used by most of the residents in his exclusive Midtown apartment complex, he’d envisioned some sweet thing in a sexy maid’s costume showing up every Friday to tidy up the place in case he decided to do a little “entertaining” over the weekend. What he’d gotten instead was a sixty-year-old hellcat, five feet tall, with bleached-blonde hair and a closet full of polyester.
And Matt adored her completely.
He eased himself up into a sitting position with his back resting against the headboard and lifted the sheet to take a look. The ice bag was still resting against his right inner thigh. Surprisingly, his sitting-up maneuver had caused little pain.
“What are you doing home, anyway?” Lil frowned at him over her shoulder for a second, then continued scurrying around the room like a white tornado.
Matt started to tell her. But after the teasing he’d just received from Annie, there was no way he was going to tell Lil about his pulled groin muscle.
“I hurt myself playing racquetball yesterday.”
Lil glanced over her shoulder again. “Maybe that’s a sign an old man like you ought to slow down.”
Matt made an ugly gesture with his middle finger.
Lil made the same one right back.
“And maybe you should ask the college kid who called me ‘Grandpa’ at the racquetball club yesterday whether or not I need to slow down. I beat the little punk like a yard dog.”
“Good idea,” Lil said. “Let’s call the kid. Maybe he’ll come over and help me change Grandpa’s bedpan.”
“Hey,” Matt protested. “I’m only thirty-five years old. I’m just now reaching my prime.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweet pea,” Lil said and went about her business.
Matt pouted for a few minutes before he said, “Just curious. But what is your type, old woman? For some reason I picture you on the back of a Harley with a big, burly biker at the wheel.”
Lil stopped swatting at the vertical blinds on his bedroom window long enough to point her feather duster in his direction. “I don’t like bikers. And I don’t like dark-haired men with muscles out the yazoo and scratchy, hairy chests like you. I go for slender blond men with hairless bodies and pretty-boy faces.” She grinned when she added, “Like your friend Collin. Now, there is one good-looking man.”
“Well, too bad for you. Women aren’t Collin’s type.”
“Yeah, I know. Such a waste.” She shook her head sadly, hit the blinds a few more times, then started collecting the clothes littering his bedroom floor.
Matt mumbled, “Haven’t had any complaints about my muscles or my scratchy, hairy chest yet.”
Lil laughed her gravelly laugh. “And how would you know? According to Collin your idea of a long-term relationship is two dates in a row.”
“Collin has a big mouth.”
Jeez.
What was it about women and gay men, anyway? That instant connection women and gay men seemed to have with each other?
Until Annie joined their team, he and Collin had practically been inseparable. Lately, he was lucky if Collin even showed up at the gym. His best friend was too busy planning menus and going off shopping with her.
Not that he was jealous. Collin could hang out with Annie if he wanted. It was just another irritating example of how Matt always seemed to be standing on the outside looking in where Annie and Collin were concerned.
He frowned.
But would he really want to fit into that inner little chick-clique of theirs? He tried to imagine himself clapping his hands with glee at the thought of rushing off to some big midnight madness sale. Or getting all teary-eyed watching Oprah or Dr. Phil.
No way.
Not in a million frigging years.
“Okay, bucko,” Lil said, standing above him with her hands on her bony hips. “If you want your sheets changed you’d better haul your rusty butt out of that bed.”
“And unless you want a good look at my rusty butt, you’d better give me some privacy,” Matt threatened.
She laughed. “I’m a tough old girl, Matt, but even I’m not that tough.”
Matt moved his eyebrows up and down. “One look might change your mind about dark-haired, hairy-chested men.”
She cast her eyes to the ceiling, then pointed to his bedside clock with a nicotine-stained finger. “I have about thirty minutes left in the kitchen. Get showered and dressed before I get back.”
When Lil closed the bedroom door behind her, Matt took a deep breath and tested his endurance for pain a little further. He moved his right leg slowly from side to side. Sore, sure. But nothing like the double-over-I’m-gonna-puke pain he’d felt yesterday at the racquetball club.
He grabbed the ice bag and tossed it to the foot of the bed, proud of himself for taking the sports trainer’s advice and staying off his feet as long as possible. Easing his legs over the side of the bed, he held to the corner of his bedside table and stood up. Again, the pain was tolerable.
When he managed to make it into the bathroom with only a slight limp, Matt decided he was in much better shape than he’d ever expected. In fact, he figured that, after a hot shower, he might even feel like going into the office after all. At least in time for the monthly production meeting.
Like it or not, Annie had probably been right about the bore-into-snore reaction J.B. and the other department heads were going to have when she presented what they had so far on the daredevil game idea. Crap. He knew the whole concept was lacking. He’d just been confident he could wing it at the meeting. Later is when he would come up with something to make the game stellar and creative.
He really didn’t have much choice. He hadn’t told Annie and Collin, but the daredevil idea was one J.B. had crammed down his throat. But then, who could blame him for not sharing that information? There wasn’t a guy alive who liked to admit he had to play kiss-ass now and then to stay in the boss’s good graces.
Stepping into the shower, Matt adjusted the water as hot as he could stand it, congratulating himself on his decision—belated that it was—to do the right thing. J.B. had the potential to eat Annie alive if he happened to be in one of his moods. Annie didn’t deserve being devoured at her first production meeting—especially over a game idea she hated anyway. And whether he personally liked Dave or not, Annie shouldn’t have to change her plans because he’d challenged some col
lege punk on the racquetball court.
However.
Had it been worth pulling a groin muscle to beat the little jerk hands down?
You betcha.
Matt stuck his head under the pulsating stream coming from the showerhead, wondering why his ego had kicked into overdrive over the last few months. He’d never felt the need to prove himself to anyone in the past. Maybe because Annie and Collin think you’re a total ass most of the time? Yeah. That was a possibility.
But he really wasn’t the bad guy Annie and Collin made him out to be. The measure of any good department head was the ability to recognize the strengths of the members of the team and make good use of them. Collin was a genius when it came to logic and detail. Annie had an imagination and drive that rivaled his own. If you asked him, the three of them made one hell of a fine creative team.
Maybe that was the problem.
Maybe he really was too much of a hard-ass most of the time. It wouldn’t kill him to tell Collin and Annie more often what a great job they were doing. Give them praise where praise was due. Prove his own commitment to the team.
Solidarity, man.
That’s what they needed.
Why hadn’t he realized this before? A guy could lighten up without getting all touchy-feely, couldn’t he? So what if he didn’t have any interest in their shopping and their menu planning? What was wrong with inviting the two of them out for an occasional beer? On his turf. Any great sports bar would do.
Maybe throw darts and shoot a few games of pool. Collin had always been an excellent darts player. And knowing Annie, she would probably end up beating both him and Collin at any game they played.
That’s it.
They needed to do more things together as a team.
And as long as Collin was with them, he and Annie couldn’t possibly get into trouble like that one night when they’d bumped into each other in Underground Atlanta.
When he stepped out of the shower, Matt toweled himself off, feeling better by the minute. He’d hit some burger joint first, he decided. Grab a bite to eat. And then he’d show up at the office in time to save Annie so she could rush off and meet old shifty Dave at the airport.
Matt smiled, slapping shaving cream on both cheeks.
Yup. From here on out, no more Mr. Hard-Ass.
As of today, he was turning over a new leaf.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on Annie’s face when he showed up unexpectedly like the knight in shining armor he was going to become for the sake of the team.
Rah. Rah. Rah.
Go team! Go!
“Five, six, seven,” Collin counted as he walked back from the copy room with a stack of blue binders in the crook of his arm. He placed them in a neat stack on the corner of Annie’s desk. “You’re sure? You really want to go through with this?”
Annie sent him a well-duh look. “Like I have a choice now? It’s three o’clock, Collin. We couldn’t get the daredevil material together if our lives depended on it.”
Collin gave her a shrug. “Okay, then. It’s time to get you ready for center stage.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, you can’t go into your first production meeting looking like that. You’ve cried off all your makeup. And your hair’s a complete mess.”
Annie sent him a perturbed look. “Gee, thanks for boosting my confidence.”
Collin held his hand out, wiggling his fingers. “Give me your makeup bag.”
Annie laughed. “This is me you’re talking to, remember?”
Collin pursed his lips in a prim pout, then reached over and punched the intercom button. “Kathy, it’s Collin. Annie needs an emergency makeover. Hurry. Bring everything you have.”
When he turned back around, Annie was trying to stuff a few fallen strands of hair back into her not-so-poofy-now swoop. Collin smacked her hand away. “No, no, that won’t do,” he fussed. “Your hair needs to be down. Loose. Reckless and untamed. Like the type of woman who would buy Joe Video because she’s out of patience with the toads who keep hopping through her life.”
He was still pulling pins out of Annie’s hair in a frenzy that would have put Edward Scissorhands to shame when Kathy rushed into the room with a makeup bag the size of a shopping bag. Annie took a second look. Yikes. It was a shopping bag. From Elizabeth Arden.
“Sorry about that loser Dave, sweetie,” Kathy said, giving Annie’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze after Collin pushed her down onto her chair.
Annie looked up at Collin and frowned. Damn him. The “most famous mouth in the South” title Collin was always bragging about fit him in more ways than one.
“Do something bold but subtle with her eye makeup,” Collin ordered, and Kathy started plowing through her shopping bag. “Bring out the innocent blue of her eyes.”
He grabbed a hair brush from Kathy’s stash and ran it through Annie’s hair several times, making her yelp. Then he started a grab-a-handful-and-scrunch ritual that made Annie’s eyes cross.
“Her lipstick needs to be more kiss-me pink than kiss-off red,” Collin insisted. “Feminine and persuasive, not brazen and negative.”
Annie squirmed. She sputtered a few times as Kathy ran a dozen different brushes up and down and back and forth across her face. And after what felt like hours of torture, Annie finally said, “Enough, already.”
She fought her way out of a cloud of hairspray that was threatening to asphyxiate her and jumped up, ready to escape. Kathy and Collin, however, were both looking at her, not fully satisfied.
“Her hair and makeup look great. The dress and shoes are perfect. But something is missing,” Kathy said, shaking her head in concern.
“Cleavage!” Collin exclaimed. “Other than Gretchen from art and filming, there will be five men sitting in that boardroom. It’s a known fact straight men go stone deaf and agree to anything the second they see a bodacious pair of millennium domes. We have to have cleavage. It will be the perfect diversion.”
Annie frowned. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I couldn’t achieve diversion-quality cleavage even if I superglued both of my nipples together. Trust me.”
Collin clicked his tongue. “‘Trust me’ is déjà moo, Annie. We’ve both been hearing that bullshit line from men all our lives.” He walked across the room, grabbed the tissue box from his desk, and held it up. “Time to stuff and fluff, lovey. You’ll be boobylicious.”
Annie crossed her arms, trying to hide her cleavageless chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Collin and Kathy both sent her a look that said no one was kidding.
“Fine,” Annie huffed. “Give me the tissue box.”
She was just about to start stuffing when their office door opened. Annie almost fainted when Matt limped in.
The only thing Matt could think to say was, “What the hell is going on in here?”
His office looked like one giant cosmetic sale gone bad. Brushes, lipsticks, and more makeup paraphernalia than any man should have to witness in a lifetime were strewn all over the place. The heavy scent of hairspray caused him to sneeze twice.
With a wide-eyed expression, Annie said, “I’m getting ready for the production meeting you insisted I needed to attend in your place. What are you and your pulled groin muscle doing here?”
Matt said with complete sincerity, “I’m here because it wasn’t fair to make you change your plans, Annie.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s only three-twenty.” And with a hitch of his thumb, he motioned to the door. “Go pick Dave up at the airport. And whether you believe me or not, I hope you have a great evening together.”
Instead of the look of gratitude he’d expected, Annie looked as if he’d slapped her.
Matt glanced over at her two buddies.
Collin and Kathy also looked as if he’d just dropped a giant cockroach into the employee water cooler.
Matt frowned. “Okay. Let me repeat myself. What’s going on? And why am I not going to like it?”
Kathy zipped past him, still stuffing things into her shopping bag. Collin stood by, wringing his hands the way he always did when he was anxious about something. And Annie sent him a pleading look.
“I’m so sorry, Matt. Let me explain,” she said.
Matt’s newly turned-over leaf blew out the window.
He could already feel the heat creeping past the crisp collar of his starched Brooks Brothers shirt. He steeled himself. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.
“Start explaining, Annie,” he said. “You have my undivided attention.”
Collin jumped in ahead of her with a high-pitched giggle. “Matt, you’re not going to believe this. But everything that’s happened here this morning really is satire at its finest. You know, tragedy with a comical twist? You, of all people, have a great sense of humor, Matt. I’ve always told you that. And—”
Matt cut him off. “You’re babbling, Collin.” He looked down at his watch, then back at Annie. “The clock’s ticking, Annie. Your turn.”
Annie opened her mouth to speak, but Collin cut in again. “Don’t pick on Annie, Matt. She’s suffered a horrible shock. It all started when Dave sent her roses and a videotape . . .” He shot Annie an apologetic look before he looked back at Matt and said, “The jerk dumped Annie on the videotape, Matt. And then I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if men came with a remote control so you could fast-forward past the heartache.’ And then Annie had this incredible woo-woo moment that almost made her pass out. And you had told us earlier that if we had a better game idea to pitch at the production meeting, we could pitch it with your blessing, and—”
“Stop!” Matt held his hand up. He glared at Annie. “And I guess that’s where you come in. Right?”
He could swear he thought he saw her gulp. She walked over, picked up the top binder from a stack on the corner of her desk, then walked back and handed it to him.
Matt flipped the binder open and saw two words: Joe Video. “Undamnbelievable,” he shouted. “I leave you two alone for one morning and Woo-woo and Foo-foo decide to score a coup d’état.”
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