Dream Guy
Page 11
That part is true.
In addition to the daily flower delivery, Rico had managed to materialize at her office almost every day to take her to lunch. One of the drawbacks, she guessed, of being pursued by a man whose days were free since he worked at his family-owned bar at night.
It hadn’t surprised her that regardless of where they went for lunch, female heads always turned. Many women didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t giving Rico the eye with Annie sitting right beside him. What had surprised her was that never once had Rico given Annie any indication that he had eyes for anyone but her.
Whatever.
He’d also boldly said he would not be discouraged. That he wanted more intimate time with her than just lunch. She’d been successful stalling him so far, but she could sense he was growing impatient.
Did she risk pissing Rico off when they were only days away from filming Joe Video? Or should she give in and at least go to dinner with him—for the sake of the team?
“Rico is on line one for you, Annie,” Kathy announced over the intercom.
Damn. Thinking about him scared him up.
This time Annie did sigh dramatically.
“Oh stop it,” Collin scolded as usual. “Would you give the poor guy a break? Let him take you to dinner. Then take him back to your place. Have wild uninhibited monkey sex with the man. And see where you go from there.”
Annie’s eyes locked with Matt’s for a moment. They both knew exactly where you went from wild uninhibited monkey sex. Directly to “nothing personal.”
Matt was still holding her gaze when he said, “Don’t you get it, Collin? Annie’s already bored to death with this guy.”
Annie felt her hackles rise. “That is so not true. I just don’t think dating Rico is the professional thing to do while I’m being considered for a possible promotion.”
“Well, I disagree,” Collin said. “We’ve already decided Rico will be saying his lines directly to you when we start filming next week. I say give the guy a good reason to stare longingly at you.”
Annie sent Collin a mean look. “Well, thank you for sharing your opinion, Mr. Suddenly Turned Pimp.”
Matt quickly chimed in. “I don’t see why anyone would have a problem with you dating Rico.” He flashed Annie a grin that said he knew she was lying through her teeth about her reason for not dating Rico. “Rico isn’t an employee here at Paragon.” He paused for a second. “Come to think of it, what would you call him? A freelance bartender? Or a freelance wanna-be actor?”
Annie grabbed the phone and jabbed the button. “Hello,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.
“I have caught you at a bad time. Sí?”
Annie swiveled around in her chair, turning her back on her tormenters. “Not a bad time,” she said, “just busy.”
“All work and no play can make for a sad soul,” Rico said with a husky chuckle. “Which is why you should come out and play with me. But not for lunch, Annie. Tonight. For dinner. Not a fancy place, but quaint. A place I know where we can sip wine and gaze at the stars together.”
At the moment, sipping wine and stargazing sounds pretty damn good, Annie thought. Wild monkey sex didn’t sound so bad, either. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Rico,” she said before she changed her mind.
There was a long pause. “You are serious?”
“Completely,” Annie assured him. She gave Rico her address and finished with, “I’ll see you at seven.”
When Annie turned back around Collin brought his hands together for four loud, measured claps. “Thank God,” he said. “I was beginning to think something was seriously wrong with you.” He walked over and gave her a quick hug. “Good to have you back amongst the happy, horny, and hopeful, lovey.”
Annie didn’t bother to tell Collin that “lovey” was anything but happy with herself at the moment. Rico was a nice guy. A really nice guy. And he didn’t deserve her agreeing to dinner mainly because Matt had provoked her into accepting the invitation.
How was it, exactly, that Matt always managed to have her number?
But maybe it was a good thing Matt had goaded her into accepting the date, Annie kept thinking. Maybe over dinner she could convince Rico to at least stop with the daily flower delivery. And if she were lucky, she could also make him understand that friendship was the only thing she had to offer him.
And she did want them to become friends.
They were going to be working closely together over the next few weeks during filming. The last thing they needed was any friction between them. She had enough friction in her life already.
She automatically glanced in Matt’s direction.
He had his back to her now, seemingly engrossed in his computer screen. She felt like picking up her stapler and throwing it at him.
“Where are you going for dinner?”
“Huh?” Annie wasn’t even sure what Collin had asked her. She’d been too busy worrying that if Matt kept pushing her buttons, anger management classes might be in her immediate future.
Collin looked perturbed. “I asked where Rico was taking you for dinner. Ritzy and glitzy? Or normal and not formal?”
Annie shrugged. “I’m not sure. He said ‘nothing fancy.’”
“Imagine that,” came a reply from what was quickly becoming the endangered-species side of the room.
“Rico said the place was quaint,” Annie said, raising her voice slightly as she glared at the back of Matt’s head. “A place where we could sip wine and gaze at the stars together.”
Matt mumbled something else, but Collin drowned him out with, “Ooooh, I know just the outfit.”
Annie stifled a groan. Either Collin was oblivious to the hostility that surrounded him or he was used to it.
“Wear those cute royal blue capri pants,” Collin said. “Wear them with that vamp cowl-neck chartreuse top. And remember that multicolored glass-beaded belt you bought on our last big shopping trip? Wear that. The belt will bring the colors together and go perfectly with those glass-beaded sandals we found at Pizzazz. I’ll write it all down for you,” he added. “And please, Annie, humor me and wear your hair down. Okay? Not pulled back with that dreadful clip the way you have it now.”
It was on the tip of Annie’s tongue to remind Collin that she wasn’t an imbecile. That she was perfectly capable of choosing her own wardrobe. And that she’d wear her hair any damn dreadful way she pleased.
Fortunately for Collin, Gretchen from art and filming saved him from the verbal abuse when she walked into the office grinning from ear to ear.
She placed a folder on Annie’s desk. “I finally got the proofs back from Rico’s photo shoot. The camera loves this guy, Annie. And he’s going to look just as fabulous on film.”
Annie opened the folder. When she finished spreading the top four photos out on her desk, Collin said, “Ooh la la, Rico.”
Her soon-to-be Joe Video was shirtless in all of them, wearing faded jeans and barefoot. There was a shot of Rico spread out like a hot lunch on a stark white chaise longue. There was Rico propped against a doorjamb, his thumb hooked in the waistband of his jeans, his ink black hair falling forward over one eye and a provocative smile on his lips. There was Rico leaning back against a brick wall, his hands clasped behind his head, emphasizing his incredible biceps and six-pack abs. And there was Rico with his muscled back to the camera, legs spread and hands up against the brick wall like a naughty prisoner awaiting a hands-on pat-down.
“Now that’s an award-winning buns pose if I’ve ever seen one,” Collin said, practically drooling. “Matt,” he called out. “Come look at Rico’s amazing buns.”
Annie looked up at Collin when he punched her with his elbow. He winked. Annie decided her mischievous gay friend might not be as oblivious to the rivalry between her and Matt as she assumed.
“I’ll leave Rico’s amazing buns to your wishful thinking,” Matt called back, “and to Annie’s big date tonight.”
Yeah, right. Like
he was going to bolt over to check out some guy’s ass. How about kick Rico’s ass, instead? Now that he could go for.
But he did feel guilty about pushing Annie too far with the teasing. Except for one fact. When exactly had Annie ever done anything he had suggested? How about like, say—never!
He’d expected to push her in the opposite direction by suggesting she should date Rico. What he got instead was Annie agreeing to a dinner date that had the potential for Mr. Amazing Buns to be served wild monkey sex for dessert.
Matt pushed the monkey sex possibility to the back of his mind. Dammit. The thought of Annie having sex with the guy really bothered him. It was an ego thing. That’s all. He was only human. What guy wouldn’t feel a little less confident about himself under the circumstances?
He’d seen for himself women in the lobby practically knocking each other down trying to get a glimpse of Rico. For the last three weeks everyone around him had talked incessantly about little else but Rico’s sex appeal.
Give a guy a break already.
Now he guessed he’d have to endure a day’s worth of amazing-bun chitchat. Between long discussions of Annie’s wardrobe and hairstyles, that is. But if Collin brought up that wild monkey sex crap again, he was going to . . .
“Let’s go show Kathy the proofs,” Collin said, and Matt waited until Collin and Gretchen left the office before he turned his chair all the way around to face Annie.
She ignored him and pretended to be working on something at her desk.
“Annie,” he said.
She looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?”
Damn, Matt thought. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I know you only accepted the date because of me. Call Rico back. Tell him you changed your mind.”
Now the chin came up. “Get over yourself, Matt.”
Matt tried counting slowly to ten. He only made it to three. “Come on, Annie. Don’t sit there and tell me you accepted the date for any other reason except you’re too stubborn to give me the satisfaction of saying I told you so about being adored and bored.”
He didn’t like the way she was caressing her stapler.
“Are you really that self-absorbed?” Her chin jutted even higher. “You actually think I would be that idiotic and immature and go out with Rico just to keep you from saying I told you so?”
Matt frowned. “Don’t twist my words around. I didn’t say you were idiotic and immature. But I’m not stupid, either. And I know it’s had to cross your mind that I was right about being adored and bored. That’s just the way it is, Annie. The badda-boom doesn’t work without the badda-bing. And whether Rico adores you or not, admit it. There’s no badda-damn-bing.”
Was he imagining it, or did her laugh sound maniacal?
“Well, thank you so much for setting me straight, Matt,” she said. “Silly me. Here I was, thinking maybe the fact I’d been dumped on a videotape only a few weeks ago might be the reason I was being cautious where Rico was concerned. But it’s a bing thing. Who knew?”
Damn.
This conversation was not going well.
At all.
“Okay,” Matt said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s start over. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“Too late!” She stood up from her desk.
Matt stood up as well.
But their face-off was interrupted when Greg Wilson from the advertising department walked into the room.
Annie looked in Greg’s direction. If anyone was asked to identify an advertising executive in a lineup, they wouldn’t hesitate to point a finger at Greg. The tailored suit. The power tie. His blond hair only long enough to be fashionable. He was the kind of guy who would definitely be in her boinkable file had he not been happily married with an adorable two-year-old son.
Greg looked first at her, then Matt, and grinned. “Hey. You guys look like you’re ready to put on the gloves and come out swinging.”
When neither she nor Matt commented, he said, “Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I hate this is such short notice, guys, but I’ve finally sealed the deal for your appearance on City Singles.”
Annie lowered herself back onto her seat. She’d been hoping against hope the deal wouldn’t go through. Greg had told them earlier there was a problem. The morning show already had guest appearances lined up way past the time where it would have been beneficial to promote Joe Video. She should have known J.B. Duncan wasn’t the type of man to take no for an answer.
“Define short notice,” Matt said, sitting back down himself.
“I need you guys at WAGA-TV bright and early in the morning,” Greg said. “Six a.m. early,” he added, twisting the cold knife of dread piercing Annie’s stomach further. “The show’s live and it airs at seven. They’ll need to run you both through makeup first. Then Claire Winslow likes to have a few minutes with her guests before airtime.”
Annie glared at Matt.
Matt glared back.
“Just one word of caution,” Greg said. “Claire is a shark in the water, guys. She likes to draw blood. She’ll do anything in her power to see if she can’t make you slip up and say something you might regret later. Be prepared for anything.” He grinned again. “Remember, Big Brother—a.k.a. J.B.—will be watching.”
Matt asked a few more questions, but Annie tuned him out. She was still fuming over the argument Greg had interrupted. How dare Matt assume he knew her so well. Even if he did. The very nerve of him telling her to call Rico back and call off the date. Like it was his decision instead of hers. So maybe she was being idiotic, immature, and stubborn. She didn’t care. She would handle her problem with Rico her own way. And she didn’t need any input from Matt. Period.
Besides, Greg’s shocking announcement had brought a more pressing problem to the forefront. There was someone else on Annie’s mind. The second Greg left their office, she took her purse from her bottom desk drawer and told Matt rather than asked him, “I’m taking an early lunch.”
“Okay,” he said. “But don’t be gone too long. Greg said we needed to be prepared for anything. We’ll need to spend the rest of the day coming up with a foolproof game plan, and rehearsing our he-said, she-said act.”
Right. Like you and I need practice getting in each other’s face.
Annie left without saying a word.
She didn’t even acknowledge Collin and Gretchen, who were still huddled over Kathy’s desk admiring Rico’s photos. But by the time she reached the elevators, she had her cell phone to her ear.
“Mother? I know this is short notice, but could you meet me for an early lunch? I’ll come to you. Meet me at Gino’s around the corner from your office.”
Annie squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, it’s important, Mother. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be calling.”
She snapped her cell phone shut and stepped into the elevator when the doors opened. But she couldn’t keep from shuddering. Her respected, card-carrying Feminist Majority mother was going to be mortified.
She’ll probably even disown me.
And why wouldn’t she?
Activist Beverly Long’s hopeless maleaholic daughter was about to appear on local TV—professing to women all over Atlanta that all they needed to make their lives complete was a video version of the perfect man.
CHAPTER 8
Annie made it across town in record time and parked her VW bug on the street in front of Gino’s, a small Italian bistro that had an outside seating area on the sidewalk. She knew outside was where she’d find her mother, despite the unbearable July heat that sent heat waves up from the sidewalk, blurring her vision. That her mother could be such a die-hard defender of political correctness and still be a smoker was a mystery to her. But then, the woman called “Ball-buster Bev” by the unlucky opponents who happened to come up against her in court had always been a mystery to Annie.
For instance, what in the world could a twenty-two-year old have possibly seen in
a man old enough to be her grandfather?
At least her mother had never lied to her about her father. From the time Annie was old enough to question why she didn’t have a dad like other kids Bev had told her that esteemed professor Thaddeus Dick had been a man with a brilliant mind. A man who had contributed immensely to the field of philosophy with his papers and essays, many of which were still used as examples in college classrooms throughout the world today. The same papers Annie had read herself over and over a zillion times. Words, brilliant as they were, on a lifeless page.
A poor substitute, if you asked Annie, for a full-time father.
But it hadn’t been until Annie turned ten, about the same age all kids started looking up curse words in the dictionary, that she came across the word “bastard.” Even now, she still remembered the outrage she’d felt.
She’d stomped into the kitchen, her thumb safely securing the dictionary’s “bastard” page, and she’d yelled at the top of her lungs, “Thank you, Beverly Sue Long, for making me a bastard!”
Her mother had only looked calmly over her wire-rimmed glasses and said, “‘Bastard’ is a vile and ugly word. The fact that your father and I never married is irrelevant. Our love created you. You are a love child, Annie. Not a bastard.”
Then her mother had wiped away the tears streaming down Annie’s ten-year-old face and said, “If you like, I can file a document with the court so you can also carry your father’s surname. Women do it all the time and separate the two last names with a hyphen.”
Face the world as Annie Long-Dick?
Not an option.
From that moment on, she’d become Annie Sue Long, love child. She’d never brought the subject up again.
“Annie. Over here,” her mother called out, waving as if Annie wasn’t going to recognize her.
Perfect, Mother, call attention to yourself, Annie thought. It will give the other customers even more reason to gawk at us later when you throw a fit on me.