“Sounds painful.”
“I suppose it could be if the pulse were fierce enough and the receptors strong enough, but they will be too small to pose a danger, just large enough to convert the trapped heat and stimulate the already sensitive tissue. The faster the movement, the more warmth will be generated, and the more intense the electrical pulse.”
“I get it. The faster you go, the more it builds.”
“Exactly. It follows the natural process of sexual stimulation, but with a bonus. You get a more intense experience until bam! major sensory overload.” She smiled. “An ultimate orgasm.”
“Great idea.”
“Fabulous.”
“Groundbreaking.”
“It will be. Once we turn the idea into a reality. I've done the basic design with a detailed description of the receptors and how they should work. We need a finished product that carries the Wild Woman guarantee of sexual satisfaction in three weeks—just in time for the Sextravaganza. It'll be the prime opportunity to introduce it to the public and cause an industry buzz. That means we need a prototype as soon as possible.”
Albert glanced up from the design notes. “How about early next week?”
“The end of this week would be better.”
“We'll give it our best.”
Xandra smiled. “That's all I'm asking.” Her glance shifted around the group. “We also need a savvy logo and a packaging concept. If we debut at the Sextravaganza, we need to be ready for a rush of orders. With a lot of hard work, this could turn the industry on its ear.” And show the higher-ups over at Lust, Lust, Baby! that they'd made a big mistake when they'd passed on Xandra for their design team.
With the introduction of such a revolutionary product, Wild Woman was sure to triple their net income, which would put them neck and neck with the dominating company's figures reported for last year.
That would get their attention. Martin Browning, CEO for Lust, Lust, Baby!, was sure to regret not snatching her up so long ago. He would make an offer for Wild Woman and bring Xandra and her team into the Lust, Lust fold, with Xandra heading the design division.
And if Martin didn't make an offer to absorb the company and keep her employees? She would hand over controlling interest of Wild Woman to Albert, who had a creative streak of his own, and become just a silent investor. Wild Woman would continue without her as a niche company while she headed the design team for Lust.
“What if it doesn't work?” Stacey asked.
“It'll work,” Xandra said. “It has to work.” Otherwise, Xandra would have to admit that the gray hair wasn't just a fluke. She really was getting old and slow and senile, and it was all downhill from here.
She ignored the thought, adjourned the meeting, and gathered up her portfolio.
“It's good to see you spent yesterday doing something constructive,” Albert said after everyone had left. “You seemed okay on Saturday, but I thought you might fall back into a funk, overdose on Snickers, and have to have your stomach pumped.”
“I only ate three, and it didn't make me feel better. Just fat. Which made me think about what a loser I was. Which made me think about what a loser I'd be if I didn't come up with something great. So I started thinking and I came up with something. Speaking of which, designing it is one thing, but making it work is another. Do you think it's possible?”
“It's definitely possible. You really did some great research on this materials sheet.” He grinned. “You're a smart woman. And nice. And kind. And fun. And you're in the prime of your life. You're a great catch, and Mark is an idiot. I know you probably don't see that right now, but you will eventually and you'll move on to greener pastures.”
“Probably, but I don't have eight years to graze.”
“Maybe it won't take eight years. Maybe that perfect someone is out there right beneath your nose. Maybe it won't take eight years to reach your comfort level. Maybe you'll feel comfortable just like that. You'll both like the same things. You'll respect each other. You'll have great sex.”
“And maybe my mom will be on next month's cover of Bride-to-Be.”
“Hey, stranger things have happened.” At her pointed stare, he shrugged. “Okay, so maybe nothing that strange has happened in a long time. I'm just saying that maybe finding a life mate isn't going to be as hard as you think.”
“I don't think it's going to be hard at all.”
“That's the spirit.”
“Because I'm not going to try. I don't have the time or the energy. I'm going to focus on this business and this.” She waved a notebook at him that she'd ordered off the Internet Saturday night. “It's a procreation planner,” she told him when he gave her a puzzled glance. “It outlines everything from how to finance the birth of your baby, to how to increase your chances of conception, to how to influence your baby's sex. Not to mention it has all these lists and charts to fill out to tailor the complete birthing experience to your specific needs. How great is that?”
“You're actually going to have a baby?”
“Not at this moment, but I'm through with just thinking about it. I want a detailed plan. Something solid. A goal with a realistic approach ironed out to meet that goal. Don't you see? I fell into comfort with Mark and Wild Woman, and I forgot all about my dreams.”
“You got busy with daily life. We all do it.”
“Maybe, but I'm not doing it anymore. If I had been pursuing my ultimate goal, I wouldn't have wasted so much time with Mark. I would have seen early on that his reluctance to set foot in a Chuck E. Cheese meant he wasn't interested in children and I would have dumped him. I should have dumped him, but I lost sight of what was really important.” She held up the book. “This will help me plan for daddy extraordinaire and when the time's right, I'll know exactly what I'm looking for and, hopefully, how to find him.” She smiled. “There's an entire list of meet markets for good daddy candidates, not to mention suggestions if you're looking for a daddy with certain interests. For instance, if I want my son to be an expert marksman, I should join a skeet shooting club.”
“You hate guns.”
“That's irrelevant. If I have a son, he might eventually be drafted and I would certainly want him to know how to defend himself. Not that I've decided to have a son or that he would be eligible for the draft because he could be too young or he could be in college. You're missing the point. I don't know what I want when it comes to a baby. That's the purpose of this planner. To help me focus on my goal.”
“I still think you're giving up on a relationship too soon. But I like your determination and your creativity.” He glanced at the drawings of her ultimate orgasm idea. “This is really pretty fresh.”
“I don't see why. I'm sure women the world over have prayed for something like this more than my grammie prays to win the lottery. More than fresh, it will be a relief for women everywhere. If it comes to fruition.” She gave him a pointed look. “That's where you come in. You're a genius, Albert. If anyone can construct an actual product that works, it's you.”
“You really think I'm a genius?”
“I wouldn't have hired you otherwise.”
“How about we get together for dinner tonight?”
“We might as well. We'll be working late until this gets out of the developmental phase, so I'll buy for the entire team.”
“That's not what I—”
“Linda from Vamp Me Lingerie is on line one,” Kimmy's voice came over the intercom. “She said something about doing a joint promotion in their stores,” Kimmy went on. “Sylvia from Peterson Plastics—line two—wants to know if you have to have the King Kong in neon blue because the dye is doing something to the plastic and it's coming out more purple. Daniel from Kingsbury Media—on three—wants to know if you've proofed the new catalog layout. Your sister Eve—four—wants to know Mark's new address because she's kicking his ass for hurting you, and I need to know if you want roast beef—it's Boar's Head—or chicken salad—Butterball—from the lunch cart.” As well as a
love of designer clothes, Kimmy also had a fetish for name brands.
“I'll take line two first and the chicken salad, and maybe some fruit.”
“Apple, banana, or grapes?”
“An apple.”
“Washington or Granny Smith?”
“Just give me the grapes.”
“Dole or Del Monte?”
“The banana. I'll have the banana.”
“Chiquita or—”
“You pick. Anything is fine so long as it's from the right food group.” She punched the button and reached for line two. “What were you saying about dinner?”
“Nothing. I'll see you tonight.”
Albert left Xandra's office, closed the door behind him, and stood in the outer office where Kimmy's desk was situated. Xandra's assistant had obviously gone off in search of lunch, and so no one was around.
He leaned back against the door and tried for a deep, calming breath. It was obviously going to take a lot more than a dinner invite for Xandra to see Albert as her Holy Commitment Man.
He didn't blame her. He'd balked at the idea himself. It had popped into his head late last night as he'd watched Jacqueline Farrel's Get Sexed Up! The show was starting a series of episodes called Smart Dating. Dr. Farrel was giving pointers before beginning the first episode with four L.A. women. The cameras would follow along as they ventured on a first date and record every grueling moment. Then Jacqueline would do a live critique on the show and tell the girls what they were doing wrong in their quest for the right partner.
Last night's all-important tip: Be careful not to venture too far into scary territory in search of a significant other. The awesome Holy Commitment threesome is often right beneath your nose. It's someone you already know. Someone you connect with. Someone you spend time with. Someone you like. Someone who already likes you.
You're a genius, Albert.
Xandra was his someone. They both liked racquetball and Snickers bars and they lived and breathed their work. Even more, they respected each other.
Hello? They already had two out of the Holy Commitment Trinity. It was just a matter of adding great sex to the mix and bam!—Holy Commitment Heaven.
Obviously, Xandra hadn't watched the same show and had yet to have the same epiphany. Then again, she rarely watched her mother's show because she heard enough advice during their daily phone calls.
And he knew that because?
Because he knew everything about Xandra. The good, the bad, and the totally ugly—namely the worn University of Texas nightshirt she'd been sleeping in since college. The one with the ragged hem and the hole near the collar. The one she refused to retire because it was comfortable.
He'd seen her in the godawful nightshirt and he still liked her. Yep, she was Miss It, all right. The One, as far as he was concerned. The perfect woman.
Unlike present company, he thought, as his gaze collided with a pair of rich brown eyes. Or rather, they would have been rich. Warm even, like hot fudge ready to be poured over a bowl of ice cream. If they hadn't belonged to one Stacey Bernard aka Diva of the Damned. She walked toward him, a frown on her face and a glimmer of bloodlust in her eyes.
She was not only snobby and obnoxious, but antagonistic. She'd purposely been getting in his craw since the moment he'd come to Wild Woman.
She'd been here six months prior, which gave her seniority and a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. They were both mechanical engineers. Both graduates of Texas A&M University. Both the rulers of their world—she as chief of product manufacturing and he as chief of product development. He took Xandra's ideas and made them work. And Stacey took his product and made it cost effective. Once upon a time, however, she'd been in charge of both—development and manufacturing—until it had come to light that she didn't have the creativity to visualize during the developmental phase. Xandra had designed her first vibrator, the King Kong, and Stacey had made it look more like the Mini Monkey, and so Albert had been brought in.
The decision had been strictly business. That's what Xandra had told Stacey. While the woman had made a big show of getting angry, Albert knew she understood. Stacey wasn't his favorite person, but she was smart. A genius when it came to materials. The professional in her understood, yet the woman inside wouldn't let her give up her grudge.
Personality aside, she was attractive in a cool, detached sort of way. The classic professional in her starched white lab coat, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, her face void of all makeup except a touch of pink that accented her full lips and made them actually look kissable.
He'd actually entertained a full ten seconds of lust when he'd first met her, but then she'd opened her mouth, revealed the inner bitch, and killed his whole please-ride-me-on-top-of-my-laboratory-counter fantasy. She'd started egging him on and he'd started giving it back to her, and they'd been at each other's throats ever since.
“If I were you, I would stop daydreaming and get to work.” She passed him to place several cost sheets on Kimmy's desk.
“Daydreaming is part of my work, but you wouldn't know that because you're not me. Therefore, the whole concept is out of your realm of capability.”
“You're a jackass,” she threw over her shoulder.
“It takes one to know one.”
“Now that's original. What are you? A third-grader? Because you're certainly acting like one.”
“As I said, it takes one to know one.”
She frowned. “Just get to work. We're on a time limit here, and I don't want to have to backtrack you and replace all of your materials with something more cost effective because you didn't do your homework in the first place.”
“The day you backtrack me is the day I strip naked in the middle of the Galleria and sing ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas.’”
If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he saw a small smile tug at the corner of her lips. But then she frowned, and he realized he was suffering from a lack of sleep thanks to Get Sexed Up! and his Holy Commitment revelation.
“Just get to work,” Stacey growled before stamping off down the hall.
“I intend to.” But the work Albert had in mind had little to do with the Sextravaganza project—implementing Xandra's well thought out idea would be a piece of cake, as always—and more to do with the designer herself.
It was high time Xandra Farrel had an epiphany of her own.
“Mark is an asshole,” Eve Farrel declared when Xandra finally called her back. “A total rat bastard.”
Eve was the middle Farrel daughter. She was also the producer and director for Sugar & Spice Sinema, a company that produced how-to videos to help couples discover and reach their true sexual potential.
“It's about time you came out of hiding,” Xandra told her sister as she arranged the lunch Kimmy had left on her desk. “I tried to call all weekend.”
“I wasn't hiding. You know I need complete concentration when I'm working. That means no TV, no phone, no Mom. I have to humor my muse. But I am sorry I didn't hear the phone when you called. I'll gladly go after Mark and break both his legs on your behalf if that will make it up to you.”
“Thanks, but I'm okay.”
“Are you sure? Because that's what older sisters are for. Older, single, sane sisters. Skye is in la-la land right now, so she doesn't count. I swear, the more I talk to her, the more I'm starting to think Mom may be right about her being brainwashed. She sounds too happy.”
“She's married to the man of her dreams. She is happy.”
“Yeah, but she's not a normal happy. It's like she's got some freaky smiling disease that she's desperate to spread around. Last month when Clint's team raced at Napa Valley, she invited me to join them for dinner after the race.”
“So?”
“So she didn't just invite me. She invited the driver for Clint's new car—some blond, apple-pie looking guy by the name of Linc Adams.” Her voice lowered. “She fixed me up. Can you believe that?”
“She's never tried to fix me
up.”
“You've always had Mark.”
“But I don't now.”
“Give her time to get over this baby crap and I'm sure she'll get around to it.”
“I thought you liked babies?”
“I do so long as they're not in the same room with me.”
Xandra smiled. “I distinctly remember someone actually volunteering to sit with the Miller twins every Friday night while their parents went to dinner.”
“I liked the money, not to mention they paid double. Now don't try to change the subject.”
“Which is?”
“You and your emotional well-being. I never understood why you bothered with a man anyway when you've got so many vibrators laying around the house.”
“So sayeth the woman who just tattooed a man's name on her ass.”
“It's a fake tattoo, for Pete's sake. You know my sole purpose in life is to shock Mom into complete silence.”
“It isn't working.”
“You can't blame a girl for trying. So Mark is really history? You're not pining away, scarfing Ding Dongs or smoking your way into the Camel Hall of Fame, are you?”
“I'm working on the ultimate orgasm.”
“Atta girl. Have great rebound sex and you'll forget about the creep just like that.”
“I'm not having sex. I'm talking the ultimate orgasm as in a new Wild Woman product that will help women achieve the ultimate fulfillment despite a dud of a partner.”
“Speaking of duds, I hear you ran into Beau Hollister.”
“I didn't run into him. I hired him and his company to renovate my house.”
“Is he still hot?”
“Scorching.”
“Is he still terrible in bed?”
“I wouldn't know. I've only seen him once and it wasn't pretty.” She went on to tell Eve about the condom-burning and Beau's sudden appearance.
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