They spent the next hour eating casserole and talking about everything from the color he was painting her house to what color packaging she was planning to use for Mabel. Or Orgasma. Or The Big O. Or Shiver Me Timbers. Or any of a dozen names they brainstormed while sitting in her kitchen the way they'd done so many times over the past few days.
Despite the undercurrent of sexual tension that was always present between them, she felt a measure of comfort when she was with Beau. And kinship. She understood his drive to turn Hire-a-Hunk into H&H Construction. She knew what it was like to have goals and to work relentlessly to achieve them. Like Beau, she was this close to achieving her own professional goal. It was just a matter of following through and not letting herself get sidetracked by anything or anyone, particularly a good-looking man.
But a good-looking friend… Well, there was no harm in just being his friend.
At least that's what Xandra told herself over the next few days as she and Beau met for dinner every night.
“What's this?” Xandra stared at the clear plastic box that Beau handed her Thursday morning when he arrived to continue painting the trim of her house. A deep, vibrant red rose lay nestled in a bed of baby's breath and ribbon.
“It's a corsage.”
“I know that.” Her gaze met his. “What for?”
“You said your red dress fantasy was to get dolled up for a special occasion and wear a real corsage. I know this isn't what you meant, but today is a special occasion.”
Xandra blinked back the tears in her eyes.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She shook her head and pushed aside the push-pull of emotion inside her. “I'm just nervous about today, that's all.”
Liar.
Better to be a liar than to tell Beau Hollister that she was a fake and a fraud. That she didn't just want sex with him. She wanted more. Much more.
She smiled. “I love it. Thanks a lot.”
“I just wanted you to know that I'll be rooting for you. Not that you need it. You're a special woman, Xandra. You'll do great.” He kissed her then, a slow, lingering kiss filled with warmth and passion and a strange tenderness that actually brought tears to her eyes.
“Go get ’em,” he said when he finally pulled away and smiled down at her.
Xandra blinked back the tears, nodded, and left for the convention center.
An hour later, she walked up on the podium and introduced Orgasma to a throng of reporters and earned Wild Woman a huge round of applause.
“Pretty good thinking,” Martin Browning's voice drew her around a few hours later as she stood near the booth and passed out Orgasma samples.
“Thanks. The new circular vibrator isn't too bad.” She stared past him to the huge display set up by his company.
“It isn't fresh.”
“It has been done before, though not in such an impressive shape. I would have added a softer texture to the head and given it a more vibrant, sensual color.”
“Come by the office first thing Monday and we'll talk about your suggestions.”
Excitement rushed through her. “Meaning you want to hear them?”
“Meaning I want to hire them. We need someone to head our female products division. Someone not afraid to put herself out there and take chances. Someone with a woman's perspective.” His mouth drew into a tight line. “We need a woman.”
The knowledge sang through Xandra for the next few heart-pounding moments. This was it. She was this close to achieving her dream. The Lust, Lust boys were making an offer.
“What about Wild Woman?”
“We'll absorb the company, as well. And your employees. They'll still work under you in your very own division.”
This was it. The scenario she'd lived over and over in her mind. A win-win situation for everyone—
“Excuse me.” A tap on the shoulder followed the woman's voice and Xandra turned to see a little old lady smiling up at her.
“Yes?”
“My name is Lula Zackerman. Theodore's mother.”
“Theodore in engineering?” Xandra remembered Kimmy's words about his cookie-baking mother. “He's such a sweetheart.”
“That's my boy.” The old woman beamed. “Listen, I don't want to interrupt you, dear. I just wanted to tell you thank you. That dear, sweet Kimmy who's seeing my boy gave me one of your samples and I used it with my Bob—we've been happily married for fifty-eight years. But while we've been happy in life, we haven't been all that happy in the bedroom. He manages to have an”—her voice lowered a notch as she whispered—“erection, but it all happens so fast that I haven't actually had one of those”—she pointed to the word ‘Orgasma'on the overhead sign—“in nearly twenty years.”
“Twenty years?”
She nodded and then smiled. “But I had one last night thanks to your product. And so did Myrtle Shapiro.”
“Myrtle Shapiro?”
“She's president of my bingo club. Kimmy passed her last samples out to me and Myrtle and Camille and Henrietta at bingo night.” She pulled a white bakery box from her large macramé bag. “You're a godsend to us, so we wanted to give you something special. It's my very own homemade chocolate fudge, along with Myrtle's rocky road fudge and Camille's peanut butter fudge and Henrietta's white chocolate fudge.” She patted Xandra's cheek. “Keep up the good work, dear.” The woman turned and walked away.
Xandra turned back to Martin. Warmth filled her from her head to her toes, but it had nothing to do with the imminent job proposal or the sweet, delicious smell wafting from the box in her hands. The feeling was courtesy of Lula Zackerman and her Orgasma confession, and the startling feeling of triumph that filled Xandra.
You're a special woman.
Beau's words echoed in her ears.
“You're at the top of your game, Xandra,” Martin went on as she turned back to him, “but you'll never beat us. Better to join forces and play on our side.”
“You're not afraid of a little competition, are you?” What the hell was she saying? She didn't want to compete. Or did she?
You're a special woman.
“Wild Woman isn't our competition,” Martin said. “You own a small niche in the market. But we own the market. We are sex.”
Her fingers tightened on the box of homemade fudge and she smiled. “You may be sex, Martin. But I'm great sex, at least to the female population, and they're all I really care about.” They were, she realized, because they made her feel even better and more complete than any job offer ever could. “I'll leave the male-oriented erotica to you.”
Martin shook his head. “Am I in an alternate universe? Because I swear the last time I saw Xandra Farrel she wasn't content with owning a small portion of the market. She wanted it all.”
“I already have it all.”
She did, she realized as she stood there with the box in her hands, satisfaction brimming inside her. She'd felt the same feeling before when she perfected a new design or saw a small rise in sales. At the same time, there'd been something missing. She'd thought that the missing something had been a larger share of the market or more company name recognition or a better job with a bigger company, but the entire time it had been her own confidence. Her belief in herself, in her talent, in her womanhood. She'd never really felt like a woman, a real woman, until Beau Hollister had opened her eyes.
She'd taken a good look, and she'd liked what she'd seen. Even more, she liked running her own company. While her eyes often glazed when it came to the financial end, she still managed to handle the numbers and make business decisions that resulted in a growing profit margin year after year.
But Wild Woman wasn't just about making money. It was about helping women everywhere get in touch with their sexuality. It helped them appreciate and cultivate that sexuality. Wild Woman was all about making other women feel good. Satisfied. Confident. Special.
Exactly the way Xandra felt at the moment.
“I like working in my small niche. I like owning it. And I'm
not for sale,” she told Martin before handing him a batch of Orgasma samples and wishing him luck.
“You're staying with Wild Woman?” Kimmy asked when Xandra turned away from the surprised executive and opened her box of fudge.
“Of course she is. She is Wild Woman,” Albert said as he retrieved a large piece of rocky road from the box. “And she's in love.”
“Love?” Xandra shook her head. “I'm not in love.” She slapped his hand. “And leave my fudge alone.”
“You're wearing a cheesy corsage with a DKNY suit. You're definitely in love.” He stuffed the piece into his mouth and chewed.
“It's for good luck. No way am I in love.”
Love?
Why, she wasn't even sure she believed in romantic love, let alone felt it. After all, she was Jacqueline Farrel's daughter. The apple couldn't have fallen that far from the tree.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The apple hadn't just fallen. Someone had drop-kicked it from here to the next state because Xandra Farrel actually believed in romantic love.
She came to that conclusion late Saturday afternoon when Beau knocked on her door. The Texas Monthly team had done their walk-through early that morning while Xandra had spent most of the day at her office handling the rush of orders that had poured in immediately following Orgasma's introduction at Thursday's conference kickoff.
She'd come home a few hours ago to see his entire team loading up their vans and clearing away the remaining debris. He'd been busy talking with his crew chief and so she'd just waved and walked inside the house and tried to pretend that it was just another day.
But when she opened her front door, the truth hit home. She took one look at him standing on her doorstep, the last of his tools in hand, her porch free and clear of the construction clutter she'd dealt with for the past three weeks, and panic rushed through her.
This was it. The end of the line.
While they might remain friends, it wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't be here when she arrived home. No sharing dinner every night as they'd done for the past few nights. No seeing him every day. No talking with him.
That bothered her even more than the sudden thought that she would never, ever know the feel of his body pressing into her, loving her…
Loving?
Yes, she believed in romantic love, all right. She felt it. Not that the feeling changed anything. They wanted different things out of life. She wanted the Perfect Daddy prospect and a family, and he wanted his business.
She swallowed against the sudden lump that formed in her throat and held up a bottle of wine in one hand and a platter of popcorn balls in the other.
“What's this?” he asked as he followed her inside to the kitchen.
“I thought we could celebrate your Texas Monthly victory.” She set the popcorn balls and wine bottle on the table and turned to retrieve two glasses.
“What if I didn't win?” he asked as she started to pour him a glass.
She smiled. “Then we'll console ourselves with popcorn balls, talk trash about the winner, and look on the bright side.” She topped off his glass and turned to her own.
“Which is?”
“There are worse things than losing.” She set the bottle down and slid into the chair across from him.
“Such as?”
“War. Famine. Pestilence. Celibacy.” The last word was out before she could think better of it. “So,” she rushed on, eager to change the topic before she did something really crazy like press herself into his arms and beg him to love her one last and final time before he walked away for good, “what happened?”
“You first. When do you start with Lust?”
She took a drink of her wine and blew out a deep breath. “I don't.”
“What?” He shook his head, his expression going from outraged to angry to sympathetic. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. I turned them down.”
“But I thought you wanted to work for them?”
“I thought so, too, but I don't. I didn't realize it until the offer was on the table. There it was, but suddenly it wasn't what I wanted. I already had what I wanted. I had success. I felt success.” She smiled. “What about you?”
“We came in second place. First place went to the old brewery over on Travis Street. Arcadian Renovation handled the job. They work closely with the historical society on all of their major renovation projects. They're really good.”
“I bet they're not that good.”
“Trust me, they are, and they deserved the award.”
She eyed him and noted the gleam in his eyes. “So why don't you look disappointed?”
He shrugged. “Maybe because I'm not.” He eyed her. “I should be, I know. Hells bells, we came in second place.”
“Second place isn't that bad.”
“Not in this case. The judges liked your house so much they're doing a layout on it the following month and featuring Hire-a-Hunk as one of the premier renovation teams in the South.”
“You mean H&H Construction?”
“I mean Hire-a-Hunk, where a hunk of home-improvement know-how is just a phone call away.”
She smiled. “I like it.”
“So do I.”
“Did your friend Evan come up with it?”
“Evan's busy romancing his nurse who, it turns out, likes him just as much as he likes her.” He shook his head as if the fact surprised him. “They're thinking about moving in together.”
“That's nice.”
“I came up with the new slogan myself a few days ago. Sort of a contingency plan if things fell through with the contest. Instead of building a new image, I decided to change the company's existing one. My guys are hunks. All of them. They're beefed up with experience and knowledge.”
“But things didn't fall through with the contest if they're going to feature your business.”
“No, but it's not my business.”
“What do you mean?”
“That I'm retiring. Annabelle and Warren bought half of the company. I'll still own the other half, but I'm stepping down as the boss. They'll run things and I'll be their silent partner.”
“But why?”
“Because they don't need me. Between them, they know the business as well as I do. They eat, sleep, and breathe it, and I don't.” He shook his head. “Running the company was a way to make a good living and provide for my family, but my dad's gone and my brothers are all grown-up, and my duty to them is done. Besides, I'll be too busy making my own furniture to do anything more with Hire-a-Hunk than consult on the occasional project.”
“What are you talking about?”
Excitement lit his eyes. “One of the photographers for Texas Monthly asked about your bookshelves. When I told him I was the designer, he asked if I would be interested in doing some custom-made pieces for a new house he's building. A house that's also going to be featured in the magazine. I said yes.”
“That's wonderful!”
“It's scary.” His gaze met hers and a serious expression covered his face. “All this time I convinced myself that I couldn't pursue my dream because I had too many people depending on me, but the truth is, I was scared that I wouldn't be able to make it. I didn't want to trade a sure thing for possible failure. I've been playing it safe until now.” He shook his head. “Until you came at me full-force, determined to get what you wanted one way or another. And you did. No fear. No hesitation.”
“I was afraid, too.” She was still afraid. More so because the stakes were higher now.
“But you didn't let that fear cripple you or keep you down. You faced it, and that's what I did today.” He reached into his pocket and held up a DBA certificate that indicated he'd registered the name of a new business. “Meet the new owner and chief craftsman for Timelessly Texan, specializing in unique, handcrafted furniture with a Texas twang.”
She smiled. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Xandra Farrel, owner and head designer for Wild Woman, Inc.” She handed him a popcorn ball.
“It looks like this is a double celebration. Everything worked out for both of us.” She took a bite of her popcorn ball.
“Almost everything. I still have some unfinished business here.”
“Just get me an invoice and I'll write you a check,” she said around her mouthful.
“I was thinking we might work out a little trade agreement.” His gaze glittered as it dropped to her lips. “You've got a lot to offer a man.”
She swallowed as excitement bubbled inside her. “As in sex?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a lifetime supply of popcorn balls. These are pretty good.” His gaze darkened. “But sex would do just as well.”
“What about us being friends?”
“I like being your friend. But I love having sex with you.”
The words hung between them for a long moment before her excitement got the best of her and she smiled. “Care to prove that?”
“My pleasure.” And then he kissed her so deeply and thoroughly, that it took her breath away. He swept her up into his arms, headed upstairs to her bedroom, and spent the next few hours kissing and touching and working her into a frenzy. She knew what was coming, but when it finally did, she was not prepared for the intensity of her climax. Or for the words that he whispered to her as she lay sprawled across his chest afterward.
“I lied.”
“About what?”
“I don't just love the sex.” She lifted her head and his gaze met hers. “I love you. That's what I really wanted to tell you when I knocked on your door tonight. To tell you that, and to see if you felt the same.”
Joy rushed through her, followed by a burst of panic because Xandra had barely recognized the existence of romantic love. She certainly wasn't ready to feel such an emotion herself. And even if she did, she couldn't admit it to Beau. She was Jacqueline Farrel's daughter, after all. She had an image to maintain.
“I love you,” he said again, the words hanging between them as if he expected her to reciprocate.
And so she did what any sexpert would do when faced with the “L” word—she ignored it and concentrated on kissing Beau and touching him and pleasuring him, until the only thing he wanted to hear was her scream when she came apart in his arms.
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