by Trish Jensen
Her eyes misted. “The Howards were not a typical couple, you know.”
“I know nothing of the kind,” he retorted. Then, feeling the need to cheer her up, he sighed and said, “All right, I’ll come tomorrow night.”
“Wonderful!”
“But,” he said, holding up a finger, “I bring my own date.”
Rachel squealed her delight. “You have a new girlfriend! How wonderful!”
“No, I don’t have a new girlfriend. She’s a . . . colleague.” In that instant, Kit realized who he meant to ask to act as his buffer between him and whatever single women his sister had decided to throw at him, and his heart panicked. When had he made the decision to ask Sherry Spencer out? One night in her company could well drive him crazy. She wasn’t his type. She had too much energy, too much . . . personality.
He liked quiet, sophisticated, undemanding women. The kind he could walk away from without a backward glance. He had the feeling that the more he got to know Sherry Spencer, the more trouble she’d prove to be.
Rachel waved, a knowing smile on her lips. “Whatever. Eight o’clock, and don’t be too fashionably late.”
His intercom buzzed again, and Kit waved to his sister as she fluttered her fingers at him and left his office. Still slightly reeling from the decision he’d come to, he answered absently, “Yes?”
“Fred Simpson from Simpson & Bailey on line three.”
Kit shook his head, and took a steadying breath. However bad this plan was, he meant to see it through.
He picked up the receiver and punched the blinking button. “Fred, I was just about to call you. I don’t know if your associate has reported on our meeting this morning, but I have to tell you, I wasn’t very impressed.”
Now that was a lie. He’d been impressed by a lot of things about Sherry, not the least of which was her unmitigated nerve. Not the least of which was the way she walked in high heels. Not the least of which were her shapely legs, and the way she filled out a tailored suit. Not the least of which was the shrewd and intelligent light in her eyes, in sharp contrast to the rest of her face. His brain had splintered apart. That had to be the answer. Maybe he needed a vacation.
Abruptly he realized that Fred had spoken. “Excuse me?”
“I said, Sherry did report on the meeting, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two.”
She’d reported she’d failed before he even had a chance to announce it? She must have a solid hold on her job. Anyone else would’ve waited for the axe to fall, all the while hoping for a miracle. “Yes, well, she and I did seem to have our differences in concept.”
“I’m sorry. I have another ad exec I think will agree wholeheartedly with your vision, and I’d be happy to—”
“Who said I wanted another ad exec?”
“I was hoping I could convince you to use Simpson & Bailey just the same.”
“I plan on using Simpson & Bailey.” A shocked silence buzzed through the phone. “On one condition,” he added. “Actually two. Nope, make that three.”
“And they are?”
“One, I want Sherry Spencer to handle the account. Two, we can discuss concept again, but if she still doesn’t convince me, she does it my way. And three, she’s got exactly one chance to convince me. Tomorrow night over dinner.”
Another stunned silence. “Well?” Kit said impatiently.
“Can you hold for a moment while I discuss this with Sherry?”
Normally Kit wouldn’t languish on hold for anyone, but for some reason this felt important enough to allow it. “Make it quick,” he said, then punched the speaker button and dropped the phone into its cradle.
While he waited, Kit tried to read the latest quarterly report, but the numbers just weren’t sinking in. He felt a strange agitation, and decided it was because he had the feeling Sherry Spencer would prove to be more trouble than she—or any woman for that matter—would be worth.
Several minutes later, the phone clicked again. Only this time it wasn’t Fred on the line, but the woman in question herself.
“Mr. Fleming?” she said, her tone about fifty degrees below zero.
He picked up the phone. “Ms. Spencer.”
“I’m pleased you’re willing to hear me out again. I’d be happy to schedule a meeting in the next few days—”
“The meeting’s scheduled, Ms. Spencer. Tomorrow night, eight o’clock.”
“But—”
“I have a dinner engagement I have to attend tomorrow night, and I’m not looking forward to it very much. I was hoping I could put in an appearance and get our meeting out of the way, all in one shot”
Silence. Kit was fairly certain she was deciding whether to feel insulted or relieved. When she finally spoke, he could tell relief had won out. Which he found rather annoying. “All right, Kit my man, it’s a deal.”
“Fine.”
“How should I dress?”
Some small demon grabbed Kit by the tail. “In something sheer?”
“In your dreams, Fleming.”
Only this young woman would have the audacity to address him so familiarly. Which told him several unflattering things. One, she didn’t consider him a physical or emotional threat. Two, she wasn’t all that worried about losing the account. And one and two led him to observation number three. He did not have control over this lady.
Which made her dangerous.
Three
“Eat your heart out, Sharon Stone,” Sherry murmured, as she tugged at the hem of her dress. She turned this way and that in front of the mirror, and her confidence collapsed.
Why should she care if Kit Fleming approved of her attire, anyway? As far as she was concerned, he’d forced her into going on this . . . outing to begin with. If she’d had her way, they’d have met in the safety of his office. How much business could they conduct at a dinner party, anyway?
She again looked in the mirror and surveyed her latest selection, a midnight blue, sleeveless number with a heart-shaped neckline. She supposed it would have to do. It appeared sophisticated enough, she figured, that people wouldn’t think she was heading for the nearest prom.
Adding the diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings she’d treated herself to last Christmas, she checked herself out one last time. She’d swept her hair back in an artless bun, leaving a few strands free to tickle her bare shoulders. It looked all right, she decided.
His knock came as she slipped on her black patent leather pumps and her heart tripped up. Telling herself she was just nervous over changing Kit’s mind about the ad concept, she headed for the entrance to her apartment.
She took one deep, cleansing breath and then opened the door. Her pulse pounded in her throat at the sight of him. The jerk was just too darn attractive for his own good. And he happened to look delectable in a navy blue Armani suit.
His eyes flickered over her once, before resting on her face. His facial muscles hadn’t moved in the slightest. “You look like you’re heading for the prom.”
Well, now, that was not a good opening line. Sherry took one step backward and slammed the door in his impassive, arrogant, aggravating face.
There was a moment of silence, before he knocked again. Sherry stood with her arms folded over her chest.
“Sherry?” he said, from the other side of her door. “What did I say?”
She ignored him.
“All right, I’m sorry. I take it you don’t get a kick out of looking younger than your age.” He paused. “Most women would kill to look so young.” He paused again. “I bet the rest of the women there tonight will be green with envy,” he added, his voice coaxing and patronizing all at once.
“Or think you went cruising high schools to get yourself a date,” she retorted, opening the door just as he was about to knock again.
He actually appeared chagrined. “Look, I’m sorry. You really look great. I’m sure your boyfriend would be jealous.”
Sherry snorted. “Boyfriend? Let’s see, the last time I
had one of those, I think there was another president in the White House.”
His eyes widened. “You’re kidding!”
Astonishment! Another expression. Sherry felt rather victorious, and the night had barely begun. “I’ve been a real disappointment to my mother.”
He really did look slightly stunned. Sherry decided to take that as a compliment. In actuality she’d had several dates over the last couple of years, but in every case she’d met the men at an agreed-upon destination, just so she wouldn’t have to worry about inviting them in at the end of the night.
She hadn’t had a serious relationship since college. She’d been too busy making a name for herself in her chosen profession, too busy to notice anything missing. She’d put her romantic heart in deep freeze, always assuming that when the right man came along, she’d know it.
She looked at Kit and her stomach clutched. No way. She didn’t care how handsome the cuss was, his personality left a lot to be desired. She wanted someone she could laugh with, share her ups and downs, share dreams. The only thing worth sharing with Kit would be a—
Sherry almost burst out laughing at the scandalous train of her thoughts. She wondered how Kit would react if she told him she considered him good for only one thing. Well, actually two. He was also very adept at annoying her.
“Ready?” he inquired.
“Let me get my coat,” she said, moving to her coat closet. He helped her don her black cashmere coat, and she had to suppress a shiver when his fingers brushed over her bare shoulder.
She turned to see if the sizzling contact could coax yet another expression from him, but his features were settled in an expressionless mask. She didn’t care for the fact that she felt disappointed. “Ready.”
The same sleek little Mercedes coupe he’d driven the other day awaited them in her parking lot. Sherry murmured her pleasure as the leather seat practically wrapped itself around her in luxurious comfort.
The car smelled brand-spanking new. While Kit rounded the hood on his way to the driver’s side, Sherry admired the grace of his stride. Lord, she loved the way sexy men swaggered.
Okay, so she found him sexy. No problem. There were plenty of sexy men in the world. There had to be lots of them sexier than this one. She just couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. And considering she spent so much time around models and commercial actors, that was saying plenty.
What it was saying, she didn’t like hearing.
They accomplished most of the ride to his sister’s Georgetown home in relative silence. Sherry tried once to bring up the subject of business, but he cut her off with a terse, “Later.”
As they traversed the Key Bridge, Sherry crossed her legs, smoothing the skirt of her dress. When she glanced up, she realized that his eyes had strayed from the road to her gams.
He swallowed as he again focused straight ahead. “You look great tonight.”
Thunderstruck, Sherry needed a moment to answer him. When she did, her “Thanks” came out a little croaky. She cleared her throat. “I hope I’m dressed appropriately for the occasion.”
“Perfect.”
He’d said it tonelessly, but still a little thrill chased up her spine. “What is the occasion, anyway?”
“My sister thinks she’s found me another live one.”
“Excuse me?”
“Remember my matchmaking sister?”
“Oh . . . oh, right. Well, if she’s trying to fix you up, why are you showing up with a . . . another woman?”
“Because I’m not interested in being fixed up.”
His profile was classically masculine, and Sherry really enjoyed the view. But then his words penetrated. “Now, wait a minute. Are you saying you’re using me as some sort of decoy?”
“You got that right.”
“Of all the . . .” She sputtered to a halt, because her outrage left her speechless. On the other hand, she wasn’t certain outrage was appropriate. After all, he’d made it clear this wasn’t a traditional date. Why should she care if he had ulterior motives for carting her to dinner, so long as he intended to let her talk business some time tonight?
Still, she felt an intense need to pop one of the miniature Three Musketeers hidden in her clutch purse into her mouth.
As they wended their way down busy M Street, he glanced at her. “You’re not angry about that, are you? I mean, we can still conduct business.”
In addition to being a handsome hunk, he was a mindreader, too. A man of many talents. She wondered how talented he’d be in—
Don’t go there, she told herself, mimicking words she’d heard spoken over and over on talk shows. She wasn’t exactly sure what the phrase meant, but a Sherry translation went something like, Think about something else. Fast.
“No, I suppose I’m not angry. I guess it must be irritating to have someone trying to hook you up all the time.”
“My sister means well,” he said, and his hard mouth softened a little.
Ah, he and his sister were close. Sherry thought that was sweet. “I always wished I had a little sister growing up,” she said wistfully.
His mouth immediately tightened. Sherry replayed the words through her head, to figure out how such an innocuous sentiment could make him angry.
Not finding an answer, she continued, “I only have an older brother. He’s great, but still, a sister would have been nice.”
Kit didn’t answer her, and she decided he wasn’t interested in her life history. Moments later they pulled up to a wrought-iron gate, and Sherry had to keep herself from whistling her appreciation. In Georgetown, driveways leading to garages were rare luxuries. Circular driveways like the one she spied between the posts of the gate were practically nonexistent.
After parking, they strolled the short distance across the brick driveway, and Sherry stifled a gasp at the profound elegance of Kit’s sister’s home. It was a Georgian brick with white columns rising to a second-story wrap-around balcony. Sherry knew a sudden desire to start speaking with a Southern accent.
A huge front door again opened magically at their arrival. Kit’s sister sure didn’t believe in inconveniencing her guests.
A butler took her jacket and then she and Kit crossed the marble foyer toward the party sounds coming from a closed room to the right. As that door swung open, the music and laughter swelled, and they entered a large salon, filled with close to fifty people.
Between the five crystal chandeliers and the gowns of the women, the room literally glittered. Even the many palms in brass planters had small white lights encircling their fronds. A minimum of furniture had been backed up to the walls, leaving a large area free for people to roam and mingle. In the far left corner, a string quartet played chamber music.
“This is a cozy dinner party?” Sherry asked out of the side of her mouth.
“My sister doesn’t entertain for less than a couple of dozen people at a time. Believe me, this is a small gathering.”
Just then a lovely blond woman broke from a group of guests and came gliding over, a delighted smile on her face. “Kit!” she said, stretching up to air kiss his cheek. “You made it before supper! This might be a first.”
She turned curious but friendly blue eyes on Sherry and held out her hand. “Welcome. I’m Rachel Strand, Kit’s sister.”
This was Kit’s sister? Could two siblings look less alike? Act less alike? While Kit walked around like an emotionless robot, his sister had an expressive, open face. “Sherry Spencer.”
“Sherry. What a lovely name.”
“Thank you.”
“Kit tells me you’re a colleague. How funny. You look more like a co-ed.”
“Careful, sis,” Kit said, dropping an overly familiar arm around Sherry’s shoulders. His fingers traced little patterns on her suddenly sensitive skin. “Sherry’s real touchy about not looking her age.”
Rachel’s laughter was musical, making it hard for Sherry to get irritated with her. Her lug of a brother, on the other hand, was ta
king liberties with her shoulder. If there weren’t plenty of curious eyes on the three of them, Sherry would slap his hand away. As it was, she submitted to the too sensual caresses, making a mental note to give him a piece of her mind . . . later.
“You’re blessed,” Rachel said. “In a few years you’ll be grateful. Trust this thirtysomething on that.”
Sherry was about to inform Rachel she had also just joined the ranks of thirtysomethings, but abruptly Kit’s hand stilled on her shoulder, and his body went stiff beside hers. She looked up, to find Kit glaring at something or someone in the room. Rachel blocked Sherry’s view of the object of his wrath.
“Why didn’t you tell me Samantha would be here?” Kit growled.
Samantha? Who was Samantha?
Rachel frowned, her eyes clouding a little. “I didn’t have a choice, Kit. She managed to get Peter Neilson to bring her as his date.”
“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have come.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Kit glared at his sister, but she just laughed. “You can’t avoid her forever.”
“I’d love to give it a shot.”
“Don’t be a baby.” She waved at someone behind them. “Go get yourselves something to drink. I need to welcome the Stuarts.”
“Where’s Jeff?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Where else? Talking business in his den.”
Rachel floated away, her filmy silver gown trailing in her wake.
“Do I need to know who Samantha is, and am I in danger of getting clawed by her any time soon?” Sherry asked, when Kit finally remembered she was there.
Amazingly, amazingly, amazingly, he smiled down at her. It wasn’t the cat-circling-the-canary smile he’d bestowed on her yesterday morning, but a full-fledged baby-you-light-my-fire smile. The performance of a lifetime.
Who cared? It was a beautiful smile and she couldn’t stop staring at it. Then to fluster her further, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers.