Fool for Love: Fooling Around\Nobody's Fool\Fools Rush In (14 page)

K
ATE GAVE IN
to a little thrill of flattery to be singled out. And the things he said spoke to her—she, too, was looking for a grown-up romantic relationship with an eye toward commitment. Over the years there had been a handful of guys she'd met through friends and dated for a few months, but the relationships had eventually petered out for no good reason—perhaps lack of interest on both sides. She often wondered if she had unrealistic expectations of
physical chemistry leading to a deeper bond, but Lesley had assured her over and over that love would hit her out of the blue.

Years ago, Eric had been that hit. Right between the eyes. Right between the thighs. And right through the heart. On some level, had she been comparing her feelings toward other men to the powerful attraction she'd felt for Eric? It was long past time for letting go of that fantasy. Even if Eric suddenly turned into a deep, caring individual willing to make a lifetime commitment, their positions alone made a relationship impossible. One side of her mouth slid back in a wry frown. Since the idea of Eric undergoing a personality transplant seemed highly unlikely, the rest was a moot point.

Kate mentally went down the short list of possible names for the sender of the notes, but kept coming back to Neil Powers. The sender wanted them to get to know each other, so that seemed to rule out old boyfriends. He knew what she did for a living, and intimated that she knew who he was. The note had been sent at 3:30 in the afternoon, about the time she and Eric had been shaking hands with the manager of the largest toy store in Atlanta.

She had marveled over the way Eric had greeted most of the employees by name, had helped to relocate a display of Handley toys, and had rounded out the customer call by challenging a group of twelve-year-olds to an impromptu tournament on a new Handley electronic hand-held game. Seeing him sitting cross-legged on the floor with his dress-shirt sleeves rolled up, working the small buttons of the game with his big thumbs, it was easy to imagine
him as a boy—tousled hair, laughing eyes, winning grin. In those few minutes, Kate had realized why Eric McDaniels was the best salesperson in Handley's history—selling toys and games gave him an excuse to
be
a kid. It was the perfect occupation for the man who didn't want to grow up.

Kate shook her head free of Eric and reread the e-mail message from FoolforYou. She wet her lips, then put her hands on the keyboard and began to type.

She hit the send button, then exhaled and checked her watch. Almost time to meet Eric for dinner. She changed from her water-marked pantsuit to a pair of black slacks and a lightweight yellow sweater, then made her way to the hotel restaurant. She frowned wryly when she saw that Eric was already there flirting with the busty bartender. He was leaning on the bar, and the young woman was studiously polishing the knob of the beer tap with a towel. Talk about Freudian.

Kate sauntered over, watching Eric trying to make what might be his biggest sale of the day. He was gesturing with a bottle of beer in one hand, and the coed seemed to be buying whatever he was saying,
which must have been hilarious since they both burst out laughing. When Eric turned his head and saw her, he straightened, his trademark grin faltering.

Kate felt slightly vindicated since her heart did the same thing at the sight of him. He still wore the rumpled slacks, shirt and tie that had been doused in the downpour, except now the knot of his tie hung low and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the peek of a white T-shirt, and a few dark chest hairs. Unbidden, an image of his bare chest flashed through her mind—well-defined pecs covered with a mat of black hair.

“Kate,” he greeted boisterously, then nodded toward the bartender. “This is Hillary. Hill, this is my boss, Kate.”

Hill gave her the once-over. “You're his boss?”

“She's much older than she looks,” Eric assured his young admirer.

Kate rolled her eyes, and then a thought crossed her mind and she frowned—how old was her own admirer? What if it wasn't Neil, but some teenager who had somehow hacked into her employee profile? Suddenly undone, she crossed her arms. “Eric, is our table ready?”

“Why don't we check?” He tossed a generous tip for Hillary onto the bar.

“Will I see you later?” the woman asked hopefully.

“Not this trip,” he said ruefully, then cut his eyes indiscreetly toward Kate, as if she were the whip-cracking boss who brooked no fun on company time. Hillary nodded knowingly and went back to her pol
ishing. Eric finished his beer in one drink, then swept his arm in front of Kate. “Shall we?”

She gave him a wry smile. “Don't leave on my account.”

“I'm not—I happen to be starving.” He sniffed. “Speaking of which, do you realize that you always smell like food?”

She bristled with mixed reactions. “If you mean my cologne, it's vanilla…and spice.”

He wagged his eyebrows. “And everything nice?”

Kate frowned. “Are you drunk?”

“Not yet,” he said happily. “But that's a very good idea.”

Warning bells were going off in Kate's head as they were shown to a table—as she recalled, alcohol had played a role in their one-night stand all those years ago. Not that she could blame it all on the wine—Eric had primed the pump with a liberal dose of come-on. In hindsight, she had probably looked as starry-eyed as Hillary the knob-polisher.

The maître d' smiled as he stopped at a cozy table tucked away in a corner. “The best seat in the house, Mr. McDaniels.”

“Thanks, Gordon,” Eric said, discreetly passing a ten-dollar bill as he shook the man's hand. Eric pulled out Kate's seat and she hesitated. “I can't be a gentleman?” he asked, then grinned. “My mother would kill me if I didn't mind my manners.”

Kate smiled. She was being foolish, reading too much into his actions—Eric would pull out a chair for any woman. She slid into the chair and allowed him to shift her chair closer to the table, keenly aware of his body pressed against the back of it. “You must
stay in this hotel often. Everyone seems to know you.”

“Another sales trick,” he said, taking his own seat. “Find a nice hotel with a good restaurant, and become a regular. When I bring clients here, the staff treats me like family.”

And so they did. A waiter appeared, calling him by name and lighting a luminary on their table for ambiance. Eric ordered another beer. Kate hesitated, then, determined not to look as if she were trying to avoid temptation, ordered a glass of merlot. For dinner, he ordered steak and she ordered fish. When they were alone with their drinks, Kate sipped from her glass and experienced a few seconds of pure panic when she wondered what they could talk about. Thankfully, sanity dawned and she settled on the obvious subject: work. “So, Eric, what attracted you to sales?”

Eric drew from his beer, then settled back in his chair and shrugged, his face wreathed in smiles. “Can't remember exactly, the money I suppose.”

“Did you go to college?”

He nodded. “Auburn.”

“What did you study?”

He hesitated, then leaned forward. “Psychology.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

Eric seemed almost sheepish. “When you think about it, I guess it's as good a preparation as any for sales.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth. “I've certainly met my share of personalities—John Handley being one of them.”

She nodded in agreement, then decided to cut to the chase. “Eric, you don't think John should have
offered me this job, do you? Because I'm a ‘paper-pusher' as I overheard you say?”

He shrugged slowly, as if trying to gauge whether she wanted an honest answer. “It doesn't matter what I think.”

“Actually, it does.”

“How so?”

“You know the situation I'm in here, Eric. You're the top salesman, and the other reps take their cues from you.”

He laughed. “I think you give me way too much credit, Kate.”

“Eric, I need your support. Let's try to find some kind of common ground. It's in both our best interests to work together, not to mention the rest of the sales organization.”

He lifted both arms. “I thought that's what we were doing—working together.”

She bit down on the inside of her jaw. “But I sense a certain…resentment.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe you're not as good at reading people as you think. Ah—here's our food.”

Kate frowned, perplexed by his comment. But he was completely distracted by the food, becoming animated, making a show of inhaling the aroma of the calamari appetizer and sighing in satisfaction. “Rob, tell Chef Aaron that this is
fine
-looking squid.”

“I will, Mr. McDaniels.”

He divided the food between their plates, and Kate watched as he ate with gusto, his gaze suspiciously averted—she knew a sidestep when she saw one. A few feet away, a man with a Spanish guitar began to
strum and sing quietly, effectively filling the silence as they ate. Their entrees arrived shortly. Eric didn't seem eager to resume their conversation and, in fact, had fallen into an uncharacteristically serious mood. Kate forked in mouthfuls of buttery sea bass and rice pilaf and studied him under her lashes.

A furrow had developed between his thick dark eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth were turned down as he chewed. Her conversation had obviously stirred some deep-seated concerns—apparently Eric did have reservations about her ability to lead the sales organization, more than his offhand comments to a young sales rep had revealed. In fact, if he would make jokes about her lack of experience, she might feel better. It was his lack of teasing that concerned her, because it seemed to represent something deeper.

They were sitting scarcely three feet apart, but they might as well have been on opposite sides of the room. Even the air between them seemed to clash, bursting with unsaid words, resentment, and…something else. Something dark and disturbing. Was it dislike…or desire?

Did Eric consider her to be weak because she had succumbed to his flirtation all those years ago? She swallowed a mouthful of wine, savoring the slight burn as it slid down her throat. Did she consider
herself
weak for succumbing to his flirtation?

Their eye contact was sparse and awkward. Under the table, their legs brushed occasionally, prompting shifting and murmured apologies. She hadn't felt this awkward since ninth grade, and frankly, she didn't know what to do about it.

Because as much as she wanted to move past their former sexual encounter and get on with their professional relationship, they couldn't. Not, she realized with a sinking heart, when the electricity they still felt when they were together was like a big white elephant sitting between them. Ignoring it seemed childish, but giving it a name, well, that seemed dangerous.

The guitarist took a break just as the waiter cleared their dishes. “May I bring you a dessert menu?” the man asked, and they talked over each other in their haste to decline.

“No, thank you—”

“I need to—”

“—I'm full.”

“—turn in early.”

The waiter nodded, then set a small leather folder on the table between them. “I'll take the check whenever you're ready.”

They both reached for it at the same time, although her hand closed around it first. Eric's hand covered hers a half-second later.

“I'll get it,” she said.

“No, I'll get it,” he said.

Neither of them budged. The warmth of his big hand consumed her much smaller one. The feeling unnerved her, rekindling memories of the heat they could generate together. She locked gazes with him and was alarmed to find something akin to desire in the depths of his stare. Seconds ticked off, and she blamed her sudden headiness on the wine and the intimate surroundings. She moved her hand, but he
resisted. Panicked, she blurted, “Eric, you should always let the boss pay.”

That did it. After a heartbeat, he lifted his hand abruptly, then scooted his seat back and stood, his mood changing from serious to congenial in an instant. “I think I'll call it a night. Thanks for dinner…boss. See you in the morning.” Then he nodded and strode back toward the bar.

Kate gave her credit card to the bemused waiter and waited for a receipt. That hadn't gone well. The man certainly brought all of her insecurities to the surface, which frustrated her even more. She was in a position to put Eric in his place, but that place wasn't as well defined as it should be. It wasn't enough that she had decades of a male-dominated society's conventions to battle, but her own lapse as well. Sex transcended titles. Good or bad, the fact was that Eric had seen her naked, and that would always color his judgment where she was concerned.

And vice versa.

She didn't glance his way when she walked past the bar on the way out of the restaurant, but she heard the young bartender's laugh. Apparently, they had picked up where they'd left off, and apparently, Eric still had a girl in every port. Which had nothing to do with his ability to sell, she reminded herself on the elevator ride to her room.

And his ability to sell was the extent of her interest in Eric McDaniels.

Really.