Get Bunny Love (9 page)

“I liked the old you just fine.” Tilly frowned, then brightened suddenly. “Hey, I met one of your coworkers today.”

“I heard.”

Tilly’s jade gaze widened. “Yum.”

“Yum?” Bunny’s mouth gaped in disbelief. “Tilly, he’s a nice guy, but not your type.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. If you can become a suit, I can lust after one.” She pulled open the front door, hesitating at the threshold. “It’s going to take some time for me to get used to the whole Bunny-Love-goes-corporate idea.”

After Tilly left, Bunny stared at the closed door for several long seconds. “You and me both,” she whispered. “You and me both.”

o0o

Nate took a long sip of his scotch, savoring the burn of the liquor as it slid down his throat. Cigar smoke filled the Union League lounge. His dinner with Melanie had ended early, so he’d thought it best to take care of other business while it was fresh on his mind.

“To what do I owe the honor of my summons?” Jeremy’s voice startled Nate. His golden-haired brother slid into the opposite chair. The leather creaked and Jeremy’s eyes widened expectantly. “I can’t wait to hear what account necessitated asking for help.”

“The Worthington Cup.” Nate swirled another mouthful of scotch, enjoying the warmth seeping through his extremities.

“The dogs?” Jeremy’s smile curled into a bemused grin. “How’d you get roped into that one?”

“Aunt Martha.” Nate downed the last of his drink and gestured toward the waiter. “What are you drinking?”

Jeremy leaned back against his seat, crossing ankle to knee. “I’ll have the same.”

“Two scotches.” Nate scrutinized his older brother. Jeremy’s pale blue sweater draped open at his neck where he had left the buttons undone. His blue jeans were crisp and creased, but blue jeans nonetheless. Relaxed. At ease.

“Why does she want The Worthington Cup?” Concern flickered in Jeremy’s dark blue eyes.

“Why does she want anything?” Nate formed quotation marks with his fingers. “Safety and security.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated breath. “She wants the firm on solid footing and me married to Melanie.”

The waiter set two tumblers of scotch on the table. Nate drank down half of his as Jeremy looked on.

“You drunk?” Jeremy asked.

“McNultys don’t get drunk.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to live a little.” Jeremy gave a quick shrug. “No one asked you to be so good.”

“Didn’t they?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“I’m not having this conversation tonight,” Nate said. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about living up to expectations.”

“I set my own expectations.” Jeremy’s tone grew stiff. “You should try it sometime.”

“So you think.” Nate polished off his remaining scotch then laced his fingers behind his head. “Can you design an interactive Web site?”

“For McNulty Events?” A smug grin spread across Jeremy’s movie star features. “Welcome to the future, little brother.”

Wise ass
, Nathan thought. “It’s for the Cup.”

“The dogs need a Web site?”

A deep furrow formed between Jeremy’s perfect pale brows. His was a face women swooned over. Lord, his brother was right. He had had too much to drink.

Nate focused on keeping his words from slurring. “I want interactive voting from the television audience. Is it feasible?"

Jeremy stared at Nate incredulously. “Completely.” He pressed his lips together. “Your idea?”

“I was part of the team that developed the concept.” Not a total lie. “You don’t think I’m capable of creative thought?”

“You’re perfectly capable,” Jeremy replied. “I’m impressed you allowed yourself the luxury, quite frankly. I didn’t think creative thought fit your version of the McNulty mold.”

“Well, it does.” Nate tossed several bills onto the table and stood. “Can you be at the office tomorrow morning? I’d like you to meet the coordinator handling the event.”

“I’ll be there first thing. What’s his name?”

“
Her
name is Bunny. Bunny Love.”

Jeremy’s brows met in a puzzled peak.

“Don’t ask,” Nate snarled as he turned to leave. “Just be there by nine.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Jeremy’s words echoed in Nate’s mind as he hailed a taxi.
Wild horses
. Hopefully his brother wouldn’t share his sentiments with Miss Love. The last thing Nate needed was anyone giving her additional ideas.

o0o

Bunny browsed the racks of Daffy’s designer suit section without excitement. These outfits weren’t her. Too stiff. Too structured. Too...well...suits. She ran her fingertips down a rough burgundy crepe sheath and sighed. She didn’t belong on this floor. Hell. She didn’t belong in this
world
.

She ruffled her hair, stopping to look at herself in a full-length mirror. Tilly was right. The straight hair was freaky. Corporate. But freaky.

She blew out a frustrated breath, turning back toward the discount rack. She’d pick three basic suits and buy them. They’d mix. They’d match. They’d be boring. Piece of cake.

Quickly scanning the rack for promising colors, her gaze settled first on a turquoise silk. The color was perfect—key for self-expression and creativity—exactly what she needed for her role at McNulty Events.

She next plucked a bright orange sheath and long jacket from the rack. She held the outfit at arm’s length and nodded. Not bad. Orange was great for creativity, security and sexuality. She stifled a laugh. What a combination.

One more. If she could find one more suit and a pair of comfortable shoes, she’d head home.

A monotone woman on the overhead public address system announced fifteen minutes until closing. Drat. She needed to move quickly.

A rich emerald sleeve peeked from between the black and grays of a second rack. Bunny tugged the suit free and grinned. It was actually quite charming. A short flared skirt with a long, fitted jacket. Oversized antiqued brass buttons gleamed down the jacket’s center.

Bunny glanced at the price tag and winced. This corporate stuff wasn’t cheap.

She tossed the suits over her arm and headed for the dressing rooms. A burst of feminine laughter drew her attention and Bunny looked toward the source, stopping dead in her tracks.

A striking blonde circled and twirled before the triple mirrors. Her hair twisted smoothly into a large clip and a tight, sequined sheath of cobalt blue hugged her curves.

Bunny was about to turn away, when the woman spun toward her, twisting to admire the low cut of the garment’s back. Bunny recognized her instantly—the life-sized Barbie doll.

Melanie Brittingham
. Little Miss Pink Chanel wouldn’t be caught dead in a sexy number like that. Would she?

The woman planted her hands on her hips, struck a pose, then twirled once more. She disappeared into the dressing room, leaving Bunny to stare at the spot where she’d stood.

Bunny blinked. She glanced at the suits over her arm, snapping herself from the trance. If she wanted to have anything to wear tomorrow, she’d better get a move on.

She peered beneath each closed door as she made her way toward an empty dressing room stall, but saw no sign of the woman in blue. She must have been seeing things.

A few moments later, she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The turquoise suit fit beautifully, but was so not her style. She squinted. Was that her energy field she saw shriveling up?

She stared lovingly at her tie-dyed T-shirt and jeans draped across the dressing room bench. They were her style. She ran a hand through her hair, doing her best to mess up the smooth strands. And
that
was her style. Not smooth. Not corporate. Not McNulty Events.

After she returned the turquoise and orange suits to their places on the rack, only the emerald suit remained slung over the crook of her arm. She quickly moved to the clearance section and pulled a floral dress from where it hung. A soft ruffle wound its way down the wrapped front and traced the edge of the skirt’s hem. Perfect.

Bunny dashed for the shoe department, pausing long enough to glance in a full-length mirror. She gave her hair a good shake and smiled.

Tilly had been right. She’d always marched to the beat of a different drummer, encouraging creative freedom. Why stop now?

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning Bunny shook her damp hair into its usual state of disarray and let it air dry while she moved through her morning yoga routine. After downing the last of her green tea, she pulled the burgundy floral dress from its hanger. The delicate fabric brushed softly against her skin as she slipped it over her head.

She pulled on her new, black patent-leather sling backs, glossed on a rich, ruby lipstick, and stopped for a quick final check in the bathroom mirror. Her hair curled and waved uncontrollably, natural highlights kissing the tips of each peak and valley.
Better
, she thought.
Much, much better
.

Her mother hadn’t stirred from the other bedroom. Bunny paused outside the door to listen.
Silence
. At least she slept like a log once she went down. Alexandra had been out late with her greeting card design instructor doing God knew what. Based on the gleam of the kitchen floor, the woman had been mainlining espresso. Either that or there had been some seriously pent-up frustrations to work out.

Bunny glanced at her answering machine. Not a peep from her father. The king of denial. Why confront the problem when eventually her mother would soften and go home, once again shoving down a little piece of her own rebellion?

This was exactly why Bunny avoided serious relationships. They always ended up with one person doing all of the conceding and the other getting off scot-free. Talk about emotional torture. Marriage was not for her. Not now. Not ever.

She grabbed her briefcase from beside her desk, casting a long, yearning look at her bunny slippers. What if she had a creative emergency? What good would she be without them? She plucked them from the floor and tucked them inside her briefcase. The floppy ears were a bit difficult to conceal, but she managed. Barely.

The green shoots of her lucky bamboo stalks caught her attention next. She hesitated. Nathan wouldn’t complain about a small plant, would he? Bunny gently tucked the ceramic container into the crook of her arm, grabbed her keys and headed to work.

An hour later, she sat at her desk doing her best to ignore her throbbing toes. The delicate shoes had seemed heavenly in the store, but certainly felt anything but after the walk to work. She’d have to break out the bunny slippers soon if she wanted to keep her ability to walk intact.

“Beatrice.” Nate’s rich voice rumbled into her cubicle. His tall, masculine figure followed, coming to a halt as soon as he set eyes on her. A look of surprise washed over his face, sending anxiety fluttering through Bunny’s stomach.

“Something wrong?” she asked coolly, pushing the lucky bamboo shoots out of sight behind her computer monitor.

“You’re not-” He plowed a hand through his dark brown locks, leaving them disheveled. “You’re not wearing a suit.”

“No.” Bunny stood from her chair to smooth the front of her dress, admiring how the ruffled hem brushed the tops of her knees.

A flush fired in Nate’s cheeks, and his Adam’s apple worked in his throat. “Those are ruffles.” His voice had grown thick and robotic.

“Yes.” She held her chin defiantly high. “You don’t have a dress code here at McNulty Events, do you?”

He met her determined stance with a leveled glare, a fraction of heat slipping from his mocha gaze. “No.” His dark brows arched. “But we do insist on professionalism. I’m not sure how appropriate that...” he nodded his head toward Bunny, “...dress is for the office.”

Frustration fired in Bunny’s midsection. She thought of her mother, probably back in the apartment right now bingeing on cheap, chocolate candy because she’d woken up one day and realized how stifled her life had become. There was a lesson for Bunny there—to defend her individuality while she could. If she didn’t act now, she’d suffocate in this gray place.

“I am a creative, professional woman, Mr. McNulty.”

His brown eyes popped a bit wider. Bunny stepped closer.

“And I will respect your need for gray,” she waved one arm in a wild gesture, “everywhere in this firm. But I need you to respect my need for positive chi. That’s more than fair.”

o0o

Nate took a step backward. “I never intended to stifle you or your chi.” Wild thoughts raced through his head. The woman was the sexiest lunatic he’d ever seen. He admired the soft curves of the ruffled dress.
Curves
. At least her suits had hidden some of
those
.

Warm heat surged up his neck and face. This was precisely why women in offices should wear suits. It prevented men in offices from noticing things like curves.

Bunny took another menacing step toward him—not that anyone with her disheveled hair, creamy skin, and brilliant eyes could ever be considered truly menacing. “I will not disappoint you as far as The Worthington Cup is concerned,” she said, eyes flashing. “But I insist you allow me to express my unique self.” The Worthington Cup. The sole reason Miss Bunny Love stood before him, posing as his star event coordinator.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” she continued, “and I feel quite strongly that-”

“Very well, Beatrice.” Nate held up a hand to interrupt her diatribe. “I’ll respect your need for positive chi, if you’ll focus on the task at hand.”

Her vibrant blue gaze widened. “You agreed to call me Bunny.”

“That was yesterday.”

Surprise and sadness flickered through her features. Nate’s stomach tightened. He opened his mouth to apologize for his tone, but quickly rethought the move. He had to maintain the upper hand here. After all, he was the boss.

“As I explained yesterday, this is a place of business, Miss Love. Let’s keep that in mind.” He turned to leave her work space. “Right now, you’re needed in a meeting. I’ve decided to pursue the idea of interactive voting. There’s a Web design expert waiting in the conference room.”