Summer Kisses (273 page)

John had been against the newest fitness center from the beginning. I normally listen to his advice, but I thought he was acting like an old woman on this one.

I folded my arms. “The success of this company is built on taking big risks. You’re starting to sound like a gutless wonder. Trust me. The new club is going to be great.”

John slid a thick sheaf of papers toward me across the slick surface of the desk then pointed out the yellow sticky tabs indicating where to sign and initial. I sat and put my pen to the document that made twenty-five acres of prime real estate mine.

“It’s not
your
business I’m worried about,” he said. “As my biggest client, if you go down, I go down.”

“Way to make this all about you.” I didn’t believe John’s own interests were his main concern. He comes off like an ass at times—and both of his ex-wives will swear he is one—but deep down, he was a loyal friend.

I returned the papers to John. “Anything else?”

“No. You’ve pretty much signed your life away.”

I spun the pen still in my fingers on the table. “The old man would never have believed this possible.” The remark was out before I realized it had more bite to it than I’d intended.

“Water under the bridge, Quinn.” John said with a hint of repression. “He’s been dead for ten years. Maybe it’s time to stop caring about what he thinks?”

Probably true. Easier said than done, however.

As I left Quinn Mitchell’s office, the desire to high-five myself with how well I’d masked my complete and utter humiliation warred with the aforementioned complete and utter humiliation. He’d totally played me the day before with that “Tyler Michelson” nonsense. The part that most rankled is that I’d seriously found Mr. Oreo Eyes attractive. And in a little tiny corner of my heart, I’d hoped he’d been more than talk.

I’d even mentioned it to Will later that night, and he hadn’t said anything.

I ground to a halt in the middle of the parking lot as a number of puzzle pieces fell into place. Will was a
dead man!
He was as much to blame for my humiliation as Quinn Mitchell.

Thank God I’d left the top of the car down. With it up, the sun would have baked the interior until it felt like the inside of a kiln. I was already hot under the collar. I wouldn’t have needed that in addition.

Dropping my briefcase into the passenger side, I slipped off my jacket and slid behind the wheel. “Call Will Barton.” I had him on the phone before I even tried to start the car.

Without introduction, I launched into a tirade. “Hello, you scum-sucking weasel. You might’ve told me.”

“Hiya, darlin’.” He totally ignored my statement, which rankled. “How was the meeting?”

“
Tyler Michelson?
Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Oh,” Will returned dramatically. “Yeah. Sorry about that. More importantly, did we get the job?”

“Of course. Which you knew since you’ve already met with him twice. He still needs to go over the contract with his attorney—your old friend John Malone—and I need to finalize the estimate for him, but I don’t see any problems. So, why didn’t you tell me who Tyler really was?”

“Wait! John was there?!” Will’s tone totally changed.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Punxsutawney John?”

Uh oh.
That John. I thought there’d been an awkward moment when I’d asked John about Will. John was the “one that got away” but not before completely breaking Will’s heart. He’d dumped Will on Groundhog Day, hence the nickname.

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I said.

“How could you have known? We hadn’t met yet when all that went down.”

I needed to change the subject fast. I couldn’t stand the hurt in Will’s voice. “So again, why didn’t you tell me about Quinn?”

“There were sparks flying. I didn’t want to mess with that.”

“Sparks? That was a preview of my
anger.
”

“Nope. Don’t buy that at all. Those were
chemistry
sparks.”

“Whatever. Never going to happen, my friend.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m not coming back to the office.”

“I didn’t figure you would. So, now that business is out of the way, what do you think of him?”

“Who? Quinn?” I couldn’t believe Will was going down that path.

“No, Prince Harry.
Of course
, Quinn.”

I got irritated thinking about Quinn’s game playing. But I didn’t need his approval or his admiration. Just his business. “Not my type. And I’m definitely not his.”

“Honey, that boy is
everybody’s
type.”

I grinned. “Yeah, he is kind of a... hunka hunka burnin’ love,” I admitted in a rush. “But A, he’s a liar. And B, I can’t imagine him going for a woman like me.”

“You mean pretty, smart, feisty, a professional whiz, and financially well-off?”

I gave him a moment of silence for dramatic effect. “No, I mean...
Rubenesque
.” Which is a very nice way of saying somewhere between curvy and chubby. Of course, if anyone else describes me as Rubenesque, I tend to get hostile.

Will sighed on the other end of the line. His frustration with me zinged over the phone waves. “Sweetie, you know, not all men are like... Curtis.” My
Punxsutawney John
.

I squared my shoulders. “No. Curtis took being a jerk to the next level. But at least I got a nice parting gift.”

“You’re actually using the treadmill he bought you?” Will asked doubtfully.

I laughed. He knew me better than that. “Sure. It makes a great place to hang clothes at night.”

“Atta girl.”

“However, if we’re going to talk about jerky, weight-obsessed men, then what about Bob from that Internet dating service who took one look at my picture and refused to meet me? Or any of the other men on the service who use the phrase ‘takes good care of herself’ as a description of their ideal woman to weed out all the fatties?”

“Uh, bitter much?”

I ran out of steam on a whoosh of breath. “Maybe.” More so than I’d realized, evidently. Perhaps it was time for another diet attempt. I cringed at the idea. Usually, I have no problems accepting myself. The source of this sudden sensitivity about my weight wasn’t much of a mystery.

Another thing to get pissed off at Quinn about.

“Chin up. The right guy is out there for you.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t say anything.

“So, I’m almost afraid to ask. Why are you going home on time? Got a hot date tonight?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nope. I think I may go to a movie. Want to come with me?”

“Love to, but I can’t. I
do
have a hot date.”

“What are you and Matt doing?” Skydiving, hopefully. Maybe Matt’s parachute wouldn’t open.

“I think you’d appreciate it if I left that to your imagination,” he told me suggestively.

My face heated. Figures. Matt was going to break Will’s heart again. “
Oh...
Sorry I asked. Are you going to be in the office tomorrow?”

“Nope. And neither should you. It’s Saturday.”

“Thanks to my very best friend in the galaxy, I’m a very important creative director now. One who wants to keep the job. Don’t worry. I’ll only be there long enough to get the Mitchell Fitness proposal done.”

He chuckled. “All work and no play makes Katie a dull girl.”

“I’m not dull, I’m motivated. And don’t call me Katie.”

“Katherine, you need to get a life. It’s been a year and a half. How much longer is this going to go on?”

I didn’t have to ask a year and a half from what.
The Big Breakup.
We rarely spoke of it directly. “My wanting to finish a proposal has nothing to do with that. Look, I’ll leave you to manage your life, and you can leave me to mine.”
Discussion closed.

“Got it. Have a nice weekend. See you Monday.” His tone was a bit brusque at the end, but I knew he’d forget about this conversation before next week, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.

Taking a deep breath, I reached to start the car then noticed Quinn coming out of the gym. He had a jaunty spring in his stride as he tossed his keys in the air and caught them in time to each step.

God, he was beautiful. Too bad he was such a... a
jerk.

I turned the key only to groan. The click-clickity-click sound produced by my engine did not bode well. I should have known my earlier good fortune wouldn’t last. A couple of words my parents weren’t even aware I knew filtered through my head as I picked up my phone and dug through my contacts list for the number of the auto club.

They promised to send a tow truck, and I’d wait to call a cab until after my car was on its way to the garage. No reason to pay a cabbie to sit and wait with me. As I slipped my phone back into my purse, the sound of a throat clearing nearly made me jump out of my skin.

Quinn stood beside the car
,
but I hadn’t heard him come up. After a deep breath to regulate my suddenly out-of-control heart, I opened the door and stepped out.

“Battery dead?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Tow truck’s on the way. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure it’s the alternator.”

He raised an eyebrow in question. I shrugged. “My dad’s a big car nut. He taught all of us girls the basics.”

“Will it get me labeled a chauvinist if I tell you I’m impressed?”

“Probably,” I said in a flirtatious tone, mentally kicking myself. He was the kind of guy flirting was made for. I’m not a flirt by nature, but my
flirt-o-matic
turned to full blast whenever he got within ten yards.

He may not have caught the tone, however, as his gaze seemed focused on a different set of attributes.

Now, I’ll admit I have a habit of making the most out of what God’s given me. Let’s face it. He was generous in the breast department. If a guy’s noticing my ample chest, he’s probably not looking at my even ampler ass.

The drawback of this little practice is that some men take noticing a little too far. In fact, Quinn was... well, he was ogling. Having him aware of me was a good thing. Having him gawk felt a little uncomfortable.

I moved my hand, palm down, fingers flat, at chest level. His eyes followed as I raised it slowly until it ascended to the bridge of my nose. When I had eye contact, I spoke. “Up here, Sparky.”

A grin pulled at the sides of my mouth as his ears reddened. “Oh. Sorry. I’ve been trying not to... uh... notice, but...” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it, which made me want to take a little pity on him.

“But?”

“You’ve got a button...” Quinn raised a finger to point, then evidently thought better of it and let his hand fall to his side. “Undone,” he said finally.

Immediately, I looked down and noticed the top button on my blouse had indeed come loose, giving him an interesting peep show.
Oh, geez.
I quickly secured it, feeling a blush of my own.

He mumbled another apology. I cut him some slack, figuring we’d both suffered enough. “Don’t worry about it.”

He looked over at the building and then back at me. “I can give you a lift if you like.”

I paused for a long moment. A cab would be safer for so many reasons. A, my attraction to him. B, his penchant for flirting. Definitely a bad idea. He must have sensed my hesitation.

“I promise to let you flirt with me as much as you want,” he said.

That was my fear. “How is that incentive?”

“I promise to flirt back?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t help it. You probably flirt with ninety-year-old grannies and little girls who can’t yet string sentences together.”

A grin pulled up one side of his face. I had his number. He shrugged. “I admit to nothing.” His dark eyes bored into mine, and I realized he was still waiting for an answer. Something in me needed him to ask again.

“So, can I take you home?” he asked with a touch of uncertainty that pushed me over the edge.

I nodded even though I suspected I would regret it. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

A smile lit his face, and I was glad I’d relented.

Just then the tow truck pulled up. Perfect timing. The driver put my car on the back of his truck. I gave him instructions on where to take it, and then he drove away in a black cloud of diesel exhaust fumes.

After several moments of complete silence, he pointed the way to his car. “You ready?”

He led me to a dingy tan Jeep Wrangler that looked like it had been through the wars. “Sorry. I’d have brought my other truck if I’d known I was going to be driving someone I wanted to impress.”

A foolish schoolgirl blush crawled up my neck at the thought he might actually want to impress me. Of course, I wasn’t immune from the same sentiment. I gave him directions to my house, all the while thanking my stars that my little dream home had great curb appeal and, thanks to the neighbor kid, my yard looked great.

The trip from the gym to my house took only a few short minutes, and before I knew it, we were sitting in my driveway.

“Thanks for the ride.” Then before I could stop myself, I added, “Would you like to come in for coffee?” I bit my lip. My earlier anger with him had dissipated at an alarming rate. Holding on to a good mad was the only thing that might have kept me safe from this inevitable little crush I had brewing.

I could tell immediately that Katherine regretted her invitation. Which meant I
had
to accept it.

I’d like to say it was
all
because of work, but I’d be lying. I enjoyed the sashay of her hips as she marched up to the front of her house a little too much for it to be
all
work. But it was a lot about work. We were going to be shelling out a helluva lot of money for what Katherine and the Wurther ad team would be doing, and I needed tension or bad feelings between us like I needed an extra hole in my head.

This campaign had to jump us to the next level, or I’d have gambled and lost. John’s earlier concerns echoed in my mind, and I tried to shut them down as Katherine slid her key into the polished brass handle and opened the door. Nice door. Nice house.
Really
nice house. Like something from a magazine.

We stepped in, and the magazine layout impression stuck. Tall ceilings, white carpet, a sunken living room decorated in warm tans and bright teals. Expensive. Impressive. Yet still cozy and welcoming.