Can't Touch This (31 page)

He approaches me cautiously, while I experience that lovely stomach dip when he smiles at me.  It’s nice to see that look replacing the pained one from last night.

“You look amazing, Vanessa,” he says.

I sniff the air, memorizing every bit of him.  He smells like Dial deodorant soap and Calvin Klein’s Eternity.  “Thanks, Kyle.  So do you.”  We’re so polite to each other, as if we don’t know what to say.

Jack moves around Kyle and reaches for his nametag.  “Nice suit, Nettles.  Hugo Boss?”  Kyle nods.  “I already said this,” Jack continues, “but Vanessa, you’re the real belle of the ball.”

“She certainly is,” Kyle says.

“Thanks, you guys.”  I blush from head to toe.  I’ve got to get back into event coordinator mode and get a grip on my raging hormones.  “I should go check on the... err... cheese.”

As the customers filter in, I play the perfect hostess.  Our employees—all magnificently attired—are working it with the clients who dot the room.  I make eye contact with Jiles who gives me the thumbs up.  I resist flipping him off.

I’m making my usual every few minutes sweep of the room in search of Kyle when Ted, who has been on his best behavior since the holiday party probation, pulls me over to a group of clients.

“These guys are from Dyno Technologies here in Denver.  They’re our biggest and most important client,” Ted explains.  “This is Vanessa.  She planned this party tonight.”

“I’ve heard so many good things about your company,” I say in the most professional manner.  It’s a total conversational lie.  All I’ve heard is bitching and moaning about them.

Ted does the intros.  “This is Bill Lambert, sales rep, Steve Sullivan, CIO and this”—he pauses dramatically—“is Larry Manilow,
the
most important guy because he pays the bills.”

Everyone laughs and I join in only to have the opportunity to cackle at this guy’s name.  Larry Manilow.  Seriously.

Larry’s wicked cute—almost pretty—and, boy, does he know it.  Bleck, I hate guys like that.  His slicked back, jet-black hair matches his suit and his clear eyes are the same color as the room’s cobalt ceiling.

I must be polite though.  “Are you having a good time?”

Larry’s lips hitch into a smirk.  “I will be if you join me.”

I set my wine down at the table and make small talk.  I remember Jiles telling us to do “what’s necessary” to make the attendees happy.  I want to hang out with Kyle, but he’s schmoozing clients, too.  Besides, LBJ made it clear that employees are to mix with customers, not each other.  So, I sit demurely across from Mr. Important who drones on about the weather and sports and snow skiing.

“Are you a ski buff?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t say a buff, per se, but I like watching it.”  I have skied once in my life and made a fool of myself by somersaulting accidentally off of the end of the chair lift into a snow drift.

“Come on, you live in New England and you don’t take advantage of the powder?”

“The only powder I take advantage of covers my face.”

He thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.  Our laughter draws judgmental attention.  Kyle stares at me from across the room.  His gaze zeros in on me and a frown crosses his face.  I wave timidly and return my attention to Larry.

I sip my wine, trying to feign interest in Larry’s droning.

But his name...  I can’t get past it.

Maybe if I concentrate on the first name, I’ll be okay.

His name is Larry.

Oh no, now I can’t stop singing in my head.  I’m doomed.

As the party winds down and everyone disperses to their respective rooms, I watch from the atrium at Kyle down in the lobby deep in conversation with Larry.  He’s perfect—and I mean Kyle.  I may have misjudged the situation with Rory, but this time it’s for real.  I’m ready to take a chance again.  Ready to put my love on the line.

“Dear God, help me.  That’s a Barry Manilow song.”

*****

T
he final round
of schmoozing and boozing the next day is a total success.  All except for my new stalker.

“Larry’s been looking for you,” Ted says, handing me a buffalo meatball at the closing reception.

“Eww, no thanks.”

“To which?  Larry or the food?”

“Both.”

However, Larry is on the prowl and I can’t avoid him.  “There you are, Vanessa.  Can I get you a glass of wine?”

I’m about to blow Larry off when Jiles’ eyes tell me as if to say that I need to keep doing what I’m doing.  So I sit with the mind-numbing accountant and pretend to be interested in his story about visiting a goat cheese factory in Provence last summer.  I flinch and nearly scream when Larry feels up my knee under the table.  I know LBJ wants us to be friendly; however, this crosses the line.  I move my chair and Larry scoots with me.  I try to keep up professional appearances until Larry completely throws me off course.

“Why don’t you stay in Denver and I’ll show you around?”

“Umm, no thanks.  I have to get back to Boston,” I say.  “Besides, I’m already checked out of the hotel.”

“You could stay with me.”  He pops his head to the right to watch my reaction as his hand finds my knee again.

I wiggle my leg until his roving hand falls away.  “That’s nice, but I have to get home.  We’ve got this big thing at work tomorrow.”  There is no such big thing.  I totally pulled that out of my ass.  I’ve had enough of him.  I don’t care how important he is.  He’s too much to deal with and I’m too tired to try.  I’m not in the mood for arm wrestling an octopus.

I’m about to excuse myself when I hear Kyle clear his throat.  “Vanessa, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure thing,” I say, way too excitedly.

He walks me a few paces away and then he returns to Larry.  The accountant seems shocked, holds up his hands, and says, “Sorry, man.”

When Kyle returns to me, I say, “Thanks for rescuing me.”  I see Larry slink off into the crowd.  “What was that all about?”

“I told him you were my girlfriend.”

I gasp and try not to smile so hard.  “Thanks, Kyle.  I’d had enough of his roaming hands.”

“Sure you weren’t enjoying it?”  He’s so teasing me.  I can see if in his eyes.  A little twinkle.  My heart expands when I realize the old Kyle is back.

I muster up some intestinal fortitude and say, “Larry’s not my type.  He’s way too oily.”

Jake waves at me and points to an over-active sterno can raging underneath the pasta primavera.  I nod at him, but Kyle stops me before I walk off.  Leaning in, he smiles slyly and asks, “What
is
your type, Vanessa?”

Confidence surges through me.

The timing is right.

Get the ball rolling, so to speak.

I lift my eyes to sync with his.  “I’ll let you try to figure that out, Kyle.”

K
yle, Ted, Jack,
and I are on the same red-eye United flight home.  Jiles, the Willies and several other Compass folks are on another flight.  LBJ had insisted we all make it back to work tomorrow.  You’d think he would have given us some time off instead of making us fly across the country in the middle of the night and then report to work the next morning.

I don’t care right now.  The meeting is over, the clients are happy, and I need all the energy I can get now to corner Kyle and
really
talk to him.  He’s a captive audience on the plane, so I know he can’t walk away from me this time.  Hopefully the 5-Hour Energy drink I downed will help boost my metabolism to get through this conversation.

He
will
hear me out.

I head to the back of the aircraft to my seat.  Kyle weaves down the aisle behind me, stows his bag overhead, and plops down on the end of my row.  (I planned it this way when I booked the flights home.)  I sit in the window seat and yank off my knee-high boots.  “Fancy meeting you here,” I say teasingly.

Kyle pulls the armrest up from the first seat and slides to the middle so we now share the one on my chair.  The warmth of his arm touching mine sends shivers down my spine.

“You mind?” Kyle asks.

“Not at all.”

“It’s easier to talk this way than shouting across the seats.”

The plane jostles and adjusts toward the runway, but I don’t recoil over the preparatory noises.

“No medicine tonight?” he asks.

I chuckle.  “No, you were right.  I’ve gotten used to flying.”  Actually, Kyle’s the magical elixir I need.  I’m calm, at ease, and not worried about what’s going on in the cockpit.

“That’s my girl.”

His girl.  I like the sound of that.

Silence looms between us while the flight crew explains the safety features of the airbus and precautionary tales of air travel.  The quiet continues until we taxi onto the runway for takeoff.  And, it ends when the pilot extinguishes the seat belt sign up around thirty-five thousand feet.

“Man, this trip was exhausting,” Kyle says.  “I’m glad it’s over.  I can have my life back now.”  He runs his fingers through his hair, causing it to stand on end.

“I’m sure our hard work will pay off.”

“Yeah, the clients were blown away.  You did a great job, Vanessa.  None of this would have been possible without you.”

“That’s sweet, Kyle.  Thing is, I enjoy what I do.  Sure, it’s frustrating to have to deal with someone like Little Baby Je—” I clamp my hand over my mouth.

“What did you call Jiles?” he asks with a laugh.

“Nothing.  I didn’t say anything,” I mumble behind my hand.

“Come on, Vanessa.”  He pulls on my wrist.  “‘Fess up.”

“All right.  But you can’t tell anyone.”  When I explain Jack’s term of endearment, Kyle cracks up laughing.  Someone a few rows up shushes us.

“Well, I’ll hand it to you marketing people.  You sure are creative,” he says in a hushed tone.

“Don’t ever repeat what I said.  I’d totally get fired.”

“They can’t fire you.  You’re the heart and soul of the company.  Everyone knows it.”

My face feels fiery at the amazing compliment.  “Thanks.  It’s nice to be appreciated.”

This is it.  The time is right.  I have to do this now.  Now or never.  Okay, well, I have five hours for this conversation, but there’s no time like the present.  I have to let Kyle know how I feel.  I have to know if we still have a chance despite all the personal and professional roadblocks.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?

I gulp down my trepidation.  “Can I talk to you?  I mean,
really
talk to you?” I need to cleanse my soul.  A mile-high confession.

His eyes darken into an ever-so-serious look.  “You can tell me anything you want, Vanessa.”

“And you’ll listen.  And not judge?”

He twists in his seat and runs his fingers down my left arm, leaving a trail of heat on my skin in its path.  My arm tingles in a delicious way.  Then he says, “I promise.”

“You might not like what I have to say—at first—but I think you’ll enjoy the ending,” I say with a smile.  I’m stoked by his encouragement.  I can do this.  Everything will be okay.

He slides his sturdy hand down my arm and entwines his fingers with mine.  My insides ache and my heart sings out in relief.  What a sweet gesture.  One that melts my fears.

“This is nice,” I say.

“Yeah, it is.  I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you, regardless of the stupid company rules.”

“I thought you were a stickler for the rules.”

He shrugs, but his eyes speak volumes.  “A job’s a job, but no one should tell you how you can feel.”

I let my head fall to his shoulder.  “I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to figure things out.  I’m an idiot.”  I think of all the time I wasted on Rory when Kyle was right in front of me.  On so many trips.  Complimenting me.  Supporting me.  Saving me.

He leans toward me.  “No, you’re not.  You’re amazing.”

I look up and meet his gaze.  This sensation in my chest, this sweet, sweet pain, is astounding.  I’ve never experienced anything like this before.  I don’t want it to ever stop.

I open my mouth to speak.  Kyle stops me.  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk these last few days.  I saw you with Ellery and it ate me up inside that you’d go for someone like him.”

“That’s what I want to explain.”

“You don’t have to—”

“—I want to,” I say, squeezing his hand tighter.  “I need to tell you everything about my lapse of virtue.”  He looks so disappointed in me already, yet I have to press on.  “I had a small thing with Rory.  First in Atlantic City, I distracted him so you could get to his client.  Then, we hung out in Miami and then in San Francisco.  It was a challenge and he made me feel good about myself.  I knew you were off limits and he pursued me.”  I expect Kyle to pull away, rather he grips my hand.  “There were no rules or handbooks telling me I couldn’t explore a relationship with Rory, although my better judgment should have kicked in.”

Kyle doesn’t say anything as he listens patiently.

“Rory was in my room in San Francisco, but nothing happened,” I say with emphasis.  “When I couldn’t find my demo disk, I assumed he took it.  Whether he did or not, I realized I couldn’t be in a relationship with anyone I didn’t trust.  That’s the foundation of any bond and it was never there.”

I gaze into his eyes, dilated from the dimly lit cabin.

I want you to trust me, Kyle.

“That guy was no good for you, Vanessa,” he says softly.

“Yeah, I know that now.  I got carried away being on the road and having someone pay attention to me.”

A smile hitches on the corner of Kyle’s mouth.  “I’ve paid you plenty of attention, Vanessa.”

“I know.  Apparently I’m deaf, dumb, and blind.”  I want to finish while I still have the nerve.  “It’s all my fault that everything happened at work.  That SalesTracker got our code and that—”

“Shhh...  Don’t.  We don’t know that.  Besides, they could have gotten it from an angry customer.  You’re not responsible for someone else being dishonest or deceitful.”

My pulse echoes through my fingertips and I know Kyle can sense the tremor running through me.  I’m washed in relief, though, finally coming clean on the demo mess.  And he’s not judging me or pushing me away this time.  Instead, he pulls me closer.  “I wish I could’ve stopped the hurt you went through.”