“No one will hear it from me,” Tony said.
“Me neither,” Nick piped in, looking amused. “What you two do in your free time is no one else’s business.”
Was she doing this here, now, only so that she would have witnesses? So that if he promised not to say anything, then did, it would make him look like an even bigger jerk than he already might be.
She was good at this. But so was he.
“While we’re being so honest, should we tell them what happened in my office this morning?”
Tony shot him a look. “Really not necessary.”
“You mean what didn’t happen,” she said and told Nick and Tony with regret, “We ran out of time.”
Both men looked to Rob, waiting for his reply, because obviously he hadn’t gotten the response he’d hoped for by putting her on the spot. Did nothing rattle her?
“And it won’t be happening again,” he said, establishing that he was the one to end it, not her.
“And of course I understand why,” she said. “I’ve learned from experience that it’s a terrible idea to engage in a physical relationship with a coworker, especially a subordinate.”
Subordinate?
She
was the subordinate, the temporary consultant. Did she honestly see herself as ranking higher than him?
“I’d like your opinion on something,” Carrie said, leaning forward to address Nick and Tony. “Say you have a one-night stand with a woman. You both know that it’s never going to be more than one night. Now, it’s the wee hours of the morning, she’s asleep and you decide to go. Do you wake her and say goodbye, or maybe leave a note? Or do you just leave without a word?”
Nick glanced over at Rob. “I might get my ass kicked for saying this, but I would definitely wake her and say goodbye.”
Carrie turned to Tony. “And you?”
“I would at least leave a note.”
Carrie looked over at Rob and gave him a “so there” look.
“Boy, would you look at the time,” Nick said, glancing at his wrist when, ironically enough, he wasn’t wearing a watch. “Tony, we’ve got the thing we need to get to.”
For an instant Tony looked confused, then he said, “Oh yeah, right, that
thing
. Of course. We wouldn’t want to be late for that.”
Nick grabbed the check that the waitress had left on the table.
“Here, let me give you cash for mine,” Carrie said, reaching into her bag.
“Oh no, this one is on me,” Nick said as he and Tony slid out of the booth.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll buy next time.”
If there ever was a
next time,
they could count Rob out.
“You two enjoy the rest of your breakfast,” Tony told them. As if Rob had any appetite left.
As soon as they were gone he switched to the empty side of the booth, which was actually worse than sitting beside Carrie. The deep cleft of cleavage at the low-cut collar of her top drew his gaze like a moth to a flame. The dull light leaking through the open blinds gave her pale gray eyes an almost-translucent quality.
“Well, that was fun,” Carrie said.
“Amused yourself, did you?”
She smiled, sliding her empty plate to the edge of the table as the busboy cleared the dirty dishes and utensils. She sure could put away the food. She had stopped just shy of licking her plate clean.
“Tony and Nick seem like really nice guys,” Carrie said. “I take it Tony isn’t married.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Single?”
“Why? Are you interested?”
She cocked her head slightly. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“He just came out of a relationship, and the last thing he needs is someone like you messing with his head.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand. Then he felt a shoeless foot sliding up his left calf.
Damn her.
When she’d made it up to his knee, and clearly had no intention of stopping, he grabbed her stocking foot and removed it from his leg with a warning look, thankful for his long wool coat to hide anything that had
sprung up
. “You’re taking cheap shots.”
“Am I?”
“You don’t really believe that I’m your subordinate.”
The head cocked again. “When did I say that?”
“Just a minute ago. You said it was especially bad to get involved with a subordinate.”
“So, from that you assumed I meant you? Had you considered that I was talking
to
you
about
me? Or that maybe I was speaking in general terms, and not about anyone specific.”
Actually no, he hadn’t considered that.
“Are you always so hyperdefensive?” she asked.
“Never.” Only when he was with her.
“Like I said, this will be as easy or as hard as you decide to make it.” Her brow lifted slightly, but by the time he recognized the devilish look on her face, it was too late. He sucked in a surprised breath when he felt her still shoeless foot slide into his lap. “Hard, it is,” she said with a smile.
“Would you stop that,” he hissed, shoving her foot away from his crotch, hoping no one sitting nearby noticed. Did the woman have no shame? And why could he not think of anything but getting her back to her hotel room, out of her clothes and into bed? “Is this your idea of acting like a professional?”
“I’m simply trying to illustrate a point.”
“What point? You’re certifiable?”
“That when it comes to our relationship, work or otherwise, you do not always call the shots. Because, Robby, you have some
serious
control issues.”
“
I
have control issues? This from the woman who can’t keep her foot out of my crotch?”
She just smiled, as if she found the entire situation thoroughly amusing. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you bright and early Monday.”
“Unfortunately, yes, you will.”
She pulled on her suit jacket and coat, and he watched her as she grabbed her bag, slid out of the booth and walked to the door. She stepped outside, her loose hair flying wildly in the brisk wind. She hailed a cab, and only after she climbed inside could he drag his gaze away from the window.
Unpredictable. That’s what she was. And while he was nowhere close to the control freak she’d painted him to be, he did prefer a modicum of consistency.
And if today’s behavior was a preview of what he had to look forward to, maintaining control of the situation was his only option.
Five
C
arrie sat at the hotel bar, having a celebratory margarita, which at 12:04 p.m. was completely acceptable, even though her internal clock still thought it was two hours earlier.
Even though there had been a few kinks in the process, all in all, she considered this morning’s meeting a success. And though she had the tendency—in her stepfather’s opinion—to be “mouthy,” she felt that under the circumstances, she’d been impressively diplomatic. If she’d left out the part where they attacked each other in Rob’s office.
The memory made her cringe. But she had regrouped, damn it, then gone back into that conference room and kicked some major Caroselli ass.
She’d found that in business, her impulsive nature could either be an asset or a liability, with very little gray area. This assignment could be a raging success, or a knock-down, drag-out disaster. So far so good, but honestly, it could still go either way. She had broken the cardinal rule of not sleeping with a coworker. And even though she had done it unknowingly, that didn’t make the situation any less complicated.
As much as she hated to admit it, that stunt she’d pulled in the diner could have easily backfired. If he hadn’t pulled her foot from his crotch, if he’d instead smiled and suggested they go back to her hotel room, she probably would have dragged him there by his tie. And though the cab ride there would have given them both time to come to their senses, the damage would have been done, and the ball would be in his court now.
Fortunately, the next serve was hers, and she was going for the point.
She licked salt off the rim of her glass and took a sip of her margarita, letting the tangy combination of sweet and salty roll around on her tongue. She glanced over at the businessman three barstools away, who she suspected had been working up the nerve to talk to her.
“Buy you a drink?” he said the instant they made eye contact.
Not only was he twice her age with thinning hair and a belly that sagged over his belt, but he also wore a chunky gold wedding band on his left hand.
Seriously? Did she really look that desperate?
She shook her head and gave him her not-in-this-lifetime look.
Her phone rang and, happy for the interruption, she dug around in her briefcase to find it, smiling when she saw her best friend Alice’s number on the screen.
“So how did the meeting go?” Alice asked, and Carrie could picture her stretched out on the sofa in the trendy SoHo loft she shared with her sister, her glossy black hair smooth and sleek and tucked behind her ears. She never sat on a piece of furniture so much as draped herself across it.
At five feet eleven inches, and no more than one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, to say that Alice was wispy was an understatement. Hence her very lucrative career as a runway model. In college, where they’d been thrown together by chance as roommates, they had been like Mutt and Jeff. Two women could not have been more different in looks or personality, but with their similar backgrounds involving alcoholic parents, they had instantly bonded and despite living on completely opposite ends of the country, had remained the best of friends. Alice was her only
real
friend.
Normally Alice would be calling her from Milan or Paris or some other fashionably hip location, but a healing broken foot would be keeping her off the runway until the fall.
“They signed the contracts,” Carrie told her. “So I’m in Chicago for the next three months.”
“That’s fabulous!”
“They didn’t haggle over money either, which you know I hate. As far as business goes, the meeting itself couldn’t have gone more smoothly.”
“But?”
“What makes you think there’s a but?”
“Gut feeling. I’m right, aren’t I?”
She sighed. “I broke my cardinal rule. But it was an accident.”
“I must be thinking of a different cardinal rule, because I fail to see how it’s possible to
accidentally
sleep with someone.”
“Nope, that’s the rule. And I’m living proof that it is possible.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Alice said, and Carrie could just picture her catlike grin, the spark of amusement in her violet eyes—colored contacts of course, although she would deny it if asked.
“It’s a little hard to believe,” Carrie told her.
“Honey,” she said with a laugh, “coming from you, I’d believe just about anything.”
“That guy I told you about—Ron.”
“Mr. Steamy Sex from the bar?”
“Yeah, well, apparently I heard him wrong. His name was actually
Rob
.”
“Oh. And that’s a problem because?”
“His name is Rob
Caroselli
. And he’s the director of marketing at Caroselli Chocolate.”
Alice was a tough person to shock, so her gasp was almost worth the mess Carrie was in.
Okay, maybe not, but it was at least a slight consolation.
Carrie told her the whole story, from the minute Rob walked into the conference room until lunch when she had her foot in his lap.
“Well, you were right about one thing,” Alice said. “If anyone but you had told me that story, I doubt I would have believed them. But as impulsive as you are—”
“I’m not
that
impulsive,” she argued, signaling the bartender for another drink.
“Your first night in a new city you picked up a total stranger in a bar and invited him back to your room.”
Carrie cringed. “Yeah, there was that.”
“Not that I’m saying you could have or should have anticipated this happening. That part was just dumb luck. Really, really bad dumb luck.”
“But on the bright side, I think that now I’ve got him right where I want him.”
“Until you wind up in bed with him again,” Alice said.
“I can’t sleep with him again.”
“You mean you
shouldn’t
sleep with him. Yet you almost went for it in his office this morning. Correct?”
“A moment of weakness. I was still getting over the shock of seeing him again.”
“And in the diner?”
“I was making a point.”
“And did you make your point?”
“I sure did.” Below the waist anyway. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret telling you any of this?”
“Because you know that if I think you’re acting like an irresponsible moron, I’m going to tell you.”
“And you think I am?”
“I think that you might be backsliding a little. Just remind yourself, you are no longer that lonely little girl who pulls fire alarms and stays out past curfew to get attention. You are a strong, mature woman who is in control of her own destiny.”
“I know.” But that little girl was still in there, and occasionally she persuaded the confident, mature woman to do some not-so-mature things. “The weird part is that I don’t even like him very much. But then I get close to him and I just want to rip his clothes off and touch him all over.”
“Probably not a good idea. You know, Rex and I used to have chemistry like that.”
Alice’s boyfriend, Rex, was an up-and-coming fashion designer whose rising star seemed to be keeping him out of the country more than he was in it lately. And even when he was in town, she didn’t seem truly happy.
“When will he be back in New York?” Carrie asked.
“Two weeks. This time he promised.”
He had promised her lots of things, and so far he hadn’t exactly come through. Alice was beautiful and sophisticated and smart, but had miserably low self-esteem. Because of that, she let the men in her life walk all over her. All types of men clamored for her attention, yet she always picked the aloof, distant ones whose attention she had to beg for. A fact she was quite aware of. But as Carrie had told Rob, a person could recognize the problem and still not know how to fix it.