Drop Dead Gorgeous (15 page)

“He appears to have a perfectly adequate accountant, Ryman. Why would he want to change?”

“It's our job to get him to change. It's called courting. That's how we grow the business, Laurence, by bringing in new clients with large holdings who need
your
amazing expertise.”

Was that Ryman sucking up to him, flattering him? Laurence generally disregarded the idea of gut instinct, but his gut had been prodding him ever since Tortelli had first appeared on the scene. It went into overdrive with Ryman's flattery. “I'm not prepared to take him on without further extensive investigation.”

“Why?”

Laurence, not one to use his size to intimidate, took a step closer to Ryman's shrunken form. “I don't trust him.”

Ryman narrowed his gaze. “He's legitimate, Laurence.”

“You're seeing billable hours, Ryman, nothing more.”

They didn't need questionable clients. They weren't a large firm, but they were by no means straddling the edge, either. Ryman's net earnings alone were in the mid-six-figure range last year. As a partnership, they were comfortable, secure and very clean. Laurence didn't intend to jeopardize their reputation. Yet the older Ryman got, the less he cared about reputation and the more about money. Carp just went along.

Somehow reading the determination in Laurence's stance, Ryman put a fatherly hand on his arm. “Take another look. I'll answer any questions you have, reassure you.”

Laurence was about to tell him to stuff his Tortelli file and remove his goddamn hand, but they were still in the hallway, separated from staff by mere cubicle walling. It wouldn't do for the partners to be heard arguing. “I'm late for an appointment.”

“We'll talk at the end of the week then.”

He gave neither a yes or no answer, simply turned his back to Ryman and set off for Madison's desk.

One minute to five. Madison's desk drawers slid open and closed. Her papers rustled. Her computer beeped. He rounded the end of her cubicle to find her purse already out on the desk.

Her fingers stilled on the mouse. “How did it go? With Zach? With the partners?”

“Fine.” Residual anger with Ryman made the word sharper than he intended.

Madison, however, didn't notice. “Just fine? Give me details. I'll find them out later anyway when you ask me to type up your meeting notes.”

“There will be no meeting notes.” His teeth clamped down on the sentence.

“All right, fine. You don't want to tell me…” She spread her hands, raised a pretty brow and twitched her lips.

That's when Laurence noted her lips and forgot all about Harriet, Zach, Ryman, dress codes and Tortelli. “Where's your lipstick?”

“I just put a little lip gloss on instead.”

Panic seized his heart, sending its beat into triple time. “But you always wear lipstick. It's unwomanly not to, you said.”

“It's okay as long as you've got lip gloss. Now, since you're refusing to tell me anything about your mysterious afternoon meetings, I've got to go or I'll be late.”

Screw Zach. Screw the partners. “You're only half-dressed without lipstick.” She'd had it on all day. Until now. Because she'd wiped it off.

“You had something you wanted to say to me, T. Larry?”

He couldn't quite remember and didn't care. Only one thing careened through his boggled mind. Madison without lipstick.

“Well, then, if the cat's got your tongue, I really do have to go.” She brightened. “We can talk tomorrow morning. First thing.” She backed away from him, turned and skedaddled through the front door, her gauzy skirt swishing about her calves and highlighting her strikingly petite ankles.

Damn. The dress code.
That's
what he'd wanted to tell her.

Today's skirt had an appropriate length, but her vest revealed too much delicious skin. At least she'd taken off the damn candy necklace. Or eaten it. The idea of Dick getting a taste of her candy was unthinkable. As it was, Laurence decided he'd have to kill someone because, Christ Almighty, Madison had wiped off her lipstick because she was planning on kissing Dick the Prick.

The image burned low in Laurence's belly long after Madison left. It ate a hole through his stomach lining as the traffic piled up in front of him. He leaned on the horn with a vengeance only to realize
he
was the one who'd done the cutting off.

Really, what was he worried about? He could compete with a man five years younger even if the wimp did have a full head of hair and twenty-twenty vision. He sure as hell knew he kissed better than a puppy like that.

Trapped in another staggering image, this one of Madison on a soft blanket, her hair all around her, and that bastard leaning over her, Laurence slammed on his brakes when the bumper in front suddenly loomed too close.

But it wasn't the kiss. It was the date Laurence wasn't sure he could compete with. How was he supposed to do a one-up on a picnic in Golden Gate Park? It was romantic, it was impetuous, and while Laurence was a whiz with numbers and tax codes, he didn't have a romantic bone in his body. He didn't even know what women really wanted on the romantic level.

What would it mean if she wore lipstick for him tomorrow night? He wouldn't worry about it now. He'd worry about his driving instead, sliding into the slow lane. There were road sharks out tonight.

To the task at hand. Think romantic. Five-star restaurant? Too ordinary. A show at one of San Francisco's premiere theaters? Was
Beauty and the Beast
still playing? He didn't keep up on these things, the last time he looked having been…five years ago? Besides, the romantic
Beauty and the Beast
wouldn't work. She'd think he was auditioning for the role of the Beast. He'd already lost the hair on the top of his head, and he wasn't about to turn into a prince at the end of the night.

Then Laurence saw it on the left-hand side of the freeway, rising like a phoenix in the suburban landscape. It was perfect, inspirational. It would show her he wasn't a stick-in-the-mud.

He'd take her miniature golfing.

P
OOR
T. L
ARRY
. Things were bad.

“Have a chicken wing?” Richard offered.

And poor Richard. All Madison had done since she'd met him at the arboretum entrance was moan about T. Larry. Richard had provided such a beautiful meal, too. He'd smoothed a soft blanket over the grass in a spot resplendent with the last of the afternoon sun. They'd watched Frisbee throwers, joggers and two old women scattering birdseed to the pigeons, whose iridescent feathers caught the sun's rays. He'd served her on bone china with real silver and poured champagne into crystal glasses. They'd dined on roasted chicken. Then he'd tantalized her taste buds with white chocolate mousse. She'd do just about anything for white chocolate mousse. This was a fairy tale and Richard was Prince Charming.

Except that Madison couldn't stop thinking about T. Larry. About his problem.

“I don't know what to do to help him.”

“Help who?”

“T. Larry. I should have a talk with Harriet, see if I can fix this whole thing.” A perfect idea. Woman to woman. Except that she wasn't quite clear on what “this whole thing” was, and she hadn't been victorious helping Harriet in the past. No matter. For T. Larry's sake, she had to give it another try.

“Is there something I should know about your boss?” Richard pushed a lock of gorgeous thick hair from his forehead.

“Like what?”

“Are you in love with him?”

She choked on her mousse and forgot Harriet. “T. Larry?”

Richard's lips thinned.

The sun dipped below the trees. She pulled her sweater over her shoulders. “It's hard to explain about T. Larry—”

“Then you
are
in love with him.”

“T. Larry's a lost soul who needs my help.” She'd never said it that way, but as the words came out, she knew it was true. “I'm like his fairy godmother, shocking him out of his safe, secure little plans.”

Richard's eyes darkened. “I thought you were his secretary.”

“That's such a label, Richard. I'm more than that.”

The lines of his face softened. “You're very special.”

Her heart fluttered. “And so is T. Larry. Which is why I have to help him. He thinks he's old—”

The softness vanished. “He's bald.”

“That doesn't mean he's old. But if I don't help him, he's just going to slip right into this awful mold he's picked out for himself. I can't let that happen to him.”

“But he's just your boss.”

She cocked her head, closing her eyes to savor the scent of freshly mowed grass. “Sometimes people forget life is about touching people along the way.”

Richard turned her hand over in his and squeezed. “That's so profound.”

She laughed. “T. Larry would puke if he heard me say that.” Her own mother would puke. But Richard brought the profundity out in her with his sympathy, his empathy and his romantic dinner.

“More champagne?” He held up the bottle.

Another glass and the bubbles would be coming out her ears. “No, thank you, I have to drive.”

“I can drive you.”

“But I've got my car.”

“I know. But your car was vandalized. It's such a dangerous place out there. I worry about you.”

Oh, how sweet he was. “I'm just fine. I've got three big brothers to look after me. Not to mention T. Larry.”

The twinkle in his eye winked out. She had been talking too much about T. Larry. “Enough about my car and my boss and stuff.”

Richard hadn't let go of her hand. Oh, he was so wonderfully earnest.

He leaned forward. “Did you like the dinner?”

“I'm dazzled.”

“I wanted to dazzle you.”

She strained closer. “I've never had a more romantic picnic.”

“Madison, may I kiss you?”

Such a gentleman. But she had the feeling their dialogue sounded like something out of a badly written Victorian novel. So what. “Yes, Richard, I'd love for you to kiss me.”

His mouth descended. Soft lips, white chocolate mousse and champagne sizzle. But no bells. Her hands pushed awkwardly against the blanket for balance. She couldn't touch him. He didn't open his mouth. But that could have been out of respect for her, for their first kiss.

He pulled back. “Oh, Madison.”

“Oh, Richard.”
Very
bad dialogue. Maybe she'd wanted the fantasy to come true so badly, she was rushing things.

But Richard's kiss paled in comparison to T. Larry's.

Maybe she wasn't rushing things enough.

Madison rose to her knees, threw her arms around Richard's neck and attacked, parting her lips. He groaned. She gave him her tongue. Grabbing her around the waist, he crushed her to him. His body warmed her thighs and breasts, his mouth turned hot, and his hair fell like silk through her fingers.

A small child giggled nearby. Madison stopped to catch her breath and open her eyes. The young mother tugged on her little girl's hand. Madison pulled away from Richard, then leaned to the side, supporting herself with her hand.

“Madison.”

“Richard.” She'd mussed his hair. His lips were wet. A glaze clouded his eyes. But she still hadn't heard bells. “I'm sorry, that was forward.” She spread a hand, cocked her head. “But I'm always forward.”

“Don't apologize. You're charming.”

And disappointed. Like champagne gone flat. Where were the bells? She looked at her watch. “It's late. I have to go.”

She helped Richard pack up the food, then ran to the trash can to throw out the garbage. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of T. Larry's kiss that had made the difference. She'd prepared too much for Richard, built him up in her mind. How could reality compare? Whereas with T. Larry, just the surprise had made it exciting. That's all it was. She needed more time with Richard. The bells would come.

Richard closed the lid on the wicker basket he'd brought, his rich brown hair falling across his forehead. Goodness, he was handsome. The bells deserved another chance. She plopped down on the blanket beside him.

“Can I see you tomorrow night, Madison?”

Well,
he
must have liked the kiss. “I'll be with T. Larry tomorrow. How about Wednesday?” Her social calendar had never been so full.

“He's making you work tomorrow night?” He raised his eyebrows, and his smile faded.

Maybe she shouldn't have blurted it out like that. She couldn't lie now that she had. Now just wasn't the right time for one of those little white lies. “It's not really work. It's more like an outing.”

“A work outing? With everyone from the office?”

Goodness, this was getting difficult. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean
not exactly?
”

His voice had grown sharp. She tried to put herself in his shoes and decided to tell the absolute truth. “I made a deal with him so he wouldn't follow us to the park tonight.”

Richard scowled until his eyebrows became one long line. “Maybe you ought to explain this deal.”

She pulled her purse closer to her leg for comfort. “He gave me tonight with you in exchange for tomorrow night with him.”

“I thought you weren't dating him.”

“I'm not. It's an outing.”

“Where are you going with him?”

“I don't know. It's a surprise.” She barely managed to keep excitement out of her voice.

“That sounds like a date.”

“But it's T. Larry. He's just flexing his muscles. He's like one of my brothers. Overprotective and—”

“I don't like it.”

She wasn't sure she liked his tone. “Are you jealous?”

He dropped his gaze, plucking at the filmy folds of her skirt where they'd swirled around her legs. “I guess I am. I'm not usually like this.” His eyes were puppy-dog soft when he looked at her again. “I don't think I know how to compete with the guy.”

Goodness. Her legs felt all weak, and her heart melted. This was so romantic. “I can't explain about T. Larry. He's just…” She looked off into the leaves sparkling in the sun's final rays. “He's just been there forever. Like a big brother.” Except for the kiss part. “But you don't have to worry about competing.” She looked Richard square in the eye then. “I'm not like that. I don't play guys against each other. That's not me.”

He took her hand. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“Good. Then it's settled. You have nothing to worry about. Wednesday I'm all yours.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “And thank you for the best picnic I've ever had.”

He beamed.

She decided against another kiss. She'd save it for the next date. Something to look forward to. Something to make the bells ring.

Something that would outshine T. Larry's kiss.

 

T
HE PHONE RANG
a third time in the last half hour. Not another hang up, Madison hoped. It was late, she was tired, and at this rate, she'd sleep through her alarm and be late for work. T. Larry hated tardiness. She gotten the first call when T. Larry was there on Saturday. Then another last night. And all the caller did was breathe. At least he could have uttered a few obscene remarks to make her feel special.

She picked up before the machine did. “Are you going to say something this time?”

“I'll say whatever you want me to say.”

“T. Larry.” Her voice squeaked.

“How was your date?”

She usually had just the right comeback to whatever T. Larry said. Now all she could manage was an ineffectual chirrup. “My date was fine, thanks.” Dull answer, very dull. She pulled the covers to her chin as if she were hiding.

“Did you kiss him?”

Her baby doll pajamas, short, and soft against her skin, sexy in an odd sort of way, made her think of T. Larry, not Richard.

“A girl doesn't kiss and tell.” There, that was better, a little mysterious. Maybe even a little flirtatious.

T. Larry growled with that faintly erotic, extremely intimate note he'd used with her Friday night. “Then you
did
kiss him.”

A car honked down the street. The neon sign for the hair salon across the way cast a pink-and-blue glow across her ceiling as she lay in the dark. A gentle, familiar yet exotic dark with T. Larry on the other end of the line. Since she didn't know his game, Madison decided to play one of her own. “Yes, I did. And it was wonderful.”

“Liar.”

“It was stupendous.”

“Tease.”

Yes, and she liked teasing him. She was a hypocrite, of course, because she'd told Richard she didn't play guys against each other. She'd never done it before. But there was something about the darkness, and T. Larry's voice on the phone that made her want to push him. “It was hot.”

He sucked in a breath. “How hot?”

“Sizzling.” She wondered if this could be considered phone sex, then set the line on fire. “I used my tongue.”

Silence dropped like a bang in the middle of the room. Then he said, “Let me come over.”

“T. Larry,” she squeaked again. “It's just a joke. We're playing a game.” She didn't even want to think about why he wanted to come over.

He breathed with a hint of acceleration. “A game. You're right.” He paused as if he expected her to say something, then went on. “I called—”

“To make sure I didn't become serial killer Richard's next victim.” In his own way, T. Larry was as sweet as Richard. Which is why she wouldn't tell him about those breather calls. He'd worry. Then she might start worrying. And really, they meant nothing at all, especially after today's visit from Harry Dump. Now she knew that interview was much more important than any silly phone breather, especially since that's all he'd done, breathe.

“Actually, I called to tell you what to wear tomorrow night.”

“What to wear?” Her fingers flirted with the hem of her baby dolls.

“Since where I'm taking you is a surprise, I thought you'd at least want some idea of what to wear so you won't feel out of place.”

“Oh.” It wasn't like T. Larry to be so thoughtful.

“Remember that dress you wore to last year's company picnic?”

She remembered his glower. “Yes.”

“Wear that one.”

“You said I couldn't wear that to work anymore after Bill got distracted and missed a nineteen-thousand-dollar deduction.”

“Bring it with you, and change before we leave.”