“I’m just looking out for you,” James snickered. “I don’t want you ending up old and alone. Or worse,” he laughed, “married to one of those awful, boring girls you date.”
“Shut up and stop calling me.”
“Are you going to call Jessica?”
“No,” Mathew asserted even though most of his downtime had been spent thinking about the mess of a woman who’d been thrust into his life a couple weeks ago. But he wouldn’t give James the satisfaction of thinking he’d orchestrated anything.
“I didn’t think so. What time is it there?” James asked, and Mathew grew more annoyed by the second. Could a married James no longer tell time?
“Five thirty,” Mathew grunted and stopped abruptly as someone knocked on his open office door. Jessica.
“Uh, yes?” Mathew stuttered out, taken back by the sight of the woman who’d been stomping all over his brain and invading his fantasies.
“I’m here,” she said with an annoyed rise and fall of her shoulders. “Libby told me to meet you at five thirty. I guess you need another date, and apparently I’m your call girl or something now.”
Mathew spun his chair around, the back of it to Jessica. “I’m going to kill you.”
“It was Libby’s doing,” James said through a chuckle.
“I know,” Mathew said, the words slithering through his grinding teeth. “But she’s sweet and a woman and I can’t kill her. So I’ll kill you instead.”
“You are meeting with Gavin Laurence and his wife tonight. You should have a date. Kill me, thank me . . . we’ll see which one.”
“Hello,” Jessica said impatiently. “Do you want me or what?”
That is a loaded question.
Mathew slammed the receiver down and spun back to see Jessica still standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a silky black dress with lace that crept up her neck like ivy. Her jet-black hair was in its usually sleek bob, and her eyes shown with the bright colors painted above them.
“It was a mistake,” Mathew said, standing as he apologized. “Libby shouldn’t have called you. I don’t need a date.”
“Listen, it’s not easy admitting you can’t get a girl to come to some boring business meeting dinner with you. I get it. But I’m in the dress. I am suffering through these ridiculously high stilettos. I took the night off of work. Someone is taking me to dinner. I was promised a nice meal.” Her words didn’t match her expression. There was no arrogance to them. No demanding. Tough talk, but she clearly looked like she was standing on a ledge, and he was either going to shove her off by rejecting her or pull her to safety.
“This is a professional business meeting. It’s not the charity event where we just shake a few hands. It’s very important.” He had more to say, some very complimentary things, but she cut in too early.
“And an idiot like me couldn’t keep up? You should be thanking me for showing up. At least whoever you are meeting with will have someone to talk to that isn’t the social equivalent of watching grass grow.” She’d jumped off the figurative ledge instead. Firing up at him as she plummeted down. Jessica always seemed ready to fight. It was half the allure of being around her. You never knew what she’d say next.
“You didn’t let me finish. But since you brought it up, maybe it’s not a good fit. I mean, unlike the charity event, you can’t just stuff your face full of shrimp. And what happens if someone is rude? You’ll probably get us both arrested.” The barb was delivered with a smile, simply because he couldn’t fight it off. The anger rising in her face was turning him on. Warming him like a fire he’d poured gasoline on.
“Excuse me?” Jessica yelped, slapping her small beaded clutch to her side. “I should have stuffed my ears full of shrimp so I didn’t have to listen to you drone on about business analytics and acquisitions.”
“I was talking business to other business people. Sorry; what would you prefer we discuss? Mascara? BB cream?”
Her face changed suddenly, and it tossed him off-kilter. The anger was replaced with a quizzical surprise. “How the hell do you know what BB cream is?”
“I don’t need a date tonight,” he said, attempting to deflect from the small smile growing on her face.
“Fine,” she shrugged, brushing her ruby red lips together, evenly spreading the gloss on them. “Your loss. Libby told me you’re meeting with some guy and his wife for dinner. Maybe you’re used to being the third wheel.”
“Do people like you?” Mathew asked, eyeing her from head to toe with a long stare. “You are always being a smart ass or picking a fight.”
“They love me,” she beamed, raising her brows up defiantly.
“Why?” he asked, pressing his lips together and working hard not to look like he was enjoying this. But even if his act wasn’t holding up, the good thing was, neither was hers. They both wanted to be here. They both wanted to fight this fight.
“Because when they call me and say to show up somewhere, I show. When they tell me a friend of their new husband is in a bind, I drop what I’m doing and make sure I come through. When they are being hurt or insulted, I’m the first one to stand up and protect them.”
“Even at the chance you might hear about business analytics all night?”
“I’m a very loyal friend. I’d take a bullet for Libby. I’d shove her out of the way of a runaway train. I’d even, if I knew it would help her, fight my way through a date with you.”
Mathew grabbed the phone on his desk and pressed a few keys. “Joanne change the reservation for tonight to four.”
“So the BB cream?” Jessica asked with a devilish grin.
“Intrigued? You should be. You’ve got me pegged all wrong.”
“Then this might be an interesting night after all.”
Chapter 2
Neither of them had apologized or admitted they were wrong about their argument after the flight. They didn’t come to some understanding or laugh about how silly it had been. Jessica wasn’t one to apologize, and Mathew wasn’t one to back down. Probably a toxic combination but that wasn’t enough to keep her away, even when it should have been. Something about Mathew kept her coming back. It was easy to blame it on the pleading voice from her best friend, Libby, on the other end of the phone, begging her to be Mathew’s date. But in reality, if she hadn’t wanted to come, if she’d lied and told Libby how insufferable and horrible she’d found Mathew, the conversation would have been over. Libby would have never expected her to go.
Mathew was different than the men she’d usually hung out with. That was all you could call it. Dates never went past first or second, and phone calls often went ignored from the men who didn’t believe her when she said she didn’t want a relationship. Because what woman didn’t want the traditional love story?
But eventually, after plenty of ignoring, most men got the hint and moved on to easier conquests. They would give up and label her a tease or a bitch so they could sleep better. Mathew, however, wasn’t the usual guy at the bar looking to score. He didn’t still live at home or talk endlessly about some pipe-dream idea he’d never be able to pull off. He was an actual adult.