A Matchless Romance (Aisle Bound) (9 page)

“The thing I like about these trial runs?” Drew picked up a slider, loaded with bacon and barbecue sauce. Saw another topped with mushrooms and swiss. Next to those, a row of colorful—and iconic—Chicago hot dogs smothered in relish, tomato wedges, pickle spears and mustard. Enough to feed a half dozen people. “You’re feeding me. Feeding me well.”

Tabitha dug tongs into an ice bucket. “Would you believe I’m attempting to inspire a Pavlovian reaction?”

“What?” He downed half of the slider in one bite. That was, after all, the joy of sliders. Cramming them into your mouth like a caveman. “Am I supposed to connect good food with being comfortable around women from now on? ’Cause I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich for lunch yesterday.” He rubbed his belly. That bad boy hadn’t sat well at all. Drew wouldn’t buy from the corner food truck again anytime soon. “Made me pretty uncomfortable. And I sure wasn’t thinking about women.”

She held up both hands. The ruffles at the wrists of her grey sweater gaped backward almost to her elbow. “Stop the story right there. I don’t need details. And I can’t afford to deliver takeout whenever you get fidgety around a woman. The food’s because we’re having a party.”

Drew looked around the private shopping room. Outside the mirrored area was the men’s department of Macy’s. If he peeked through the doorway, he could glimpse the wrought iron balconies that climbed across all twelve floors. Sure, it was fancy and big. But not what he’d call a hot party spot.

“What, the dry cleaners on the corner was already booked?” he joked.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes to thin, green slits. They glowed like the horizontal light on the swipe card and security panel at Game Domain. The triple redundancy system might be considered overkill by some. But since it protected Drew’s new game, he didn’t resent one bit all the tedious swiping and manual codes and fingerprint verification.

“Macy’s State Street is the second largest department store in the world. The ceiling on the fifth floor was installed in 1907, and is Tiffany favrile glass. This store,” Tabitha spun in a slow circle, arms wide, “is an iconic piece of Chicago history. Ergo, a perfect party spot.”

“For girls, sure. Not for a manly man.” Drew flexed his biceps. Just to test the waters. Just to see if two nights ago had been a one-shot deal. Tabitha’s eyes locked onto his arm. He wore a T-shirt printed with suspenders, bow tie and pocket protector. Drew thought it’d make her laugh.

But she wasn’t laughing now. No, her lips parted for her tongue to slip out and moisten them. Her breasts rose and fell beneath a deep vee of ruffles. God, that sweater. Its wide, ruffled collar exposed so much milk-white skin. Including a tantalizing flash of smooth belly between the sweater’s shorter front and her jeans. The longer ruffles on the side of the sweater cascaded down her thighs almost to her knees. Drew wanted to lift it up and peek at her ass in those skintight jeans. And judging from her entranced stare, Tabitha wouldn’t object.

He’d take it slow. See how the night progressed. But it sure looked to him like Tabitha would be willing to end the night with more kisses. Drew didn’t intend to disappoint. “Tell me about this party.”

“My friend Ashley manages the personal shopping department here. She swung us this private room for the whole night. We’re just waiting for one last customer to clear out.” Tabitha walked to the door and braced her hands high on the frame to stare across the racks of suits. “Everyone should be here soon.”

In the gaming world, good timing was the difference between life and death. Between a zombie jumping from a tree to bite a chunk out of your shoulder, or aiming an anhydrous pellet gun at them to suck all the liquid from their rotting flesh. Good timing was a byproduct of experience and an almost preternatural sense. And Drew had a great sense of timing. He knew this was his chance. No waiting for the end of the night. No, he’d claim her again now. Give her something to think about, with flushed cheeks and lust-brightened eyes, the entire night.

Drew moved behind her. Brought his legs flush against hers, chest tight to her back. Looped his arms around her waist. Then dropped his head to lay a kiss on the visibly pounding pulse on the side of her neck. Tabitha softened into him like butter on a hot day.

“How’s tricks, Tabitha? Turn any lately?” A tall man shrugging into a suit jacket walked into view. “Oh, that’s right. You talk a good game, but don’t put out.” He shaped his thumb and forefinger into a gun and pointed at Drew. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the heads-up.”

Drew’s first instinct was to shove his fist right past Tabitha’s ear and into the dickwad’s face. An insult like that to any woman was grounds enough. Trash-talking a woman Drew wanted to kiss definitely meant this guy deserved a world of hurt. But starting a fist fight in the middle of an iconic store—yeah, he paid attention—would probably get him kicked out. And tick off the very woman whose honor he wanted to avenge. Better check Tabitha’s response first.

Tabitha stiffened, but held her pose. “Philip Tolliver. What a surprise running into you here.” The U.S. luge team could’ve used her voice as a practice run, it was so frosty and smooth.

“Had to pick up a few things from my personal shopper. My new office is right around the corner.” He meticulously straightened his tie. “Although now that I know the type of clientele which frequents Macy’s, I might shift my business over to Saks or Neimans.”

Damn, he wanted to belt this guy. Drew started to step back and do just that, but Tabitha put a hand on his wrist, holding him in place. He could take a hint. For now. But Drew couldn’t promise how much longer he’d be able to hold back from knocking the smirk right off ol’ Phil’s face.

“Philip. It’s been almost a year.” Tabitha now sounded conciliatory. Drew couldn’t figure out why she’d bother. Clearly affording a perfect haircut and designer suit didn’t mean Phil had figured out where to buy some manners. “Why hold a grudge over ending a relationship that didn’t work for either of us?”

“Take a poll, Tabitha. Nobody likes a tease,” he spat. “I can be mad as long as I damn well please.”

“Fair enough.” Her voice was still even, but Tabitha’s nails dug into Drew’s wrist. “I’m sorry I hurt you. If you haven’t moved on already, let me help. I’m a full-time matchmaker now. I’m having an event in a few days. Lot of wonderful women will attend. Why don’t you come, too? My treat, of course.”

“Oh, I know all about your so-called event. I heard an ad for the live video podcast. Way I see it?” He sneered at her down the nose Drew itched to break. “Your job’s no different than your mom’s. You both spend the night pimping out women to a room full of men.”

Tabitha jerked backward, as if the cruel words had actually pierced her stomach. Enough was enough. Drew patted her on the arm, then eased past her. He ambled forward, hands in pockets, totally non-threatening.

“Phil? I’m Drew Weston. Let me pay you back for the heads-up you gave me earlier with a little designer fashion tip.” He hinged forward from the hips, as if passing rail-side info on the hottest horses at the track. “When you go to Saks, be sure to ask them for extra stuffing.”

“Is this a new trend? For where, exactly?”

“In the crotch.” Drew straightened up to his full six feet, two inches. Noticed smugly that he could look down on the top of Phil’s head. Let his arms dangle at his sides, fists tight and cocked. “Cause you’ve gotta have a pencil dick and no balls at all to be such a crude asswipe to Tabitha. Apologize to her. Then get the hell out.”

A grimace twisted across Phil’s face. But then he took a step back. Looked at Drew, and the utter determination and loathing that had to be showing in his eyes. And took another step back. “My mouth got a head start on my brain. Sorry. Good luck with your event.” Then he turned tail and broke into a trot straight to the escalator.

The sound of clapping startled Drew into a half spin. To his right, behind the check-out desk, stood three women. And Milo, who rushed over to give Drew a one-armed, back-slap hug.

“Bravo. Well done.”

A tight yellow suit barely contained the sultry-looking brunette who approached. “About time someone put Tolliver the Twit in his place.” She shook Drew’s hand. “Ashley Messina. You must be the man of the hour. Gotta say, Tabitha, your taste’s improved.”

Christ. Tabitha. Drew pivoted back around. “Are you okay?” She still hadn’t moved from the doorway. He ran his hands up and down her arms, not knowing how to comfort her, but knowing he had to do something.

Eyes closed, she sucked in a slow, deep breath. “I’m fine. I told you, I’m used to it.” When her eyes opened, they shimmered with unshed tears. As green and glistening as the pond hidden deep in Central Park where Drew’s trolls liked to hang out. “What I’m not used to is a white knight riding to my rescue. Wholly unnecessary, but wholly appreciated. Thank you.”

Drew didn’t want to be thanked. Not for just doing the right thing. Especially since he didn’t see it bagging him any extra kisses, what with the audience they’d accumulated. “You did buy me sliders and dogs. Consider us even.” Although if she did offer gratitude kisses, he wouldn’t turn them down.

Arms extended, Milo bounded forward. He waved two large Thermoses. “I brought cocktails. Cosmos for the girls and Rob Roys for us men.” Setting down the Thermoses, he beat his chest like Tarzan.

“Sounds sexist, but delicious. Thanks for going to the trouble, Milo,” said Tabitha. She walked them all into the private room. The women immediately bustled into action, grabbing plastic glasses, plates, and stripping off jackets.

“What’s a Rob Roy?” It sounded to Drew like a kid’s drink. Or a burger chain.

“Scotch, vermouth and bitters. It’ll put hair on your chest.” Milo tucked a finger in the neck of Drew’s shirt and tugged it down. Waggled his eyebrows. “Correction.
More
hair on your chest.”

Wow. The guy was both outrageous and handsy. Kinda funny that Drew was more worried about Milo taking a shot than the four beautiful women lined up by the food table. He could either get all pissy and macho, or laugh it off. And Milo did make him laugh. “Just because you brought me a drink doesn’t mean I’ll put out.” Drew grabbed for a Thermos. Didn’t care which one. Just knew he’d need a stiff drink to survive the night.

“Funny guy. Tabitha, you didn’t tell us he was funny. Only that he was smoking hot.” Even in stacked heels, the woman with Asian features who marched up to him only came to Drew’s sternum. “I’m Tara Parks. Recruited to make you over.” She gave him a long, slow once-over. The kind that if he did it to a woman it would net Drew a fast slap across the face. “But I don’t see anything that needs improvement, once we get rid of that abomination of a shirt you’re wearing.”

A leggy blonde nodded. “The shirt explains why you brought us here tonight. But the man,” she licked her lips. Bent her knees and smoothed a hand down the front of her pink tank to the waist of her yoga pants. “The man is yummily perfect. Oh, and I’m Kate.”

He almost spilled the drink he was pouring. Beautiful women accosting him from every angle. Drew was used to assuming that he didn’t stand a chance with women who looked like that. But he’d bet his biggest hard drive and his limited edition, mint-in-box
Star Trek
phaser that these women were flirting with him.

Despite the evidence, Drew had trouble believing it. Almost as much as he had trouble believing Tabitha had told her friends he was hot. And what the hell was wrong with his shirt? It was one of his quirkiest tees. He’d had three people offer to buy it right off his back at the last Otakon.

God, if he was stark naked, this wouldn’t be any more uncomfortable. Drew didn’t know what to say. History led him to believe he probably shouldn’t say the first thing that leapt to mind. Not that anything had. The overload of focused, feminine attention had corked him up tighter than a wine bottle. What was Tabitha thinking? Why put him into such an awkward situation? All the sliders and Scotch in the world wouldn’t make him relax. And yet the last thing Drew wanted to do was accidentally insult Tabitha’s friends. Or bore them. Or basically screw up in any way.

Tabitha shoved a loaded plate at him. “You look as freaked out as a deer staring into the barrel of a rifle. Sit. Eat. Do a couple slugs of whatever concoction Milo brought. Then we’ll get started.”

His stomach flipped. “I’m not hungry.” It was too much. Eating would split his concentration from trying not to say the wrong thing. Or say anything.

Again, she pushed the plate’s edge into his stomach. “Immersion therapy’s tough at first. But I guarantee you’ll walk out of here a changed man. Plus a whole new wardrobe.”

That she’d taken a scientific approach intrigued Drew beyond measure. He grabbed the plate and looked at the room full of women from a different angle. “Immersion therapy? You mean like putting someone with arachnaphobia into a tub filled with spiders?”

“Exactly. Because I figured out your problem. When you’re running, or running your team ragged at work, you don’t see women as anything but equals. They don’t intimidate you. You’re not worried about doing something wrong, or being rejected by them. You’re not thinking about them as women.”

“True.”

“And when you pissed off Fran and Keiko, you were thinking too much about
Quest
, about how both of them held all the power over your game in their hands. When you’re in the moment and not over thinking, you’re fine. That’s the key.” Tabitha twisted back to accept a drink from Milo. “Just accept that for the next few hours, you are the center of our universe. This is a safe place. And you can do no wrong.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said glumly. One thing was certain. When he’d hired Tabitha, he really had no idea what he was in for. Before he could taste his cocktail, the barrage began.

“I hear you’ve got amedal,” purred the sex-kitten blonde.

“Two, actually. One gold, one silver.” As always, admitting to the silver put a bad taste in his mouth. And reminded him what happened when he split focus. Especially where women were involved. So he set down his drink. Widened his stance. Braced for the worst. Then mentally slapped himself. Tabitha’s point was that he had to let go. Not think about what could go wrong. So he slid his hands into his back pockets and smiled at the circle of women.