Animal Instincts (11 page)

“You’re exaggerating, trying to push me away for whatever reason. I can still see the fear in your eyes.”

“What will it take to make you realize the only way to get me down an altar is to carry my cold, dead body in a casket?”

He regarded me silently for a moment. “You’re telling me you have no interest in love? No interest in a white gown, a diamond ring and a church filled with family and friends oohing and aahing?”

I nodded with determination. I didn’t even have a slight pang of doubt. “That’s right.” Been there, almost killed myself because of that.

“You won’t mind if I laugh in your face, will you?
I know women, and I know they dream about a splashy wedding, about having an adoring husband and bearing his children.” He held out his arms, a wide open invitation for me to peruse him at my leisure. “Well, here I am, willing to give you those things. And you still want to tell me no?”

“That’s right,” I said again, unwavering.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head in exasperation.

“This has all been very interesting,” I said, smoothing down my skirt. “You’ve given me the men are from Mars example I’ve always wanted, so now I’ll give you a women are from Venus example. I promise you on all that is holy that I’m not holding out for a ring. In fact, I don’t even want to be a bridesmaid.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

How could I explain it in terms he’d understand? “I do not want a man. Period. No men. Men make me sick. Men bad. Gag, gag, gag.”

He regarded me, his eyes growing wide. “Wait. You don’t like men?”

Finally. Contact. “No.”

“Well, why the hell didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“We work together, for one thing. Personal business isn’t something co-workers need to discuss.”

“I didn’t realize.” Shaking his head again, he fell into the chair behind him. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, now you know the truth.”

“Have you always felt this way?”

“No,” I answered, again opting for the truth. “Just the past six months.”

“There were no signs. I mean—” he plowed a hand
through his hair and glared at me in accusation. “You kissed me. Twice. I thought you liked it. You seemed to like it. It’s the blondes, isn’t it? The twins in the pictures on your coffee table. I should have guessed. But how could I have known?”

Had we just entered the twilight zone? “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You prefer women to men,” he said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I just didn’t realize. You seemed to like—Oh, shit.”

Argh.
This was too much. Both of my hands, which were now fisted, went to my waist. He thought I was seeing two women, twins at that. What was it with men and twins? “I’m not gay, Royce. If a woman isn’t interested, it doesn’t mean she’s gay.”

A long, protracted silence filled the space between us.

His features gradually relaxed. “So you’re not…”

“No.”

“Damn it,” he said, suddenly losing all traces of relaxation. “You said you wanted nothing to do with men, that men made you sick. Earlier you mentioned hating everything with a penis. What else was I supposed to think?”

“Maybe that I’m not interested in a relationship, like I’ve been trying to tell you. Or maybe that I want to live alone, without a man’s interference. Or maybe I simply want nothing to do with romance. Especially with a Triple C.”

A glaze of puzzlement washed over him, halting the tirade I knew was coming. “What the hell is a Triple C?”

“Corporate. Controlling. And completely wrong
for me.” Okay, so it had been
and a total Commando,
but this was my phrase and I could change it if I wanted.

His brows arched, almost hitting his hairline. “I’ll admit to being corporate. But controlling? Wrong for you? I don’t think so. I happen to be a WHP.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes ceilingward. “Explain please.”

“Willing. Horny. And Perfect for you.”

Not to mention egotistical. “Is that so?”

He crossed his own arms over his chest, mimicking my battle stance. “Yeah, that’s so.”

“This isn’t a game, Royce. I’m truly not out to catch a man. Any man. Even a WHP. That’s all there is to it.”

His lips lifted in a slow, knowing grin, his eyes sparkling like sapphires. “Now, I happen to know that’s a lie.” He studied me in an openly assessing way, like he possessed X-ray vision and could see to my very soul.

I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You keep saying you know when I’m lying,” I said, hating how my voice trembled. I knew I was lying, that I wanted him in a very bad way, but there was no way he could know it. Right?

“Your list. I might have forgotten about it for a moment, but now that I’ve remembered—”

“What list?”

“Do the words
what to look for in Mr. Wrong
ring a bell? If you’re trying to avoid Mr. Wrong, you’re trying to find Mr. Right.”

Sparks of anger lit inside me, but those sparks died
a quick death as amusement grew. I laughed. I just couldn’t help myself. The situation was too funny. Too sweet. My gaze zeroed in on his clean-shaven jaw, and I laughed even harder.

“You shaved,” I said. The knowledge sent me doubling over as another wave of laughter swept through me. “I get it now. Number four. Mr. Wrong never shaves his beard.”

Royce stiffened and his gaze slitted. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, if it were my list.”

“Of course it’s yours. It was in your home.”

“No. Sorry.” More laughter. “It belongs to my cousins, Kera and Mel. The blond twins in the photo.”

The clock ticked. Four minutes of complete silence passed. Okay, so I was still laughing and the sound of it echoed off the walls. The man had made a sweet, sweet fool of himself. I was entitled to a little amusement.

Royce ran a hand down his face. He pushed out a deep breath and peeked at me over his fingers. “Are you sure that isn’t your list?”

“Swear to God.”

“But I fit none of the requirements for Mr. Wrong.”

“Not my list,” I said again, still grinning.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered. “Are you absolutely one-hundred-percent positive it isn’t yours?”

“Yeah,” I answered again.

“But you love lists.”

“That’s why I was the designated writer. For the twins.”

“Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. I stood a chance of winning the list’s owner. Now, well—Shit.”

In a flash, I froze, losing my burst of humor. What if… No. I didn’t want to contemplate such an event. My mind wouldn’t let the thought die, however.

I gulped back the sudden lump in my throat. “Since you’re so fascinated with that list,” I said, judging my words carefully. I gazed down at my shoes, using one to scrape the toe of the other. “You might be interested in knowing that Kera, one of the twins, sent you an application. She’s smart and beautiful and she’s looking for love.” Rigid with an emotion I didn’t want to name, I waited for his reply.

“Sounds great.” His tone didn’t reveal a hint of his inner thoughts. Nor did his now blank expression. “I’ll put hers at the top.”

I didn’t want to analyze why my heart suddenly squeezed painfully in my chest.

“W
HAT DO YOU THINK
of this one?”

I glanced up from the rack of black, brown and navy-blue dress suits. All were ankle length, plain and would conceal every inch of skin, protecting it from a man’s naughty gaze. When I saw my cousin’s selection, I frowned. “I am
not
wearing that…that…X-rated napkin.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mel gave the green mini-dress she held a once-over, even brushed her fingers down the split bodice.

“The hem won’t cover the edge of my panties and the bodice opens to my belly button. You might not know this, but I’m not planning to make a few extra bucks on the side while I’m gone.”

It was Wednesday night and we were hitting the bargain department stores instead of the night-clubs—Mel liked penny beer—all for the sake of my upcoming trip to Colorado with Royce. Apparently, a new shipment of green clothes had arrived only the day before. When Mel and Kera learned of this, they had demanded we go shopping. Being the meek, mild woman that I am, I relented. And my capitulation had nothing to do with wanting to look good for Royce. I swear.

Did the old “fingers crossed” thing still work?

“Try it on, at least,” Mel persisted just as the BlueJay in my purse erupted in a series of beeps. “And for God’s sake, turn that thing off.”

“I can’t.” Scowling, I dug inside my purse and pounded the stupid thing front and back. It beeped every hour, reminding me of my upcoming trip. Royce, the diabolical son of the devil, had programmed it in such a way that I couldn’t turn it off or turn down the volume. Too, the screen continued to flash crap like, “You’ll have fun on our trip, I promise.”

Once the beeping stopped, I surveyed Mel’s choice of ho-wear again. “I’d feel better covered in body paint.”

“Now there’s an idea,” she said with a sly grin.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop my own grin. “Even if I was willing to parade around like a living
porno ad, I don’t want to wear anything green. I’d just look like a lumpy bowl of pea soup. Or worse, an overused snot rag. I don’t care how much Royce likes the color. I’m. Not. Wearing. It.”

“What about this one?” Kera held up a conservative mint-green pantsuit. “It’s fifty percent off.”

“And it’s still green,” I said, my voice heavy with exasperation. Did they never listen to me?

“Sister dear,” Mel said, “she’s flying to Colorado—with Royce Powell, I might add—not a summit for sexually repressed librarians.”

Kera chuckled. “You’re right.”

“Think ski bunny,” Mel said. “Sexy,” she continued. “Wild. Uninhibited.”

“I’m not trying to seduce him,” I told them.

“Oh, please,” both said in unison.

“I’m not. Really.” How many lies could one woman tell in a single day before God could no longer forgive her? When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me the limit was 490 times a day. I think I was dangerously close to reaching that.

“You may not allow yourself to try,” Mel said wickedly, knowingly, “but you want to. Bad.”

I didn’t try to deny it, but I didn’t audibly agree with her, either. She took my silence for refusal.

“I thought you had a brain in that skull of yours,” she mumbled. “If you don’t want to seduce him, we need to get you a prescription for Viagra for women ASAP.”

“Maybe we should take her in for a CAT scan,” Kera suggested.

“Guys, I’m a hardened bitch with relationship scars.
That’s all there is to it.” I ran my fingertips down the lapels of a wool jacket. “No amount of drugs or medical testing will change that.”

“True.” Mel.

“You’re right.” Kera.

Hey, weren’t they supposed to defend my character? Weren’t they supposed to assure me that I might have internal scars, but an entry in the Bedroom Olympics would do me some good?

“Still,” Mel finally said, “I think the whip and feathers we gave you at your non-party will go a long way towards helping you overcome your bitchiness.”

An image of Royce tied facedown to my bed, his naked body bared for my viewing pleasure while I whipped him then soothed the ache with feathers—or my tongue—filled my head. My nipples instantly hardened and the juncture between my thighs ached.

“Well, hello ladies.” Mel laughed. “Something I said got through to your hormones.” She flicked a pointed glance at my breasts.

Cheeks heating, I quickly covered them with my hands. I should have worn a padded water bra—yes, I owned one and I wasn’t ashamed. Small-breasted women had to do what small-breasted women had to do to fill out their shirts properly. That would have kept my traitorous nipples hidden.

“So you aren’t as immune to him as you would have us believe.” Kera lifted a green floral sundress and held it to her petite frame. “Why else would you have kissed him? Twice.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“We aren’t the
Tattler.
You don’t have to deny, deny, deny with us.”

“It’s obvious you two want each other,” Kera continued. She twirled around, the dress she held dancing at her knees. “So what’s the problem? Seduce the man, and get it out of your system. Sex doesn’t have to be a major commitment.”

I knew she didn’t believe those words, just as I knew what she was trying to do. Kera thought if I slept with Royce, I would fall in love and suddenly decide I wanted to marry him.

What if she wasn’t far off the mark?
That’s
what scared me most. Still, that was no reason to tell the man to read Kera’s application. Bad Naomi.

“Sex
is
a major commitment to Royce,” I said. I snatched the dress from her and hung it back on the rack. No green.

“Just because of that article?” Mel asked doubtfully, flipping through another mound of napkins/dresses. “It could have all been a joke, you know. Or even an exaggeration. The media always distorts the news.”

“The press was right this time. I know because—” Jeez, it was time I came clean and revealed exactly what was going on. I hadn’t told them everything, and they deserved to know. “He proposed. To me.”

“Proposed?” In the next instant, Kera grabbed me by the shoulders, spinning me around to face her. “As in, he asked you to marry him?”

I bit my bottom lip. “Well, yeah.”

My petite, delicate cousin shook me once, twice. “So what did you say?”

“No, of course.”

“No, of course, she says.” Kera threw up her hands and swung to face Mel, her blond locks whipping me in the face. “Did you just hear what this foolish woman said? Can she possibly be related to us? Naomi turned down a man who looks like Colin Farrell, is richer than God and finds her so desirable he can’t live without her.”

“Now wait just a—”

“I’m having trouble believing it myself.” Mel tsk-tsked under her tongue. “It’s one thing to
say
you’re never going to get married, but it’s quite another to actually reject such a man’s proposal. Naomi, Naomi, Naomi. Do we need to have you committed for being mentally unstable?”

“I never said anything about him being unable to live without me.
He
never said anything of the sort, either.” Well, he kind of did. He’d said some of the most wonderful things to me, things that continually swept through my mind, weakening my knees. He’d thought about me for six whole months. He’d dreamed about me. He loved me.

“He implied it with his proposal,” Mel said. Hooking her red-streaked bangs behind her ear, she leveled a pointed stare at me. “If you won’t consider the marriage thing, at least say you’ll think about that wild affair with him.”

How could I not think about it? My body craved the man like a drug. I leaned against a rack of slacks and the hangers dug into my back. “He’d probably expect to fly to Vegas the moment we slept together.”

Mel gently pushed me aside so she could study a pair of hip-huggers. “Just because he expects it, doesn’t mean you have to say yes.”

True.

“Why don’t you introduce him to me?” Kera shifted her weight from one high-heeled foot to the other and eyed me with the same purposeful intent Mel had earlier. “I don’t have a stupid rule about dating a client, and I am
so
ready to fall in love and get married.”

My stomach tightened. The same sick, yucky feeling that had washed over me in Royce’s office washed over me now. I didn’t want Royce for myself, but I damn sure didn’t want anyone else to have him either. Not even Kera, whom I loved.

What was it about that man that tied me in so many knots?

“Trust me,” I said, trying to act nonchalant and breezy. “You don’t want him, Kera. What type of husband would he make, anyway? He obviously travels a lot. He’s bossy, arrogant, egotistical, tyrannical and possibly vainglorious. And what happened to George? I thought you were interested in him.”

“Maybe I’m more interested in Royce.” She expelled a dreamy (fake?) sigh. “He’s
sooo
hot.”

Yes. Yes, he was. And his kisses slayed me. Enthralled me. Had me panting for more. Maybe, after I finished planning his mother’s party, Royce and I
could
have some type of fling.

My chin tilted to the side as I considered that scenario. Hmm…sex on the beach. Sex on a balcony.
Sex in every room of my apartment. Sex, sex, sex. Would he be interested in an affair? He was a healthy man, and he’d said he wanted me in his life. If I made it clear sex was all I could give him, surely he’d relent.

I’d never had a purely sexual relationship before, a relationship where emotions were taboo. Could I handle one? Surely I could. Surely my fears about falling in love with him if we got naked were unfounded.

I had to admit, the thought of touching him at my leisure appealed to me. Tasting him, too. Letting him touch and taste me. A sultry heat invaded my veins, and I licked my lips. A few nights of hot, dirty (unemotional) loving would surely cure me of this obsession for him. Of my need for his naked body straining against mine, slipping and pumping erotically inside me.

Yes, I decided then, already eager to begin. I would seduce him after the party. For my peace of mind, if nothing else. I would sleep with him and keep my heart well guarded. When the passion was sated, he and I would part. Simple. Easy. No one would get hurt.

“Kera,” I said. “I want Royce, so you can’t have him.”

She grinned slowly, as if that was what she’d wanted to hear all along.

Mel muttered, “About time.”

In all of my life, I’d been with a total of two men. Number one: Jase Waldren, my high-school crush. After several months of “going steady,” he’d taken my virginity in the back seat of his rusty yellow truck and had
never called me again. Not that I’d cared. I’d been about as close to orgasm that night as I was to buying a pair of Dolce & Gabbana black leather stiletto boots right now.

Number two: my ex-husband. I’d just started working for a local party-planning business, and Richard the Bastard had strolled in looking all suave and self-assured, needing help with a business function. He was a divorce lawyer and ten years my senior. Caught in his charismatic snare, I’d requested that I be assigned to him. I don’t know why, but he’d taken an instant liking to me, as well, and had romanced the hell out of me.

We married soon after.

Right after the ceremony, he’d hinted that I needed to quit my job. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but he’d wanted me to devote every waking moment to him. So I stupidly did it. I’d loved him and wanted to make him happy. And a small part of me had liked the thought of taking care of him. How romantic it had seemed. Give up everything for love and all that crap. Yeah. Right. I’d
known
better. My mom had given up her life for my dad, as well.

What had my let-me-please-you personality won me? A husband who had sometimes ignored me, always taken me for granted and never found me good enough. A husband who’d found me lacking and hadn’t minded telling me so.

A husband who’d preferred to spread his love all over Texas rather than sleep with his own wife. Yep, I’d known better.

After our divorce, no one had wanted to hire me. I’d not only slept with a big-name client, I’d walked away from a job without notice, as well. What’s worse, I’d deserved the lack of confidence from potential employers. How much more stupid could I have been?

I’d been forced to start my own business with what little money I had. I was glad for that now, of course, but six months ago I’d been an emotional wreck, scared of failure and nearing bankruptcy. Perhaps I could have done something different, taken a menial job I’d hate, but I had no skills other than party planning and honestly couldn’t see myself doing anything else.

Was history repeating itself? I suddenly wondered.

Here I was again, lusting after a client and determined to have an affair with him. Like Richard, Royce had developed an instant attraction to me, something I just didn’t understand. It was too rare. Most men preferred the lithe beauty of Kera or the wild, untamed personality of Mel.

I massaged the muscles in my neck and pretended to study the clothes in front of me. What was it with me and men with names that started with
R?
If a man’s first name started with
R,
was I destined to find him irresistible?

“Uh, Naomi. Hello?”

Kera’s voice penetrated my thoughts. I shook my head, forcing myself to concentrate on her and not the past. “What?”

“You were in some sort of sad, I’m-about-to-cry-or-kill-someone trance. I asked what you were thinking about.”

“Richard. Royce. My own stupidity.” I waved a hand through the air, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. “It doesn’t matter. Mel,” I said, “there’s a guy I want to introduce you to. He’s very cute. Tall, dark hair. Good sense of humor.”

Mel’s vivid features brightened. “Who is he?”

“His name is Colin Phillips and he works for Royce.” I recalled what Royce had told me about the man, that Colin was a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. That made him perfect for Mel, who never lasted more than a few weeks in any romantic relationship. She talked a good talk, wanting
me
to take the marriage plunge, but when it came to herself she was just as anti-marriage as I was.