Compromising Positions (An Erotic Romance Novel) (3 page)

“Yeah, I’m here. So what’s the big emergency?” Tracy wore her usual corporate black suit, and her golden hair was swept back in a French knot. Her makeup was flawless, her entire personage polished.

Fate wished she could be as collected as Tracy, especially today. “I have a big problem, and I don’t mean pimple on date night big, I mean big, big.”

The waiter stepped in before Tracy could respond and took her order. Once he was beyond earshot, Tracy rested her elbows on the table and leaned closer. “What is it?”

“Love Lines was bought out.”

“Wow! When? You didn’t know?”

“Nope. I stepped into chaos this morning and feel like I’m on a wild carnival ride—the Tilt-A-Whirl. I had no idea. No one did, that is, except for the brass, but obviously they didn’t tell anyone.”

Tracy fell back against her chair. “Wow. I know I keep saying that, but I’m at a loss. Sorry, Fate. Did you get fired?”

“Not yet. But—here’s the worst part—they teamed me up with Gabe Ryan to design the new company’s image and marketing strategy. We’re sharing an office. It’s been four hours, and I swear I’m going to hurt him by the end of the day if he doesn’t shut his mouth!”

“The one you’ve been waging war against? Ryan from The Date Doctor?”

“The one and only. Oh, and have I ever told you we dated briefly in college? I broke it off because he was such an immature ass, and I swear he hasn’t matured a day since then.”

“Immature ass?”

“The man thought fine food came in paper wrappers, treated a beer keg with more reverence than me, and couldn’t hold back an ejaculation for more than a minute.”

Tracy’s eyes glimmered as the waiter stepped in to serve their drinks and salads. Her lip quivered.

Fate could swear her friend was about to laugh. “Is something funny?”

Piercing a cherry tomato with her fork, Tracy avoided her gaze. “Funny? No. Absolutely not.” She held a cupped hand over her mouth, but Fate couldn’t miss the mirth in her eyes.

“Then why are you laughing?”

As Fate’s last word slipped from her mouth, Tracy burst into an uncharacteristic belly laugh. “Oh, Fate, I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the whole scenario.”

Suddenly lacking an appetite, Fate glanced down at her tossed salad. The food held the appeal of bricks. “What’s so funny about that? Tracy had always possessed a slightly warped sense of humor, but never had she laughed at something so serious. “I didn’t laugh when your ex-boyfriend showed up on your doorstep in nothing but a leather g-string and brandishing a whip.”

“That wasn’t funny, it was downright scary, considering the boy had gained two hundred pounds. Sorry, Fate. Love ya like a sis, but I have to tell you, this is funny. Really funny.”

“No it’s not. It’s just your warped sense of humor.”

“Look, you’ve spent the last three years battling Ryan—correction, more like six years—he’s been like a fly buzzing in your ear, a mischievous sprite tossing roadblocks in your way at every turn. And now he’s working with you.”

“Yeah, and he’s still throwing roadblocks at me, but now he doesn’t have to throw as hard.”

“Oh, come on, Fate. He’s been the sole reason you’ve worked so hard the past three years. Admit it, you’re a competition junkie.”

“Am not!”

“Look at you, you can’t even deny it with credibility. Give it up; I think you still like the guy.”

Whoa, was she on the wrong planet! Like him? Gabe Ryan? Obnoxious, immature, annoying… The vision of his mirth-filled face flashed through her mind. His eyes, which should be cold considering their steel color, were always filled with life. And his mouth was always pursed into a playful smirk, sending little creases from the corners of his eyes. And his body…shit, that body. Wide in the shoulders, narrow in the hips. Thick arms and legs, every muscle sculpted to perfection, thanks to countless hours spent in the gym or who knew what perversions.

Nope. Nothing to like there.

Even though his physical qualities wouldn’t turn off any red-blooded woman, his personality would. He went out of his way to annoy people, treated women like objects, and was manipulative and sarcastic. Sure, she couldn’t deny he was as full of life as his eyes, playful and easygoing, intelligent. Creative. But the bad outweighed the good by one hundred-fold. “How could I like him? He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side since I met him?”

Tracy stared at her, her smile still broad as the waiter set their sandwiches before them. After he left, she challenged, “Why don’t you tell me? It’s all over your face, Fate. You can’t lie.”

“No way, you’ve got the wrong message. That’s nausea all over my face. How can you even consider it?” She shoved her plate away. Maybe she’d eat later, or yield to the temptation to dump it on Gabe.

“Isn’t there some kind of saying about love and hate being nearly the same?”

“Who knows.” Fate took a drink of her diet soda, forcing the liquid past the boulder-sized lump in her throat. She didn’t like the way the conversation had turned. She needed a strategy, not girl-talk. She wasn’t in high school, and there was more at stake than a prom date. “Tracy, I need your help! Would you quit with the mushy stuff?”

“What’s wrong? Did I hit it in the nose? Yes, I did, I’m gooood.” Tracy’s grin suggested she wasn’t about to give up.

“No. But you have to remember what’s going on here—”

“You’re too wrapped up in your work, that’s what’s going on,” Tracy interrupted, then popped a french fry into her mouth.

God, Fate hated when people interrupted her! Gabe Ryan did that too. It was annoying. “Would you let me finish? I love you to death, but you’re a terrible listener.”

Tracy chuckled and took a dainty bite of her sandwich. With a nod, she encouraged Fate to continue. “I’m all ears.”

“I have two weeks to get the financing for my mom’s house. If I don’t, her bank will put it on the auction block. I can’t change jobs. Not now!” From Tracy’s surprised expression, Fate guessed she’d forgotten about the house. Tracy was a wonderful friend, caring and true-blue, but sometimes she was a little flighty.

After taking a sip of her diet soda, Tracy said, “Of course you can change jobs. First, didn’t you get pre-approved?”

“Yup, but a pre-approval isn’t written in stone, you still have to go through the formal approval process.”

“But if you take a job in the same field it won’t matter. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” Tracy took another bite of her sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of soda.

“I don’t think that’s true for all banks.” Fate watched her, wishing she could eat, but even the thought of food sent her stomach into convulsions. “I don’t know. I’m not willing to take the chance. If I fail, Mom’ll be out of a house. I can’t believe this is happening.” Her mood was sinking fast, like the Titanic into a frigid ocean.

Tracy tipped her head and regarded her with sister-like concern. “Oh, Fate. I’m sure everything will work out fine. They haven’t fired you yet, right? So there’s still the chance they won’t.” She munched on another fry, studying Fate with soft eyes and a gentle expression. Then, her mien changed, growing more determined. “What’s your boss have to say about all this? Thomas, right?”

“He’s gone. They fired him. I didn’t get the chance to talk to him before he left.”

The assuredness on Tracy’s face washed away. “Oh.”

Fate’s hope sunk to the darkest pit—down deeper than any ocean, where there was no light and the water pressure was high enough to crush steel. As the waiter dashed by, she flagged him down and asked for a to-go box. After he nodded and stepped away, she looked at Tracy. “I need some ideas. We have to come up with a new name, marketing concept, the whole nine yards. I’ve been wracking my brain all morning but haven’t come up with a thing.”

“Sorry, Fate. I’m an accountant not a marketing director. I couldn’t come up with an original idea if my life depended on it.”

“You’re no help.” The waiter set the white foam box next to Fate and ran off again before she could thank him. “Sheesh! I’m all for waiters who hustle, but every time I want something I practically have to wrestle him to the ground for him to stay long enough to listen.” She arranged her sandwich and salad in the box and closed the lid. Then she looked at Tracy.

Tracy dropped her gaze and, biting her lip, toyed with her napkin.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Tracy continued to avoid her gaze. “Although being told I’m no help isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear today.”

God, am I a coldhearted bitch. “Sorry, Tracy. You came at my beck and call, and I insulted you. I swear, I’m hopeless.”

“No, you’re not. You’re my friend, and I wish I could help you. But I have no idea what to suggest. Are you sure they’re going to fire one of you?”

She glanced down at her watch before answering. Ten minutes. “Almost positive. The new VP made it clear they don’t need two heads of marketing, and since he’s the former VP of the Date Doctor’s sales and marketing departments, Ryan has the home-court advantage.”

“What’s good ole Gabe doing? Has he been real secretive?”

“No, actually, he suggested we work on the project together, but his idea is ridiculous. It’ll never work.”

Tracy’s glum expression lightened. “Then do what he would: Badger him into quitting, trick him into leaving. That might work.”

Fate grabbed her purse and fished out a ten, dropping it on the table for her share of the tab. “I’m not following you.”

“Tell him two heads are better than one…. Don’t you love saying that? Act like you’re working with him then trick him into failure. If nothing else, that might buy you some time until your mortgage is approved and you’ve closed on the house. Then, you could look for another job. Quit before they fire you.”

“But that could take weeks. I don’t know if I can work the rest of the day with him. He’s such a pain in the ass.”

Tracy shot her an encouraging smile. “Be a pain in the ass right back.”

Fate looked at her friend, her resolve building. Tracy was right. She had to go along with Gabe’s plan for a while. It might help her find a way to gain the advantage.

If only Gabe wasn’t so damn maddening!

*****

Gabe swept the last crumbs of his peanut butter sandwich from his desk and, forcing his attention back to his laptop, resumed reading from the animated gif-laden web page. Pictures and icons virtually bludgeoned him from all angles. This was supposed to attract him to the site?

Glancing down at his Scooby-Doo watch, a gift from his eight-year old niece, his heart leaped. Almost one-thirty. Fate would be coming back any moment now. He couldn’t wait to see her. Silly, ridiculous, but nevertheless, a fact.

He’d spent the last hour cramming his sandwich down his throat and wishing the hour away. It was so unlike him to go nuts over a woman. He’d quit trying to figure it out long ago. All he knew was that he couldn’t get close enough to her. She was truly magnetic, fascinating, an enigma waiting to be resolved…and he was the Indiana Jones to do it.

Forcing himself to concentrate, he scanned the competition’s web page for ideas. Metro Detroit had more than its share of dating services. He needed a fresh name and approach, something clever, catchy. On the web he’d found services for vegetarians, redheads, astrological, people who were looking for menages—a personal favorite—also interracial couples, inmates, various nationalities, and homosexuals.

The agencies employed wide-ranging methods: everything from biorhythm matching to videos or photos and voice recordings. How would they find a unique approach? What would be their niche?

“What’s so interesting?”

Fate’s voice wrenched his focus from his computer screen, and when he saw her, he silently rejoiced, his pulse trotting, his heart thumping in his ears and his face warming. She was dazzling, wearing a wide smile. Evidently she was one of those people who suffered from low blood sugar. “Hi ya, Doherty. Doing some research on the web. Hoping to get some inspiration. Did you know there is a dating service that uses biorhythm to make matches? Should we check it out, see how it works?”

She remained at the doorway, lingering like she didn’t know whether she was in the right office. “No, I think I’ll pass. Thanks, anyway. I don’t let anyone attach anything to my body, not even doctors.”

“That’s a damn shame,” he muttered. “I could think of a few things I’d like to attach to that body…”

“What did you say?”

“I said…um, are you gonna come in? After all, this is your office.”

A sexy flush spread up her neck and colored her face. She hurried to her desk and slid into the chair.

When she didn’t speak, he continued, “Maybe later we can do some market research. What’s on the agenda today? Have you thought about my idea?”

She rested her elbows on her desk and dropped her chin into her hands, her expression wistful—almost childlike—and utterly charming. “I did a little thinking over lunch.”

“And?”

Biting her lip, she said, “I think we should work together on this project. You were right.”

It took every ounce of self-control to keep from howling with glee, but he managed. And then…he wondered why she’d given in so easily. She was up to something, but he could play along for a while. Forcing a casual tone to his voice, he said, “Okay. Should we start with the target market? Or would you rather think quietly and then discuss our ideas later?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Glad to see you’re not still sore about this buyout thing.”

Her eyes narrowed. Her mouth pulled taut. “It’s been a crazy day. I have always loved my job. Had aspirations of moving up in the company. This has been a little hard to swallow, especially knowing I could end up the recipient of a pink slip.”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of a shock to me too, but I’m not disappointed by the way things have turned out so far.”

She laughed. “No?”

“Not at all.”

They stared at each other, and he felt like he was a high school kid all over again, caught off-guard in the hallway by the head cheerleader he’d secretly pined over for months. He wondered if she could read his mind with those inquisitive green eyes.