Entice Me Box Set: The Truth About Shoes and Men\Cover Me\My Favorite Mistake (6 page)

“I didn’t.”

“You
stole
the guy’s shirt?”

I mourned my pink Lejaby panties. “More like traded for it. Anyway…I don’t know, Jacki, it was really weird to sleep with this guy and just get up and leave, knowing I’ll never see him again.”

“Maybe you will run into him again.”

“He said he’s from out of town.”

“He probably lied. For all you know, he could work in the mailroom of your building.”

“Running into him would be even worse. How awkward would that be?”

“Pretty awkward if he has you arrested for stealing his shirt. Wait a minute—do you have
feelings
for this guy?”

I blinked. “
No
—unless itchy feelings count. I have hives.”

“That sounds attractive.”

“Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be having any more one-night stands.” I fiddled with one of the buttons on Sam’s shirt. “I guess I want what you have with Ted.”

“And you’ll find it,” Jacki said. “Last night was just an exercise to jumpstart your social life.”

“I hope you’re right,” I mumbled.

“And look on the bright side—you have the guy’s silicone portrait to remember him by.”

I was minutely cheered. “I have to admit it’s one beautiful dildo.”

A shadow darkened my door and I looked up to see Helena standing there, holding a stack of file folders. Wondering how much she’d heard, I fixed my face into a serious expression and adopted a professional tone to pretend I was on a business call. “I’ll have to look into that and get back to you later.” I hung up, made a bogus note on scratch paper, then turned a sunny smile toward my boss. “Good morning.”

“You’re late.”

“I…was caught in traffic. Sorry.”

Helena squinted. “Is that a banker’s clip in your hair?”

I stood and pointed to the files. “Something I can take off your hands?”

Helena gave me a suspicious look, then nodded and handed me the files. “Could you please take a look at these circulation reports and have a summary for me by this afternoon?”

I blinked because I didn’t realize the word
please
was in Helena’s vocabulary. “Sure, I’ll have a report for you ASAP.”

Helena started to go, then turned back. “Kenzie, did you enjoy your time off yesterday?”

I smiled at her cordial tone. “Yes, I did.”

“Is there anything you’d like to…share?”

My throat constricted. Was it that obvious that I’d recently crawled out of a strange bed and sponged the sex
off my body before donning stolen clothes and sliding into the office late? “I…no.”

She gave me another wary once-over, then turned and strode away. I was shaking when I rummaged in my desk drawer for an antihistamine tablet. Helena could be a demanding boss, but I admired her and wanted her respect. I didn’t have to consult a shrink to know that I had some kind of maternal projection complex where the woman was concerned. On the other hand, having a moral compass in one’s life wasn’t such a terrible thing.

I was a bad, bad girl.

But I’d had a good, good time.

In fact, I could still feel Sam’s hands on my body, the rough texture of the calluses on his broad fingers—one of the reasons I’d doubted his story about being a doctor, although I couldn’t argue on the subject of his dexterity. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relive his kisses and his attention to detail—James had never made love to me like that.

Of course, James and I had never had a one-night stand. Maybe men simply performed better during one-night stands without the pressure of a repeat performance hanging over their heads. In fact, there was probably a woman out there who’d had a one-night stand with James and sat in her office with her eyes closed, fantasizing about his freakishly small hands.

Or maybe not.

The break room was on the other end of the department, but I dragged myself over there to fill a huge insulated mug with strong, hot coffee. The milk container in the mini-fridge was empty, so I braved the brew straight. My spirits lifted, though, when I spotted a lone powdered sugar doughnut on a plate. My stomach howled and I wondered if Sam had ordered room service.

“What are you smiling about?”

I turned to see April Bromley coming into the room, smothering a yawn. My hackles raised. April was the executive assistant to the creative director, Ron Castle, and she was always trying to usurp what scrap of authority I had. She was a dark, exotic goddess and was not above using her considerable curves to further her ambitions. We didn’t like each other, and we didn’t hide it.

“I’m smiling because I love my job,” I said sweetly.

“So do I,” she returned just as sweetly. “But I could never do your job, Kenzie—I don’t like dogs.”

A flush climbed my face as a triumphant smile crawled over hers. Apparently word of my stint as a dog-sitter had reached the water cooler.

April grabbed the doughnut I’d had my eye on, took a bite, and shrugged prettily. “I need energy for the meeting that Ron asked me to sit in on this morning. If we need any copies made during the meeting, I’m sure Helena will buzz you.”

I looked for something to buzz
her
with, but she’d already flounced out. Ooh! That woman knew how to push my buttons, knew that Helena never invited me to sit in on the creative meetings. And since I had to write that summary report, this morning didn’t seem like a good time to hint for an invitation.

That’s why I was shocked when about thirty minutes later, while I was elbow-deep in circulation reports, Helena called and asked me to sit in on the creative meeting.

“You’re one of my most valued employees, Kenzie. It’s time that you became familiar with what the other departments are doing.”

So Helena was feeling guilty about the dog-sitting gig— good. I could only imagine the look on April’s face when I walked into the meeting, but I tried to keep the elation out
of my voice and still sound conscientious. “What’s on the agenda?”

“Ron is finalizing the cover for an upcoming issue.”

A sore spot with Helena—after several incarnations, she still wasn’t happy with the cover look for
Personality
. From my perspective, finalizing a cover was one of the more interesting steps in producing a weekly news magazine. Still, I manufactured a thoughtful noise. “That sounds great, but I’d like to finish the summary report first.”

“Oh.”

Helena was caught off guard—she thought I’d be frothing at the mouth to join the meeting. I was, but she didn’t have to know that.

“The meeting will last until noon. Join us in the west boardroom when you can.”

“I will.” I hung up the phone feeling pretty pleased with myself and at least a birthday wiser. Helena was definitely treating me differently today. Maybe last night had been a turning point for me—a bon voyage of sorts to my immature fantasy of what the world was like. Goodbye multiple orgasms, hello functional sex. So long French panties, hello sensible underwear. It was time to advance my career, and find a marriageable man.

I suddenly felt very grown-up.

I pulled out my Palm Pilot and called up my to-do list for the following Monday. Using the stylus, I wrote “Start looking for a nice guy” on the screen, then stabbed the tiny enter button as ardently as possible, breaking a nail. Still, I was resolute.

I finished the reports five minutes before the meeting started, but I decided to wait another fifteen minutes before making my entrance. I lifted the lapel of Sam’s shirt and was happy to see that the hives had all but disappeared. After refilling my drum of black coffee, I gathered
a fresh pad of paper and a pen, and walked to the meeting room.

A hum of voices floated through the closed door. I checked my clothing and smoothed a hand over my hair. My heartbeat was clicking away, and I prayed I could make at least one intelligent remark over the course of the meeting. I twisted the doorknob and entered as quietly as possible (I was doing a lot of sneaking in and out of rooms today), taking mental stock of the attendees—Helena, Ron Castle, April and a dozen others from production, photography, editorial and marketing. I claimed the closest empty chair, tucking myself in and turning toward the speaker, Ron.

He paused and gave me an inquisitive look akin to “What are
you
doing here?” A flush scorched my cheeks as all eyes landed on me. April smirked.

“Everyone knows my assistant, Kenzie Mansfield,” Helena spoke up. “I asked Kenzie to sit in because I’d like to begin exposing her to more activities in various departments.”

I circulated a respectful smile, stopping short of April, then Ron picked up where he’d left off.

“As I was saying, I think the hometown hero issue is going to be a big success in terms of attracting new readers— high-earning blue-collar workers who might not normally pick up a copy of
Personality
will be attracted by the all-American appeal of this issue.”

“The advertising department is on board,” offered Nita, the marketing manager. “Banks, insurance companies and car manufacturers are lining up for this issue.”

“The difficult part,” Ron continued, “was finding just the right person for the cover.” Then he smiled. “But I think we’ve found a winner—a volunteer firefighter from Jar Hollow, New York.”

“Where’s that?” Helena asked.

“It’s a speck of a town between Albany and Syracuse, genuine mom-and-pop stuff. This guy rushed into a nursing home fire and saved a dozen patients.”

Nathan from production snapped his fingers. “I heard about him on TV—the governor’s giving him some kind of medal.”

“The governor offered,” Ron corrected, “but the guy wouldn’t accept it. Said he was just doing what any American would do.”

“He sounds perfect,” Helena said. “Tell me he’s marginally photogenic.”

Ron glanced at his watch. “I’ll let you judge for yourself if he ever gets here. April, could you run down and check with the receptionist to see if Mr. Long has arrived? And while you’re at it, could you make an extra copy of the agenda for Kenzie?”

I wanted to cackle, but I schooled my face into a sedate expression. April’s eyes shot daggers in my direction, but she skedaddled like a good little go-fer.

“We’ll have some convincing to do,” Ron said. “This Long guy isn’t keen on all the attention he’s been getting.”

“Nonsense,” Helena snapped. “Everyone likes attention. He’ll do it.”

Since everyone knew Helena got whatever she wanted, the matter seemed closed. Ron and the marketing director then passed around alternative layouts for the upcoming issue.

“I think the configuration with fewer words is cleaner,” Ron said.

“It really makes the cover image pop,” Nita added.

Helena studied the new look, then slid the mock-up in my direction. “Kenzie, what do you think?”

The silence was profound, although no one in the room
was more surprised by her question than I. Still, the fact that it was the first time I’d been asked in a public forum for my opinion did not mean that I hadn’t been saving up. I took a deep breath.

“The more words, the better—it makes the buyer feel as if there’s a lot of content. Mix up the fonts and colors to entertain the customer’s eye, but reduce the font size of the price so it seems insignificant. Using multiple colors for the magazine title would be a nice change of pace—maybe red, white and blue for this issue. Adopting an exclamation mark at the end of the magazine title could be an effective visual cue. And an occasional short-fold cover would be an attention-getter, not to mention adding premium space for advertisers.”

I exhaled into the hush of the room, but as I glanced from one bemused face to another, I fervently wished for a rewind button. “Or not,” I murmured.

The door opened, and as much as I disliked April, I was glad for her timely return.

“I found our cover model,” she gushed. “Everyone, this is Mr. Samuel Long.”

A well-suited man with hair the color of antique brass stepped in the room and flashed an engaging grin. My vital signs stalled. It couldn’t be.

Oh. But. It. Was.

4

“W
ELCOME
, Mr. Long,” Helena said, standing and extending her hand. “I’m Helena Birch, editor-in-chief here at
Personality
.”

“Actually, it’s
Dr
. Long,” Sam said with no trace of conceit. Indeed, he seemed a bit flustered by all the attention. “I apologize for the delay—I’m afraid I had a bit of a wardrobe predicament this morning.”

It was then that his gaze landed on me. I knew my eyes were as big as Ping-Pong balls, so I was thankful that he had the presence of mind not to say, “Hey, look, it’s my one-night stand.” A slight lift of his eyebrow was the only indication that he recognized me. Was that amusement in his eyes? Then his gaze lowered to my shirt—er, make that
his
shirt.

“A wardrobe predicament?” April tossed her hair. “Nonsense—you look terrific.”

I frowned.
Down
,
girl
. Indeed, Sam had compensated rather nicely for his missing dress shirt. Underneath his creamy tan-colored suit, he wore a brown L. L. Bean T-shirt (I knew T-shirts). He pulled his gaze away from
our
shirt and gave April a little smile. “Thank you. If I’ve learned nothing else from being a small-town veterinarian, I’ve learned how to be resourceful.”

“Dr. Long,” Helena said, “allow me to introduce some of my staff.” She made the rounds, with those closest to Sam rising to shake his hand. Including me.

“This is my assistant, Kenzie Mansfield.”

“Ms.
Mansfield
,” he said, clasping my hand in his.

The brush of his wonderfully callused fingers against mine sent a pang of nostalgia to my thighs. “Welcome, Dr. Long.”

His eyes danced and a corner of his mouth jerked. Beneath his shirt, my hives were being resurrected. Afraid that I might start panting aloud, I withdrew my hand.

“I’m happy to be here,” Sam said, then turned back to April. “But there must be some kind of mistake, because when we walked in I thought I heard you say I was a
cover model?
”

Helena stepped up and offered a dazzling smile. “We’ve been discussing our upcoming small-town-hero issue, and you would be perfect for the cover, Dr. Long.”