Time to Control (2 page)

*
* *

Mr. Valenti-Kirby (it was getting
annoying calling him that – how pretentious!) smiled at me as I entered
Nash Equity's offices the next morning.
 
I got a good night's sleep after scouring the Internet for articles on
Mr. Bachelor.
 
Single, obviously,
and to say that he was the most attractive man in IT wasn't doing him
justice.
 
The lawyers, doctors, and
firefighters making up the rest of the top 10 paled in comparison.
 
And well off was an understatement.
 
He had done well in the dot-com boom,
leading a small startup to a multi-million dollar buyout.
   
The fact that he was still
single was astonishing.
 
While he
had been a bit gruff at times to me, there was a definite attraction.
 
The gruffness almost made the glimmers
of his (hopefully true) personality shine that much more.
 
If yesterday was him on a bad day, I'd
swoon to be near him on a good day.
 
Women had to be throwing themselves at him.

“Good morning, Mr.
Valenti-Kirby.”
 

“Please, call me Eddie.
 
After all, I'm calling you Schroeder.”

“Okay, Eddie.”
 
I said, emphasizing the nickname, and
was glad for the reduced formality.

"You want some coffee?"

No, what I want is a Coke, but
that's not socially acceptable. Damn Juan Valdez and his morning caffeine
monopoly. "Yes, please."

"Let's go," he said
brusquely, and led the way out of the office.
 
Great, gruff Eddie again.
 
Maybe this was him normally?
 
I expected to be shown where the break
room was, but instead we got on the elevator.

In line at Starbucks, I debated
whether to go back and get my purse, not get anything to drink, or mooch off of
Eddie.
 
I was still debating when
the barista asked about my drink choice.

"Nothing, I forgot my
purse."

An amused look crossed Eddie's
face.
 
"No problem.
 
My treat."

I glanced at the menu, and ordered
the same drink as yesterday.
 
This
way I could blame my pounding heart on the caffeine and not Eddie's proximity.

"So are you enjoying New
York?
 
Have you been here
before?"

"I did the touristy thing with
the folks when I was a kid.
 
Never
been here as an adult, though."
 
I mentally kicked myself for saying 'kid', instead of a more formal and
professional 'child'.
 
Even though I
could call him “Eddie” doesn't mean that I needed to lose my professional small
talk cred.
 
Although I may have lost
that the first time Eddie flashed his wide grin at me.

"Are you seeing everything
you'd like?" He repeated.

"I was hoping to catch a show,
actually.
 
I was going to do the
whole TKTS experience either later today or tomorrow, see what sort of shows I
can get into."

"Broadway fan?"

"Huge," I confessed,
letting my inner Gleek out.
 
"The other guys in IT listen to their rock or alternative music on
their headphones, and I'm listening to show tunes."

Eddie crinkled his eyes at me.
 
Swoon.
 
"Miriam's caught me listening to
them as well."
 
Double swoon.

"Look, it's Edward
Valenti-Kirby!" Eddie stiffened as he was recognized.

"Your adoring fans?" I
teased without thinking, a hand flying up to cover my mouth as soon as the
faux-paus crossed my lips.
 
"I'm sorry, that was terribly inappropriate."

"Inappropriate was that
article," he responded grimly, getting up to sign the napkins the teenage
girls thrust in his hands.

Ah, what the Hell
, I told
myself while waiting for Eddie to finish.
 
"If you don't mind me asking, what's the problem?
 
You're young, successful, and handsome,
to state the obvious."
 
I bit
my lip, hoping I wasn't going too far.

"It makes me feel like a bull
put out for stud.
 
Or a horse up for
sale."

"So take yourself off the
market.”

"You offering?"

I choked on the coffee, the hot
liquid scalding the roof of my mouth.
 
"So, how about that source code?"

He looked abashed.
 
"I'm sorry, now that was
inappropriate.
 
An attractive young
woman like you would have to be married.
 
I do have to know, though -- is his name Lucy?"
 
His eyes sparkled as he couldn't help
teasing.

“Yes, I married Lucifer.”
 
I paused for the normal look of
horror.
 
Do people really think I
don't hear this often?
 
I learned
good retorts by the time I graduated kindergarten.
 
"No, I'm not married." I waved
my ring-less hand in the air.
 
"The hours I put in at the office, or working from home, plus a non-standard
woman's job tends to send the guys running."

"I hear ya."
 

We finished our coffee in companionable
silence, and headed back.

Eddie gestured for me to go on into
his office, and stopped to talk to Miriam. I strained to hear, but had no
luck.
 
Was he talking about me?
 
Asking her to get us coffee next
time?
 
Asking her to move up my
flight?
 
Telling her to hold his
calls, that he was going to ravish me behind the closed doors?
 
I sighed.
 
My mind was much better suited to
innovative leaps in code logic, not deducing the thoughts of a man.

Eddie and I wrapped up going over
the IT due diligence documentation in early afternoon, plenty of time for me to
go back to the hotel and freshen up before standing in line at the TKTS booth
for discount show tickets.
 

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr.
Eligible Bachelor.”
 
I had to get
one last tease in before I left.
 
“Sir.” I tacked on for good measure.

He grinned back at me, his eyes
showing their crinkles yet again. Good thing I was leaving; otherwise I'd be
swooning for real.
 
“Thank you for
coming.
 
I'm sure I'll see you again
soon.”

I lifted an eyebrow, but said
nothing.
 
I was too busy imagining
him naked.

Back at the hotel, I dropped off my
laptop and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and noticed the message light
blinking on the phone.
 
That was
odd.
 
Everyone should have been
calling my cell.
 
I called down for
the message, and went downstairs to pick up the delivery waiting for me.

“What'd I get?” I bounced on my
heels, peering over the high counter to see what the package was.
 
I was almost disappointed when the clerk
returned with a plain white envelope.
 
I tore into it to find a ticket to
West Side Story
for that
evening, orchestra row F, seat 107.
 

“Holy good seats, Batman!”
 
I squealed.
 
I turned the envelope over, but there
were no markings.
 
“Who delivered
this?”

The clerk shook his head.
 
“Just a delivery service, no name.”

Well, it could be Mom and Dad.
 
They knew I was here, and had been known
to do similar things in the past.
 
When I went on a company cruise, they had made sure I had a cheese plate
and bottle of wine waiting in the room.
 
Of course, it could have been IDI, as well – they also had left a
bottle of wine in the room on the same cruise (I was very drunk that
trip).
 
Yes, I decided, it must be
from the company, for thanks for going the extra mile and helping with the
acquisition.
 
There's a first for
everything.

Since I didn't have to buy my own
ticket (and seeing the price stamped on the piece of cardboard, that was quite
some savings), I had just enough time to go out and get a new dress for the
night.
 
Maybe even one that I wouldn't
normally own, or wear.
 
Most of my
clothes were suitable for the office or lounging about at home, and even the
office attire was more business casual than dressy.
 
I flirted with the idea of even
expensing the dress as I slid them around on racks at Macy's, but ended up
paying for it myself.

I was quite pleased with the end
result.
 
Everyone had always told me
that red was a great color for my skin tone and hair, but my personality was
one to hide in the IT cave, and not bring attention to myself.
 
This dress was the opposite.
 
The fit flattered my larger-than-average
curves, and I liked to think that the high heels (a departure from my usual
sandals) emphasized my long legs.
 
The bodice of the dress was clingy in all the right places, and scooped
down enough to make me feel self conscious, but not too low to feel
slutty.
 
The hemline for the full
skirt hit right below the knees, and flowed nicely around me when I
twirled.
 
Not that I'd be twirling
at the theater, but it was still a fun dress.
 
And red.
 
Sexy 'I'm a woman' red.

I passed Sephora on the way back
from Macy's, and gave into temptation.
 
The sales girls there helped me get lipstick to complement the dress,
and a light powder to even my complexion.
 
That was more makeup than I normally wore, but I could handle it this
night.
 
I was going to the theater,
and had a great seat.
 
Might as well
look the part.

As usual, I was early for the
show.
 
I didn't mind.
 
After spending several minutes looking
around the Gershwin theater, I made my way to my seat to read the
Playbill.
 
I glanced around the
theater a few times after the lights dimmed the first time, watching it fill up
with hundreds of theatergoers, loving my seat.
 
The view was going to be spectacular.

“Pardon me, I believe I'm in the
seat next to you.”
 
I automatically
moved my legs to the side to let the gentleman pass, then recognition of the
voice dawned.

“You!”
 
I spluttered.

“Me,” Eddie replied, a smile
stretching across his face.

“You--”

“Quiet, the show's about to begin,”
he cut me off as the lights turned down.

* * *

I got up and stretched at
intermission, and waited for the other people on our row to leave. “Excuse me
for a moment, I need to slip out to the ladies' room.”

“Can I get you something to
drink?
 
Glass of wine?”

I hesitated, then agreed.
 
“White, please.”

When I returned, Eddie handed me
the glass, and leaned back against the row in front.
 
“Having fun?”

“You know, most guys that want to
go on a date, actually ask.”
 
I
couldn't believe I said that, but things were weird.
 
He bought me a ticket to a show.
 
He was responsible for evaluating my
company's technical future.
 
He was
one of the most eligible bachelor's in New York.
 
The most eligible, in my opinion.
 
Edward Valenti-Kirby could not, could
not
be interested in me.

“I didn't know if you'd say yes.”

“So you forced my hand?”
 
I sipped at my drink, wanting to chug
it, surprised I was keeping my cool.

“If you said no, you'd miss out on
seeing _West Side Story_.
 
It closes
in a few months, and you'd regret not going.
 
I was looking out for you.”

“Next time ask,” I said, and sat
down, instantly regretting it as his eyes went right down my dress.

“I have two tickets to _Romeo and
Juliet_ tomorrow night.
 
They are
not as good of seats,” he admitted, “but not bad.
 
Would you like to go to the theater with
me?”

“See, that wasn't so hard, was
it?”
 
I beamed at him as the lights
dimmed and he took his seat again.
 
“And yes, I'd love to.”

Eddie shifted in his seat, and his
leg ended up pressed up against mine.
 
I must say, it was quite preferable to the guy in the next seat from the
plane ride up here.
 
Why is it that
guys must always sprawl their legs out so far?
 
They can't be that well hung, can they?
 
My thoughts drifted to how endowed Eddie
was, and I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
 
I closed my eyes and tried to calm my
racing heart.

“If you close your eyes, you can't
see Maria in her dress.
 
Yours is
much prettier.”
 
Eddie leaned over
and whispered in my ear.

“If you're watching me instead of
the show, you're not seeing it either,” I responded.

He shushed me, and took my hand and
rested it on his knee.
 
Now my eyes
wanted to close in a swoon.
 
I could
hold his hand forever.
 
I settled
for the rest of the show.