Mr. Right Now - Kate Hoffmann 5 стр.

Nina mopped up the coffee on her side of the table, then glanced up at him, gracing him with one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. “Maybe we should. Maybe it’s like that movie. I’m doomed to repeat the same clumsy mistakes over and over, every time we meet.”

“Well, I made sure to dress in brown,” he said, indicating his brown wool trousers and sweater. “So fire away. I’m ready.”

When the table was finally cleaned up, they both sat down. The blush still stained Nina’s cheeks and Cameron still wasn’t sure what to say. He’d have been completely satisfied just to sit across from her and look at her pretty face, but he guessed that she expected a little more. “Is this work?” he asked, pointing to the coffee-stained papers.

Nina nodded. “It was. I’ve got a special project I’ve been assigned. I’ve been working on it all day.”

“And where do you work?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He felt guilty even bringing up the subject of her job, considering his position, but it was a safe subject for two people who barely knew each other.

“I’m the head of research for Attitudes,” she said. “It’s a weekly magazine. Our offices are right across the street.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the embellished job title. Still, he was secretly pleased that she was trying to impress him. “Attitudes?”

“Have you ever heard of it?” She forced a smile. “I suppose not. I mean, you’re not really our type—our reader—I mean, our demographic.”

“And why is that?” Cameron asked.

“Well, you’re a little too…”

He waited as she groped for a polite way to say conservative. “Tall?” he asked. Her blush deepened and she shook her head. “Too stubborn? That’s always been a problem.” She shook her head again. “Or maybe I’m too clumsy?”

Nina laughed. “The word we’d use around the office might be ‘conservative.’ Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s just not our demographic.”

“Gee, I thought you were about to say I was too handsome or too charming.”

“Maybe I should have,” she murmured, sending him a coy look over the rim of her coffee mug. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m in…computers,” Cameron said.

“I could have guessed that,” Nina commented. “I mean, from the way you were dressed when we first met. You looked like a businessman.”

A long silence grew between them and Cameron fought the sudden urge to lean across the table and kiss her, simply to see if her lips tasted as good as they looked. Instead, he grabbed the next handiest subject. “Tell me about this project you’re working on.” Cameron pointed to the papers. “You said it was important?” He picked up his mug and took a sip of his coffee.

“There’s not much to it,” Nina replied. “I’m supposed to find out everything I can about some guy named Cameron Ryder.”

A sudden cough burst from his throat and he sucked in a deep breath, the coffee going down the wrong way. Nina’s brow furrowed in concern and she reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “It’s just a little hot,” he said, his eyes watering. “So, what have you found out about this guy?”

“I spent all day on the Net, downloading what I could about his company, NightRyder. But the guy who runs it keeps a pretty low profile. If I had to guess I’d say he’s some hard-hearted, ruthless businessman who buys up companies for sport, putting good people out of work, and he keeps a low profile so none of the employees he puts out of work can run over him with a bus.”

“He sounds like a real bastard,” Cameron said.

“This NightRyder, it’s a news and information site. Very trendy, very popular with our magazine’s demographic. He wants to buy Attitudes and turn himself into some media mogul. My boss doesn’t want to sell.”

“And what else have you learned?”

“Not much. I can’t even find a photo of the guy, except for this.” She slid a paper over towards him. “It’s his high school graduation picture. He looks like kind of a geek. But I guess even geeks can turn into bastards given enough power and money.”

Cameron winced inwardly. Damn, he hated when that picture surfaced in the media. He’d done his best to stay out of the glare of the paparazzi, avoiding photographers like the plague. But for lack of a more current photo, they always trotted out the senior picture—the pimply-faced, pencil-necked doofus with the thick glasses. And he was once again faced with a reminder of the first eighteen years of his life.

But there was one advantage to the photo. There was no way Nina Forrester would recognize him. Hell, he barely recognized himself. “He doesn’t look very ruthless to me. He looks like the kind of kid who eats paste and spends most of his day stuffed in a locker. See there,” he said, pointing to the picture. “He’s got louver marks on his forehead.”

She snatched the picture away from him and put it back in her folder. “If he buys the magazine, I’ll probably be out of a job.” Nina shook her head. “But I really don’t want to think about that now.” The gloomy look dissolved from her face and she smiled again. “Why don’t we talk about something else? You know, I don’t even know your name.”

Cameron opened his mouth, about to introduce himself, then thought better of it. She already believed him to be a ruthless bastard. If he told her who he really was she might just heave the rest of her coffee in his face. “And I don’t know your name,” he said, surprised with his smooth reply.

“It’s Nina. Nina Forrester.”

She held out her hand and he took it, grasping her delicate fingers with his. A current of electricity shot through his arm, warming his blood. How could a simple touch affect him so strongly? He wanted to lace his fingers with hers and bring them to his lips. He noticed that she was wearing green nail polish to match the deep green of her satin jacket. He liked it, even though it was an odd color. Odd looked good on her. When he felt her gently tug her fingers away, he let go.

“What about you?” she asked after a long silence.

“Me? I don’t usually wear nail polish.”

Nina giggled and gave him an odd look. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, it’s…Wright,” he said, taking the first name that came to mind while still completely captivated by her eyes. After all, that’s who she was looking for, wasn’t it?

“Right?” she asked. “Like Mr. Right? R-I-G-H-T?”

He shook his head. “W-R- Like Wilbur and Orville. I think we might even be related.”

Her brow arched. “And do you have a first name? Or would you prefer I call you Mister?”

“Jack. Jack Wright.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jack Wright.”

Suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about her work. He wanted to find out much more about this enchanting woman sitting in front of him. He wanted to listen to her voice and watch the lively play of emotion on her face as she spoke. He wanted to lose himself in her brilliant blue eyes and warm himself beneath her smile. “Would you like to get out of here? Maybe take a walk or get something to eat?”

She smiled and he was certain she was about to accept his invitation, but then she shook her head. “I can’t. I have a lot of work to do. My boss expects a report first thing tomorrow morning on this Cameron Ryder and I haven’t found anything to give her. I’m going to have to go back to the office.”

Cameron was tempted to give her everything she wanted just to spend a little more time with her. He’d tell her about his childhood, his stumbles toward puberty, the awful teenage years and the grind through college. He’d give her his banker’s number, his attorney’s number. Anything she wanted to know, he’d tell her. But Cameron knew that wasn’t possible. For now, he was better off hiding behind the guise of Mr. Wright. “If you can’t have dinner tonight, how about lunch tomorrow?”

She stood and gathered up her papers. “All right. Lunch would be fine.”

Cameron slipped out of his chair and helped her into her coat, allowing his hands to rest on her shoulders for a few minutes. He leaned closer and drew a deep breath. Her hair smelled like fresh air and flowers. Then she stepped away, walking toward the door. Cam tossed a few bills on the table for a tip, then followed her.

When they reached the sidewalk, an uneasy silence settled between them. This was the time he was supposed to say something incredibly clever or smooth, so she’d invite him back to her apartment. But Cam couldn’t come up with anything except, “Can I give you a ride? We can share a cab.”

Nina giggled. “I’m just going across the street.”

Cameron groaned inwardly. The doofus gene had asserted itself again, just when he thought he’d managed to knock it out of his DNA. “Right,” he said. He rubbed his hands together. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch?”

“Lunch,” she repeated. “Where?”

“I’ll pick you up at your office.”

She nodded, then took a step toward the curb. As she did, Nina turned back to look at him and all Cam knew at that moment was he didn’t want to let her go, not yet. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. And then, without even considering the consequences, he brought his mouth down on hers in a soft, but hungry kiss.

Never in his life had he acted so impulsively. But with Nina, it didn’t pay to think. The moments flew past so quickly, that he couldn’t help but reach out and catch one and hold onto it for a time. He’d meant only to indulge in a brief kiss, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he gently pushed her back until she stood against the brick facade of the coffee shop. Slowly, Cameron explored her mouth, tasting and testing. When he finally found the strength to pull away, he brought his hand up to her cheek and skimmed her silken skin.

She swallowed hard, her eyes wide and dewy. “If—if I tell you something, will you promise not to take it the wrong way?”

Cameron nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I was hoping you’d stop by the coffee shop tonight,” she murmured. “That’s why I came.” A pretty blush stained her cheeks and her gaze dropped to his chest.

“And I was hoping you’d be here.” He reached down and caught a finger under her chin. Then, without a second thought, he leaned forward and brushed another kiss across her lips. “I’ll call you,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth for a long moment.

“You don’t have my phone number.”

“But I know where you work,” he countered. “We can decide where we want to go for lunch.”

Nina nodded. “That would be nice.” Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace. She sent him one last smile, then turned and hurried across the street. Cameron watched until she disappeared through the front door of Attitudes, then he let out a tightly held breath.

With a soft curse, he raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I sure hope you figure out what the hell you’re doing, Ryder. Because once she finds out who you really are, she’s not going to want to kiss you anymore. Hell, you’ll be lucky if she lets you live.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’ve been waiting for you all morning!” Nina called.

Lizbeth hurried through the hallway to the fashion offices, Nina falling into step beside her. “I had a photo shoot,” Lizbeth explained. “I’m just back for a few minutes. Hervé insists that we use that silly fedora. He thinks it’s sexy—I just think it looks stupid.”

“But I have to talk to you. Can’t you stay for a few minutes?”

When they reached Lizbeth’s office, Nina followed her inside and slammed the door behind her. Unlike her own office, which was neatly filled with books and binders full of useful information, Lizbeth’s office looked like a bomb had exploded in a designer showroom. Clothes and accessories were scattered everywhere, hanging from shelves, tossed over chairs, folded on the floor. Nina wasn’t sure how Lizbeth kept anything straight since all the clothes seemed to be black.

“I’ve got three minutes,” Lizbeth said. “Talk fast.”

“All right, here’s the condensed version. I saw him again last night. We kissed, three or four times, I can’t even remember. And it was so incredible. And he’s coming here to take me out to lunch.”

Lizbeth looked up. “What?”

“The coffee guy,” Nina explained, “from Jitterbug’s. His name is Wright. Can you believe that? Is that too perfect? Jack Wright. W-R, not with just an R. He was in there last night and we—”

Lizbeth held out her hand to stop Nina’s words, then slowly circled her desk and sat down. “Honey, Hervé can do without that hat. Tell me all the details.”

“But I thought you—”

“I have all the time in the world for your love life,” Lizbeth cried.

Nina sighed, then sat down across the desk from her and began to recount the events of the night before. She made a special point of telling Lizbeth how she refused his invitation to dinner. “That was good, right? I mean, I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic, or too easy.”

“You did very well.”

She smiled proudly. “I did. And oh, he just makes me feel so good. I get all warm inside and my knees go a little soft and my brain doesn’t seem to work right, and—and I can barely breathe. Do you know that feeling?”

Lizbeth raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I invented that feeling. Now, when is he coming to take you to lunch?”

“In about fifteen minutes,” Nina said.

She gave Nina the once-over. “That gives us just enough time.”

“For what?”

“To fix you up.”

Nina glanced down at the outfit she’d so carefully chosen that morning. The little sweater dress was from the sixties, pale melon pink with bugle bead starbursts on the cuffs, collar and hem. She considered it a conservative choice paired with knee-high black boots. Nina had taken special care with her hair, wearing it loose and unbound in soft waves, pushed away from her face by a black headband. “What’s wrong?”

“He was wearing a handmade French shirt and a designer suit, Hugo Boss if I’m not mistaken. The guy knows fashion.” Lizbeth jumped to her feet and began snatching clothes from around the room—a long, pencil-thin skirt, a body-hugging sweater, both in black. “The boots are good, the rest has to go.”