Mr. Right Now

скачать книгу бесплатно


Lizbeth smiled. “And I’d guess that Charlotte got herself drunk last night and ended up in one of those 24-hour tattoo parlors in the East Village. And now she wants you to tell her that she didn’t make a big fashion faux pas getting that big old butterfly tattooed on her butt.”

Nina’s eyes went wide. “Really?” At least when Nina had decided on a tattoo she’d been sober and possessed of good taste, ending up with a tiny flower on a spot that only showed when she wore a bikini.

“As long as whatever she got is on the top of the list, hon, you’ll make her happy.”

“But how am I supposed to know?”

Lizbeth stood and smoothed her skirt. “Leave it to me. She’s bound to tell someone what she did last night. She always blabs when she’s got a hangover. Five minutes later, it will be all over the office. I’ll feed you the facts and you make up the research.”

“But that wouldn’t be ethical,” Nina protested.

“Honey, you do want the job in editorial, don’t you?”

Nina nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I do. And while you’re finding out about Charlotte’s new tattoo, I’m going to work on my ad. Even if it doesn’t result in a great story, at least I’ll have something better to do on a Saturday night than polishing my shoes and fishing spare change out of the sofa.”

“That’s the spirit!” her friend cried. “Get on that pony and ride! Yee-hah!”

Nina smiled at Lizbeth. “And maybe, if I’m very lucky, I’ll find Mr. Right. And if not him, then Mr. Right Now.”

THE AFTER-WORK CROWD HAD settled in at Jitterbug’s, the coffee shop across the street from Attitudes’ Soho headquarters. It was a favorite spot for the staff who gathered regularly to sip lattes and mochas and discuss whatever outrageous request Charlotte Danforth had thrown their way during the day. But Nina had more important things on her mind than commiserating about her quirky and unpredictable boss. Nagging little projects had occupied nearly every minute of her workday and she hadn’t had a single moment to get back to her ad for the Personal Touch.

Nina found her regular table in the corner and tossed her coat over the back of her chair, then dropped her bag on the smooth marble tabletop. She glanced over at the counter and waved at Martha who nodded, a silent agreement to make Nina’s usual—a double skinny decaf latte with a shot of hazelnut. She sat down and spread her work out in front of her—the Personal Touch ads from the last four weeks, her notepad, personalized with her name and the name of the magazine emblazoned across the bottom, and a pencil with a brand new eraser. She’d also brought a list of attributes she’d quickly compiled for Mr. Right during her lunch hour.

“Cute, considerate, humorous, spontaneous,” she read out loud. “Nice hair, kind eyes, and—”

“A fluffy tail and good teeth. Honey, you sound like you’re advertising for a Pomeranian, not a man. If I were you, I’d stick with the man. He won’t poop on the rug.” Lizbeth flopped down in the chair across from Nina’s and sighed dramatically. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had. They sent me size two samples and size six models. Thank God for duct tape. We cut the back seams open and taped the clothes on.”

Nina forced a sympathetic smile. She really wasn’t in the mood to hear Lizbeth’s tale of woe. She’d hoped to spend some time on her own, sipping coffee and carefully composing her ad. It had to be just right and it would take a lot of thought. “I’m just starting on this,” she murmured.

“So, what do you have so far?” Lizbeth asked.

“Actually…nothing.”

Lizbeth sighed and shook her head. She pointed to Nina’s pad. “Take this down.” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Headline—Looking for Mr. Right Now.” She glanced over at Nina and frowned. “I said, take this down.” Nina scribbled as Lizbeth spoke. “Attractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.”

“Don’t you think that last part makes me sound a little…loose?”

“Honey, the whole thing makes you sound loose. That’s the point. What do you think I mean by ‘fun-loving’ and ‘energetic’? Likes sex and likes it all the time.” Lizbeth gave her a long look. “You want someone to answer the ad, don’t you?”

Frowning, Nina ripped the top sheet off and crumpled it in her fist, then noticed Martha waving in her direction. “I’ll write my own ad, thank you very much.” She pushed back from the tiny table to retrieve her coffee, fully intending to toss Lizbeth’s ad in the garbage.

But as she paid Martha, she contemplated her friend’s strategy. Time was running out. Maybe she ought to put off her search for Mr. Right and concentrate on Mr. Right Now. And kissing a few frogs made a lot better copy than finding Prince Charming on the first time out. Nina opened her fist and dropped the wad of paper on the counter, then smoothed it out. She re-read the words as she grabbed her coffee. With a soft sigh, she turned and started back toward her table, making mental edits to the text. She didn’t have to sound like a trollop, did she?

She didn’t notice the man who stepped into her path, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. With a soft cry of surprise, she ran face first into a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Her coffee mug tipped between them, spilling hot coffee all over his wide chest, his flat belly and his…lap.

The man jumped back, cursing softly as he brushed the steaming liquid from his finely tailored shirt, his startled gaze taking in the coffee-soaked fabric. It was only then that Nina got a good look at his face. Her breath caught in her throat and, for a moment, she was unable to speak. “Adventurous Adonis,” she murmured.

Even wincing in pain, she could see what a handsome man he was—strong features, a chiseled mouth and vivid green eyes. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. Then the words began tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh—oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t see—and when you stepped in front—that’s probably a very expensive—are you all right—I didn’t—”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, plucking at the soaked fabric of his dress shirt and silk tie. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Nina reached over his table and grabbed the napkin dispenser, then tugged out a wad of napkins. But as she spun around to hand them to the man, she knocked over the tall mug of coffee on his table. It tumbled to the floor and splashed onto his shiny dress loafers. Half the napkins fluttered to the floor and Nina bent down to pick them up before attempting to wipe the coffee off his shoes. Good grief, he even had handsome feet.

When she glanced up at him, she caught him smiling sardonically. “I don’t think I’ve got any coffee on my left pant leg,” he said. “Maybe you’d like to order another cup and finish the job?”

“I’ll just get you cleaned up and then—” She reached up and dabbed frantically at the front of his pants, then realized where she was dabbing and groaned softly. “I—I guess you should probably do that area on your own.” What was she thinking? Nina glanced around to see the entire clientele of Jitterbug’s watching her with amusement. What were they thinking?

He grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet. Afraid to look up, Nina halfheartedly wiped at his shirt with the sheet of paper she had clutched in her other hand. When he took it from her fingers and shoved it in his pants pocket, she had no choice but to meet his gaze. An apologetic smile twitched at her lips and she risked a look up. “I—I’m sorry. Sometimes, I’m so clumsy. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on hers for the first time. “And there’s no need to apologize. It was partly my fault, too.”

She’d never seen a greener pair of eyes in her life. Or a sexier smile. Or a straighter nose. Or a—Nina swallowed hard. “But your shirt. It’s ruined.”

He chuckled dryly. “I never liked this shirt. Gives me a good excuse to toss it.”

For a long moment, they didn’t speak. Nina tried to remember if she’d apologized, but she couldn’t recall exactly what she’d said to him. Maybe it was the eyes, the penetrating eyes that seemed to send every rational thought running from her mind. Or the lips that looked like they’d been made especially to kiss women, and lots of them. Even the faint stubble of a beard was more than she could bear.

Was this one of those men she’d been wondering about, the one in a million and a half, the last single decent guy in all of New York City? She glanced at his left hand, looking for the telltale wedding band. There was none. Oh, if he was the one in a million, she’d certainly made a mess of destiny! “Can—can I buy you another coffee?” she offered.

He shook his head, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I was just leaving. I’ve got a meeting.”

Her breath caught again and she waited for him to step away, to walk out the door and out of her life forever. For all she knew, she’d just dumped coffee all over Mr. Right and now he was going to just disappear without another word. “Of course,” she murmured. “And look at what I’ve done.”

He glanced over his shoulder and winced. “I really have to go.” He grabbed his suit jacket and briefcase from a chair, then slowly turned and started toward the door. Nina took one step to stop him, but then she noticed the rest of the patrons still watching her.

“I really am sorry,” she called as the door swung shut behind him. “A little cold water and a good non-chlorine bleach will get that stain right out!” She looked around the coffee shop, frowning. “Show’s over. You can all go back to your coffee,” she muttered.

With a flush of embarrassment, she hurried back to her table and sat down. “Was that as bad as I think it was?” Nina murmured. “Did I make a total fool of myself? And was there anyone in this place who didn’t hear me giving him laundry advice?”

Lizbeth reached over and patted her hand excitedly. “That was absolutely perfect!” she cried. “Honey, I didn’t think you had it in you, but that move was pure brilliance!”

“What move?”

“Spilling coffee all over that stunningly gorgeous man. I don’t even think I would have had the courage to do something so outrageous, especially when he had on a handmade French shirt. Those things cost five hundred apiece if they cost a penny.”

“Really?” Nina squeaked. “Five hundred dollars?”

“Couldn’t you tell? Oh, honey, the way it hugged his body and nipped in around that waist. It fit him like a second skin. That kind of shirt makes a girl wonder what’s underneath. Every woman in this place was pea-green with envy of you.”

“It was an accident,” Nina said numbly.

Lizbeth gave her a sly look. “Oh, please. You expect me to believe that? So, did you give him your phone number? You know, offer to pay his cleaning bill? Buy him a new shirt?”

“No. He didn’t ask that I pay.” Nina frowned and looked over at the door. “He said he was going to throw the shirt out. I guess I should have offered. But it was his fault, too.”

“You didn’t give him your phone number,” Lizbeth stated, her voice flat and laced with disbelief. “Please tell me you at least got his name. Or you gave him yours.”

Nina covered her face with her hands. “No. I just couldn’t think. I mean, there he was, all covered with coffee. And there I was,” she moaned, “rubbing his crotch with napkins.” She moaned again, this time with more emphasis. “I really screwed that up. For a second, I thought it might be destiny, but then he looked at me and my mind just went haywire and my knees went all wobbly.” Nina peered at Lizbeth through her fingers. “He probably wasn’t my type anyway, right? I mean, he was wearing a suit and I never go for businessmen. And he seemed a little uptight.” She drew a shaky breath. “And a guy who wears five-hundred dollar shirts is way out of my league. I’m sure it would never have worked out.”

Lizbeth pushed to her feet, shaking her head. “Did you bother to look at the man? He’s every woman’s type! Nuns would lust after the guy.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then wagged her finger at Nina. “Maybe you should place that ad. It’s clear that you don’t have a chance of getting a gorgeous man the regular way—by trickery and manipulation. I have to go, I have a date. But I want you to sit here and think about what you did wrong. We’ll discuss it later.”

Nina nodded dejectedly, like a child chastised. “I don’t think I’ll be able to put it out of my mind.”

“I’ll call you.” Lizbeth turned on her heel and walked toward the door. When it closed behind her, Nina busied herself with picking up her belongings. She grabbed the pad of paper and started to shove it in her bag, but decided against it. Snatching up her pencil, she closed her eyes for a moment, then began to write.

“Coffee Collision,” she murmured, writing the words out in capital letters. “Jitterbug’s in Manhattan, March 15th. My latte met your shirt. Call me.”

Nina stared down at the text. Did she really have the courage to place the ad? Chances were remote at best that he’d see it. After all, he wasn’t the typical Attitudes reader. With a soft oath, she ripped the page off the pad. But instead of crumpling it in her hand, she carefully folded it and placed it in her jacket pocket.

“Forget the guy. You’re not looking for Mr. Right, you’re looking for Mr. Right Now—he’s the man who will get you a job in editorial.”

But as Nina tried to compose another ad, she couldn’t keep her mind on the task at hand. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the man in the coffee-stained shirt, to the firm set of his mouth when he smiled, to the strong grasp of his fingers on her elbow, to the tremor that raced through her arm and made her head swim the moment he’d touched her.

She’d never believed in instant attraction, but that was only because she’d never experienced it before. Now that she had, Nina wanted to experience it again. She’d just have to find a way to make it happen.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”

Cameron Ryder stood on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. He glanced down at his ruined shirt and tie and shrugged. “A little accident with a cup of coffee…and some crazy woman.”

He looked back over his shoulder. A beautiful, bewitching, crazy woman, he added silently. Now that he’d put a little distance between them, he wasn’t quite sure what to think of her. She hadn’t really been a woman at all, at least not the kind of sophisticated and overtly sexy woman he usually socialized with. She was sweet and slightly goofy, more a girl than woman. She’d been dressed a little oddly, in a hairy chartreuse sweater and a short little skirt that showed off shapely legs.

His mind conjured an image of her, her startling blue eyes and her golden blond hair twisted into a knot with spikes sticking out all over the place. He frowned—and chartreuse legs. In truth, she’d looked like one of those bohemian girls who spent her days and nights in Soho coffee bars and art galleries, smoking cigarettes and quoting Sartre.

Still, he couldn’t deny the current of attraction that had raced through his body the instant their eyes met, the warmth that seeped through his bloodstream when he touched her, the flood of amusement that made him smile when she so earnestly wiped off the front of his trousers.

Unlike most of the women he’d known, this woman lacked the hard, cynical edge that came from living in Manhattan. Her eyes were wide and clear blue, almost innocent. And she had a fresh, unpretentious look about her, unmarred by overdone cosmetics. With any other woman, he might have suspected she dumped the coffee on purpose. But the look of sheer surprise and mortification on her pretty face was enough to tell him differently. Cam laughed softly and shook his head. Good grief, he’d barely been able to get out a word or two, looking into those eyes.

What was this instant fascination he had with a complete stranger? Maybe he’d been working too hard lately. He hadn’t had much time for a social life and any woman would appear attractive to a man who hadn’t bothered with dating in the past few months. He fought the urge to walk back inside for just one more look, but then Jeff cleared his throat and pointed to his watch.

“We’ve got a half hour before we meet with Charlotte Danforth,” he said. “There’s probably time to run back to your apartment and change.”

Ever the organized businessman, Jeff Myers was chief operating officer of Cameron’s company, NightRyder. Jeff had been a fellow college student when, ten years ago, Cam had created the Internet site for Gen X entertainment and night life. He’d been there when the company moved from dorm room to apartment to office complex across the river in Jersey. And he’d been there at their stock offering, when the IPO turned Jeff’s thirty-percent interest into millions of dollars in just a few hours.

“I don’t need to change,” Cam said. Though he might be able to make the trip uptown and back to his Riverside Drive apartment, he had no intention of doing so. “I’m not going to the meeting. You’re my partner and you have my complete trust and authority. I want you to present the offer.”

Cam had been working toward this acquisition for as long as he could remember and now that it was time to make his move, he preferred to stand back and watch. Five years ago, Attitudes was barely a blip on the media radar. No one expected it to succeed, especially with socialite-party-girl Charlotte Danforth at the helm. But her rich daddy was willing to pay a price to get his little girl into the work world and out of his hair. Charles Danforth, one of New York’s wealthiest men, was the magazine’s only investor. Even the headquarters of Attitudes was housed in a Danforth building, probably rent-free.

“I don’t know why you want the magazine,” Jeff Myers murmured. “With all the money the old man has pumped into it, we have no idea what it’s really worth. She’s probably never had to prepare a financial statement, so we’re buying blind. Why not buy something else?”

Cameron shrugged. “Well, Rolling Stone would be too expensive. So would Premiere and Entertainment. Attitudes is a weekly, it’s a trend-setter, and their subscription list fits our demographic. It’s a good match for us,” he said. “And I don’t care what it costs. I want the magazine and I want you to do everything necessary to get it.”

He smiled to himself. It felt good to say that, to know that when it came to a business acquisition, money was no longer an object. There was a time not so long ago that he’d struggled to make ends meet. He’d just founded NightRyder, and though hip and trendy New Yorkers visited the site to learn all the latest on movies, music, and entertainment, the Internet was still young. Every penny he’d saved, most of it earmarked for his last year at NYU, had gone into the design. Four years later, when NightRyder had become the most popular Internet site nationwide in the 20- to 30-year-old demographic, the advertisers started coming and Cam’s life as an Internet entrepreneur began.

“Don’t you think you’re carrying this mystery man thing a little too far?” Jeff asked. “You’re making too much money to keep your face out of the public eye forever. And you’re the Ryder in NightRyder, Cam. You should be there when we make our offer and Charlotte Danforth accepts.”

Cam chuckled. “She’s not going to accept.”

“What? But she has to. We’ve done our research. Daddy Danforth is just about ready to cut her off, if he hasn’t already. Her creditors are hounding her. And she’s spending more and more time partying with her high society friends than running her magazine. The time is right.”

“She’s not going to accept,” Cam insisted. “Attitudes is her baby. Besides, we’re only going to offer her half what we think the magazine is worth.”

“But I thought we decided—”

“I know what we decided. But I changed my mind. I need some more information before we make a solid offer.”

“Cam, it’s a privately held publication. I don’t think she’s going to open up the books and let us browse before we talk money.”

“I know. But we can afford to wait her out, until she’s a little more desperate. And while we do that, maybe we can get some inside information.”

Jeff nodded. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Charlotte Danforth has hired and fired enough people. We could always find a disgruntled employee who might want to talk.”

“Then do it,” he said. “And call me after your meeting with Danforth. I want a full report.”

Jeff nodded, then started across the street. Cameron watched as he walked in the front entrance of the ornate cast-iron building, one of the many that lined the streets in this section of Soho. Then he turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, warming them in the chilly evening air.

His fingers toyed with a wad of paper in his pocket and he pulled it out, only to find the crumpled sheet the beautiful girl had used on his shirt, the scribblings on it now blurred by the coffee. Part of the paper was still completely legible—the Attitudes logo across the bottom and the name on the top.

“From the desk of Nina Forrester,” he murmured. “Nina.” The name seemed to suit her, light, airy, a name that sounded like a peal of laughter or a twinkle in the eye. “So that’s her name.”

It took a few moments for the importance of his discovery to sink in. Nina Forrester worked at Attitudes! And he was looking for someone on the inside, someone to give him insight into the mercurial Charlotte Danforth and the state of her business affairs. His mind instantly began to form a strategy.

Why not go back inside and join her? He could engage her in conversation, bring up the subject of work. Most women loved to talk about their work, especially to a man who appeared interested in what she had to say. But the thought of manipulating her for his own purposes rankled.

Though rising to the top of the Internet world had taken immense technical knowledge, staying on top required a fair bit of ruthlessness. Still, he’d never deliberately deceived anyone to get what he wanted. Wasn’t that what he was considering now? He held the paper up to read the rest of the scribbling in the waning light of day, wondering what she’d been working on.

“Looking for Mr. Right Now?” he read, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Attractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.”

Cameron reread the words again, simply to assure himself that he’d read them right the first time. “Adventurous Adonis? Wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons?”

Usually, he was an excellent judge of character, able to detect hidden agendas and ulterior motives in a single glance. But if Nina Forrester had written this ad, then he’d been completely fooled by her innocent smile. A woman who enjoyed wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons would probably have no qualms about dumping her coffee on a single guy sitting in a coffee shop. Maybe he’d been too hasty in his earlier impression. Perhaps she might be able to help him get inside Attitudes magazine.

Cameron started back down the street toward the subway stop, carefully folding the paper as he walked. He’d never really thought of himself as an Adonis—far from it. Up until he made his first million, he was just a computer geek, the kid with the thick glasses and the pocketful of pens, the president of the computer club and the chess club, a guy girls did their best to ignore.

Funny how a little power and money seemed to change him in others’ eyes. It always took him unawares, for inside, there was still a tiny bit of the geek left. He’d simply gotten a few years older, so that grown-up muscle now covered his once bony body. An uptown haircut and designer clothing had completed the transformation in his outward appearance. Maybe money did make the man.

He turned and stared back at the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Though his curiosity was piqued, he wasn’t about to go back inside. He knew her name, where she worked, and where she played. He could find her if he needed to.

“Better to wait,” he murmured with a chuckle. “After all, no self-respecting Adonis would be seen with a huge coffee stain on his chest.”

2

“HURRY UP! Staff meeting in the conference room. Charlotte wants everyone there.”

Nina looked up at Lizbeth from the reference books spread across her desk. She’d been caught up in finding out the name of the original designer of platform shoes and had lost all track of time. Before that, she’d been immersed in an idle contemplation of the mystery man she’d spilled coffee on last night. She still couldn’t put him out of her mind, going over every stupid mistake she’d made.

Why hadn’t she offered to send his shirt to the cleaner or pay for a new shirt? Why hadn’t she given him her phone number or at least introduced herself? Nina had lived in Manhattan for seven years, since her college days at Columbia, and she’d never met a man quite as handsome as the man she’d affectionately dubbed “Coffee Man.”

A more appropriate name would come to her, but Nina was already certain that this man would occupy her fantasies for a long time to come. Besides being incredibly handsome, he was funny and smart and confident, though how she knew all these things she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that if she ever saw him again she wasn’t going to let him get away a second time.