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He smiled. “I promise I won’t bring a truck.”
“I’m not a car snob. You could bring a truck.”
“Glad to hear it, but I’ll bring my car, anyway. So let’s head over to the truck and I’ll locate a pen and paper.”
“Okay.” She walked beside him to the truck and trailer parked in the street next to the building, with orange cones set around it to divert traffic. Now she could see it was the same truck that had been parked behind her this morning. She liked knowing that he’d watched her get out of her car.
He opened the passenger door, grabbed a clipboard and closed the door again, but not before she noticed a cooler on the floor of the cab.
“Um, what’s in the cooler?” she asked, thinking she already knew the answer.
He grinned sheepishly. “Bottles of water.”
“I see.”
“I couldn’t very well tell you I didn’t need that water after you’d gone to so much trouble, could I?”
“You could have.” But knowing that he’d wanted to take the excuse to talk to her did a lot to calm her nerves. Maybe she was better at snagging a guy’s attention than she’d thought. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Me, too.”
After giving him her phone number and address, she decided to get the heck out of there before she screwed something up. So far, so good, but her luck might not hold much longer. “See you at seven, then,” she said.
“Absolutely.”
She turned and walked toward the building, wondering if he was watching her. She did her damned best to walk like an experienced temptress. And she was well on her way to becoming one after successfully completing Phase One of the operation. Maybe her little red car had something to do with it, if he’d taken the time to notice her in the parking lot this morning. She thought of her license plate and wondered if he’d seen that, too.
The members of her family, especially her brother Jim, were not fans of that license plate. They’d predicted it would get her into trouble. No doubt they also wondered if that was exactly what she’d intended.
Her sexual experience so far couldn’t be classified as getting into trouble. Losing her virginity in college—to another nerd—had been more of a social experiment than a night of grand passion. About a year and a half ago, she’d decided she needed a makeover to attract sexier dates, and Alicia had been there to help.
Coincidentally, her parents had sold the house she’d grown up in and moved to a condo in Gilbert, a good hour away. That small degree of separation had given her a surprising sense of freedom and had made changing her image even easier. By the time she’d started work at Beckworth Public Relations, she’d been transformed into glam girl.
To give her confidence a boost, she’d ordered the vanity plate. She’d told herself that any day now she’d start getting into that trouble her family was so worried about. Well, apparently she was going to start with Sam.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, while dressing for her date, Kasey mulled over her game plan. After reading a ton of restaurant reviews online and interviewing her co-workers, she’d made reservations at a trendy Italian restaurant within walking distance of the Cactus Club. That way, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about finding a downtown parking place twice.
Thank God she had fake ID. She’d felt like a criminal getting one in college, but it had come in handy. It would come in handy again tonight, because she wouldn’t be allowed into the Cactus Club without it.
The trick to this evening, Kasey decided, was coaxing Sam to talk about himself. The less he knew about her, the less likely he’d figure out who she was, which could cause complications. Blowing her cover at work was only part of the problem. She didn’t relish having Sam contact her brother, who would then fill him in on what his baby sister had been up to or, rather, hadn’t been up to.
Therefore she wouldn’t take this charade too far, only far enough to convince herself that Sam wanted her. This was simply a test of her abilities, one that would erase any lingering feelings of nerdiness she carried around and establish her new babe status for good.
At that point, she’d be ready to enjoy what the world of dating had to offer, maybe even juggling more than one guy at a time. Chances were that Sam, at age thirty, had moved beyond that exploratory stage. She’d seen the change in her brother, who’d been really serious about Alicia and hadn’t dated anyone else since the breakup.
As for her, she had no illusions about holding on to Sam and zero interest in lasting relationships. She was only twenty, for crying out loud. No way would she tie herself down until she was really old, as old as her brother. As old as Sam. With tons of sexual experience.
Wiggling into the red slip dress she’d chosen for the evening, she thought about how much experience Sam must have had. A guy who looked like him must have gone horizontal with a bunch of women. She wondered what kind of lover he was.
A picture flashed through her mind—Sam sitting in the emergency room with her, Jim and her mom. Sam, looking remorseful every time he glanced her way. She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but talking made her mouth bleed, so she’d had to sit there silently and let him suffer. He’d bought her a can of root beer from the pop machine and rounded up a straw so she could drink it without moving her lips.
And then he’d sent the flowers the next day, pink, red and white carnations mixed in with baby’s breath and lacy ferns. She knew now that it hadn’t been an expensive bouquet, but because it was her first ever, she’d never forgotten how it had looked or how amazed she’d been when her mother had called her to the door to sign for the delivery. Come to think of it, the vase, her only one, was tucked into a cupboard in her apartment kitchen. She’d taken it when she’d moved away from home.
If he’d been that sweet at eighteen, he could be a wonderful lover with all the experience he’d surely collected since then. But she wouldn’t be finding out. Way too risky. Once she’d made him drool, she was outta there and on to her regularly scheduled dating program.
She thought her outfit would be a good start. Alicia would approve of the slip dress, the high-heeled slides, the braided leather jewelry and the upswept hairdo. Sam would never connect her with the kid he’d wrestled with in the pool all those years ago.
Pacing her apartment, she reminded herself that she couldn’t be too enthusiastic about the Tin Tarantulas, either. Even though she’d loved their music the one time she’d heard them play, they definitely appealed to the college crowd more than young professionals. And she was a young professional now. She should act slightly bored.
Maybe she needed to practice her slightly bored expression. After returning to her bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and tried out a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes. Yeah, that was good. A world-weary, tolerant smile, perhaps. Excellent.
Her doorbell rang, and she yelped softly. World-weary disappeared as her heart pumped faster and her palms grew sweaty. Sam Ashton had arrived to take her out for the evening. How amazing was that?
She dried her shaking hands on a towel, took one last glance at her flushed cheeks, and decided she’d have to work on her bored expression later. Right now she looked and felt exactly like that little kid who’d received her first bouquet of flowers twelve years ago.
3
SAM STOOD at Kasey’s door holding a dozen first-cut red roses in a cone of green tissue paper. In his early and poor-guy dating years he’d gone for the bargain roses, not understanding that those had been trimmed at least three times and wouldn’t last more than a few days. First-cut lasted much longer, long enough to make a real impression.
That’s what Sam intended to do. He had a gut feeling about this woman. Although he’d be hard-pressed to explain why she seemed so right for him, he was letting his instincts dictate his actions. Thus the pricey roses on the first date. He wanted to let her know he wasn’t kidding around.
When she opened the door and he got a look at her red slip dress and take-me-now shoes, he was doubly glad he’d brought the first-class roses. A woman who looked like Kasey Braddock had seen her share of bouquets, and he wanted his to stand out from the crowd.
“Hi,” she said. “Wow, roses.”
“And I’m sure glad I picked red.” He handed her the bouquet. If she was used to getting flowers, she didn’t let on. “I’m guessing it’s your favorite color.”
“It’s my new favorite color. Come in and I’ll find a vase for these.”
“It should be your favorite color.” He stepped inside the door. “You look terrific in it.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He nodded, although he had no intention of sitting down. He’d be able to get a better view of her apartment if he stood right where he was.
What he saw surprised him a little. It looked like a college pad instead of a career girl’s place. Makeshift bookcases of bricks and boards overflowed with paperbacks, hardbacks and what looked like textbooks. A futon took the place of a regular couch, and over it hung posters from various art galleries. The women he’d dated recently had graduated to real furniture and professionally framed prints.
The place was neat enough, but it didn’t look as if she’d spent lots of time thinking about decorating. One scraggly pothos in dire need of repotting hung from a hook in the ceiling, and the coffee table looked like a hand-me-down from her parents.
Okay, so she wasn’t domestic, wasn’t into nest-building. Was that such a problem? Reluctantly he admitted it might be. Nest-building instincts ranked pretty high on his list these days.
Then she walked back into the room holding the flowers, her cheeks flushed and the rosebuds a perfect match for her lipstick, and he forgot about his nest-building requirements. Hell, if this turned into something wonderful, he could build the damned nest. Roles were changing more every day. So what if she didn’t own a decent crystal vase and had plunked his roses in a cheap glass one that looked like it had been stashed in a cupboard for years.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” From her expression, anyone would think he’d given her diamonds.
He found her enthusiasm sexy. Maybe she didn’t bother decorating her apartment or buying crystal because she had too many other exciting things in her life, like asking a complete stranger to have dinner with her.
“Okay.” She set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and scooped up a small purse from the futon. “I’m ready.”
He thought of her license plate. Yep, her vibrant approach to life really turned him on. “Then let’s go.”
HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEAL, Kasey congratulated herself on how well she was doing. Probably because the restaurant was upscale, the waiter hadn’t carded her when Sam had ordered a bottle of red to go with the pasta. She was relieved about that. Although she had the fake ID, she didn’t want to use it more than necessary, in case somebody spotted it as bogus.
As per her plan, she’d steered the conversation so they talked about Sam. During the antipasto, she’d confirmed what she already knew, that his family had moved to Oregon right after his senior year in high school. He’d gone to college up there but never could get used to the weather, so he’d decided to come back to Phoenix to build his landscaping business.
With a little prompting, she got him to talk about his business during the main course. She didn’t blame him for being proud of what he’d accomplished, creating a thriving enterprise during tough economic times. Besides, she liked listening to him. There was a sexy, husky sound to his voice that hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.
“The tree you worked on today looks amazing,” she said. “Like a sculpture. How did you learn to do that?”
He put down his wineglass and gazed across the table at her, a little smile on his face. “Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice. Besides, it’s fun. I like climbing trees. It’s probably not much different from you designing a PR campaign. How do you go about that, by the way?”
Although it was an innocent enough question, she pegged it as an attempt to switch the topic to her. “Trust me, it’s not half as interesting as what you do. So, what’s the biggest landscaping challenge you’ve ever had?”
He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to think you’ve dated a bunch of egomaniacs.”
“Why?”
“Oh, just the way you’ve made sure we talked about me all the time. Maybe the other guys wanted to bask in that constant limelight, but I’d love to hear something about you.”
“I’m… I’m not all that fascinating.” It was a truthful statement. She was hoping to become fascinating, but that would require more seasoning. He was to be part of the process, although he didn’t know that.
“Come on. A woman who drives a red convertible with such an interesting license plate?”
So here was the fatal flaw in her plan. With the car, the dress, even the shoes, she’d presented herself as a daring Sex and the City kind of girl. She’d hoped that concentrating on him would prevent the spotlight from being turned on her. Spotlights picked up discrepancies. She wondered what she could offer up that would fit the image she’d projected without telling him too much.
Then she remembered her current project at work. “Well, right now I’m designing an image make over for Slightly Scandalous.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really.”
“So you know the place?”
“Um, yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
From his initial reaction she thought he’d had more intimate contact than that. At any rate, sexy underwear seemed to be a savvy topic that went with the red car and the license plate. She’d get some mileage out of it.
“They’ve seen how well Victoria’s Secret is doing,” she said, “and they want some of that market. They’ve rented mall space and they want a classier image when they move.”
“So how do you do that? I mean, when I think of Slightly Scandalous, I think of G-strings and those bras with the cutouts…everywhere.”
Having him mention such things changed the atmosphere of the table, and maybe that’s what she needed. She wouldn’t get him to drool over a discussion about trimming trees. “Exactly. It’s all about branding. If I do my job right, when you think of Slightly Scandalous, you’ll picture a runway model in silk underwear that’s decent enough to be shown on national TV and yet still very sexy.”
“So they’re giving up on the other stuff?” He sounded disappointed.
“Pretty much. There’s a niche market for the over-the-top lingerie, but apparently they were struggling to capture that.” She decided a happening chick would be bold. “Face it, did you ever go in there?”
A flush stole up from the open collar of his silk shirt. “Maybe I should plead the Fifth on that one.”
Which meant he had bought naughty lingerie at some time, for some woman in his life. Kasey wondered what that would be like, having a man like Sam bring her a present of underwear that he expected her to model for him. The idea gave her goose bumps.
“I have the feeling I’ve just incriminated myself,” he said.
“Not at all.” But he’d made himself seem even sexier, if that was possible. She reminded herself to keep playing the role of sophisticated city girl. “I know men have fantasies.”
His gaze intensified. “I’ve been told women have them, too.”
“Well, of course.” She sounded nervous, damn it. She decided to retreat a little. “That’s what my project’s about, tapping into women’s fantasies instead of catering to a man’s. Women usually want their fantasies packaged more subtly.”
“How about you? How do you like your fantasies packaged?”
I’m looking at it. “Oh, I’m probably like most women.”
“I seriously doubt that. Play fair, now. I’ve pretty much admitted to buying something at Slightly Scandalous. The least you can do is confess that you’ve worn something from there.”
As if. “Uh, well, I—”
“Your pink cheeks are giving you away, Kasey.” He smiled. “I know a bad girl when I see one. But for the record, wearing an outfit from Slightly Scandalous is okay with me.”
She knew she was in over her head. But the thing was, she’d nearly accomplished her mission. Sam looked like a man who could hardly wait to get her alone.
Picking up her goblet, she borrowed his line. “I’ll have to take the Fifth on that.” Then she drained the glass before setting it back on the table.
He let out a breath. “You know how to turn a man inside out, don’t you?” He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass.
She made a command decision not to drink another drop. Finishing off her glass had seemed like a big-girl sort of gesture, but now she was feeling light-headed and giggly. Any more of that delicious red stuff and she was liable to tell Sam her entire life story. Nope, she’d stick with water from here on out.
In fact, a drink of water might settle her jumpy nerves. The way Sam was looking at her, she had the feeling she’d started something she might not be ready to finish. She picked up her water glass and took a cooling swallow.
“I’ve been dying to ask you—how did you get that little scar on your lip?”
She choked on the water. As an unplanned distraction, it worked well. Sam was out of his seat in no time, patting her back and murmuring words of concern.
Gradually she could breathe again, and she begged him to go back to his seat. Other diners had begun to stare and even the waiter had come by to make sure she was all right.
Sam eased back into his chair. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Fine. Just embarrassed. You’d think by now I’d have learned how to swallow water.”
“I hope it wasn’t something I said.”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“If mentioning that little scar upset you, I’m really sorry.”
“Goodness, no. It’s an old childhood injury. Most of the time I forget it’s even there.” She’d always cherished that scar, though, because it reminded her of Sam. He really had been her fantasy guy for years. That was one negative thing about running into him again. Chances were he wouldn’t be able to live up to the image she’d created for him.
“I’ll bet you were goofing around on the playground equipment,” he said.
“Something like that.” And they needed to get off this subject before she let some detail slip.
