Avoiding Mr. Right (4 page)

Sundays always whip past too soon. The only good thing about yesterday was getting
chores done, like laundry, and not having to field more texts from Andrew. At least
he took the hint Saturday night.

A tiny twinge of disappointment swells inside me and I squash it. I want to be alone.
I don’t need a man in my life to make me happy.

Yeah, and you’re such a joy to be around the rest of the time.

I feel a growl bubbling in my throat and stifle it. Damn, if I could just find a decent
guy to sleep with, I wouldn’t be so freakin’ on edge all the time. Used to be I’d
spend an evening with one of my many battery powered nightstand buddies and I’d be
right as rain. But, the past six months haven’t been the same. Add in the fact every
freakin’ guy I’ve tried has been a disappointment in the sack. No wonder I’m a little
tense.

Tense? Is that another word for bitchy and hard up?

No! It’s just tense. Don’t read in more than it is.

Uh-huh
.
Sure.

I finish the last touches on my makeup, sweep a fine powder over it to set, and then
gather the rest of my things for work. Andrew’s help on the Stringer account means
I’m starting my day by meeting the owner before heading into the office.

The meeting goes well. Jennifer is a bubbling cauldron of ideas and energy. She’s
the most ambitious and hard-working woman I’ve ever met. I present some new suggestions
for exposure and we hammer out the details together. When I leave her office, the
high of success buoys me the entire trip to Smith and White. I love my job. It’s always
a challenge and never boring.

I arrive in the office at ten; the rest of the staff is well into their morning. I
keep my eyes down as I head to my cubicle, eager to avoid Andrew’s penetrating gaze
as long as possible. Heat fills my cheeks over Friday night’s antics. God, what was
I thinking inviting a guy from work to my place?

Biggest mistake ever.

I settle my belongings and fire up my laptop. Within minutes I’m logged into the company
server and skimming emails. One from Andrew catches my eye.

Do I open it? I doubt he’d act like an idiot at work, so I might as well see what
he has to say.

How did the meeting go with Jennifer Stringer?

Relief pours through at his professional inquiry. Maybe we can pretend Friday night
didn’t happen. That would make my life sOoOoOooo much easier.

I send him back a short note.
Good, thanks. I’ll be working with the design team closely this week to finalize the
pitch on the next campaign.

Want to share lunch to chat about details?

Dammit. I knew he’d leap to something personal.

No. Thank you.

I fire off the last email, then collect the files I need to copy for the designers.
Maybe in a few days he’ll stop trying so hard and we can return to the way things
were between us. Professional and slightly distant. Just the way I like it.

Yeah,
because that’s worked so well for you before.

The hum of the copier distracts me from my thoughts of Andrew Once one section of
the Stringer file is done, I place it back into the tabs and start with the next.

“Hey, Carla,” Andrew calls from behind me.

I glance to see him leaning against the doorframe, and he tosses me a hopeful smile.
God, it was hell waking up with him in my bed. After a slip up during my first internship
nine years ago, I vowed to never do anything so stupid again.

“Hi,” I turn to my task.

“We still haven’t talked about our night together. How long do you intend to put me
off?”

Forever? Damn, I was afraid this would happen. Holding in the heavy sigh longing to
escape, I face my pushy co-worker. “No offense, but I’m not interested in dating an
accountant.”

“Excuse me?” His tone comes out sharper than I’ve ever heard from him. “Do you think
I’m not worthy of you because of
my job
?”

“Umm… no. Sorry.” That’s exactly it, but saying so is bitchier than I’d like. I switch
to the next file and give him my back. “Listen, it was a fun night and all, but I
want more excitement. Something spicy.”

His footsteps behind me are barely audible over the hum of the copier. Hands rest
on my hips and I tense. “You have no idea what you want. You could have excitement
right in front of you and you wouldn’t know what to do about it.”

Annoyed, I whip around to face him, dislodging his hands. “Really? And you think I
don’t remember the tolerable three minutes we shared?”

His deep blue eyes darken in anger and he leans closer, crowding my space. “I think
you recall someone named Johnny and seem to be attributing some of our time together
to a dream about him.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks, I do remember having dreamed about an old college flame,
but how the hell does he know that? “Umm… I…”

“You called out his name,” his warm breath tickles my lips, “while I pleasured you.”

Startled by the revelation, I dart to the side and make for the door. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

His voice whispers when the copier cycles down, “You’re sexy when you let down your
guard.”

I turn to face him. He takes two quick strides and captures my mouth. His lips press
against mine and a coil of heat unravels in my middle. A warm hand caresses the back
of my head, gently drawing me closer.

I open my mouth to protest and his tongue slips inside to spar with my own. The rush
of blood pounding through my veins brings a tingly feeling that halts my words before
they form. His wide open eyes stare into my own, challenging me with the heat I see
simmering in their depths.

His mouth tastes like fresh coffee heavily laced with cream. My knees weaken at the
intensity and warmth pouring off him. He nibbles on my bottom lip and a spike of pleasure
jolts down my spine, jarring me from the spell he’s weaving.

I place two hands on his chest and push him away. Our lips break and a shudder runs
through me. “What the hell was that?” My tone sounds indignant, but my body betrays
me with arousal.

Andy smiles, a slow, indulgent curve of his lips. His tongue slips out to run along
his full mouth. “I think you know exactly what that was.” He boldly reaches out a
hand and runs a finger over my right nipple, peaked hard and pressing against the
inside of my bra.

I swat his hand away.

“It’s passion, Carla. Don’t fight it.”

I take a step back, putting distance between us and regain my composure. “You do that
again and I’ll report you.”

Andy steps closer, crowding my space. “No, you won’t.”

A sneer forms on my face. “Oh, really? And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I know what you need, darling. And I aim to give it to you.”

His confidence and arrogance rocks me. This is a side of Andy I never knew existed.
“Go pound salt, bastard.” I storm out of the copier room, wrapping my indignation
around me like a cape. Andy’s amused chuckle follows me down the hall.

Son of a bitch. I’ll be damned if I’m corralled into a torrid affair at work. No matter
what my body tells me.

Crap! I left the files in there. I’m not going back to get them until he leaves. Call
me a chicken, but I’m not ready to face him again.

It’s Wednesday, and I’ve done my best to avoid Andrew the past two days. When office
emails went around about a drink after hours, I almost didn’t agree to go. I wasn’t
sure if Andrew was going or how to handle him. The memory of his stolen kiss has haunted
me.

The lingering heat stirred from his bold advance left me tossing and turning in bed
each night. Twice I tried to seek relief on my own, and twice I was left frustrated
and horny. Damn him! I will not date a guy from work. It’s career suicide.

I run a finger through the condensation on my wine glass and contemplate what to do.
The energy in the crowded bar wraps around me in a familiar feeling—the hotspot is
always packed. This time, I’m careful not to get drunk and don’t sit near Andrew.
God, he’s like a puppy sniffing after me. I have no intention of winding up with him.
I want an exciting man.

And how do you know that man isn’t Andy?

Because I won’t let it be, dammit! I know what I want and he’s not it. Temporary,
hot sex is easier—and he seems to be gunning for more than I’m willing to offer.

I grab my drink in anger, but wisely take only a sip. I have no desire to muddle my
senses with Andrew staring at me across the bar. Why the hell does he like me anyway?
I’ve stated I’m not interested. I’ve brought out my most bitchy self, and he still
keeps coming.

He needs to see me pick up another guy. That should wipe away that smug look I see
every time I glance over at him. Thinks he’s got my number, does he? I’ll show him.

Tall, broad shouldered, and beautiful walks into my field of vision. The big man looks
vaguely familiar, so I smile.

“Well hello, sweetheart. I remember you from last week.” He returns my interest with
a crooked grin and looks around. He notes Andrew sitting a few stools away. “You look
more stable tonight.”

Ah, yes. He’s the guy I fell into when trying to leave last week. “Hi.” I tilt my
head, allowing my hair to frame my face. “And you look just as nice as you did when
we first met. Do you work in the area?”

“Yeah. I’m in finance—stocks and bonds mostly. You?”

“Advertising sales exec at Smith and White.”

A feral look sparks in his eye and I wonder if he could be what I’m looking for.

“Want to go catch some dinner at a quieter place?” Tall and handsome asks.

“I’d love to.”

We leave the bar together and I can almost feel Andrew’s annoyance radiating toward
us. That’ll show him once and for all I’m not interested.

I cannot believe that little tease left with that meathead! My hands clench into fists
and I have to physically press them under the edge of the bar to stop myself from
chasing after her. Why does she go for the hulking, empty-headed guys? Why won’t she
look at me with interest?

I take a deep breath and will the logical part of my brain into working. Maybe because
she can control them easier than she can me? After our night together I haven’t exactly
reverted to the calm and easy-going guy she used to work with. Her response when I
pleasured her is still etched in my mind. She reacted to my advances with an uninhibited
sweetness; almost like her body was surprised she enjoyed it.

The bossy, confident woman she presents to the world is not all that meets the eye
with Carla. If she were secure in herself, why would she pick up strangers at a bar?
I’ve seen it enough in my time as a musician—a lonely person looking for companionship,
often making unwise choices for human contact.

Could that be true with her, too? And if yes, how do I convince her I’m worth more
than a one night stand?

More importantly, why do you care? Why are you willing to take a risk on a woman who
just figuratively thumbed her nose at you in public?

Because there’s something about her… something that calls to me. Is it the vulnerability
I saw in her eyes when we kissed in the copier room? Is it the freedom she only allows
herself when she’s sleepy and her guard is down? She acts like she’s in charge, but
I bet what she really needs is for the man to take control for a change.

I throw my money on the bar and make the journey to my apartment. I knock twice on
Rocko’s door to see if he’s in. A muffled “Yo!” comes from within. In a moment the
door flies open and my neighbor stands bare-chested before me, wearing sweatpants.

“Dude.” Rocko says, drawing out the word in a long greeting. “I’m going to the gym.
Want to come?”

The tension growing inside me from watching Carla walk out with another guy needs
an outlet. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

Rocko nods and shuts his door.

I quickly change and meet him in the building’s small basement gym. It’s nothing pretty,
and the cramped space filled with old free weights is near the laundry room, but it
gets the job done for a free work out.

About forty-five minutes into our chest and back rotation Rocko says, “You going to
tell me what’s eating you or do you plan on giving yourself an aneurism with the extra
weight?”

Sweat drips from my forehead as I push the bar to the top notch of the frame. I slide
the weight into the start position, expelling air in a whoosh at the effort. I grab
the hand towel I brought and mop the moisture from my eyes.

“Little minx picked up a guy at the bar after work. Right in front of me.”

“Damn.” Rocko whistles. “That’s harsh. Didn’t try coming on strong, like I suggested?”

“I did. But maybe I wasn’t clear enough.”

I rise, wipe the bench free of my sweat, and then stand behind the bar to spot Rocko
on his set.

“She’s sent
you
a clear message she’s not interested, man.” He wraps his hands around the bar and
hesitates. “Take off twenty from both ends.” He smirks. “I don’t have any issues to
sweat out like you.”

“Fine,” I grumble before removing the weights.

Rocko watches while I return the weights to the stationary rack behind us. “So, what
do you plan to do?”

I shake my head and return to my spotter position. Rocko lifts the bar and starts
his set. “I’m thinking I need to get right in her face and
show
her what I can do to her body, make her respond to me before she talks herself out
of it.”

Rocko remains silent, concentrating on his form and breathing. At the end he pushes
the bar into its starting position. “As long as whatever you’re planning won’t get
a restraining order against you, I say go for it. You only live once, right?” His
face grimaces. “Sorry man, that slipped out. How is your mom doing?”

I wave him off. I know he didn’t mean anything by his comment, and I don’t want anyone
on eggshells around me. “No change. Still in a coma. They think she could go any day
now.” A sigh rushes out, and the last of my tension leaves with it. “It’s a crappy
situation all around, but we knew it was leading to this.”

We select dumbbells and start a round of flys on the incline benches. “How’s Andrea
holding up?” Rocko wiggles his eyebrows, possibly hoping to interject some lightness
into the conversation. “Does she need a comforting shoulder or manly hug?”

His distraction works and a sharp bark of laughter erupts from me. “Man, don’t go
near my sister. I’ll have to hurt you.”

“Come on, Ace…she’s so pretty.” Sweat runs down his face as he winks at me. “You sure
she’s related to you?”

We finish our workout and part ways. I still feel keyed up and debate on a run, deciding
against it at the last minute and shower instead. The entire time I’m walking through
the motions of bathing and then fixing a meal, I contemplate Carla and what to do.
She wants something spicy in her life, does she?

I’ve got just what she needs. I change into jeans and a polo then head back out to
the bar. Here’s to hoping she falls for my plan.