Dancing in the Dark (4 page)

He laughed, obviously seeing her baffled expression. “I’m not crazy, honest. It’s just that this has given me a lot of help through some bad times. I bet your mother understands it exactly. Puritans settling a new land were completely dependent on one another for survival, and they passed on that knowledge to their children for their survival.”

Charity stared at him, speechless. He was trying to tell her something. She could sense it. It sounded as if he were saying that men had somehow become inferior to women. If he thought that, then he ought to take another look at the upper management of Wayans. The overwhelming majority were men of all colors. Women of any color were a scarcity.

One thing she did understand was that this related to his Dances with No Clothes On persona. He was getting back to nature in a big way. And he was about to invite the rest of the men at Wayans to do the same. A vision leapt to vivid life of Dave and the others dancing around a big fire singing “Oo, eee,
oo, ah-ah.” And all of them were naked, including some who definitely should never be. She promised herself a front-row seat and an oxygen tank to keep from killing herself laughing.

She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure my mother would see it that way. She’ll go on for hours about how hard it is to restart a fire on the hearth once it goes out, and that the men never help.”

Jake nodded. “That’s because it was the woman’s job to protect the hearth and a man’s job to protect the family. They did it together. Men are hunters and warriors, Charity. It’s what drove us for thousands of years. We need to pick our prey, stalk it, and capture it. That way we fulfill our promise to the tribe.”

“But you’re doing it with computers now?” she asked, quickly trying to turn the conversation back to business. She sensed Jake’s stalking was far more personal, and he was knocking on a door she was desperately trying to keep closed. She had to keep the conversation on their project. That was what she was there for.

“No, that’s the problem …” He blinked, then continued eagerly. “That’s it exactly. I’m the hunter and you’re the gatherer. Together we protect the tribe.”

“That’s Wayans?” she asked carefully.

“Everybody in it.”

He
was
crazy, she thought. And yet his notion had a certain logic. Her senses, too, were somehow caught up in his words. It was exciting to think that they would work together to bring prosperity to Wayans. Heck, one couldn’t be more protecting than that.

As she absorbed the notion, she found herself looking at his hands. They were strong hands, yet elegant
in shape, with long fingers. Knowing hands, capable hands. Were they capable of pleasing a woman? Twinges of excitement skittered along her arms at the question, raising goose bumps. The way he gazed intently at her only added to his overall appeal, his eyes earnest, his face almost rapt with what he was saying.
Together
. That word conjured so much for her, personal visions of man and woman. Of this man …

She pushed the vision aside by recalling the chatter in the ladies’ room. If he were so amenable to this togetherness, perhaps she should see just how far it went.

“I understand that the Christmas-bonus turkeys are being eliminated,” she began.

“That’s right.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it’s expensive, but they also produce a lot of goodwill among the employees. It may be goodwill that outweighs the costs.”

“If we get the contract, they’ll get their turkeys back. But, Charity, there’s a lot more wrong with Wayans than free turkeys. Things even this contract isn’t going to rectify. But that’s another problem. Our problem right now is getting this contract. That’ll do a lot to put the company back on track.”

She nodded, deciding to shelve the turkeys for now. Christmas wasn’t for another six months anyway. He was so earnest and focused on wanting to turn the company around that she wondered if Wayans could be in more trouble than she thought.

She tapped the envelope and stood. “I’ll get to work on these and get back to you if I have any questions. Or if the tech does. Do you want to speak to Mary directly?”

“Not unless she needs to speak to me.” He rose and walked around the desk. “You’ll find I like the chain of protocol. Especially when it means I deal exclusively with you.”

All his hunter philosophy came back in a rush, and Charity felt like a rabbit frozen in a wolf’s gaze. The gentleness she often saw in his eyes was gone, replaced by a more primitive expression. The few feet separating them vanished rapidly, until he was practically on top of her. Everything about him was in sharp focus. His eyes, the planes of his face, his mouth. His body, lean and strong, was like a magnet, drawing her, challenging her. She could smell the delicious aroma of expensive cologne and man, and sensed him trying to track her thought patterns. Her awareness was so alive, she could even hear him breathing.

“Thank you,” she said simply, wanting to get away from these feelings while trying not to bolt out the door in the process. The momentary freeze had given way to the urge to run. One coyote imitation and she was outta there for sure!

“Charity, please reconsider dinner. I promise to be the perfect gentleman.” His voice was like honey, smooth and soothing.

“No,” she croaked. She cleared her throat. “I’m flattered, but I’m sorry.”

“But where else are you going to meet men?” he asked. “And where else are men going to meet women except in the workplace?”

She frowned, considering the question.

He went on. “And if we are truly equal and truly adult, as you and I both believe we are, then men and women can handle personal relationships outside
the workplace without any repercussions within. Surely you and I are both adult enough for that.”

Her brain scrambled for an answer, then she grinned. “Boy, but you are good.” With brisk, carpet-eating strides, she began the long walk to the door. “Unfortunately, having the urge to be an adult about relationships and actually being an adult are two different things.”

“Charity, can’t we be friends?” he asked, walking along with her, trying to catch her before she made that all-important grab for the doorknob.

“I win,” she murmured as her fingers grasped the cool brass. She swung the door wide, revealing his secretary and the rest of the sea of cubicles across the long hangar-size room. She added in a louder voice, “I’ll get right on this, Mr. Halford.”

“Sneaky,” he muttered for her ears alone. She chuckled as he said formally, “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“You’re quite welcome.” She slipped out the door and began the long walk toward her work area. She could feel his gaze on her the entire time. She might have won this particular skirmish, but she knew the truth.

The chase was on.

Jake was unprepared for the look on Charity’s face when she opened her apartment door. Actually, it was the whole rest of her that had him rooted to the spot.

She was wearing a ratty bathrobe over old gray knit pants, a faded yellow T-shirt, and red socks with white toes. If he didn’t already know she had a shape
that fired a man’s libido, he wouldn’t have guessed it from that getup. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, strands falling from the lopsided ponytail. It looked as if she had absently pulled the hair free. Absolutely no makeup left her skin paler and made her eyes look even bigger. Clearly, Saturday morning wasn’t her best time. Something told him he’d committed a major faux pas.

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured, staring at him.

“Yes, it’s not the Avon lady.” He hefted the heavy picnic basket in one hand and opened the outer screen door with the other, letting himself into the apartment. It was a brazen maneuver, but he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere if he weren’t a little bold. With Charity, that was probably the only way to get things started, since she blocked him effectively at each meeting. Still, whenever he was with her he found himself talking to her, really talking, letting her inside himself, and he wanted to explore that further. He couldn’t not try, and so he’d thought he’d chance the Saturday tour of the town again. Besides, he’d be a fool not to take advantage of her shock and get inside while he could.

She stepped back into the foyer, putting distance between them. “Jake, you can’t be here. These aren’t business hours—”

“This isn’t business.” He patted the picnic basket. “I’m offering lunch and a tour of the town.”

“Didn’t I say no to this?”

“Did you? I didn’t realize.” He glanced around her into the living room, approving of the fun art deco furnishings in black, white, and red. The papers spread across the lacquer coffee table caught his attention.

“You’re working on the specs, aren’t you?”

“This is the only time I have for it. Remember?”

“Well, then, this is business,” he said happily. “And I brought lunch.” He paused. “Is that okay?”

She looked ready to kill him, but he smiled innocently, pleased to have found the perfect excuse.

She crossed her arms. “Is my job going to depend on whether or not I date you?”

His smile faded. “Your job depends on your performance of it. That’s all. This is personal, between us. It’s got nothing to do with your job or mine. Whatever you say here doesn’t touch that. I’m an adult about relationships in the workplace. It tees me off to hear you suggest otherwise.”

She merely raised her eyebrows, but he felt that he’d cleared the air.

“I ought to make you leave,” she said finally.

“Yes, I expect so.”

“People will talk about you being here.”

“They may.”

“You’re rude.”

“I’m lonely.”

She blinked at that answer, but it was how he felt. He
was
lonely. Milton was a brand-new place for him, and he was in a position that didn’t allow for many friends, especially when half of the town worked for him. It seemed to be the way with promotions, he’d discovered. He wanted to be himself, not some upper-management yuppie with the perform button never off. Oddly, the men’s movement hadn’t given him very many men friends.

She sighed. “I’m a mess.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s a turnoff … if that’s helpful.”

She covered her face with both hands. “Even my doctor doesn’t see me like this.”

“I could say that he’s fortunate, but you’d probably hit me.”

She lifted her head and scowled. “It’s a woman.”

“I could say that
she’s
fortunate, but you’d probably hit me.” He studied her, finding it endearing to see her without any pretense, just how she was when no one was around. He felt as if he’d been let into something intimate. “I’m kind of getting to like it.”

She groaned.

“Look, I’m sorry that I took you by surprise,” he said. “I have a problem with no for an answer. I’ll work on it, I promise. However, as the systems integrator here, I have come up with a unique solution. You go and do whatever you need to do with yourself to feel … comfortable. Then we’ll go out, give me the two-cent tour of Milton, find a nice place to picnic, but bring the specs along and discuss them. That makes it pleasure, which satisfies me, and work, which satisfies you. And we’ve compromised in a most adult and ancient fashion, each interdependent on the other yet meeting our individual needs.”

She made a face. “Or the other side of the coin, which is that you won’t go away until I do this, right?”

“Well, that’s an option too.” He made a pretense of sniffing the air. “Do I offend? Do I need to change my brand of mouthwash or cologne? What? What is so bad about me? It’s either that, or you’re protesting too much. And my next question then would be Why?”

She straightened. “I’ll go clean up.”

He smiled. “I’ll be waiting. In fact, I’ll look at the specs in a most businesslike fashion.”

She emerged after nearly a half-hour, looking completely different. Gone was the bathrobe that gave no shape and the ponytail that hadn’t achieved final liftoff. She looked exactly as he’d been expecting: good in jeans and better in a sweater. Still, that bathrobe had had its appeal. It also told him he wasn’t in this just for her body, a fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to accept.

“Specs all looked at,” he said, gathering up the papers. “Is it a faux pas to say you look nice?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Okay, then I’m not sure you look nice. That’s as noncommittal as I can get.”

“Thank you, I think. We can picnic over by Maurice Lake. They have some nice facilities, and I can push you in if necessary.”

“It’s not nice to push in the vice president,” he said, but he laughed, liking her no-nonsense attitude. He remembered his first impression of her as a lightweight. He had no idea what had set her off in hysterics like that in the archive room, and he was relieved to see she was normal. More than normal.

The tour of the town took exactly five minutes, as promised. He really had already seen it all. One couldn’t help doing so when driving down Main Street to work every day. So much for his grand tour, he thought wryly. Charity didn’t say anything, just smiled.

As they drove south on Route 49 toward Maurice Lake, he was disconcerted to see how close his ritual clearing was to the town and made a mental note to get farther out into the pines. There were lots of
lonely places where a man could park a car, walk in among the scrub pines and oaks, and find a clearing of sandy soil to hold a good wild-man cleansing.

Maurice Lake was long and narrow and had the advantage of privacy from Milton’s prying eyes. Jake smiled happily as they found a place and settled in.

The picnic lunch he’d brought wasn’t spectacular, but the ham and cheese sandwiches went well with the business discussion. He found himself watching her as she munched on her sandwich, her head bent over a spec sheet. Her fingers, he noticed, were slender, the nails blunt-filed and painted clear. Her brown hair, free by design this time, glinted with golden highlights in the sun, emphasizing the honey coloring. It fell forward, hiding her expression and making him wonder what she was thinking as she read. And what, if anything, she was thinking of him. Maybe, a little voice suggested, he didn’t want to know.

“This is nice,” he said, leaning back on one elbow. He stretched his legs out to the end of the blanket and crossed his ankles.