Drop Dead Gorgeous (7 page)

Well, there it was, plain and simple, with Dick standing sentinel. Laurence wouldn't have told Madison to take her hand away, instead he would have moved it right onto his very important and most private part. He might even have begged.

He couldn't quite say when the terrible thing had happened, but he knew for sure he wanted Madison O'Donnell. He wanted her hands on the rest of his anatomy.

She needed a man, not some thirty-three-year-old boy with too much hair.

He didn't want to just pretend he was The One, he wanted to
be
The One.

At least for as long as it took to convince her she wasn't going to die.

“I'
LL WALK
M
ADISON
to her car.”

“No, I'll walk Madison to her car.”

Madison put one hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart. “If you two don't cut it out, I'll walk myself to my car.”

That stopped them.

T. Larry's eyes glittered with manic fervor, probably the aftereffects of his altercation. Who'd have thought? She was proud of him. He'd put himself out on a limb in a public forum rife with opportunities for humiliation, and he hadn't lost sight of who he was or what he believed in. Later, she'd ask him what he'd said to make the woman laugh before she slapped him and threw her drink in his face. First, though, there was Richard.

“Richard is my date,” she told T. Larry, “and he'll walk me to my car.”

T. Larry balled his fists. “Madison.”

“T. Larry.” She prepared for a Mexican standoff.

Despite the warmth of the June day, the night had turned cool. Madison hugged her jacket tighter. Exhaust stung her nostrils. Taking up the middle of the sidewalk in front of Cruzio's Grand Café, they'd attracted attention. A man pulled his wife close to his side, then inched past them as if he expected a fight. Another couple stopped for the impending fireworks. Richard's gaze switched from her to T. Larry and back like a tennis match.

“I'm not going to stand out here forever.”

T. Larry's fists relaxed. “He can walk you.”

“Thank you.”

“I'll walk ten paces behind, since we're going the same way.”

She almost smiled. This time Richard clenched his fists, but she took his hand, pried his fingers loose and slipped her palm against his. “Make it twenty.”

T. Larry growled as she pulled Richard through the small throng that had gathered. She loved the city. True, nooks and crannies emitted unpleasant odors and panhandlers begged on most corners, but bright neon signs lit the night and the enticing scent of garlic laced with voices and laughter floated on the air. Her black skirt swished around her thighs, her feet tingled inside her high-heeled pumps, and her hand tucked in Richard's perspired lightly with excitement. On nights like this, she thanked God she was alive. She didn't worry about dying. Especially not with Richard's cologne wafting around her and T. Larry's hot, protective glare on her back.

“Is there something I should know about…that man?” Richard glanced over his shoulder.

“T. Larry?”

Richard sighed with irritation. Ooh, he was jealous.

“He's my boss.”

“I know.” Richard paused, pulling her hand through his arm. His silk suit jacket caressed her knuckles. “He's the first boss I've ever seen follow his employees around for their—” he looked down, a puff of breath ruffling her hair “—protection.”

“He's not usually like this, but today's a special day.”

“Special how?”

They turned in at the garage before she could answer. Madison dropped his arm to fish in her purse for her ticket and some cash. She hadn't bought the monthly pass since she preferred the train and rarely drove her car.

Richard reached reflexively into his back pocket for his wallet. “I'll get that for you.”

How sweet. “I've got it.” She fed the bill into the machine along with her ticket. T. Larry waited a short distance away by the street opening. Was that twenty paces using his feet or twenty paces using mousesize feet? Close enough to overhear Richard, T. Larry rolled his eyes. Taking Richard's arm, she steered him away before he saw.

They waited by the elevator. “Now about why today is special…”

The elevator came, they stepped inside, then just as the doors were about to close, T. Larry pushed through. Richard's lips thinned. T. Larry's mouth split in the biggest grin she'd ever seen him wear.

“You jumped in here on purpose.” She should have been mad, but Madison hadn't been mad about anything in so long she'd sort of forgotten how. Besides, that grin was infectious, though she managed to hide her own for Richard's benefit.

“I didn't want to miss this one,” T. Larry explained without necessity, and Madison was sure he meant more than the elevator. “Sometimes, these things take forever.”

Which was true, but Madison knew that wasn't the only reason. T. Larry didn't trust Richard. And he didn't intend to let them out of his sight for a moment. Testosterone battled in the small lift. She was thankful when the doors finally opened on her floor.

They spilled out into the gloomy parking garage.

“My car's this way,” she told Richard.

“Mine is, too,” T. Larry answered.

She jabbed a finger in his chest. “Thirty paces.”

Beneath the silk suit, tension transformed Richard's arm to rock. The heels of her shoes echoed off the walls. An engine rumbled to life on the floor below. A quick glance told her T. Larry kept his position by the elevator, his lips moving as he counted. Thirty, then he started to follow.

The ridiculous turn of the situation made Madison want to laugh. Badly. Almost uncontrollably. What
had
gotten into T. Larry? Merely the state of her tires that afternoon?

Her yellow coupe was parked five stalls down from his Camry. His keys jingled loudly in his pocket as he fished them out.

Richard bent to her ear. “Are you going to tell me what's so special about today and why your boss is breathing down your neck?”

“It started with my tires.” Actually it started with Richard's phone call. They neared her car.

Richard stopped, almost tugging Madison off her feet when she blithely kept going. “Your tires?”

She pulled him the extra steps to her bumper. Whatever was wrong? His face had gone deathly white.

“Some kids slashed my tires this afternoon as a practical joke. It wasn't any big deal.” Thank God T. Larry had climbed in his own car. He'd have strangled her for saying that, especially for believing it.

Richard's hand kneaded her fingers where he'd grabbed her. His knuckles cracked. “You got them fixed.”

“Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to drive home?”

He stared at her brand-spanking-new and absolutely gorgeous tires. “I would have driven you home.”

“You're sweet. But T. Larry would have done that.”

Five spaces away from them, T. Larry's car roared to life. He gunned the engine.

“Did T. Larry get the tires fixed, too?”

“Oh, no. I did that.” Richard's hand relaxed on her arm. “T. Larry just called the cops for me.”

All sorts of things happened to Richard's face then. His nostrils worked air in and out, his lips tensed, and tiny lines shot from the corners of his mouth. “Seems like T. Larry does an awful lot of things for you.”

Goodness, an honest-to-God spark of jealousy. She couldn't mistake that. No one had ever been jealous before. It was nice. But she couldn't let it get out of hand. “Oh, he's just a big protective teddy bear. Like my brothers.”

T. Larry chose that moment to cruise by. He did look like a bear, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. His tires squeaked on the concrete as he pulled away, slowly, his gaze on them in his rearview mirror.

And then Richard said the most amazing thing. “Madison, you're not like anyone I've ever known before.”

Well, she hoped not, but that odd note of reverence sent a little thrill straight through her body. “Thank you.”

He took a step closer, dropped his voice low, intimate. “I wish I could have been there for you when you found your tires vandalized. It must have frightened you so.”

Of course, she'd told him it had been no big thing, but that tone, that caring…“Kids,” she murmured as if she were saying something completely different. “It wasn't like it was personal.”

“I can't help but worry when something bad happens to you.”

Boy, this was nice. If only it could go on forever. Like a fairy tale. “I wish you'd been there, too.”

He looked at her mouth. “I'll be there next time, I promise.”

She leaned forward an inch, then two, parting her lips. Yes, his eyes were the loveliest shade of brown and his breath caressed her ear.

T. Larry's tread squealed on the concrete as he circled again. Madison jumped back as if he'd caught them in the act.

With a quick cryptic glance at the receding lights, Richard said, “I better let you go.”

“It's getting late,” she agreed. She reached, almost reluctantly, into her purse. Where were those keys? She usually put them in the side pocket. She found them under her wallet.

Richard stared at them dangling from her fingers almost sadly, as if they were the symbol of their date's end. She strained toward him once more.
Kiss me, kiss me.
Normally she didn't on the first date, but time was running out. Her birthday was just around the corner.

Richard edged away from the plea in her eyes. “Can I call you at home to make sure you're safe?”

“Yes. My number's—” She snapped out of her mesmerizing need, T. Larry's admonitions sounding in her head. No kisses and no giving out her phone number, not on the first date. “I mean, why don't I call you?”

“You're afraid to give me your number.” Hurt glazed his eyes.

Afraid wouldn't be the right word. Cautious. T. Larry's anxiety
had
rubbed off on her. She hoped it didn't put her off her schedule completely. She only had two weeks to fall in love.

“I know, I'm sorry,” he said before she could answer. “I'm rushing you.” He reached to his inside breast pocket, the back of his hand brushing her hair. Writing on a card, he handed it to her. “Please call me.”

Oh, she would. She really, really would. Because when she looked into those sad brown eyes, she was sure she could make him into
The One.

 

“I
T'S
M
ADISON
.” It came out huskier than she'd intended, a tad too sexual, maybe even too pushy. But time was running out, and she'd decided to call Richard once she got home.

Richard sighed. “I'm glad you're safe.”

She'd washed her face, brushed her teeth, put her silkiest nightgown on, then jumped into bed to call. It wasn't as if he'd see the filmy garment. But Madison felt it as she slipped down beneath the covers and nestled into the pillows.

“You didn't block the call.”

“Hmm.” She stretched, then what he said hit her. “Huh?”

“I've got caller ID. You should have blocked your number, Madison.”

“I didn't think about it.”

“I thought of it for you. So don't worry, I'm not memorizing it until you give it to me for real.”

He was so thoughtful. She curled her knees to her chest, then stretched them out again. The lingering scent of cinnamon-and-almond treats drifted up from the Danish bakery below her apartment, making her mouth water.

“What are you wearing?”

She laughed softly. “Now what did I tell you asking that kind of question really means?”

“I admit I'm really asking
that.
”

She couldn't find an answer for the moment. Hadn't she always wanted to try phone sex? Just a hint of it, starting small, like the lace on her bra or the texture of her nightie, a subtle sexual innuendo.

“I'm sorry. I'm rushing you again.”

Yes, he was, but she felt the same rush. And the apology endeared him. “I'm wearing a very short silk nightgown, and I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Me, too. Can I see you again?” He didn't mention the nightie.

His eagerness turned her knees to Jell-O. She fingered the silk hem, and debated telling him about the plunging neck. Too soon, really too soon. There was rushing, and then there was
rushing.
One suited “Falling In Love,” the other was just plain risky. She needed to know him better. And there was only one way. “I'd love to go out again.”

“Without your boss?”

She laughed at his insistent tone. “Yes, without T. Larry.”

“When?”

The weekend was shot, her nephew's birthday party was tomorrow, and she still had to shop for his present. Then church on Sunday morning and Sunday supper at her mother's. She wished for once she could cancel, but Ma would be heartbroken. “Monday?”

“Monday night?”

“For dinner.” And that was all. She didn't want him to think she was easy. What a short timeline she'd drawn for herself. But she didn't have to have sex to fall in love with him. Maybe guys thought that way, but she didn't.

“Dinner's all I really want right now.” He read her thoughts, her fears. Oh, he had such possibilities.