Fool for Love: Fooling Around\Nobody's Fool\Fools Rush In (2 page)

O
THER THAN HIS NAME
,
there was nothing French about Andre Dumont. His mother and father had named him Andre because they'd been drinking Andre champagne the night he'd been conceived. Oh, sure, if some genealogy nut wanted to trace his roots, they'd probably end up at Versailles or Bordeaux. And he'd been told he looked French, all dark and brooding.

Perhaps if he'd learned French, he could have acted French. Women seemed to think a guy with French blood would automatically be great in bed, and that certainly couldn't hurt a man's image, he supposed.

Andre figured he was just as good in the sack as the average guy—and who could tell these things, anyway? But at least he'd finally figured out that when a woman asked about his French background he should simply smile and shrug, as if he took it for granted.

He'd picked up a few other tricks along the way. He actually did like to cook, which helped his worldly image, so when he invited a date for dinner, he served French wine and played French music on his CD player. He'd also tried to play up the dark and brooding thing, but other than letting his hair
grow a little longer, driving a sports car and wearing Euro-styled shades, he didn't really know what to do.

He'd had a fair share of success with women, because he had a knack for selling anything, including himself. But he had yet to find the one lady he'd give up the single life for. However, there might be that kind of potential with Lena Walsh, a hot woman at Thunderbird Savings. She was on the management track and he was in sales, naturally, so they didn't see a lot of each other. Yet whenever they met,
vava-voom,
his sensors went on red alert.

Unfortunately, Lena had never given him the slightest indication that he meant any more to her than the office furniture. He didn't take that personally because she didn't seem to give any guy encouragement. She didn't have some long-distance relationship going, either. He'd asked around.

Maybe she didn't like guys at all, which would be a crying shame considering her top-of-the-line packaging. Or maybe she was determined to make her first million before she turned thirty and didn't have time for silly things like dating and sex. Either way, she seemed immune to both his French charm and his salesmanship. He, on the other hand, was becoming obsessed with her.

He hadn't been out with any other woman in the six months he'd been at Thunderbird because he kept thinking he'd work up the courage to ask Lena for a date and he wanted his calendar to be clear. Then she'd bustle through with some management memo, efficiency and professionalism rolling off her in waves, and he'd lose his nerve.

Late on a Tuesday afternoon at the end of March,
she walked straight into his little cubby, giving him the perfect opportunity to ask her out. He kept his attention on her face and pretended not to notice the curve of her breasts under her pinstriped suit jacket. That was especially difficult because she was breathing fast, as if she'd taken the stairs instead of the elevator.

Be suave, Dumont.
“Hi, Lena.” He got up from his desk and tried to look as French as possible.

“What's up?”

“I…um…” She paused and cleared her throat.

He stared at her. Never in the time they'd worked together had he seen her at a loss for words. Her blue eyes were filled with hesitation and uncertainty. He had a horrible thought. “I screwed up with one of my clients.”

“No, no! Nothing like that.”

“
You
screwed up with one of my clients?” He found the idea inconceivable, but something had rattled her. He noticed another strange thing—a fresh coat of lipstick on her gorgeous mouth. Normally by this time of day she'd be minus the lipstick and have a cute little shine to her nose. Not today. Surely she hadn't fixed her makeup for him.

“This isn't about clients.” She fidgeted with the button on her suit jacket. “Or anything to do with the office.”

He closed his mouth, embarrassed to discover it was open. Suave French guys didn't stand around with their mouths hanging open. They acted bored, as if they always knew the score. But he didn't have the foggiest idea who the players were, let alone the score. He couldn't imagine what was coming next.

She twisted the suit button some more. “Are you…is there any chance you're…free on Friday night? I know it's short notice, so you probably have plans, which is fine, but I just thought if you didn't that—”

“You're asking me out?” He couldn't have been more shocked if she'd come to a company function in a negligee. “Why?”

She blushed. “Never mind. You probably have no interest in seeing me socially. It was just an idea. Forget it.” She started to leave.

“Wait! I have lots of interest in seeing you socially. I didn't think you had any interest in
me.
”

“Well, I do.”

“I would never have guessed.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “I've been focused on my career recently, and it's not easy to—the thing is, dating takes time and effort, and I haven't been putting my energy there.” She cleared her throat and looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I see. Well, that makes sense. I haven't really, either. Been putting my energy there, I mean.” He told himself not to get too excited, but he was bubbling like a lava lamp at the thought that after a long dry spell, Lena had picked him. “But you want to put your energy there, now?”

She nodded.

“As it so happens, I'm free Friday night.” He glanced at his desk calendar, as if to double-check, when he knew there was nothing going on besides catching a Suns game on the tube. “That's April second, right?”

“Right.”

He grinned. “Good thing it's not the first, or I might wonder if this was all a joke.”

“It's not,” she said quickly.

Maybe too quickly, he thought as he studied her. Was this buttoned-down lady secretly into practical jokes? Nah, not likely. “What did you have in mind?”

She looked even more uncomfortable. “Dinner?” She made it seem like a question.

“Dinner would be good.”

“And, um, some dancing, and…and after that, a little light entertainment.” She sounded as if she'd rehearsed the pitch.

He controlled a chuckle and reminded himself that she didn't do this kind of thing every day. Of course she'd be nervous. According to her description, they'd probably be going to a supper club-slash-comedy club, a place where he could play the French guy really well while wearing his designer silk shirt and his best dinner jacket. “I'd love that. What time should I pick you up?”

“Actually, since I asked you, why don't I pick
you
up?”

“Uh, sure, why not?” He'd much rather drive. The driver was in the power position and, besides, Andre had a cool car. But he didn't want to come off like a chauvinist. “Let me give you my address.” He grabbed a sticky note and scribbled it down, along with his phone number.

“Thanks.” She took the note and folded under the sticky part.

Maybe he shouldn't have used a sticky note. Maybe he should have whipped one of his cards from
the holder on his desk and put his address on the back of that. Much smoother. But she'd thrown him off his game, appearing out of the blue like this and wanting a date. Not that he was complaining. He needed to get his act together before Friday night, though.

She glanced at the address. “Great, you're not far from me. Is six good for you?”

“Six is excellent for me.”

“Great.” Her color still high, she smiled at him. “I'll see you on Friday night, then.”

“I'm looking forward to it.” He waited until she was out of sight before pumping his fist in the air. Then he ran his hand over the back of his neck. He'd planned to get his hair cut tomorrow, but he'd better not. Short hair would ruin the dark and brooding thing.

Fortunately his good shirt was clean, and the place on his chin where he'd nicked himself shaving had nearly healed. He was as ready for this date as he would ever be.

 

B
ETWEEN
T
UESDAY
and Friday, Lena avoided Andre whenever possible. She realized that might seem weird to him, like she was some stealth dater, but she couldn't pull off this crazy scheme if she got to know him any better between now and then. Too much contact before the event and she might end up giving him some clue that the evening wouldn't be what he expected.

She'd duly reported her scheduled date to Meg and Brandy. She'd be the first risk-taker. Meg's sail on Tempe Town Lake with Devon was Sunday, and
Brandy was kidnapping Eric on Monday. They'd all decided to avoid April Fool's Day, so that the guys wouldn't get suspicious and think the women were deliberately pulling pranks on them with their crazy antics.

Lena could only guess how time passed for Meg and Brandy, but as for her, the anxiety level mounted daily. She battled it the way she always handled stress, by making lists. By Friday afternoon, she had almost everything crossed off. Manicure and pedicure, check. Haircut, eyebrow wax and bikini wax, check. The bikini wax was overkill, because she certainly wouldn't go that far on the first date, but doing it made her feel more confident.

She'd attended one belly-dancing class and coerced the instructor into giving a Friday-night lesson. She'd had to pay extra and get some volunteers, because the class normally didn't meet that night, but the prospect of having a guy join the group had whipped up the interest factor.

Departing drastically from her tailored clothes, she'd bought a flowing skirt and sleeveless tunic in a lightweight gauzy fabric. When belted around her hips with an iridescent scarf and accessorized with two bracelets and an anklet, it looked quite exotic. Yet she still could do all the activities she'd planned.

She'd let the saleswoman talk her into the scarf, bracelets and anklet. Meanwhile her mother's voice held forth in her head, reminding her that the bright stones were too gaudy and she might want to rethink the shimmering scarf. Lena had ignored her mother's voice and bought everything because they made her feel sexy.

Sexy was how she wanted to feel tonight, right? Instead she was scared silly as she imagined taking Andre out for fast food and then to a belly-dancing class. He would never want to see her again. Sheesh.

Her pulse jumping, she went back to her list. Car washed and detailed. Prettiest undies washed and waiting in her drawer. Andre would never see the black lace thong and low-cut underwire, but she felt more datable wearing them.

She'd covered everything on her list. Nothing more to do except go home at five, shower, dress and pick up Andre. This would be her first date since…wow, since last summer. Hank Mendenhall had asked her to the company picnic and in the course of that uncomfortable afternoon they'd discovered they had nothing in common besides work.

Hoping to distract herself from the embarrassing event she had coming up tonight, she tried to remember the last date she'd had before Hank. She was mentally reviewing her meager date history when her supervisor, Dana, called.

“I need to see you in my office before you head home for the weekend,” Dana said. Something in her voice told Lena this was more than a casual FYI meeting.

“Be right there.” As Lena left her office, she figured out what the summons was about. She'd been so involved in her dating plans that she'd forgotten about the promotion possibility. Yikes. This particular promotion couldn't have come at a worse time.

Dana Iverson, a blond in her mid-fifties, smiled and stood when Lena walked in. “Congratulations are in order.”

“That's good to hear.” Lena tried to look enthusiastic while she mentally searched for a way out of the box she'd put herself in.

“The promotion came through exactly as I'd hoped. As of Monday, you'll be supervising our six highest producers. I'm sure you already know who they are, but here's the list. Oh, and this is confidential until Monday. I wanted to give you a heads up, though, because I'm so excited for you. This will look very good on your résumé.”

Lena nodded and took the list, but she didn't have to look at it to have her worst fears confirmed. On Monday, she would become Andre's boss. The company had a strict policy about supervisors dating those working under them.

The prudent thing would be to tell Dana now. And Dana might advise canceling the date. That would give Lena a legitimate way out of this nerve-wracking experience, and yet…she hesitated.

“Is anything wrong?” Dana asked. “You look worried about something.”

Lena glanced up from the list, where Andre's name seemed to glow as if outlined in neon paint. Damn it, she'd spent her whole life being prudent concerning guys, and now, right when she had geared herself up to take a chance, this escape route had opened up. Whether she took it needed to be her decision, not Dana's.

“Nothing's wrong,” she said. “Everything's terrific.” Then she gave Dana a smile. “I'm absolutely thrilled about this promotion.”

 

“L
OOK
,
THIS DATE
is already loaded with enough freight to sink it.” Lena had managed to get Meg
and Brandy on a three-way call. A girl needed advisors, even if the ultimate decision was hers. “How can I add in the job thing? If the date goes well, which I doubt, but if it does by some miracle, we won't be able to keep dating after tonight. That could be awkward if we're seeing each other every day. If it goes horribly, then the torture will be even worse.”

“Do you want to cancel?” Traffic rumbled in the background as Meg talked from her cell phone.

“She can't cancel!” Brandy's voice echoed from the speaker phone in her office. “It's too late to come up with another stunt or even another guy. I say she goes through with it.”