After Hours Bundle (57 page)

K
ATE COULDN
'
T BELIEVE
that she'd just had sex with Alejandro on someone's desk in someone's office during a party! Spinneys didn't boink on desks, and they certainly didn't sneak away for quickies during social gatherings. But…the new Kate apparently did.

She fixed her hair and tried to reapply her makeup in the ladies' room, but her hands shook from post-orgasmic adrenaline.

The mirror told her that she still had her father's features and her mother's hair, but nobody in her family wore makeup like this, clothes like this or spike heels. Who was she, exactly, if not a Spinney of Spinney Industries? She was…Just Kate. The world felt wide open to her, ready for exploration. Just Kate could do anything—except, apparently, apply lipliner.

She'd slipped with the pencil again. Kate swore, trying to rub off the crooked line. Were there really women who took an hour to apply their makeup each day? She couldn't fathom it.

Kate gave makeup five minutes or less. If she couldn't get it on during that time, then it wasn't worth wearing. There were too many other things to do.

Finally she got the line straight and the matching lipstick applied inside, just like a coloring book. She did a little victory dance and put the stupid cosmetics back in the useless little evening bag Alejandro had forced her to buy. She frowned. Okay, so he'd attacked her like some kind of sex-starved animal, but he'd never actually said she looked nice. She wanted to hear the words.

Kate opened the door of the ladies' room and spied him immediately, since some vixen in a backless red dress had draped herself upon his chest like a blanket.
Ooh,
what she wouldn't give right now for a pair of nail scissors.

Shocked at her own cattiness, she marched out and went straight to the bar, where she got a glass of red wine. Then she managed to drift accidentally back to where Alejo and Miss Scarlet stood, and caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I can't wait,” purred the woman.

He smiled down at her and patted her arm, which was, in Kate's opinion, quite unnecessary since her bosom was almost shoved up his nose.

Wait for what?

“I love the way your hands feel on my skin, Señor Manos.”

Kate stood in shock, holding a large swallow of wine in her mouth, afraid she might choke on it. Then she told herself to calm down. Alejandro
had
just touched the woman's arm. Kate let the wine trickle down her throat.

But why was she calling him Señor Manos? What did that mean again? Mr. Hands?

It's a product that we use in the course of a manicure or pedicure. Imported from Peru.
That's what Alejandro had told her when she'd visited the salon to make notes for the marketing class.

Wait a minute. Had he said
we?
Yes, he most certainly had.
We.
Which implied that Alejandro had more of an interest in After Hours than just doing the books. She wondered if Peggy and Marly had borrowed money from him, if he had a stake in the spa. But that still didn't explain why Miss Scarlett was calling him Señor Manos.

Imported from Peru…Alejandro was half Peruvian. Kate pursed her lips. Of course: he supplied them exclusively with the lotion or whatever it was. And this woman probably knew that and teased him by calling him the name of the product.

Kate fought with her possessive instincts, which had her wanting to chase the woman away from him.
Grow up.
She wandered away from the two and saw Marly a few feet away, one of the only other people she knew at the party. She went over to say hi.

“Kate, you look gorgeous,” Marly told her, seeming genuinely glad that she had come. “Has Alejandro seen you yet?”

Um, yeah, you could say that. Up close and personal.
“We've said hello. He's talking with one of your customers.”

“I can't believe he left your side after getting a load of you in that skirt. But he does have client schmoozing to do…” She broke off, biting her lip.

“Marly, he's more than just your accountant, isn't he? Does he have a stake in the business? Or does he just supply that Señor Manos product you guys were talking about?”

Marly opened and shut her mouth. “Right,” she said in bright tones. “And boy, has that taken off.”

“Is there a special ingredient?” Kate asked. “Because I'm thinking that maybe that could be part of your new marketing approach—hand out free samples of this stuff to prospective clients.”

Marly blinked. “What a…what a great idea! You should talk to Alejandro about that. Excuse me, I see a customer that I need to speak to.” And she vanished, unable to get away fast enough, despite her initial enthusiasm for seeing Kate.

Mystified, Kate stared after her. Was there a problem with the patent on the Señor Manos lotion, or something? Were they afraid that a competitor might get hold of it and break down the components; steal the recipe?

Really, that was the only explanation. Kate took another sip of her wine and felt her competitive instincts surface. Was Señor Manos a new miracle cream? A cream that, for example, Spinney Industries could make real money off of?

She had yet more wine as she thought about the circumstances surrounding her getting to know Alejandro. He'd definitely known who she was, with his teasing comment about her
no-account
family. Had he, perhaps, initiated a relationship with her so that he could eventually get funding for the marketing and distribution of his own product?

She felt a little sick inside at the thought. Her father's words to her when she was ten echoed through her mind.
Don't be naive. You've been born a very wealthy little girl. People—and men in particular—will try to use you for your money.

Kate gulped the rest of her wine and felt even sicker. Had she just been intimate with a man who really wanted nothing more than a business relationship with her? Had she allowed herself to be manipulated and used?

“Oh, Kate! There you are. How nice to see you,” Peggy exclaimed. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you signed up for your complimentary manicure?”

Kate looked down at her bare, somewhat ragged nails. “Nope.”

“Well, I told you we'd book you one, doll. And Marly will do your hair, if you want—not that it doesn't look great already.”

Kate gave her a wobbly smile.

“You want some more wine? I'll get it for you.”

Though she felt like drinking about two quarts of the stuff to drown her suspicions, Kate shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Okay. You look stressed, hon. Go sign up for any beauty treatment you want. Shirlie, our receptionist, will help you.”

“Thanks.” And Peggy was gone, swallowed by the chic, shimmering, gyrating crowd. Kate looked over at where Alejandro had been standing with Miss Scarlett, only to find that she'd been replaced by an equally flirtatious woman in a gold halter top and chandelier earrings. He threw back his head and laughed at something she said.

Kate restrained a snarl and marched over to the reception desk, only to find Shirlie gone.

She'd have her free manicure, and maybe a facial and a massage while she was at it. The appointment book was right there, even if Shirlie wasn't. Kate slipped behind the desk and flipped a couple of pages until she found a date that had open back-to-back slots. She'd do the facial first, then the massage and last of all the manicure.

She didn't particularly care who did the procedures, and the technicians seemed to be listed by initials only, so she plugged herself in: B.T. for the facial, P.U. for the massage and S.M. for the manicure. P.U. was probably Peggy, but she didn't know who the other two were.

She left the appointment book on the desk and searched the crowd again for Alejandro. He'd switched out Gold Halter Top for Miss Ice-Blue Camisole now, but he caught her eye from across the room and winked at Kate.

She was tempted to confront him here and now. After all, she wasn't shy about such things. But as a good WASP, she had a horror of dramatic public scenes. Calmly correcting a professor was one thing. But she had an awful feeling that if she started with this topic right now, her emotions would get the better of her and she'd scream like a fishwife.

Kate kept her face neutral and swallowed her feelings. She yawned and jerked her head toward the door, indicating that she was tired and leaving.

He made his way to her side in an instant. “Kate,
mi amor,
you don't wish to come home with me?”

“I'm not feeling very well,” she lied. “I'm just going to drive back to my condo and go to bed.”

“It is your head? Your stomach?” His eyes reflected concern.

It's my pragmatism, sport. It's your secret product.
“Oh, I just feel a little nauseous.”

“I will drive you.”

“No. You're having fun, and it's early. Really, I'll be fine.”

He insisted on walking her to her car, no matter what she said, and he kissed her good night. She could hardly bear to look at him. Were her suspicions grounded?

“Get some sleep,
mi corazon.
I will call you
manana.
” He closed her door and waited until she'd started the car. He looked worried.

And so you should be,
Kate thought, as she put her old Mercedes into reverse and drove into the night.

K
ATE LOOKED AT
her new, still nameless dog, who wouldn't stop licking her adoringly on the arm as she drove from the animal shelter to her condo. No Name was a somewhat bizarre-looking mix of boxer and collie, with maybe a little moose thrown in. Her personality made up for her looks, though. She slurped Kate's arm again.

“You don't have to say thank you, sweetheart. I need you, too. I'm really sorry about the spaying thing, but they wouldn't let you come home with me if we didn't do that. It's why I couldn't take you the other day.”

The dog kept licking.

“You forgive me? Tell you what, to make it up to you, I have a T-bone for your dinner. I figure that's kind of like me eating half a pan of brownies for dinner—we can't do it every day, but it helps make us feel better in the short run. So what's your name, huh? Snowball is just not going to work for me. First of all, you've got lots of brown with the white. And it's hot here. And Mudball doesn't seem like a very nice name. So work with me, here. What do you want to be called?”

The dog cocked her head, seeming to understand.

“I met a pig named Gracious,” Kate told her. “She even stayed with me for a few days.”

Her new pet wagged her tail.

“Yeah, you'd like her. Maybe I'll introduce you sometime….” She thought darkly of Alejandro, since it was his neighbor who owned Gracious. “But maybe not.” She still had to have a little talk with him, but she honestly didn't know how to bring up the subject. Maybe she was wrong, anyway. She should probably just wait to see if he actually did ask her to invest in Señor Manos.

What a dumb name for a lotion. The name definitely had to be changed to something with more panache. And what was the current packaging like? Come to think of it, she'd never seen a single jar or bottle of the stuff at After Hours.

Which was just fine by her, she reminded herself sternly, because she was not going to invest in it. She turned the car into the parking lot of her building, keeping a sharp eye out for old Mr. Landry. Thank God he wasn't out there.

She clipped a leash to No Name's collar and urged her out of the car. She immediately began sniffing around her new pad, gathering all kinds of clues about her new environment.

“See, you're good at that,” Kate told her. “Maybe you can track down a couch for me?” They went inside and she stopped at the concierge desk. “Hi, Kevin.”

“Hello, Ms. Spinney. How are you today?”

“Fine, thanks. Any messages? Packages?”

He shook his head and then stopped, a peculiar expression on his face. “There was another complaint lodged against you the other day, though.”

“You're kidding. For what?”

“Same thing. A caller accused you of having a pig in your unit.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. Wendell had struck again. She jiggled the leash. “Kevin. Does this look like a pig to you?”

“No, ma'am, it doesn't.”

“Do you want to search my condo for a pig?”

“I don't think that'll be necessary.”

“If you get the urge, just knock, okay? I'll open the door after I get the rubber pig mask off my dog, here.”

Kevin laughed. “Yes, ma'am.”

A few minutes later in her condo, Kate looked at No Name thoughtfully while she heated the broiler for her T-bone. “You've got to help me out, here, sweetie. You need a name, and I need some good revenge.”

The dog eyed her sympathetically and then walked to the kitchen counter, where the steak sat ready. She sniffed, eager to make its acquaintance.

“We have to cook it. Haven't you ever heard of E. coli or mad cow disease? The last thing I need here is a mad dog who moos.”

No Name sat down, never taking her eye off the steak.

“So. You want salt?” Kate got it out of a cupboard and sprinkled some on the T-bone. Then she put the salt back and located a box of brownie mix. “Me, I always add some extra cocoa powder to my chocolate batter. They never make it fudgy enough.”

No Name scratched her ear.

“There's only one company who makes their brownies with enough chocolate, and that's Ghirardelli. If you add cocoa powder to their mix, you're likely to die of chocolate poisoning.”

Kate stopped. Was she really having a conversation with a dog?

“But you can't eat any chocolate at all, No Name. It's bad for dogs.” Kate checked the broiler. It was blazing hot, so she shoved the steak under it. “Medium-rare okay with you?”

The dog collapsed in a puddle of paws, fur and drool. She rolled onto her back, exposing a shaved pink expanse of flesh with stitches poking out.

“I thought so.” While the steak broiled, Kate cracked an egg into a bowl, added oil and water and then shook the brownie mix in on top. She stirred the batter, then flipped the steak.

She was in the process of pouring the batter into a pan when her phone rang. She sighed. What fresh hell would be on the other end of the line?

It was Kevin from downstairs. “There's a gentleman here to see you, Miss Spinney. A Mr. Torres?”

Oh, hell. Part of her wanted to confront him. Part of her wanted to stick her head in the sand and pretend her suspicions didn't exist. And part of her wanted to just bide her time and see if she was right.

“Miss Spinney?”

Kate looked down at the dog hairs covering her jeans, remembered that she hadn't even showered this morning and then decided she didn't care. “Send him up, Kevin. Thanks.”

Her dog barked at Alejandro when she opened the door. She stood close to Kate and watched him warily, the fur on her neck at attention. “Shh. It's okay,” Kate told her. “He's a friend.”
I think.

“Kate? You have a dog?” He leaned forward to kiss her. She let him.

“The emptiness of this place was getting to me. This is No Name.”

“And here I was going to get you a pig.” He bent down and extended his hand so the dog could sniff it, and then scratched her behind the ears. His stomach growled. “Something smells good. I didn't think you cooked.”

“I don't. Well, aside from scrambled eggs and toast, steak and brownies are the only things in my culinary repertoire.”

“Steak?” He brightened.

“Don't get your hopes up, sport. It's for No Name. I promised it to her because of the spay operation.”

His handsome jaw dropped. “You're broiling a steak for a dog? I can think of much better uses for it,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

“You can have a brownie.”

“You choose a dog over your boyfriend?”

She'd been walking back to the kitchen, but she stopped in her tracks. Boyfriend? Was that what Alejandro was? She continued on her way without answering and pulled the steak out from under the broiler, setting it on the cooktop to cool.

Alejandro followed her and gazed at it, then back at her, not as amused as he pretended to be. She sighed. “I promised her,” she said defensively. No Name, who had followed them into the kitchen, wagged her tail.

“Besides, I don't cook for men. I don't do their laundry or iron for them, either. I'm a feminist.”

“What if you were married to the man? And he cooked and did the laundry sometimes, too?”

She frowned. “Oh. Well, I suppose that would be different.” She followed his eyes to the steak again, and waffled. He had brought dinner one of the nights that Wendell had been here. She owed him. But she was also suspicious of his motives and rather upset.

Kate speared the steak and put it on a plate, Alejo's eyes following the meat just as avidly as the dog's. Ignoring him, she heartlessly began to cut it up into bite-size pieces. “Look, I'm not having any of this, either. It's not like I'm discriminating against you, sport.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and continued to watch her decimate the meat. His stomach growled again. “Why are you angry with me, Kate?” he asked quietly.

“I'm not angry with you,” she said, and set the plate down for No Name, who sprang at it with ill-disguised canine glee. Alejandro made a choking noise.

In one motion, the dog's tongue licked over every morsel on the plate, and Alejandro's expression of longing faded, to be replaced by one of disgust.

“You're calling me sport,” he said. “You only do that when you're irritated.”

Damn. He had picked that up about her, hadn't he? Kate flicked her gaze to him briefly before watching her new dog push the plate across the kitchen floor, devouring every scrap of meat.

She should come clean with him about her suspicions. But the words refused to form in her head, much less come out of her mouth. For the first time in her life, she didn't want to know the truth.

He stood there, so big and handsome and rippling with muscle, and she desperately wanted to believe that he desired her for her character, her looks, her sense of humor—anything except for her name or her money. Tears threatened to form in back of her eyes, and she willed them fiercely away.

“Why are you angry?” he asked again. “Is it the women who were flirting with me at the party?”

“Yeah,” she said shortly. “The one in the red dress was stuck to you like Velcro.” She was happy to have an excuse to be annoyed with him—any reason besides the real one.

“I'm sorry about that,” he said, reddening. “I—er—she's a regular customer. I can't be rude to her—she brings a lot of business to the salon.”

Kate lifted a sardonic brow. “And the woman in the gold halter top and chandelier earrings? She practically humped your leg.”

“Also a customer.” The red climbed down his cheeks and spread to his neck.

“Great. And the one in blue?”

He shrugged helplessly, holding his palms up and clearly asking for her understanding. “I cannot offend them. It would be bad for business, and Peg and Marly are my friends.”

“You have a stake in the business, don't you. You're not just an accountant for them.” She said it as a statement, not as a question.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do. That is true. I should have mentioned it to you earlier.” He looked deeply uncomfortable, and she swallowed. They were getting onto dangerous ground here. Was she ready to do this? How could she have let him shake her up emotionally? Unbalance her to this degree?

Just confront him, Kate. Do it. You had no problem with Professor Kurtz.

But she hadn't slept with Kurtz. She hadn't let Kurtz make all kinds of changes in her life and tie her into knots like a pretzel. She didn't give a rat's ass about Kurtz…whereas Alejandro was different. She shied away from identifying her feelings for Alejandro. They were too jumbled. All she knew was that she was vulnerable to him.

“Kate, there's…something I have to tell you.”

Sudden panic rose in her, almost choking her. She shut her eyes.
No! No! I don't want to hear this. You can't make me.

Her father's lockjawed tones echoed in her head.
Men who wear gold chains are either pimps or weasels….

“Kate,” he said. “This is something embarrassing. Something I'm not proud of—”

Embarrassing?
That was one way to put it! Nice of him to be concerned for his own ego, and not her feelings. It was merely
embarrassing
to him that he'd sought her out with capitalism in mind? Well, hell. The irony didn't escape her. They
were
in business school.

She couldn't take it. “Stop,” she said abruptly. “Just shut up. I don't want to hear it.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “But—”

“I think you should go now.” She was getting good at kicking guys out of her condo.

His mouth hung open. “What? Why? Kate,
mi amor—
”

She marched to the door and held it open. “Out.” He was worse than Wendell. At least her cousin was upfront about his obnoxiousness.

He stared at her, his expression growing thunderous. “What is the matter with you? I told you that those women—that I do not encourage them, and I certainly don't sleep with them.”

“Out!”
she shouted. No Name growled at him, clearly willing to chew off his leg for a woman who fed her T-bones.

He threw up his hands and stalked to the door. “Fine. But I don't understand why you are behaving like a
bruja.
If and when you get over it, you call me.”

Kate wasn't sure, but she thought
bruja
meant
witch.
That exacerbated her anger. “Yeah, next time I go skiing in hell, sport.”

She slammed the door on him and went to get her rather singed brownies out of the oven. After eating the entire pan, maybe she'd go buy herself a couch and a matching broomstick.