Can't Touch This (9 page)

“Like your friend’s husband?”

“Bad example,” she says, taking another sip of the red concoction in front of her.

 “But those people you described aren’t like you and me,” I say.  “We take the bull by the horns.”

“We don’t go around our elbows to get to our asses,” she adds with a laugh.

I nearly choke on my drink.  “You’ve got to stop.  I’m serious.”

She turns to face me, her brows knitted together.  “So am I.  If you want something, go after it, Vanessa.  The hell with everyone else.  Because you know what?  You’ll wake up one day at thirty-five and wonder why you wasted these years following the rules or being picky or wondering what people think.  You’ve got this free passport to travel and meet newguys.  Don’t worry about the consequences.  Just live.”

I collapse back into my bar seat as if I’ve just been beaten senseless.  Perhaps I’ve just had some sense metaphorically beaten into me.   “Excellent speech, Ms. Perry.”

She draws her martini glass to her lips.  “I thought so, too.”

The bartender sets our tapas in front of us.  “Here you go, ladies.  Enjoy.”

“Looks amazing.  I’m starving,” Griz says and then dives into her potato appetizer.

Maybe she’s right.  What am I saving myself for?  I moved to Boston to be my own person, free from parental rules and regulations, able to make my own decisions.  I need to shut the hell up and do what I say I want to do.  It’s the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.  Women aren’t expected to behave like June Cleaver, or even their own mothers, for that matter.  We are single and independent.  I’ll go with the flow and see what happens with Rory.

Griz quickly wipes her mouth with her napkin.  “And speaking of appetizing, look at what just walked in.”  She points toward the door.

I crane my head to see who she’s waving to.  My stomach does one of those crazy roller coast zooms, but I take control and clench my fists.  “Is this some sort of set-up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says innocently.

Two familiar guys walk right through the crowd making their way to the bar.

Griz raises her eyebrow.  “Look at the potential.”

“Are you crazy, Griz?  Someone might see us with them.”

She brushes me off.  “We’re just having drinks, not doing it in the server room.”

“Hey there, Isabella,” says Rick Churchman.  “Hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”

Rick works for Kyle on the client services team.  I know Griz thinks he’s hot, but I had no idea she’d been ballsy enough to ask him out like this.

“Hey, Vanessa.”

Behind Rick is said boss...and those amazing hazel eyes I’ve been trying to get out of my thoughts.

“Hey, Kyle.  What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I was invited,” he says with a smile.

Great, now we’re really treading into dangerous waters.  A lot of DigitalDirection staffers hang out here, so I look around for anyone who might make this out to be more than it is.  Looks like we’re good since I don’t recognize any other familiar faces.

“Hey guys,” Griz says in a sexy way.  “Why don’t we get a table?”

“That’s okay, we’re—” I say as I stay rooted to my bar stool.

“Great idea,” Kyle says.

“I can move your food and check,” the bartender tells us, making everything oh, so convenient.

As Griz gets her crutches, I grab my purse and clench my teeth at her.  “Is this some sort of date?”

“No, but I did tell Rick we’d be here and that they should stop by.”

“I don’t believe you.”  I take my purse and brush past her.

She grabs my arm.  “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom.”

She seethes.  “Like hell you are.”  She pushes me forward and I have no choice but to follow the guys to the table where my drink now sits.

Rick sits next to Griz and Kyle slides in next to me.  Taking a breath to calm my nerves and my irritation, I make a mental checklist.  Hair:  good.  Makeup:  simple.  Stomach:  suck in.

Griz stares me down as if to remind me of our previous conversation, and I do my best to just chill out.  I try to play it cool, acting like it isn’t a forced get-together.  I don’t trust Griz as far as I can throw her.  Rick’s up to no good, too.  I can’t believe that Kyle, Corporate Lapdog, agreed to this.

“Do you mind?” Kyle asks, pointing to my tuna coronets.  “I haven’t eaten all day.  Jiles had me on one conference call after the next.”

I push the plate in front of him.  “Oh sure.  Please help yourself.”

“We’ll order more.”  Kyle pops the raw tuna into his mouth.

“I need a beer,” Rick says as he stretches out in his seat.

Rick Churchman is an athletic sort with a blond crew cut and a nice smile.  To break the ice, I say, “So, Rick, you’re going with me to the tradeshow in Las Vegas next month, right?”

“He’s only going for the gambling,” Griz says, touching him on the arm.

I furrow my brows at her gross PDA, worried that DigitalDirection spies might be aloft to take notes and report back to HR.

“Vegas, baby!” Rick says in a deep voice.

My father was stationed at Nellis Air Force Base, outside of Vegas, when I was ten years old.  Most of my friends’ parents worked as bartenders, waitresses or dealers.  It’s going to be weird going back there after all these years.

“Kyle, are you going on that trip too?” Griz asks before she sips her drink.

Kyle moves his arm behind me on my chair to turn in Griz’s direction.  This feels too much like a date and I’m sure it looks that way, as well.  I try not to react as he says, “I don’t think so.  I’m supposed to meet up with clients in Reno.  But you guys should have a lot of fun, huh, Vanessa?”

I can feel the heat from his body as we sit in close contact.  He’s so near that if I turn my head in his direction, I might bump my nose against his cheek.  Anyone who walks by our table will think we’re on a double date.  We’re so going to get busted like Reagan and Donovan did, only without the public sex part.  Kyle’s totally gorgeous, but I still can’t get involved with a co-worker.  Besides, I’ve already gotten Rory’s attention and I should be thinking about him, not the beefcake next to me.

“Drinks, guys?” the waiter asks.

Rick orders a Sam Adams and Kyle looks at my glass.  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

I can’t help but smile.  He gives me a warm grin back.  There’s something about this guy—those sparkling eyes and oh, God... that damn dimple, make my insides weep.

Rick stops the waiter before he runs off.  “Let’s have the duck crepes, more potato croquettes, and the fried artichoke hearts.”

Kyle points at my tuna.  “And another one of these.”

Apparently, he and Kyle are here to stay for a while.

The waiter scribbles the order and hurries off.  I shift my gaze nervously toward Kyle and wonder if he’s as uncomfortable with this apparent arrangement as I am.  Griz and Rick have their heads bent together and I have to question how long they’ve had this planned.  Apparently I need to read Section Seven to her again.

“This is kind of awkward, huh?” I say to Kyle.

He leans over and speaks in a low tone.  “How so?”

My pulse speeds up and I try not to stumble on my words.  “Oh, you know, the company handbook that says no dating or stuff like that.”

Kyle sort of smirks.  “This isn’t a date.”  Then he adds, “Although I do think Rick has a thing for Isabella.”

My heart falls to my feet as his words shoot me down.  Gulping hard, I manage to say, “I see.  That’s nice of you to suffer through being his wing man.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging this,” he shrugs.  “Don’t need to piss off Jiles or the Willies with an office romance gone bad.”

I’m about to ask why he assumes Rick and Griz will go bad when I hear, “Vanessa!  I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”

My roommate, William, pushes through the crowd to our table.  He snatches a chair from an empty table and scootches next to me—smashing me over into Kyle—and plants a kiss on my cheek.  Kyle moves his arm off the back of the seat and flips his cell phone over and over in his palm.  I’m now sandwiched next to Kyle with the warmth of his body touching me in pulse points at the shoulder, hip, and knees.

“So, I want to hear what happened with your friend from Oz?” William asks.

“Oz?  Like
Wizard of
?” Isabella asks.

Rick and Kyle swap inquisitive looks while I glare at both of my friends.

William nods.  “Exactly.  Seattle.  The Emerald City.”  He reaches over and drains my cocktail.

“Who is this guy?” Kyle asks.  “Your boyfriend?”

“Good lord, no!  He’s my roommate,” I say defensively.

William won’t shut up, though.  “So, what about it, Double Vee?”

I cringe because I don’t want people from the office to know about Rory.  “
Wills
,” I say emphatically.  “I work with these guys.  This is Rick Churchman and Kyle Nettles.”

He bites his lip noticeably and panic flashes in his eyes.

Griz finally catches on.  “Ohhhh, he means...” she trails off.  “You told him before you told me?” I kick her good leg under the table.

“Ouch!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Rick asks.  “I feel like I need a decoder or something.”

I’m afraid to meet Kyle’s stare for fear I’ll have to explain.  After all, he may have picked up that the vibe between Rory and me was more than simple corporate interference.  I don’t want Kyle to know anything.  Not that I’m ashamed of what happened with Rory, but I’m still unsure of this weird sensation I get whenever Kyle’s around, too.  Besides, it’s
my
business.

William recognizes his faux pas and escapes to the little boy’s room.  I’ll skin him alive later.  For now, I’ve got to change the subject.

Unknowingly, Griz does it for me.  “You know, William looks like Ewan McGregor in that old movie ‘Reality Bites.’”

“Ewan McGregor wasn’t in ‘Reality Bites,’” Rick corrects her.  “You’re thinking of Ethan Hawke.”

“That guy who never washes his hair?  Who’s married to Jodie Foster?”

I shake my head.  “Geez, Griz, don’t you watch TMZ?  Ethan Hawke used to be married to Uma Thurman.  Not Jodie Foster.  She’s a lesbian.”

“Uma’s a lesbian?  The kick-ass chick from ‘Kill Bill?’”

I grab two handfuls of my hair and let out a yelp.  “No!  Uma was married to Ethan.  Neither is gay.  Jodie’s allegedly gay.”

“But she’s got kids.”

“Lesbians can have children.”

Rick looks confuzzled.  “I don’t get it.  Who’s gay?”

“How are you keeping up with this?” Kyle asks with a laugh.

Griz’s train of thought is oftentimes impossible to follow.  Instead of trying, I reach over and take her cocktail away and drink it since William helped himself to mine.

She levels her eyes on me and snags back her cocktail.  “Your hormones are out of whack, Double Vee.”  She might not know anything about pop culture, but she can read me like a book.

Kyle returns his arm behind me and laughs.  His dreamy eyes lock on mine.  “You guys are too much.  A real comedy team.  Lucy and Ethel.  Laverne and Shirley.”

“Nothing current?” I ask with a laugh.

He chuckles.  “Give me more time to watch you two in action.”

As I stare at him, I blink hard.  If I have to focus on these eyes much longer, I fear I’ll be handing over a hundred bucks to Griz in the very near future.

T
he minute I
step outside of Miami International Airport, the searing heat washes across my face.  I quickly hail a cab and the next thing I know, I’m zooming across the causeway headed for South Beach.

Finally.

After two long weeks of Griz torturing me about how she and Rick are tempting the gods of the office with their subversive dating and me trying to keep my churning lusts for Kyle Nettles under control and play by the company rules, I’ve arrived in Miami Beach for the next tradeshow.

The place where I’ll see Rory Ellery.

The Eden Roc Resort takes my breath away as I step out of the taxi and into the marbled lobby.  I could get used to this, I think, as a dutiful attendant grabs my bags and escorts me to the counter.  The plush hotel sits on prime real estate facing Miami Beach and the Atlantic Ocean.  The tangy salt aroma in the air makes me lick my lips as I stand in line for my room.

I set my purse on the Italian marble and mahogany reception desk and announce proudly, “Vanessa Virtue with DigitalDirection.  I have a reservation.”

I take in the grand circular lobby that welcomes guests with a spacious bar area, already filled to capacity at two in the afternoon.  A staircase leads from the marble-encased lobby up to the resorts’ spa center.  Once I’m checked in and have my key, the bellhop escorts me to the bank of elevators and up to my room.  It’s the perfect location to be with Rory.  Tropical.  Elegant.  Sexy and balmy.

Perfect… until I open the door of my room.

It’s a smoking room.  I am not even considering having a romantic tryst in this bar-funk smelling space.

I glare at the bellhop.  “I don’t mean to be difficult, but I requested a queen non-smoking.  I can’t stay here.  I’m allergic.”  I fake sneeze for emphasis.

He leaves to use a house phone while I fume.  He probably thinks I’m a total bitch, but I want what I specifically reserved.  I’ve been looking forward to this trip for two weeks.  I even went to the tanning bed in anticipation of the great weather and getting outside to enjoy it.  No tan lines.  None of that spray-tan shit for me.  I’ll worry about wrinkling when I hit my forties.

Five minutes later, the bellhop retrieves my bags and ushers me down the hall.  “This should be more to your liking, Ms. Virtue,” he says.  “I’m sorry for the mix-up.”

We step into an end room overlooking the ocean. Much better.

“Thank you so much.”

I tip the guy for his troubles and then write down the amount so I’ll know how much to put on my expenses when I get home.  I set about unpacking and think of Rory’s most recent e-mail.  He said he couldn’t tell me how much he was looking forward to seeing me.  We’re in the same city and the same hotel.  Hopefully, I can woo him back to my spider’s web.