no,” Ashley teased, dramatically clutching her head in her hands and moaning. “Now you’ve gone and done it.”
“Done what?” Jayne glanced from Ashley to Eden.
“You’ve given an ‘in’ to her worst-case scenario voice.”
“Her what?”
Eden glared at Ashley. “Thanks a lot.”
“Go ahead,” Ashley said. “Show Jayne how neurotic you can get.”
“It’s not neurotic to project future complications based on current information.” Eden pursed out her bottom lip. “It’s merely prudent.”
“Let’s do it then,” Ashley challenged her.
“All right,” she said, deciding to play the game her impertinent assistant had invented in defense against Eden’s worrywart tendency. She had to confess, the game often worked to quell her fears when little else did. She squared off with Ashley toe-to-toe. “What if he has bad breath?”
“Then give him a Tic-Tac.”
“What if he’s a rotten kisser?”
“You explain to him exactly how you prefer to be kissed.”
“What if he has an itty-bitty penis?”
“It’s the motion of the ocean that counts, all that matters is that he rocks your boat.”
Jayne giggled. “You two are so funny.”
“Okay,” Eden said, growing serious as she risked expressing the real fears pyramiding inside her. “What if he thinks I’m a lousy lay?”
“Ooh,” Jayne said. “I can help you with that one. If there’s ever anything you want to know about driving a man wild in bed, I’m your go-to gal. Call me anytime.”
Ashley spread her palms. “There you are. Problems solved.”
Eden gulped. “All right, smarty-pants. Here’s the biggie. Worst-case scenario. What if he’s repulsed by my burn scars, can’t get it up when he sees me naked and then he rejects me?”
Undaunted, Ashley jutted out her chin and challenged, “Best-case scenario. He thinks you’re beautiful no matter your scars and your crazy worst-case-scenario voice. He’s a great kisser with minty breath and he’s got a gigantic penis. You have splendid sex and get your creativity back. Business booms, you fall madly in love, get married, buy a house in Connecticut, have three kids, two cats and a Pomeranian named Kibble and thirty years from now you’re still playing Tarzan and Jane with each other just like Mr. and Mrs. Lockerbee.”
Eden sucked in her breath. Did she dare to dream that dream? Was she brave enough to take a step toward claiming her sexuality?
Do it. Take a chance. What have you got to lose?
What indeed?
She’d been holding herself in reserve for too long. By not taking risks, she’d closed herself off to her creative wellspring. She needed more intimacy, not only with her work, but with her body as well.
She glanced at the basket in the window, the one completely lacking in pizzazz. That unexciting basket made her decision for her. If she wanted to get her inspiration back she had to take charge and move forcefully toward her goals.
She was going to lunch with Alec Ramsey. How else would she ever discover if those sparks between them would come to nothing or might lead to something wickedly wonderful?
3
THE NEXT MORNING excitement over his upcoming date with Eden had Alec prowling the hallways of the Single Guy offices located on the fourteenth floor of Trump Towers. His exuberant edginess, as it so often did, spilled over onto his employees.
He was walking fast and talking faster, okaying cover art for the upcoming edition, sending a writer back to the drawing board on a feature article that hadn’t turned out as expected, double-checking appointments with his executive assistant, Holden.
Everyone took his or her cue from his go-go-go attitude. They were keyed up and working at a frantic pace. Everyone, that is, except taciturn Holden, who always remained calm no matter what was happening around him. The young man’s unruffled aplomb was the very reason Alec had hired him. He needed an assistant who balanced his own impulsive nature. Holden kept him grounded when Alec might have otherwise gotten off track following his quicksilver mind wherever it chose to flow.
“Reschedule my one-o’clock workout with Randy,” Alec told Holden. “Something’s come up.”
Holden, who at twenty-two was more efficient than many executive assistants twice his age, swiftly made a notation in his Palm Pilot. “Oh, and by the way, your uncle is in your office.”
“Mac?” Alec broke into a smile. “He’s back from Fiji?”
Holden nodded. “Helping himself to your Scotch, I might add.”
“He can help himself to anything he wants,” Alec’s grin widened. “I am what I am today because of Uncle Mac.”
“I’ll restock.”
Alec pushed into his office to find his tanned, lean-muscled uncle sitting cocked back in the plush leather chair that had once belonged to him. Mac looked a little tired, however, that is until he flashed Alec a row of straight white teeth and raised his tumbler of Scotch in a salute.
“You old dog!” Alec exclaimed, slipping around the desk to embrace Mac in a bear hug as he rose to his feet. “You’re back early.”
“There’s only so much of those warm tropical breezes and sultry island girls a man can take.”
“Yeah, right.”
Mac set his glass down and feigned a boxing move. Alec feigned in return. They embraced again, slapping each other on the back. His father’s younger brother had never been married and never aspired to be. He was the consummate playboy and Alec’s mentor, teaching him everything he knew both about the publishing industry and how to seduce women. For forty-nine years Mac had lived the very life he extolled in the pages of Single Guy before turning over the helm to Alec and Randy the previous year.
“So,” Mac prompted. “Any interesting conquests while I was gone?”
“Nope, no one.” Alec shook his head. Without understanding why, he really didn’t want to tell Mac about Eden. Besides, there wasn’t much to tell.
Yet.
Mac wagged his head. “Boy, you’ll never live up to my reputation if you keep spending so much time on the sidelines.”
“You’re a legend, Uncle Mac, there’s no living up to you.”
His uncle laughed, but the jocularity seemed forced and Alec wondered if something was wrong. “Well, you might not be the hound dog I was, but you’ve got the soft soap down pat.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“By the way.” Mac tapped the October issue of Single Guy lying open on the desk. “While I was waiting on you I checked out your last editorial. All Women Are Goddesses, Let’s Treat Them That Way.” He hooted. “You really believe that?”
“Yes. Don’t you?” Alec did believe women were goddesses. Nothing fascinated him more than the fairer sex. He loved the smell of them, their softness, the way their minds worked. Chalk it up to having four sisters. Fact was, he adored the women. Tall ones, short ones, plump ones, thin ones. He made no discrimination. That’s why he couldn’t commit to just one. There were simply too many wonderful ladies walking the face of the earth.
“All women are goddesses?” Mac arched an eyebrow.
“All women,” Alec said firmly.
“Even the…”
“Don’t