smooth and silky, and moved along with her head, there were no strays in her eyes, or on her cheeks.
Her makeup was like that, too. Subdued. Practical. He knew a little about that, having lived with Tamara. She’d always gone for extravagant makeup, the darker, the more dramatic, the better. But that was very high maintenance, whereas Jessica looked as if she could get out of the bathroom in ten minutes. Of course, he could be wrong. Maybe looking that natural took hours, but he doubted it. She had things to accomplish, none of which would happen until she was on her way.
What made her so driven? He wanted to know everything about her background. Only child? That would be his guess. That or eldest. But he’d bank on only. Successful father, someone to live up to. She probably didn’t have a lot of friends, as those were distractions, too. No pets. Okay, maybe fish, but then no. He doubted she’d want to worry about anything like that.
The only other woman he’d known well that was as driven had been Kathleen Butler, an arbitrage banker he’d met at Mulloney’s one night. They’d played pool, and although he was decent, she’d kicked his ass every game. Then she’d taken him to her apartment where they’d had really kinky sex. She’d wanted to be dominated, tied up. Owned. He’d gone along with it, and in fact had enjoyed himself a lot, but he hadn’t called her again. The domination thing was fun for a night, but not a steady diet.
He wondered if Jessica would be like that. In charge totally when it came to work, and wanting none of that in bed. The idea appealed, but maybe that’s because anything to do with sex and Jessica appealed.
He jotted down some notes about it, fully intending to ask her.
By the time he’d finished, there was a knock at the door, and Jessica opened it to reveal another redhead. This one was younger by several years, just out of college, he guessed. She was pretty, with a quirky little mouth and enormous eyes. The look she gave him was all wonder and curiosity, but it didn’t compare to the look she gave her boss.
He stood up for the introductions. Marla shook his hand, but her gaze was still on Jessica. Talk about dumbfounded. Okay, so what Glen had said was true—Jessica didn’t date. Or at the very least she kept her private life private.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, remembering his manners. Even though it wasn’t Owen, he was still supposed to be the dutiful boyfriend.
“Sure,” Marla said. “I think I need one.”
“Soda? Wine?”
“Soda, please. Wine later. Work and all. I can’t afford to get all woogy.”
“Woogy?”
She nodded. “All alcohol brain. There’s so much going on. Tomorrow there are the makeovers, and then all the models and stuff. Busy, busy.”
“So I heard. You must be excited.”
She smiled beguilingly, the lovely pink of her cheeks aglow. “I am. I’m learning so much.”
“She’s saving my ass,” Jessica said. “And I’d love to go on and on about it, but I think having a good night’s sleep is in our best interest, so what do you say we get to it?”
“Absolutely,” Marla said, and she ensconced herself on the couch, folding her legs beneath her.
Dan got her a soda, put it within her reach, then settled himself back at the desk. He intended to take notes, think more about the whole domination thing, but he got wrapped up in the dynamic of the two women, and didn’t move until 9:40 p.m., when Jessica called it a night. The hours had sped by, and he’d learned a thing or two about his subject. Mostly, that he liked her style. A lot.
JESSICA CLOSED the door behind Marla, and fought the urge to rest her head against the cool wood. She was tired. Not just because this was D day minus one, but because of the man sitting in the corner.
She’d had to use all her powers of concentration to ignore him. She never got distracted. A damn hurricane could be blowing outside, and she’d never raise an eyebrow. But he’d pulled at her ever since he’d walked down the hall.
She’d thought about asking him to leave, but figured she’d get over the awareness with time. It hadn’t happened. She was just as interested in him now as she had been, more so now that they were alone.
What had he been writing? And how could he have sat and listened so quietly for all those hours? She couldn’t imagine he was interested in New Dawn cosmetics.
This whole project of his confused her, and his behavior tonight hadn’t cleared up a thing. He seemed like a very bright man. In fact, after doing a little more checking up on him since their initial meeting, she’d discovered he was brilliant. A self-made millionaire, owner of a consulting firm that designed revolutionary computer systems, currently in use with, among others, the FBI, the IRS and the DOD. Not too shabby.
She turned to see him stretching, arching his back so his shirt rode up, revealing a tiny little patch of skin by his belt. She closed her eyes, although she couldn’t have said why, and when she opened them again, he’d brought his arms down. “I still don’t get it,” she said. “I can’t imagine what questions you think I can answer for you.”
“That’s okay. I can. I have a lot of them written down in my little notebook.”
“For example?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not yet. Right now, I think the important thing is food. I’m starving and you must be, too.”
She looked at the bedroom with longing. That’s what she really wanted. Sleep. But he was right, she hadn’t eaten since her power bar this morning. “I could use some dinner.”
“Great. Why don’t we just go downstairs. They have great steaks and a good wine cellar at Gigot.”
“That sounds fine. I want to freshen up first, though.”
“You go ahead. I’ll call down.”
She went to the rest room, a little startled to see his things next to hers on the counter. It was only a leather shaving kit, but still. She tried to remember the last time she’d shared a bathroom with a guy. College. And not that often.
Her gaze went to her reflection. She didn’t look as frazzled as she felt. The important thing was not to let this arrangement get to her. He was just a hired hand. Someone doing a job. She’d done research in college, and she understood how it worked. He’d ask, she’d answer, and the rest of the time, she’d work. Simple, and yet…
She was so aware of him. Of his broad shoulders, his slim hips. The way his hair fell across his forehead. That nose of his that was too big, and yet exactly right. The way he kissed.
She sighed, slumping her shoulders and staring blindly at the sink. That kiss had knocked her for a loop. It had caught her completely off guard. Not just that he’d kissed her, but that she had reacted so fiercely. Her toes had curled. For God’s sake, that didn’t happen to her. Not ever. And it wasn’t going to happen again. This was her moment, and nothing and no one was going to get in the way. If she had to, she’d fire him.
HE ORDERED the 1999 E. Guigal Châteauneuf-du-Pape, which Jessica happened to know was the Wine of the Year for 2002 according to Wine Spectator. This to go with the filet mignon she’d ordered, and the T-bone he’d asked for.
Normally, she wasn’t big on steak, but tonight it felt right. As did the small salad with the unbelievably good balsamic vinaigrette, the roasted red potatoes and the sourdough bread that was way too good. Of course, the wine made everything sheer bliss. It was perfect. The meal, the atmosphere, which was dark but not too dark, cozy, quiet. The waiters didn’t hover, but were never out of reach. And she even liked the painting on the wall behind Dan. It was modern, no real subject, but nice.
They’d talked a lot about his mother, of all things, during the meal. Jessica had heard of Colleen Crawford, had even read articles by her. It seemed the two of them had a terrific relationship, and according to Dan, his parents’