"Listen," I said, determined to stop this line of conversation before I started dancing on his desktop. Maybe stripping. "I'm not interested in dating him. Really. But I'm not interested in dating you, either, remember?"
His hands dropped to his side and he frowned. "Why not?"
"We went over this yesterday. You're just not my type, okay?" God, I was such a liar. Lately I lied to everyone. My cousins, Royce. Myself.
"I'm honest, honorable and not looking to simply get laid. When I kiss you, you burn up. What part of that is not your type?"
Yes, Naomi, do tell us the answer to that, my hormones piped in. "There's one quality you didn't mention, and it immediately throws you out of the running."
He crossed his arms over his chest, tightening the fabric of his jacket over his biceps. "And what's that?"
"You have a penis," I said, squirming in my seat. Just saying the word in front of him made me hot.
"A penis? Baby, that's something you should be thanking me for."
Typical male response.
He worried two fingers over his jaw. Yet, even with the movement, there was something so… still about him. "Is this your way of giving me the brush-off?"
"I'm not trying to throw you over for Colin, if that's what you mean. If I was attracted to him, I could have asked him out months ago at his sister's wedding reception." Which I still didn't recall seeing him at. "You attended that party, too, by the way."
He lost his air of irritation and his expression became guarded again.
"Don't worry if you can't remember seeing me there." Bastard. "You were too busy helping your-" whore "-date put the tissue back in her bra."
He almost choked at that bit of information. When he stopped coughing, he said, "I remember you," surprising me.
As if. "You don't have to pretend. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't remember me."
"Ha! Seriously, work on the lying. You suck at it. I remember you, okay?"
My gaze slitted up at him, narrowing my field of vision to him. Only him. "Prove it."
"Okay." His expression darkened in challenge. "You had the saddest eyes I'd ever seen with dark shadows under them. And you kept glancing at the door, as if you couldn't wait to get away from the crowd. You were wearing a light green dress that hit just below your knees. Your hair was pulled back in the same twist you're wearing today. You spent over an hour making sure all the kids were having fun, and you made sure every woman had a dance partner. Every woman but yourself."
My mouth dropped open in shock and I think my heart skipped a beat. He did remember me. The knowledge was astonishing. Surreal. Almost more than I could take in. And so utterly wonderful I couldn't quite catch my breath.
"I nearly approached you that day," he said softly.
My eyes widened. He'd wanted to talk to me? Me? "Did you want to talk to me about…your mom's party?"
"Please." He crossed his ankles, the action casual, but the intense gleam in his eyes was anything but calm. "I wanted to talk to you just to hear your voice. I even took a step toward you, but you saw me coming and bolted."
I gasped. "I did not bolt."
"You did, too." A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him. "I've replayed it in my mind a thousand times."
Those words were familiar. He'd said them to me before…when he'd kissed me, that he'd imagined my lips a thousand times. I gulped. This conversation was having a strange effect on my equilibrium. Had I been standing, I would have collapsed to the floor.
If I wasn't careful, I'd offer this man my life, my heart and my soul on a silver platter, room service available 24-7. He and his confession were that dangerous.
"Were you afraid of me?" he asked. "Is that why you ran?"
"I'm telling you, I did not run."
"Whatever you say, Jackie Joyner," he said, his singsong tone contradicting his words.
I stomped my foot, drawing on frustration and anger to distance myself. To strengthen my resolve. Richard the Bastard had been sweet in the beginning, too, saying all the right things. Remember that.
Royce grinned slowly, smugly. "You want that drink now?"
"You obviously suffer from a severe brain disorder because your memory is warped. I did not run away from you."
"Naomi Delacroix, afraid of me. Then. And now." Features pensive, he tapped his chin with his finger. "I wonder why. Intense attraction? Unquenchable desire?"
If he only knew the truth of those words. I had run from him that night. There. I admit it. I'd seen him walking toward me- though I hadn't thought he actually meant to talk to me-and everything inside me, everything I'd thought bludgeoned to death by Richard the Bastard, had sparked to instant life. Attraction, yes. Desire, most definitely. Both more intense than anything I'd ever known. My mouth had gone dry, my limbs had begun shaking. My blood had heated, swimming through my veins and burning everything it touched.
I'd run. As fast as my feet would carry me.
I hadn't been able to handle him then. Hell, I was barely handling him now. I didn't want him to see me as a coward, though, therefore I would never, ever admit that I'd purposefully escaped him. Right now, I wanted this man to see me as a strong, capable woman who met her challenges head-on.
One day, that description might even be true.
"So, why did you want to see me today?" Good. Bring it back to business.
He tilted his chin, silently acknowledging my abrupt change of subject. Half turning, he reached out and grabbed a small square item. He thrust it at me. "Here. This is yours."
I gazed down at it, confused. "What is it?"
"A state-of-the-art BlueJay PDA. I almost bought you a Palm Pilot, but I decided to go this route instead. I'll be able to call you and send you e-mail with it. Plus, I've taken the liberty of programming appointment times for us, and this will give you periodic reminders." His eyes gleamed brightly. "You'll never forget a meeting again."
"How…sweet of you to get this for me." Without giving it another glance, I stuffed the stupid thing in my briefcase- where it would most likely remain for the next few months. "Is that our only business today?"
"No." Royce searched through the papers strewn across his desk and lifted a solitary sheet. I wondered if I could sneak a peek at some of those applications/porn. Why I cared to see them, I didn't know-okay, I hoped to incinerate them with my eyes. I leaned to the side…could almost see…
"This," he said, turning back to me and holding the page out, "is a list of possible locations for the party."
I straightened quickly and tried to appear innocent. I hadn't seen a single application, damn it.
He smiled and rubbed a hand down his jaw. I couldn't help but notice how clean-shaven it was. "I know how much you appreciate lists," he said.
"Thank you." I clasped the offered page, recalling I had something for him as well. With my free hand, I rooted through my briefcase. When I found what I was looking for, I slid it out. "Here's my own list of locations, just as promised. We might have some of the same places marked." I gave his list a once-over.
A startled gasp parted my lips. What the hell? "A cabin in Colorado?" I gazed up with wide eyes. "A resort in Maine? A cottage in Connecticut? But I only work in the Dallas area."
He shrugged innocently. "My mother will only turn sixty once, and I want to celebrate right."
"Surely you can find a place here. What about your home? Or Linda's?" I asked, a desperate quality entering my voice.
"I'll consider my place if the sites I have listed don't pan out. We need to check them out ASAP."
"Okay, well, I'll make a few calls, search the Internet, and-"
"No, I believe in a personal touch. So we'll visit them personally. Starting with the cabin in Colorado."
"And just how do you plan to get us there?" Don't say we'll fly. Don't say we'll fly.