“Where were we?” she asked, trying to reassume a professional stance.
“I was sitting for you.”
“Shall we do it here in your office?”
His eyes raked over her body. “It would be a first, but sure.”
Her pulse leaped. The image of them vibrating his desk across the room came to mind, but she stifled it. The chemicals she emitted triggered his reaction and she’d do well to remember that. She forced a serious face, refusing to verbally acknowledge his innuendo. “Fine. When?”
He still smiled, his eyes dancing. “Tomorrow morning at nine?”
“I’ll be here with my camera,” she said, already walking toward the door.
“You bring your equipment,” he called to her. “And I’ll bring mine.”
Mark caught the flash of her silver purse being slung over her shoulder as she closed the door. Where had that idiotic comment come from? He jumped up and clutched his head with both hands, pacing. He’d never made suggestive comments to women he’d worked with. Willing women were plentiful, he’d never had to worry about mixing business with pleasure and risking a ruinous outcome. He cursed, rubbed his eyes, and walked the length of his office to his liquor cabinet. Appraising the newly stocked shelves, he selected a fine Kentucky bourbon, and poured himself a shot.
Tomorrow he’d conduct himself like the professional he was. He’d refuse to rise to her bait, no matter how enticing. The last thing he needed was for a nut like Ellie Sutherland to complicate his life.
“YOU’RE JOKING.” Manny said, his eyes wide.
“Nope,” Ellie declared, swallowing a bite of cheese omelette. “It was him, in the flesh.”
“Was he as dreamy as you remembered?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
“And single?”
Ellie frowned. “I didn’t notice a wedding ring, and he was kind of...flirtatious. But that doesn’t mean anything these days.”
“You said it, girlfriend.”
“He’s too stuffy, and way out of my league. He probably has a black book full of women named Muffy and Phoebe.”
Manny touched her forearm. “You’re probably right.” Then he grinned. “So why don’t you introduce him to me?”
“Sorry,” Ellie said, and pulled a sympathetic face, “but I don’t think Mark Blackwell is your type, either.”
“I can put on a skirt if he insists,” Manny said, pouting.
“I’ll see if I can work it into the conversation today,” she offered sarcastically.
Manny lifted a sausage link to his mouth and bit off an end suggestively.
“You’re a kook,” she said, laughing.
“Me?” he asked. “Who’s the one who sneaked into the men’s room and listened to him pee?”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Oh, so you did look?”
“No!” She grinned sheepishly. “Okay, I peeked, but I only saw a sliver of his back. Cut the wisecracks for a minute. I have to tell you the strange things that happened yesterday.”
“I’m all ears.”
Ellie told him about the incidents with men on the street, with Steve Willis, her co-worker, the taxi driver and some of the things Mark Blackwell had said to her. “And when I got home, Steve Willis had left a message on my machine. I haven’t had that many men flirt with me in my lifetime,” she asserted, reaching for the bottle of pink tablets. “It has to be these pheromones working.”
“Well, aren’t you glad they’re working? What’s the name of the manufacturer? I’m buying stock.” He reached down to stroke Esmerelda’s ears.
“Do you think I’m imagining things?”
“I think you’re horny. You haven’t had a relationship since...Drew, wasn’t it? That was ages ago. I’ve forgotten, why did you end it?”
“His penis had attention deficit disorder.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Manny nodded. “Well, if you want to see if the pheromones are causing all the hullabaloo, don’t doll up today and see if you get the same results.”
Ellie snapped her fingers. “Good idea.”
THE LAW OFFICES of Ivan, Grant, Beecham and Blackwell were several blocks away, but easily accessible by bicycle. Ellie pulled on a neon green helmet that matched her bike, strapped on her backpack of supplies and jumped on to begin pedaling away her breakfast calories. No man could possibly flirt with her at this speed.
It was another beautiful day, too nice to be cooped up inside. She figured she’d be through with Mark Blackwell by noon, then she could spend the day sketching crowds at Underground Atlanta in preparation for her next portfolio painting. She stopped at a traffic light and waited for a police officer to wave her through the dense jam.
The police officer was within touching distance. And, she noticed, cute beneath his half helmet. He waved the traffic by on the side street, but his eyes stayed on Ellie the entire time, a whistle clasped between white teeth. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He waved through more traffic and studied her legs. She smiled. He waved through more traffic and winked at her. She winked back. Suddenly horns began to sound behind her from commuters impatient with the lengthy amount of attention the officer paid to the cars on the side street. Finally, he pulled his eyes away from Ellie and blew his whistle to halt the line of cars whizzing by. When she pedaled by, he lifted his hand to his helmet in a friendly gesture. Definitely the pheromones, she thought.
When she reached Mark’s building, she took the elevator to his floor. The law offices were much quieter than the previous day, but still busier than Ellie imagined they would be for a weekend. On the other hand, Mark Blackwell probably worked Saturday, Supday and holidays. To her surprise, more than one set of male eyebrows raised appreciatively when she made eye contact in the halls. Of course, she did look a little out of place wearing her cycling togs.
Monica’s station sat neat and unoccupied, so Ellie stepped to Mark’s office door and knocked.
“Come in,” he called.
He sat at his desk, pen in hand. He glanced at his watch and said, “I was getting ready to check the men’s room.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I had a flat this morning.” She patted her bike, walked it over to the side wall and lowered the kickstand.
She pulled off her gloves and realized he was staring quizzically at the bike. “No place to chain it up out front,” she said cheerfully. “I can’t afford to have it stolen.”
He pointed to the bags of dried herbs she’d picked up from a street vendor on the way. “I hope you don’t plan to smoke that stuff.”
Ellie glanced at the ingredients she’d purchased for a new perfume recipe. “Not here,” she said, grinning wryly.
“Is that your night gear?” he asked, smirking, and indicated her neon clothing.
Ellie looked down at her pink bike shorts and bright yellow tank top. She had certainly dressed down today, complete with running shoes. She pulled off her helmet and ran a hand through her short waves. “You can’t be too safe in this traffic.”
He stood, tossing the pen on a stack of documents, and tugged gently at his