“Ignore that someone else is in the room and trying to make love to you. Do you think that’s normal?”
He narrowed his eyes and held up a hand. “Just give me a minute to come up with a good response. I’m sure I have one.”
Gail glanced skyward then grabbed her purse from the hall table. She opened the door.
“That’s not true,” he said.
She sent him a cool glance over her shoulder. “That’s your big reply? Your witty comeback?”
He scratched his head, chagrined. “A minute hasn’t passed yet.”
“It’s over, Jordan.”
Her words should have hurt him. He hoped he didn’t look relieved. He let his gaze fall, and his voice deepened with regret. “I know.”
He listened to her heels click down the concrete steps. They stopped then came up the steps again. He could feel her looking at him, feel her considering giving him another chance. Perhaps he had played the rejected suitor too well. “If you want to try—” she began.
He met her gaze determined to look defeated, but brave. “You deserve better.”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Right.” She folded her arms. “So now who’s dumping whom?”
He blinked. This was the danger with dating smart women. “You’re dumping me.”
She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his neck. He could smell the peach lotion she loved to wear. “Why?”
Instinctively his arm went around her waist; perhaps they could break up tomorrow. “Because the only thing I have to offer is a fun night in bed.”
She glanced down then searched his face. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
His voice hardened. “I wasn’t.”
She sighed and stepped back. “It’s such a waste.”
“What is?”
“Your face.”
“What do you mean by that?” He rubbed his cheek. “It’s served me well.”
“Yes, I know. I analyze things for a living and your face is one of the best illusions I’ve ever seen.” She raced down the steps before he could reply. “Bye,” she called, then jumped in her car and drove off.
Jordan watched her drive away and out of his life. His relief slipped into guilt then annoyance. He was used to the sadness and sometimes the tears, but he hadn’t expected pity. She had no right to pity him. He didn’t mind being alone, he just didn’t prefer it. Why deny yourself something when you had a choice?
He stared into the dark, quiet street lined with parked cars and a newly paved sidewalk. The headlights from a car coming up the drive next door caught his attention. He watched his neighbor, Lana Patterson, climb out of her red Acura. She was an attractive woman of forty-three and had tried for weeks to start up a flirtation. He had rebuffed her efforts. Not because she was older or because her son was on the police force, but because she lived next door. Definitely not affair material. When he broke up with a woman he wanted her gone. He liked things to end clean.
He waved at her, feeling in the neighborly mood. “Evening, Lana.”
She looked at him and her mouth fell open. Suddenly, her face spread into an amused smile. “Hi, Jordan. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re not cold? The wind doesn’t bother you?”
“No, the weather’s great. I can feel spring in the air.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can feel a lot of things.” She laughed and went inside.
He shook his head confused by her laughter and rested his hands on his hips. That’s when he knew why she was laughing. He’d forgotten to put his clothes on.
Chapter 2
When the phone rang early the next morning, Simone and Dawn stared at each other over Dawn’s desk. They had spent the last few hours trying to pretend they were busy. The phones had been silent for a while.
“It could be a possible client,” Simone said.
Dawn bit her lip and reached for her box of croissants then remembered she’d already had two. She knew they weren’t healthier than donuts, but at least they looked it. “Or a bill collector.”
The phone rang again.
“Let them leave a message,” Dawn said.
Simone headed for the outer office to answer it. “I think it’s a client.”
Dawn sighed and glanced around her office. She once had a closet bigger than this room.
Simone’s voice came over the speakerphone. “There’s a call for you. Jordan Taylor from The Medical Institute.”
Dawn frowned. The Medical Institute was a well-established company that trained medical personnel. Why would they call her? “You mean A Mental Interlude?”
Simone laughed. “Cute. Pick up the phone.”
“Okay.” She switched lines. This was probably another one of Brandon’s tricks. She leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on the desk. “Dawn Ajani, how may I help you?”
“Hello. My name is Jordan Taylor. I am the new CEO of The Medical Institute. I read your ad in Washington Business and would be interested in using your services.”
She rolled her eyes. Sure, and I’m a five-eleven swimsuit model. “What can I do for you, Mr. Taylor?”
“I would like to make some changes to our company’s structure and I am interested in a consultation. I’d like to schedule an appointment with you right away.” He hesitated. “The issues I need to deal with are rather delicate in nature.”
Dawn shook her head. It was a shame he sounded so sincere. His accent wasn’t that of a Washington native. It had a slow Southern quality that made her think of Indian summers and the amber color of bourbon glistening in a crystal decanter. “Of course you would. When would you like to meet?”
“Tomorrow night. You could come to my place.”
“Your place.” Right. Another pig. “Mr. Taylor, may I suggest that you continue to play this little game on your own time? There are 900 numbers available for you. I’m sure Brandon could give you plenty to choose from.”
She expected him to get angry or deny it, but a thick silence seeped through the line. Dread made her skin tingle. Had she made a mistake? “Mr. Taylor?”
Eventually, he said, “I think I have the wrong number. Excuse me.”
Dawn sat up and swung her legs to the ground. Her foot dislodged a stack of books, causing two to crash to the ground. “No, wait! Mr. Taylor?”
“I’m still here,” he said with a note of regret.
“I am terribly sorry. No, please don’t hang up. There’s been a misunderstanding. I…well, there’s no excuse really.” Except for the fact that I’m a moron. “ Let’s try this again. Okay?” She waited. Soon the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Dawn squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “I’m an idiot.” She replaced the receiver. “Score one for Brandon.” She stared at the box of croissants, then threw them away. She had to make serious changes in her life.
Dawn stood, rested her head on the window frame and saw the man from yesterday still looking for his alien friends. She probably should call the police. She rested her forehead against the cool window. Either that or join him.
Simone