Mr. Right Now

“Lunch,” she repeated. “Where?”

“I’ll pick you up at your office.”

She nodded, then took a step toward the curb. As she did, Nina turned back to look at him and all Cam knew at that moment was he didn’t want to let her go, not yet. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. And then, without even considering the consequences, he brought his mouth down on hers in a soft, but hungry kiss.

Never in his life had he acted so impulsively. But with Nina, it didn’t pay to think. The moments flew past so quickly, that he couldn’t help but reach out and catch one and hold onto it for a time. He’d meant only to indulge in a brief kiss, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he gently pushed her back until she stood against the brick facade of the coffee shop. Slowly, Cameron explored her mouth, tasting and testing. When he finally found the strength to pull away, he brought his hand up to her cheek and skimmed her silken skin.

She swallowed hard, her eyes wide and dewy. “If—if I tell you something, will you promise not to take it the wrong way?”

Cameron nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I was hoping you’d stop by the coffee shop tonight,” she murmured. “That’s why I came.” A pretty blush stained her cheeks and her gaze dropped to his chest.

“And I was hoping you’d be here.” He reached down and caught a finger under her chin. Then, without a second thought, he leaned forward and brushed another kiss across her lips. “I’ll call you,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth for a long moment.

“You don’t have my phone number.”

“But I know where you work,” he countered. “We can decide where we want to go for lunch.”

Nina nodded. “That would be nice.” Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace. She sent him one last smile, then turned and hurried across the street. Cameron watched until she disappeared through the front door of Attitudes, then he let out a tightly held breath.

With a soft curse, he raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I sure hope you figure out what the hell you’re doing, Ryder. Because once she finds out who you really are, she’s not going to want to kiss you anymore. Hell, you’ll be lucky if she lets you live.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’ve been waiting for you all morning!” Nina called.

Lizbeth hurried through the hallway to the fashion offices, Nina falling into step beside her. “I had a photo shoot,” Lizbeth explained. “I’m just back for a few minutes. Hervé insists that we use that silly fedora. He thinks it’s sexy—I just think it looks stupid.”

“But I have to talk to you. Can’t you stay for a few minutes?”

When they reached Lizbeth’s office, Nina followed her inside and slammed the door behind her. Unlike her own office, which was neatly filled with books and binders full of useful information, Lizbeth’s office looked like a bomb had exploded in a designer showroom. Clothes and accessories were scattered everywhere, hanging from shelves, tossed over chairs, folded on the floor. Nina wasn’t sure how Lizbeth kept anything straight since all the clothes seemed to be black.

“I’ve got three minutes,” Lizbeth said. “Talk fast.”

“All right, here’s the condensed version. I saw him again last night. We kissed, three or four times, I can’t even remember. And it was so incredible. And he’s coming here to take me out to lunch.”

Lizbeth looked up. “What?”

“The coffee guy,” Nina explained, “from Jitterbug’s. His name is Wright. Can you believe that? Is that too perfect? Jack Wright. W-R, not with just an R. He was in there last night and we—”

Lizbeth held out her hand to stop Nina’s words, then slowly circled her desk and sat down. “Honey, Hervé can do without that hat. Tell me all the details.”

“But I thought you—”

“I have all the time in the world for your love life,” Lizbeth cried.

Nina sighed, then sat down across the desk from her and began to recount the events of the night before. She made a special point of telling Lizbeth how she refused his invitation to dinner. “That was good, right? I mean, I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic, or too easy.”

“You did very well.”

She smiled proudly. “I did. And oh, he just makes me feel so good. I get all warm inside and my knees go a little soft and my brain doesn’t seem to work right, and—and I can barely breathe. Do you know that feeling?”

Lizbeth raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I invented that feeling. Now, when is he coming to take you to lunch?”

“In about fifteen minutes,” Nina said.

She gave Nina the once-over. “That gives us just enough time.”

“For what?”

“To fix you up.”

Nina glanced down at the outfit she’d so carefully chosen that morning. The little sweater dress was from the sixties, pale melon pink with bugle bead starbursts on the cuffs, collar and hem. She considered it a conservative choice paired with knee-high black boots. Nina had taken special care with her hair, wearing it loose and unbound in soft waves, pushed away from her face by a black headband. “What’s wrong?”

“He was wearing a handmade French shirt and a designer suit, Hugo Boss if I’m not mistaken. The guy knows fashion.” Lizbeth jumped to her feet and began snatching clothes from around the room—a long, pencil-thin skirt, a body-hugging sweater, both in black. “The boots are good, the rest has to go.”

“Why?”

“Honey, you’ve got that whole groovy sixties thing going. Or maybe it’s seventies, I’m not sure. If he dressed in Nehru jackets or leisure suits, then I’d say go for it but we’re not playing Austin Powers today.”

Nina reluctantly changed into the clothes Lizbeth had chosen, secretly pleased that she was able to fit into the sample sizes. Though the calf-length skirt nearly reached her ankles, Lizbeth pronounced that length equally fashionable. When she was dressed, her friend pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail and tied it with an expensive black silk scarf.

Nina stood in front of the mirror that Lizbeth had cleared and looked at herself. The clothes did show her figure to its best advantage. And the black made her look even thinner and more sophisticated. But the outfit didn’t have any character or color. It said nothing about the person she was. “Now I look like everyone else that lives in this city. This is like the uniform for young, professional women.”

“Which is exactly what he’ll like.” Lizbeth’s phone rang and she picked it up, then smiled at Nina. “Yup, she’s here, and she’ll be right out.” She put the phone down. “He’s in reception. Would you like me to walk out with you? Never mind, I’m going to walk out with you. But I won’t act like I’m going down to see him, I’ll just run across the street and get a cup of coffee.”

They both headed for the reception area on the ground floor of the building. When they stepped out of the elevator, Nina saw him, sitting in an overstuffed leather chair near the window. He was focussed on the most recent issue of Attitudes, his brow furrowed, his expression dubious. Instead of a suit, he was wearing faded jeans that hugged his long legs and a canvas jacket that hid a T-shirt. “See,” Nina said. “He’s not wearing a suit.”

“Yum,” Lizbeth breathed. “What a hottie!” She turned and straightened Nina’s collar. “Ride ’em, cowgirl.”

Her friend kept walking, right out the door, and Nina stopped in front of Jack. “Hi,” she said, unable to stop a smile from curling the corners of her lips.

He looked up. Surprise colored his expression as he rose to his feet, taking in her appearance. He reached out and took her hand, a gesture that seemed so natural but sent her heart racing. And when he bent and brushed a kiss on her cheek, she truly thought she might swoon. “Hi. For a minute there I didn’t recognize you.” His gaze slowly raked her body. “You look a little different.”