Just Dare Me...

She gave a little laugh that he liked the sound of. “McGee is a bulldog, and I don’t think he’d take kindly to being called a Tinkerbell.”

“Nice name,” he said grudgingly, surprised that she would own such a substantial canine. He’d always wanted a dog himself, but his hectic travel schedule had always prevented him from owning one…at least that was his excuse, he acknowledged wryly.

He loaded her backpack into the rear of his vehicle, next to his own pack, which was half the size and weight. He’d been camping and hiking enough to know that most people packed too much gear. “So your friend, Tori…she’s a little gloomy.”

“She doesn’t like you, either,” Gabrielle said, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door with a bang.

He frowned, then swung up into his own seat. “I didn’t say I didn’t like her.”

“It’s okay,” Gabrielle said matter-of-factly. “We’re used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Used to being ignored by the senior account execs.”

He sputtered. “We don’t ignore the junior account managers.”

“Really? What’s the name of the guy who sits in the cube next to mine?”

“The new guy?”

“He’s worked there for five years.”

“Oh…right.” Dell tried to conjure up the man’s face in his mind. “Mike something?”

“Close—Oscar. Oscar White. Nice guys with two kids, puts in about seventy hours a week at the office.”

“Oh. Well, I guess our paths haven’t crossed that much.”

Her mouth flattened, and she remained infuriatingly quiet.

He started the engine and tried another tack as he pulled away from the curb. “So do you live around here?”

“No, I was coming from my friend’s place. I live in Midtown.”

“Really? So do I.”

“I know. I’ve seen you at my grocery Sunday mornings.”

“Why haven’t you ever said hello?”

“You were always with a woman. Sometimes Courtney, sometimes…not.”

He squirmed and inexplicably, he thought of Gabby waking up in his bed on Sunday morning and them running to the store for a newspaper and a carton of juice. The image very nearly made him miss the ramp to the interstate that would take them north toward the Georgia Mountains.

“I’ve seen you at the Fox Theater, too,” she said.

“Oh? Do you moonlight at the Fox?”

“I’m a volunteer usher.”

“Really? I thought only old people did that.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Old people and me,” she said cheerfully.

How did she do that—keep him off balance, make him feel as if he were a snob? “I guess that’s a great way to see all the shows.”

She nodded and turned to look out the window. He hadn’t given much thought to her salary, but he vaguely remembered being on a tight budget back when he’d been a junior account manager. There had been no money for theater tickets.

“How old are you, Gabby?”

After a few minutes of silence, she said, “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

He gave a little laugh. “I think it’s cute.”

“I don’t want to be cute,” she said stiffly. “I want to be taken seriously. You think I don’t know what everyone is saying?”

“What is everyone saying?”

“That this competition is a joke, that there’s no way I can beat a superjock like you on a wilderness survival course.”

He weighed his words, especially since he might have inadvertently fueled a few of those sentiments going round the office. “Apparently Bruce feels differently.” His conscience plucked at him, though, for giving her false hope that she could actually beat him. After all, the woman had nearly been done in with her backpack.

She fell silent again, watching the passing scenery on Georgia 400 until they were north of the city. Dell couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually wanted a woman to talk.

“Where are you from?” he asked finally.

“I grew up in a small town outside Chattanooga.”

A small-town girl—not surprising. “Sounds nice. Are your parents still there?”

She nodded.

When no other information seemed forthcoming, he offered, “I grew up in D.C.”

“I know. I helped to put together the bios for the senior account execs for the annual report. Your parents work for the Pentagon and you have an MBA from Emory.”

What his bio didn’t say was that his parents were bitterly disappointed that he hadn’t gone into law or politics, that marketing had been a compromise of his skills and their expectations. Still, she knew more about him than he knew about her. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him, but for some reason, he felt compelled to know what made this woman tick, why she was so spirited in spite of her social clumsiness.

After knocking over that tree in the conference room and sprawling in the floor, most people would have been too embarrassed to show their face again, much less have the balls to march into Bruce’s office and ask for an A-list account.

“I think it’s about a two-hour drive to Amicalola Falls,” he said.

“More like three, actually.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “I’m a bit directionally impaired, but I read the information that Bruce gave us very carefully.”

Of course she had. “Then maybe you can tell me what we’re in for.”

“The instructions aren’t that specific, just that we should bring a stocked backpack, study the weather forecast and be prepared for anything.”