Not Quite as Advertised

He returned to his seat, managing not to look in Joss’s direction again, but her features were already etched on his memory. She was wearing her hair back tonight, but he preferred it down, softly framing an oval face with a stubborn chin. Her slim nose and high forehead added classic elegance, but her smoky jade eyes and full mouth promised untamed sensuality.

If her face had left an indelible print on his mind, it was nothing compared to the impression her body had left on his. Joss could be as cool and tart as iced lemonade when she wanted to be, but he knew from the three glorious weeks he’d spent in her bed that the woman burned like living flame. Unfortunately for him, her passion also led to grudges, and when he’d won the account she’d been eyeing—and the resulting promotion—she’d refused to forgive him.

Her uncompromising stance was a prime example of her taking something personally. He’d been doing his job! Sure, she’d been interested in the account, but her pitches hadn’t accomplished anything, and rivalry had always been part of their relationship. He certainly wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed if the situation had been reversed. He wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed for selling state secrets to foreign governments.

More recently, Kristine Dillinger, a woman from his neighborhood, occasionally shared Hugh’s bed. Athletic and easygoing, Kristine was always up for a great weekend, whether it was going to a bed-and-breakfast in the country with early-morning hiking, or pizza and a leisurely night at his place. As long as they were both single, they got together when they felt like it and owed each other no phone calls or explanations in between. Their friendship was as comfortable as it was casual.

No where-did-he-see-himself-in-five-years, what-kind-of-provider-would-he-be analysis. He hated dates that felt like job interviews. Maybe she didn’t set off the internal bells and whistles that Joss had, but time spent with Kristine was a helluva lot more relaxing. He would have invited her tonight, but she would have been bored. He was bored by now, and he was one of the evening’s honorees.

A few months ago, he might’ve taken tonight more seriously, but he’d learned to loosen up. Unlike some people.

When the awards presentation ended, he found himself trapped in conversation with a gregarious copywriter from WOW Concepts. Hugh nodded at the copywriter’s predictions about the Dallas economy, but his focus was really on Joss as she moved through the throng of well-wishers. She’d taken off the scarlet-and-gold jacket she’d worn earlier, and the smooth curves of her exposed shoulders left him wanting to see more. His body hummed with awareness as she drew closer.

And what’s another word for that awareness? Tension. Joss was often intense, or tense, period. He didn’t need that in his life.

But needing and wanting were different. He knew from firsthand experience that, in the right circumstances, her intense focus was pretty damn hot.

Having abandoned all pretense of being involved in the conversation, Hugh glanced back at the copywriter. “I’m sorry, I just noticed an old friend trying to get my attention. Would you excuse me?”

He freed himself, but hadn’t taken two steps in Joss’s direction before she reached him.

“Hugh.” Her expression, both regal and grimly determined, called to mind heroic martyrs of bygone eras. Joss of Arc. “I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He spared her the condescending crap about how, win or lose, it was an honor to be nominated and how her campaign had been deserving, too.

“Well.” She shifted her weight. “Guess I’ll see you again next year.”

The Dallas advertising community wasn’t so big that they never ran into each other, but she certainly didn’t seek him out. She was only speaking to him now because she felt obligated, the way football rivals shook hands after the game. Over her shoulder, Hugh noticed her boss, Wyatt Allen, shaking hands with Robert Kimmerman Sr. Graciously accepting second place must be in Vision’s mission statement.

Having fulfilled her obligation, Joss turned to go, but Hugh found he didn’t want to give her up yet. She’d always sparked something inside him, for better or worse, and he’d forgotten just how alive he felt around her.

“Wait…I never did buy you that drink.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wondered what he was doing. The woman detested him.

So you have nothing to lose. Besides, she might surprise him. Nostalgic interludes between ex-lovers happened all the time, and if she recalled their three weeks together with the same—

She narrowed her eyes in a scowl that brought his happy train of thought to a screeching halt. “You have got to be kidding me, Brannon.”

“What? A drink’s harmless.”

“Harmless, my butt.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re getting that look. Don’t even try to deny it.”

It had been worth a shot. “I seem to recall your liking ‘that look,’” he said with an unrepentant grin.

“I was young and stupid.”

“You were twenty-six. You’re barely twenty-eight now. And, Jocelyn, you’ve never been stupid.”

For a fleeting victorious moment, he had her speechless. But nothing good lasted forever.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she quipped. “You were just an easy way to meet my quota.”

“You wound me.”

“I try.”

Didn’t he know it. Whether it was taking Southwestern cooking classes, futile attempts to train her cat or fleecing everyone else at the table in high-stakes poker, she exerted the same level of effort. Why couldn’t she have unproductive noncompetitive fun once in awhile?

And what degree of control-freak insanity did it take for someone to try to train a cat?

Hugh sighed. It wasn’t that he had no work ethic, it was just that his brother Craig’s heart attack had been a startling wake-up call. “Take care of yourself, J.”

“I…You, too.” She regarded him curiously, then shook her head. Within moments, she’d merged into the crowd, a flash of red among less colorful individuals.

As he drove home later, Hugh told himself it was best Joss hadn’t taken him up on his offer of a nightcap. Given their history, they would have ended up trying to outdrink one another, and alcohol poisoning was not his idea of a good time. Hugh may have gained new perspective since the collapse of his older brother, the attorney, this summer, but he still had a competitive nature thirty years in the making.

Growing up, he and his two brothers had competed over everything from athletics to academics to attention from their parents. There had been some friction—particularly between Hugh, to whom many things came easily, and Craig, who resented “losing” to someone three years his junior—but most of the brothers’ fighting had been of the short-lived let’s-just-deck-each-other-then-go-for-beer variety. Overall, the pressure they put on one another had spurred them to higher achievements. Since college, no one had challenged Hugh quite like that.

Until he’d met Joss.

Both ambitious junior execs on the fast-track to success, they’d been natural rivals for each other. Everyone said opposites attracted, but he and Joss mirrored each other, and he’d never wanted a woman more. In some ways, he’d been in peak form when working with her, but his time with Joss had also made him more like his workaholic brother Craig.

Hugh had once thought he and Joss brought out the best in each other. It was equally possible they brought out the worst.

DESPITE A BRIGHT NOONDAY SUN, the breeze that carried mist from the fountain in Williams Square was enough to chill Joss’s skin.

Emily, however, didn’t seem to mind. She nudged Joss off the sidewalk, toward the nine bronze mustangs caught in a frozen gallop across the plaza. The fountain sculpture was one of Emily’s favorite places, and they walked by anytime they had lunch in Las Colinas. Today, they’d shared stromboli at an Italian café overlooking Mandalay Canal. Joss had filled her friend in on the details of last night, and Emily had told her about the good book she’d read after Simon blew off their date for a “networking opportunity” with one of the college deans.

“Aren’t you cold?” Joss demanded. She had on a long-sleeved henley, while her brunette friend wore short sleeves.

“No, why?”

Why, indeed. Joss freely admitted that, of the two of them, Emily was warmer—inside and out. Which was why she deserved someone who fully appreciated her.

“Hey, Em…do you ever think about what it would be like to be with someone besides Simon?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “You mean like cheating on him?”

“No, I meant if things didn’t work out. Hypothetically.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Do you think I’m doing something wrong?”

“Of course not! Like I said, it was strictly a hypothetical question. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Seeking divine assistance, Joss rolled her eyes heavenward. “Simon’s lucky to have you. Don’t let him make you feel inferior.”

“He’s not ‘making’ me feel anything. You know how I am, Joss.” With a sigh, Emily sat on a shadowed ledge near the fountain. “We aren’t all born with your self-confidence.”

Born with confidence…or just born to a very determined mother?

A memory surfaced of an elementary-school choir recital—Joss had loved to sing, despite tentative pitch, and she’d been looking forward to the concert. But when all the parents had filed into the auditorium, her knees had started knocking in time to the pianist’s metronome. Her voice squeaky with nerves, she’d still managed to warble through her stage fright.