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She gave him a grin. “Okay. That’s about all the arm twisting I need to…yikes!”
“What?”
“Did you see the price tag on this thing?” She flashed it in front of his face, then shook her head and whirled around. “Forget it.”
Dumbfounded, Nick watched her disappear back into the dressing room. The woman was a mass of contradictions. She could afford to buy ten dresses and pay double what the price tag said. The fact that she wouldn’t intrigued him. He’d always thought Jessica Coleman was pampered and spoiled, with nothing more pressing on her mind than shopping and parties. Lately he’d had to rethink quite a few of his preconceived notions.
And how many of those notions were his own defense mechanisms kicking in? Was he intent on finding fault in hopes of diluting the sexual sizzle he felt every time she walked into a room?
He didn’t know the answers. He did know, however, that the “come and get me, baby” red dress had her name written on it.
After summoning the salesclerk, he said, “The red dress the young lady was just trying on? Put it on my charge, gift wrap it and mail it to this address.” He handed her a business card, along with his credit card.
“A surprise?” the clerk asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be the soul of discretion.”
“YOU KNOW, I usually prefer to shop alone,” Jessica said, glancing up at the Galleria’s dramatic glass atrium above them. “And frankly, I was dreading you tagging along today. I couldn’t believe you actually volunteered.”
“I only did because you were so sure I wouldn’t.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. The silky material of the summery dress she’d bought at the first department store felt good against her skin, made her feel like herself again. A trip to the makeup counter and a complimentary makeover had her skin glowing and her eyes and mouth enhanced to where she felt the score between them was a bit more even. It had been torture walking into a mall with a gorgeous man when she was wearing oversize clothing and her face was naked.
“Well, now you’re in it for the duration.”
“You mean you’re not done?” He looked toward one of the exit doors on the mall’s lower level. Sunlight pierced the glass ceiling overhead, splashing rainbows over the gleaming floors.
“I need shoes, Grayson. Lots of them. Where is your shopping spirit?”
“I think I lost it back between the Levi’s and Guess jeans.”
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me which pair looked better on my butt.”
“Don’t start, Red. I do have a healthy amount of self-preservation.”
“Well, see if I ever take you shopping with me again,” she huffed dramatically.
“Please don’t.”
She laughed and bumped his shoulder again. “You’re being a pretty good sport. I’m surprised.”
“There’s probably a lot about me that would surprise you.”
“Give it a try. Tell me something about you—schooldays, let’s say.”
“What, like a truth-or-dare kind of thing?”
“Hmm, that could get interesting.” Though not what she’d had in mind. “I’m game if you are.”
He shook his head. “Forget it. You scare me.”
That tickled her. Even though she doubted that anything scared Nick Grayson.
“What were you like in high school?”
“Like any other kid, I guess. I was a football quarterback in high school and college, and had a chance to go pro.”
“You passed up the opportunity for fame and fortune?” He was a good four inches over six feet and had shoulders that filled out his suit jacket without the benefit of padding.
“I’ve got the fortune. And I used my mind to get it, rather than beating up my body. Figured I’d leave the fame for Chase.”
“Ah, driven even as a young man.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly. “I needed to feel ancient today.”
She laughed. “Really, Nick. You should play more. Not take life so seriously.” They were headed toward the huge ice rink in the mall. Music vied with crying children, giggling shrieks of teens and the noisy hum of shoppers. “Hey, why don’t we go ice skating?”
“I thought you needed shoes.”
“I do. But as long as we’re playing hooky from work, we might as well go whole hog. Chicken?”
“Get real. I could skate circles around you. After all, I’ve had years more practice than you.”
“Poked at your ego, did I? Thirty-three is still a young man, Nick. Funny how twelve years ago, the eight-year age difference between us was unacceptable.” She plucked a green shirt off a sale rack outside a boutique and held it to her chest. “Now it’s not an issue. Why’s that?”
“Experience.” He shook his head, took the shirt out of her hand and replaced it on the rack. “And until you’re eighteen, you’re considered jailbait.”
“Oh, like my father actually would’ve had you arrested if you’d kissed me.” She hadn’t meant to bring up this issue. It had just slipped out. The best thing, she decided, was to simply act sophisticated, as though it was no big deal.
He urged her forward with a hand at her back. “I imagine he would have. And it could have split up the business, as well. Which is why we’re not going to continue this conversation.”
“Just like that? You say so and it’s law?”
“Let’s don’t go there, Red.” He glanced at his watch. “And as much as I’d like to show you up on the ice, I think we’d better tackle those shoes. I need to make a conference call later this afternoon.”
“Ever the businessman.” She sighed and steered them around the corner, away from the ice rink. “Anything I should know about?”
He hesitated and the look she gave him dared him to put her off again. In the two months she’d been at Coleman-Grayson headquarters she’d never once complained when he’d given her little more responsibility than an office clerk. Instead, she’d taken the opportunity to learn how all the departments ran, from payroll to accounts receivable. She’d worked the switchboard and sat in on planning and investment strategy meetings.
She’d listened and learned—with very little help from Nick Grayson. She was tired of getting the runaround.
He must have read her determined expression.
“It’s a software company I’ve been looking at. According to the projections, it looks like a solid twenty percent return over the next two years.”
“Software seems so risky right now. Especially competing with the major companies. A lot of start-ups have bitten the dust.”
“This isn’t a start-up company. Lusklow’s been in business for thirty years with a great track record. The software is a virus-prevention program. They already have a handshake agreement with the Pentagon and a couple of other big players in the industry.”
“You’ve verified that?”
He glanced down at her as though surprised she’d even ask such a thing. “Yes. That’s part of what the conference call’s about.”
“Then I guess we better get cracking on shoes so you can get back in time.”
He looked so relieved that their shopping expedition had an end in sight that