LITMIR.BIZ

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time ago Rick had decided to take charge of his world. Now he ended things before they got complicated. He was the one to walk away. He’d never be the one standing alone with a broken heart again.

      Crawling carefully along the carpet, he stayed close to her. ‘‘How far can these things roll, anyway?’’

      ‘‘Pretty far,’’ she said. ‘‘So, why is realistic cynical, why?’’

      He glanced at her. Damn, she was too close. Close enough that he could count the handful of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. There were six. Not that he cared. ‘‘Why are you so interested?’’

      She shrugged. ‘‘Humor a half-blind woman.’’

      Rick chuckled. She made him laugh. Had been since the first day she was here. And that was something he didn’t do nearly often enough. He’d been too busy building his world to take the time to enjoy what he’d created. Too busy proving to everyone—including himself—that he could go to the top, to enjoy the trip. But somehow, Eileen lightened things up, even when she was arguing with him.

      Impossible to ignore, too dangerous to pay attention to. Great combination.

      He shrugged and stopped, thinking for a second he’d spotted a glint of light, like sunlight bouncing off a lens, but then it was gone. ‘‘No deep dark explanation,’’ he said, refusing to be drawn into the long, sad history of his past relationships. Not only wasn’t it any of Eileen’s business, but he’d learned to let it go. No point in revisiting it. ‘‘Vanessa and I were just two ships colliding briefly in the night, then going our own way. That’s realistic, not cynical. Pretending it was anything else would be a waste of time.’’

      Colliding ships, huh? Eileen mused on his choice of words for a minute or two. If their ships had collided, then they’d probably slept together. Which meant this Vanessa had seen Rick naked. Instantly an image flashed into Eileen’s mind. The same image that had been taunting her for the past few days.

      She kept imagining Rick wet.

      Stepping out of the shower, a skimpy towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water clinging to the hairs on his chest. Then she imagined him shaking his head and tiny droplets of water flying from the ends of his hair like diamonds. Then she imagined the towel dropping and him stepping forward to take her into his arms. The vision was so clear, so tantalizing, she could feel his wet skin next to hers. He bent his head, his mouth just a breath away from hers and then—

      ‘‘Found it!’’

      She sucked in air like an old, wheezing vacuum. ‘‘What?’’

      ‘‘Your lens,’’ Rick said, holding it out to her. ‘‘I found it.’’

      ‘‘Right.’’ She swallowed that gulp of air and held it in, hoping to steady herself. Jeez. Did it have to be so darn hot in the room? Right now, she felt as though a fever were racing through her body. She looked into his eyes, and those brown depths seemed to pull her in. His victorious grin set off a series of minor explosions within her and her blood pumped as if she was in the last leg of a marathon.

      She’d never had this sort of reaction to a man before. Oh, the cute ones jangled her nerves, and here and there a fabulous mouth might make her a little antsy. But never had she fantasized so well that her whole body was tingling with heat and want.

      Not even over her late, unlamented ex-fiancée. Not even with her last boss…the one with lots of promises and an exceptionally bad memory about them.

      Nope. Rick stirred things up that had never been stirred before.

      Oh, boy.

      ‘‘Thanks,’’ she said, and picked her contact lens up from the center of his palm. The brush of her fingertips against his skin sent another jagged spear of something dark and wicked through her body, but Eileen fought it. Otherwise, she’d be forced to roll over onto her back and shout, Take me, big boy!

      Oh, wow.

      Eileen pushed herself to her feet. ‘‘Okay, better go take care of this. Don’t want to look at life like a Cyclops.’’

      She headed unsteadily toward the door. He was right behind her, but Eileen didn’t look back. The words ‘‘pillar of salt’’ kept reverberating inside her mind.

      ‘‘Can I help?’’

      ‘‘No thanks,’’ she said, waving one hand. ‘‘Been doing this for years.’’

      ‘‘I didn’t know you wore contacts.’’

      ‘‘No reason you should, since we haven’t seen each other in six years.’’

      The hall looked impossibly long. The wall on her right was painted the ever-present gray, but the wall on her right was glass. Afternoon sunshine poured in, and five stories below them, it winked off the windshields of the cars jammed bumper to bumper on the 405 freeway. Just the thought of joining the thundering herd trying to get home made her grateful that Rick wanted her to stay later than usual.

      Even if he was making her a little nervous.

      ‘‘Man,’’ Rick said from behind her, as if reading her mind, ‘‘the freeway’s a mess.’’

      ‘‘I noticed.’’ She made a sharp right and walked into the ladies’ room.

      ‘‘It should be thinned out later, though. We could send out for dinner while we work.’’

      Dinner. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow. Eileen looked into the mirror and stared at Rick’s reflection. He was there. Right behind her. In the pale blue lounge area. Of the ladies’ room, for Pete’s sake. Two vinyl chairs sat on either side of a low table holding a bowl of fresh flowers. Eileen looked into the mirror, ignoring the furnishings to stare instead at Rick. ‘‘Dinner?’’

      ‘‘What? You don’t eat?’’

      ‘‘Sure I eat. I just usually don’t have men following me into the ladies’ room to deliver an invitation.’’

      He shifted his gaze from hers and looked around, as if surprised to discover where he was. Then he looked back into the mirror, meeting her gaze again with a wry, crooked smile. ‘‘Oops.’’

      Eileen felt a ping bounce around inside her and realized that smile of his could still affect her. Apparently, at heart, she was still that eleven-year-old girl with a kinda sorta crush. For heaven’s sake.

      He jerked a thumb at the closed door behind him. ‘‘I’ll, uh, see you outside.’’

      ‘‘Good idea.’’

      Once he was gone, Eileen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Leaning forward, she planted both hands on the slate-blue Formica counter and stared at her reflection. ‘‘This temporary job was a bad idea, Eileen. Really bad.’’

      Three

      Rick hadn’t had Mexican fast food in far too long. He didn’t remember tacos and nachos ever tasting quite so good. And he’d never considered having an indoor picnic on the floor of his office. But then maybe it wasn’t the food, he told himself. Maybe it was sharing it with Eileen. She was annoying, irritating and more entertaining than he would have guessed.

      Watching her now while she talked about some of her customers, he saw her eyes flash with humor.

      ‘‘This one guy is a regular,’’ she was saying, and paused to take a small bite of a taco. She chewed, swallowed and said, ‘‘He’s got a standing order for a dozen roses once a week.’’

      ‘‘Good husband?’’ Rick ventured.

      ‘‘Hardly,’’ she said with a quick shake of her head. ‘‘It’s for the girl of the week. Always someone different, always a different color rose—according to their personalities, he says. But one week, he changed

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