Читать книгу Unwrapping Mr. Wright - Michele Dunaway - Страница 9

Chapter 2

Justin Wright tossed the briefcase down. It landed on his desk with an annoying thump. Mondays should be outlawed, especially Mondays following your mother’s birthday party. “Sylvia!”

“Yes?” His secretary of the past five years poked her head in through the open doorway.

“Where’s Lauren? Didn’t you call for her as I asked you to?”

Familiar with his many moods, Sylvia backed up slightly. “She’s not in today.”

That didn’t sound good. Perhaps he’d misunderstood his secretary. Frustration had him speaking a bit slower. “What do you mean, she’s not in today? Is she late? At a meeting?”

Sylvia inched another step backward as if she were afraid he’d massacre the messenger. “No. She’s not coming in at all. She took a personal day. The details are in her e-mail to you. She sent me a copy. I’m surprised you didn’t see it. Don’t you always check your work e-mails on the weekend?”

Patience was a virtue that he always found himself short of on Mondays. He followed the retreating Sylvia to her desk. “I didn’t check my work e-mail this weekend. My floors are all torn up, my house is a disaster, and that meant I had to move my computer into storage. Jeff still hasn’t fixed the glitch in my laptop. Plus, I had my mother’s birthday party to attend.”

Sylvia brightened. She and Mrs. Wright had chatted for ages when Mrs. Wright dropped by the office to check on her three sons. “Oh, how was that? Did you have a lovely dinner?”

“It was great,” Justin said. Well, it had been if he didn’t count his mother harping on her two youngest boys to find women and settle down like their beloved older brother. “After all, you are thirty,” his mother had reminded both of them at least ten times. She’d also made those remarks about wanting to see grandchildren before she died. Reminding her she was only fifty-five hadn’t helped. Justin sincerely hoped Jared’s wife came back pregnant. It might alleviate one crisis: getting his mother off his case. “Is Clint available?”

Sylvia sat behind her desk. “No. Remember? He’s at that luncheon in Springfield with the representatives from Kramer and McGee.”

A creature of having his space perfect, Justin decided the weekend must have thrown him even more than he’d realized; he’d forgotten that. “Wonderful. And Lauren decided to up and take a personal day. Couldn’t she have told me Friday?”

Frustrated, he threw a hand into the air. What was the point in having a public relations director if she didn’t work? Okay, so she hadn’t missed a day in six months. But today the company had not one but two major crises to deal with, and she should be doing something about them. Exactly what he wasn’t certain, but with Clint gone, she should be around. That much he had confidence in. Lauren would know how to soothe the feathers of some very ruffled clients. Wasn’t that what PR gurus did?

Not that he wasn’t capable of handling the situations alone, which was exactly what he’d do. “Sylvia, start making arrangements for immediate tech-support travel to Dynamics in Buffalo.”

Sylvia snapped to attention. “Jeff and Cecil?” she asked.

Justin nodded. “As always, and anyone else they feel they might need. Dynamics’s problem has to be solved on-site. Their whole system went down. Every minute is money. We’ve got to get them back up and make them impervious to another attack.”

The phone was already to Sylvia’s ear, and her fingers on the number pad. “Consider it done.”

Justin sighed as he went back to his desk. At least he had Sylvia. She called him a few minutes later to tell him flight times and that she’d reached Jeff.

“Hey.” Jeff entered Justin’s office about five minutes after that. “I just got the page that I’m needed.”

“You’re needed, all right,” Justin said. And despite their differences, it always amazed him just how similar they did look, even at age thirty. Each stood six foot one, each had light reddish blond hair and cream-colored skin. Not one freckle remained from either of their childhoods.

“So what’s going on?” Jeff asked. “I heard we’ve got major problems.”

“We do. Dynamics got hit with a virus. We’re working on their server issues, but about two dozen of their computers require complete reinstalls. Every minute they’re down is costing them millions.”

Jeff grinned. There was nothing he loved more than jumping into the fray. He’d wanted to be a firefighter, but asthma had ended that dream, much to his safety-conscious mother’s relief. “So when do Cecil and I leave?”

Justin’s shoulders slumped as some stress lifted. The best man for any computer-related crisis, Jeff had never let his brothers down. He was their Mr. Fix-it. “The next flight to Buffalo is at eleven. Sylvia’s made arrangements to have you both on it. Do you need anyone else?”

“No,” Jeff said. He glanced at his Rolex, the watch he’d bought more for its working precision than for its status. “So, like, I’m out of here right now.”

Justin nodded. “Exactly.”

“Cool. Never a dull moment at this place. Super Jeff off to save the day. This company couldn’t survive without me.”

For the first time that morning, Justin grinned. “Nope.”

“I’ll have Lauren feed my cat.”

Lauren, who should be in the office. Justin’s smile faded and he briefly wondered why she annoyed him so much. She really was a contradiction. Friday, Miss Plain and Mousy had worn a fitted red sweater that had made his libido boil and want to know exactly what lay underneath. As to why she’d crawled under his skin, Justin had no answer. “She’s out of the office today.”

“Yeah.” Jeff shrugged. “I saw her Saturday when I picked up my pinstripe and had her iron my dress pants.”

For some reason the thought of Lauren doing Jeff’s laundry didn’t sit well with Justin. “She irons your clothes?”

Jeff grinned, the grin of a man who has domestic bliss without the emotional entanglements of ring-around-the-finger. “I’m a lucky guy. Anyway, she told me she’d e-mailed you, but she wouldn’t tell me why she took today off. Said it was a surprise and I’d have to wait. I guess now I’ll have to find out what it is when I get back.”

The phone rang and Justin picked it up and listened. “Oh. Okay, Sylvia. No, of course I don’t have time for it, but I do want my floors done. My house is a FEMA wanna-be. You know, Federal Emergency Management Association. They go in after disasters. Send the call through.” Justin held up a finger, indicating that Jeff should wait. “Justin Wright. Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

His contractor’s voice boomed through the line and Justin moved the phone farther away from his ear. “Justin, today’s the day. We’re putting the first coat of polyurethane on your floors. See, I told you we’d be finished way before Christmas.”

Finally. They’d been sanding and refinishing the hardwood for almost a week. Besides having furniture in every corner, spare or not, Justin had a fine layer of dust coating everything, even the rooms that had been taped off. “That’s great.”

Bob chuckled. “I’m glad you think so, because you’ll need to be out of your house for about three days while we get everything done.”

“What?” That started today? Surely he had heard wrong. “Three days?”

“At least three days. Sorry to spring it on you like this, but of course you want the job done. Remember, I told you about this aspect of the job before we started the project.”

Justin sighed. Bob was one of the best floor finishers in St. Louis and he had warned him that the floors couldn’t be walked on; even worse there would be the smell to deal with during the sealing process.

“Yeah, I remember. It’s okay, Bob. I’ll find somewhere to go. Start the work.” Justin set down the phone. Mondays sucked. What else could go wrong?

“More problems?” Jeff asked.

Justin craned his neck to relieve some of his growing tension. “Not Wright Solutions–related, at least. They’re finally getting around to finishing my hardwood floors. I have to stay out for three days since I won’t have a bed and the odor will be terrible. But don’t worry about me. You need to get out of here. Time is money and Dynamics is one of our best customers.”

“Well, luckily for you, this Dynamics crisis might just be perfect timing. You can stay at my place. I’ll leave a spare key underneath my welcome mat.” Jeff strode to the door. He grinned as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Just be sure you feed my cat.”

Pretty woman. The words from the Roy Orbison song resonated in Lauren’s head long after the tune had faded from St. Louis’s classic-oldies radio station. But the words fit. The woman reflected back at her in the rearview mirror was pretty. The spa had been worth every penny.

Lauren grinned as she pulled up to an intersection and the guy in the car to her right gave her a second, then a third look. For once Lauren knew it wasn’t because she’d had food on her face or something embarrassing like that. For once it was because she really did look good.

She’d entrusted her body to the care of Meredith and Jacques, and neither of the spa professionals had let her leave disappointed. She’d been made over from head right down to her now bright red toenails.

When they’d finally spun her around after the finishing touches, at first Lauren hadn’t believed that she really was the person in the mirror. Jacques had lightened her dark brown hair to a honey hue. He hadn’t made her medium blond—he said that would wash her out too much and make her appear trite—but he had lightened every strand and used foils to weave subtle golden strands throughout.

Her eyebrows had been tweezed and shaped, and after applying a natural foundation, Meredith had applied soft blush makeup to Lauren’s cheekbones and subtle color to her eyelids. The result? The man in a pickup truck to her left said it best when he gave her a large grin and a thumbs-up before he pulled away.

Lauren smiled and avoided drumming her newly manicured fingernails on the steering wheel, as was her habit. She pulled into Chesterfield Mall and found a spot near an entrance. One stop left to go before her plan was complete. All she needed now was lingerie. The basic cotton underwear she usually wore was not acceptable for tonight’s seduction. She wanted lace, the silkier and skimpier the better.

She parked the car, entered the mall and strode into the shop with complete confidence. She knew her body was ready for it—she’d been waxed, buffed and moisturized until every part of her five-foot-six-inch figure glowed. She’d never been fat, and now viewing in the three-way mirror the black lace ensemble she’d found, she felt like one of those credit-card commercials. No matter the cost—the result was worth it. Lauren picked up a pair of thigh-high seamed hose, paid for her purchases and carried the pink-and-white bag with pride.

The December night was brisk, but Lauren didn’t feel the cold as she unlocked her Toyota Celica and tossed the bag onto the back seat. Darkness had long ago descended, and Lauren’s headlights cut a swath through the starry night as she drove home to her condo. She’d eat a little something just to make sure her stomach didn’t growl foolishly, drink a little wine to give her some liquid courage, then she’d dress and walk the twelve feet to Jeff’s condo. Monday Night Football started at eight. And as much as she loved football, too, tonight was about seduction. Jeff would only get to see about five minutes of the game before her arrival.

Lauren turned up the volume on the radio as a Macy Gray song came on. Singing along, Lauren belted out the words. Even the song was a sign. Today she’d had one good omen after another. Jeff Wright, here I come. You aren’t going to know what hit you. Every light magically seemed to be green and Lauren grinned. For once, finally, everything was going to be perfect.

Justin wasn’t a cat person, but that didn’t stop Jeff’s indoor, with an alley-cat personality, feline from taking permanent residence right on top of Justin’s chest.

The monster even purred so loud that Justin couldn’t hear the television. If he turned his head to the right he could see the flat screen, though, and thus at least tell what was going on. Reaching for the remote control, a few inches beyond his grasp on the coffee table, meant risking upending the cat with the killer claws. Justin decided that hearing the game, which started in about fifteen minutes, didn’t matter.

Like most Saint Louisans he loved the Saint Louis Rams, but tonight he wasn’t interested in watching them play the New Orleans Saints. Suddenly extremely exhausted, all Justin wanted right now was sleep.

He’d left the office only about a half hour ago. Jeff had arrived safely in Buffalo and he and Cecil had started pulling the all-nighter required to rebuild Dynamics’s systems. Clint had returned from Springfield, soothed the other client’s fears, and at last, after sending about a dozen e-mails and signing a dozen letters, Justin had been free to go home. Dinner had been a drive-through-restaurant chicken sandwich that hadn’t tasted all that great.

He’d hoped to pick up some essentials at home before going to Jeff’s, but upon arriving at his Chesterfield ranch, he’d learned from the note on his front door that he couldn’t even enter the house until ten the next morning. He’d said a few words his mother would scold him for before he’d headed to Jeff’s.

Thank goodness he and his brother were twins. He’d at least be able to borrow something clean to wear to the office tomorrow. Tonight, though, he wanted to be really comfortable. So, with no change of clothes, Justin had cranked up the heat, stripped to his boxers, grabbed a beer and now found himself used as a cat pillow.

He glanced at the VCR clock. His mother had always said that her twins were opposites, which in many ways they were. Jeff, the computer god and techno wizard, always had his VCR programmed to the proper time, for example. Justin’s VCR usually just blinked 12:00 because he was too lazy to set it and he hadn’t seen the need to replace the aged unit with one that automatically set the time itself. Now Jeff’s VCR said 7:50. Justin had ten minutes before football. Enough for a power nap. After all, his eyelids did feel so heavy. He let his lashes drift down, and soon man and beast fell into easy slumber.

Lauren lowered her wineglass and looked at the clock on her microwave for the hundredth time. If a watched pot never boiled, then a watched microwave clock never changed. Lauren held her breath as the display finally flickered from 7:59 and became 8:00.

It was finally time.

She took one last reassuring sip of wine. However, the room-temperature Merlot did little to calm her racing heart. She glanced at the bottle. She’d only had two glasses, enough to make her feel warm, fuzzy, brave and wanton. She smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her hose. Her outfit was perfect: a merry widow covered by a sheer black robe. Underneath, lacy black garter straps held up the seamed black thigh-highs. Slinky black heels that she’d worn only once graced her feet, her red toenail polish playing peekaboo beneath the sheer hose.

She’d gotten her portable CD player ready. While Jeff had a fantastic stereo complete with surround sound, it would be quicker and easier for her to just use her battery-operated unit and have it on as she entered his condo.

Butterflies flitted in her stomach. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. She’d had relationships before—even lived with a man for three months before he’d cheated on her. But this time was different. This was Jeff, her best friend. Tonight would forever change their relationship. They would go from friends to lovers. He’d realize the pal could also be the girlfriend. They would have it all. She knew he adored her; but still, taking the next step was always risky. She had nothing to fear. Right? She was now a knockout.

The clock finally flickered to 8:05 and Lauren grabbed the CD player. Her ankles wobbled for a brief moment as she rose to her feet.

She put her hand on her condo door and completed the quick run from her door to his. Her key made brief work of the lock and she stepped inside. The room was dark except for the light coming from the television set, and relief filled Lauren. She’d worried for nothing about him seeing her in the bright light. Not only did the low glow cast shadows everywhere, but he was sleeping. Buddy, Jeff’s cat, lifted a sleepy head. Lauren put a finger to her lips, suddenly realizing how silly that was—why was she trying to tell a cat to keep quiet? She stifled a nervous giggle and turned on her CD player. It was now or never. In a few moments she would know Jeff Wright more intimately than she’d ever known him. As the slow groove came on, Lauren began to dance.

He was having the most wonderful dream. The noises of the football game that he really couldn’t hear anyway had faded, replaced by a deep bluesy voice that he recognized but in his sleep couldn’t quite place. Something sweet had reached his seeking nostrils. Roses? Jasmine? Musk? Whatever perfume had permeated his brain brought his body to slow attention.

The cat was gone. Instead, something silky skimmed his chest. Black and white contrasted in the darkness. Oh, my. A garter-covered a thigh.

He hadn’t had a dream like this in a long, long while. He shifted, letting the seductive moment of the dream envelop him. A beautiful woman danced for him. Not a professional, either—he’d seen those a few times at bachelor parties—but an amateur. Meaning, much better motivations. Much better movements when they weren’t rehearsed. Much more…intriguing. Oh.

As she gyrated her hips and lowered herself toward the floor in a movement bordering on erotic, he groaned. Oh, yes. Whoever his fantasy woman was, she was dancing just for him. And whoever she was, it was his dream, and he would have her or die trying.

He snaked out a hand, his fingers grazing the naked part of her upper thigh. Heat traveled through him and gathered lower. Her bottom lip dropped into a playful pout and she waved her forefinger at him in a no-no movement as she stepped away from his outstretched hand. Did she say, “Not until the song’s over”?

Who cared about the song? As her lips neared his, he sure didn’t. Excitement overtook him and he leaned up to catch her lips, but she’d drawn away. Kiss me! He wanted to see her face. Instead, he saw black lace covering creamy white breasts. Oh. He swallowed as part of him roused to painful attention. Sanity fled. He’d been a year without a woman, so no wonder the intensity filling him. She glanced back again, her black robe skimming his bare chest. His lips opened and his head arched. Did his mystery woman know what she did to him?

Of course she did. The song playing in his head crescendoed and as it began to wind down she moved closer. He willed the dream to brighten, but, backlit by the television, the dream refused. Suddenly, her body sat next to his. “Hey,” she said.

Did he answer her? He wasn’t sure what he said, for when her lips touched the side of his jaw, he lost all control. He reached forward, fisted his hands into that long hair that had been calling him and brought her lips down to his.

The rockets he’d made as a kid didn’t have anything on the explosion now shooting through him as he kissed her. He ravaged her mouth, tasting his dream woman’s sweet kiss. Never had he had a dream so real or so good, and he refused to question it lest it dissipate before he’d fully enjoyed it. His hand cupped her breast, the black lace texture tempting his fingers to slide beneath. She gasped against his mouth as he pearled a nipple, and she fell closer to him.

He didn’t want to let her mouth go, but he wanted to taste her, to lick the creamy valley between and taste those hardened peaks themselves.

All he had to do was roll her over. He encircled her waist and turned her so that her back pressed against the couch. Her stocking-covered legs wound around his bare ones. Damn, he wanted her. His body throbbed and he thrust his tongue back into her mouth. As she returned his kiss, her throaty moan tormented him further.

He pulled away a little, his fingers pushing the merry widow down. She was beautiful and he longed to see her face. He forced his eyes to adjust to the dim light and then he forced himself to picture her face. And then he could see her. Her eyes were closed, but something was so familiar. Lauren? He was dreaming of Lauren.

No. This couldn’t be Lauren. Lauren didn’t wear smoky makeup or have hair the color of honey. He’d dreamed of Lauren once, more than a year ago, but she’d never looked like this. She certainly hadn’t been a siren. She’d never made his body respond, never turned him into a randy teenage schoolboy.

She leaned to kiss him again and he let those provocative lips send him spinning. His body ached with need and Justin clung to the dream.

“Oh, Jeff.”

Every inch of Justin stilled as if cold water had just drenched him. Sharp painful awareness filled him. This wasn’t a dream.

And if this wasn’t a dream…

He was really kissing Lauren. Denial sounded in his brain. No. Jeff and Lauren weren’t… Jeff would have said something. Warned him. Jeff always confided in Justin. Always.

Reality slapped Justin upside the head. He’d been kissing Lauren. She’d been trying to seduce Jeff. She thought he was Jeff. She didn’t realize… “Lauren!”

Her eyes flew open. “Jeff?”

Somehow Justin stood, and already Lauren was scrambling off the couch and to her feet. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry, I…”

Where was that light? Justin fumbled for the switch, wishing for once that those clap-on, clap-off devices weren’t so silly and that people like his brother actually bought them. His fingers found the knob and he flipped it. Harsh white light flooded the room.

He saw the exact moment that her realization of his identity dawned. Her well-kissed and swollen lips opened in shocked disbelief. Horror claimed those deep brown eyes. He knew exactly what she saw—his near nakedness and his now-softening arousal. Her hand flew to her lips, she gathered her arms around her lace-covered chest, and before Justin could even think of stopping her, she slammed out the front door.