A Matchless Romance Page 7

  “Hi Drew,” they said in unison. “Are you ready to put us through our paces?” An exchange of knowing glances that proved to each other they’d gotten the double entendre. Tabitha felt equally sure that it had sailed right over Drew’s head.

  With his right leg, he lunged forward into a hamstring stretch. With an affable smile, Drew said, “If you’re ready, I’ll watch your sprints.”

  Ah yes, her delightfully modest and naïve client had no idea they were flirting with him. Tabitha didn’t see any reason to enlighten him.

  “I was hoping you’d agree to watch me.” The slightly taller one unzipped her top with excruciating slowness. With each inch of sports bra revealed, she turned more and more inward, until she’d pressed both massive breasts against him. About as subtle as using a battering ram to crack open an egg.

  In full, club-hopping-skank makeup, the shorter one bracketed his biceps with both hands. Because it took both hands to go all the way around. Tabitha gulped down all the rest of her coffee at the realization. “Have you been working out? ’Cause I swear your muscles are bigger than when we saw you last weekend.”

  “I work out all the time. But not as much as when I trained for the Games. So technically, if anything, my muscles are losing mass. Not getting bigger.”

  His ignorance of their blatant flirting was bliss to Tabitha’s ears. She decided to reward it by stepping in and rescuing him from the very real possibility of a social disease. Or an evening of total boredom. And Tabitha had no idea which outcome might bother him more.

  “Sorry, but Drew and I are working right now.” She threw out an arm toward the scattered men and women throughout the park. “You’re going to have to go toy with someone else.” They didn’t budge. Aside from the frowning glares they lobbed her way. So Tabitha took Drew by the hand and led him over to the lake shore. Milo trailed behind.

  “You can thank me for rescuing you now.”

  Drew whipped his head from side to side, as if spotting for some of his trademark attacking zombies. “From what?”

  “From those…” Trollops? Sexual piranhas? Oh, who was she kidding? The only actual objectionable thing about those women was that they’d shown an interest in Drew. “…women,” she finished softly.

  “Um, Tabitha? Didn’t you come here specifically to watch me interact with women?”

  Crap. His logic was far less cute when aimed at her. Tabitha didn’t see any point to exposing her uncharacteristic, lust-crazed infatuation. She’d never date a client. It was ethically wrong. And a line she’d determined long ago not to cross. No matter how many times a month her mother called to beg her to join the family business.

  “Yes. But not with those women.” Tabitha stared out at the water. It started out greyish brown right at the shore, yet within a few feet turned the same stunning blue as Drew’s eyes. How’d they target Drew so fast, anyway? “Didn’t you say you’d only been here a week?” she asked.

  Drew shook his head. “I’ve been at Game Domain a week. I’ve been in Chicago for twelve and a half days.”

  “Such scientific precision,” she scoffed. “How many times have you trained with these people?”

  “Just twice. But they’re super friendly.” He cocked his head to the side, as if confused. “Last time, one of those two offered to hold my Team USA jacket while I sprint trained. Four or five people offered to help me stretch out at the end.”

  Of course they did. In his faded hoodie, Drew had been eight kinds of hot. Stripped down to running gear, the man looked like a god. Tabitha was surprised that even her self-conscious, clueless-to-his-own-sexiness client hadn’t scooped up telephone numbers like Tic Tacs that day.

  “Men or women?” asked Milo. He had his phone at eyelevel, like he was using the camera.

  Drewsquinted up at the gleaming spires of the Hancock Building as if working quite hard at remembering. “Um, women.”

  “Too bad.” Milo fiddled with the phone, and brought it back up to his face.

  “Way to look like a tourist,” said Tabitha. “Are you really taking pictures of downtown?”

  “No. I’m using the zoom on the camera to look at the guy in the spandex pants. Yowza.”

  Not helpful. If lust pheromones could be harnessed, like wind power, then the ones oozing off her and Milo right now could probably power the entire Magnificent Mile. Plus the exuberantly bright lights of the Navy Pier ferris wheel. The only thing she’d be able to observe about Drew while he stood there shirtless was how turned on he made her. Time for a new plan. One that involved him wearing clothes.

  “Your biggest issue is with workplace interaction. How about I drop by your work on Tuesday?”

  A wide smile split across Drew’s face. His eyes sparkled like the sunlight gleaming across the lake. “Strategic plan. I knew I did the right thing by hiring you. You’re the perfect solution to my problem, Tabitha.”

  Great. Whereas Drew was very much the problem for Tabitha. And one to which she saw no solution.

  * * *

  Tabitha liked her office well enough. Tree branches butted up against the window. It was pretty and peaceful. Best of all, only twenty-six steps away—yes, she’d counted—from Lyons Bakery. A connecting door from her workplace to a bakery full of delectable pies, cookies and gourmet truffles had to be a girl’s dream come true. Yet standing at the door to Drew’s workspace, she was struck with dissatisfaction at her solitary quarters.

  The walls and carpets were dark, like a black box theatre. But the space wasn’t depressing. The darkness made the cartoon-bright long couches and ottomans pop. On the opposite wall hung an oversized whiteboard, chalkboard and the biggest plasma screen she’d ever seen. Pinball and foosball machines clustered in the far corner. What looked like an old-fashioned soda counter was manned by a short guy in an apron. Currently the soda guns were abandoned while he toiled in front of a commercial-grade espresso machine.

  Spacious cubicles radiated from the center likes spokes of a wheel. They had curved, arching walls that gave more privacy, but still allowed the workers a sightline to the common space. In the middle of it all sat Drew, surrounded by five monitors and radiating a confidence she hadn’t seen in him before.

  “Nayal, you need to bring that artist back in tomorrow. I’m not happy with the sketches of the harpies.” He swiveled in his ergonomic chair. It looked like a collection of rubberized harp strings. But under Drew’s ass, it might as well be the captain’s chair on the Enterprise. “Melinda, I need you to sit down with all the other project managers and come up with a prototyping schedule. The advertising department wants to know how much lead time they’ve got. I vaguely promised them it could hit stores by Thanksgiving.”

  A girl with spiky black and green hair pulled on the hoop piercing her eyebrow. “I thought you told us we’d finish it by Halloween? Or die trying, were your exact words.”

  Drew scooted across to a cubicle to hand a tablet to a good-looking man whose attributes were almost eclipsed by the seventies-style ruffled tux shirt he inexplicably wore. “Oh, we will. But if I tell the guys upstairs that, they’ll try to weasel it out of us by Veterans Day. I want to give us a cushion, so nobody has to cancel their summer vacation plans. Especially you, Whitney.” He crossed his arms and gave a long, low whistle. “That trip you’ve got planned to Easter Island sounds amazing.”

  Look at him. Handing out orders. Holding the attention of a dozen people without raising his voice. Interacting with humor and warmth, genuine ease and friendliness with women. Tabitha’s client had managed to turn himself around in the forty-eight hours since she’d last seen him. No doubt about it. Drew was definitely no longer in need of her personality-polishing services. That should put an end to her crush. Although the whole out of sight, out of mind thing hadn’t cooled her jets at all in the past two days. More of an out of sight, run lots of flashbacks of his naked chest through her mind phenomenon.

  “I’ll be sure to send you a postcard, Major.” A girl with a giant organza bow at
her neck shot him a loose salute as she walked away. The meeting concluded by some signal Tabitha had missed, everyone scooted back to their desks.

  But her offhand remark stirred Tabitha’s curiosity enough to cross the room to Drew. Raised eyebrows and a finger wave were all the greeting she gave. “You graduated from MIT. Designed and put out two of the hottest video games on the market. Medaled in competition against the best athletes in the entire world. When on earth did you manage to do time in the military?”

  “Tabitha, hi.” He scrambled to his feet. “Don’t report me for impersonating an officer. It’s just a nickname they gave me. From The Pirates of Penzance.”

  She shrugged out of her coat. Noticed with professional detachment that he looked as mouthwatering as ever in a forest green hoodie over a plain black tee. Smoothing her red jersey dress, she said, “Oh, that’s not nearly good enough. I need the whole story.”

  Drew stared at her for a few, gratifying seconds. “It’s nothing. My first day, I described a ravelin I wanted Curtis to design.” He took her leather jacket and hung it on a giant metal double helix sculpture studded with coat hooks.

  “A what?”

  Grabbing a marker, he twirled it like a six-shooter, and then sketched out a detailed, three dimensional building on the nearest whiteboard. “It’s a fortification outside a castle. Triangular. The word isn’t very common anymore, but my team recognized it from the Major-General’s song in Pirates. They were impressed, so they started calling me Major.”

  “I’m impressed your team can quote lyrics from Gilbert & Sullivan operettas. Quite the well-rounded crew you’ve got here.” As well-rounded as his ass looked in those jeans. Damn it. Why couldn’t Tabitha stop noticing his body parts?

  Last night, she’d gone to the most notorious pick-up bar in Wicker Park. Not to hook up with someone. Just to find a red-hot guy whose smoldering gaze of appreciation would burn off any residual attraction she felt to Drew. A couple drinks, a lot of flirting, and she’d get her client out of her system for good. Except the plan hadn’t worked. None of the guys had Drew’s matchless combination of looks, smarts and adorable earnestness. The only thing she’d gotten out of the night was a hangover from too many super-sweet amaretto sours. Stupid drink-of-the-night special.

  “They’ve all got vision. Innovation is imperative in game design. We push each other in the best way.” Drew led her to the long couch covered in jumbled, bright geometric design. “Gotta admit, I worried about leading a team when I took this job.”

  “Why?” It was quiet on the couch, but Tabitha still lowered her voice. She didn’t want his employees to overhear. “For goodness sake, you were just on Team USA in front of the entire world. Why would a team situation here—with no international press coverage—spook you?”

  His dark eyebrows drew together in a did you really just say something that stupid look. “My event wasn’t like water polo, or soccer. I ran. By myself. Period.” A shrug. “Chalk it up to not wanting to relinquish control. I’ve been designing on my own for years. But it turns out that our ideas and drive fuel each other, like a chemical reaction.”

  “Don’t hand off all the credit to your team. Want to know what I saw just now? A man with innate leadership skills.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Drew’s eyes shifted down. Over. Finally back to her. “All I did was hand out a few assignments.”

  She held up a hand to stop his protest. Modesty in any man could be sexy. In this man it was irresistible, and Tabitha really didn’t need Drew upping the attraction stakes for her any more. “I saw a man with no problem whatsoever relating to the women on his team.”

  “That’s easy. They’re not women.”

  “Huh? They look and sound like women.” Tabitha genuinely didn’t understand. “Is there a big transvestite sub-community in the gaming world I don’t know about?”

  “No.” He sat up, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “Well, I take that back. I can’t categorically rule it out without doing some research. I’ll get back to you with an answer.”

  “No rush,” she said, biting back laughter. Drew’s zest for knowledge of any sort was yet one more mark in the adorable column. Damn it. Tabitha crossed her legs at the ankles of her knee-high black boots. Maybe that would keep her from accidentally brushing her thigh against his. Because this was Drew’s workplace, and he was a client, and it was all kinds of inappropriate—no matter how much she yearned to touch that long, lean muscle beneath his jeans.

  Of course, he chose that moment, when her resistance already ebbed, to lean forward and tap her leg. Drew probably did it for emphasis. Not to tease the be jesus out of her. “What I meant was that I don’t think of Whitney, or any of them, as women. They’re just gamers, like me.”

  Sometimes ideas came to Tabitha half-baked. All the ingredients, like a bowl of raw cookie dough, but not yet heated and coalesced into a finished product. Drew’s statement felt like one of those ideas. If she had a big hazelnut latte, a legal pad to doodle on and about fifteen minutes of quiet time, Tabitha felt certain she’d have it.

  “Speaking of gamers, can I peek at Quest? Get a first look at all its awesome features? Having the game designer himself walk me through it would be such a thrill.” Tabitha bounced on the couch. “I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since you described it.” Well, both the game and its sexy creator swirled ceaselessly through her consciousness.

  Drew pushed up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms dusted in dark hair. God, she couldn’t wait to see those muscles flex as he put the controller through its paces. “Not a lot to show off yet, but I can walk you through a few potential settings.” He shot her a wicked grin over his shoulder as he turned on a series of screens. “Want to try and kill a prototype monster?”

  “Nothing would make me happier,” she sighed. This was like peeking at a handwritten outline for the next Dan Brown thriller. Or having Michaelangelo hand her a paintbrush and offer to let her paint a cloud on a fresco.

  “It’s not Bring-Your-Girlfriend-To-Work Day, Weston.” A skinny, beautiful woman with black hair to her waist drummed her fingers against the wall. From her platform stilettos to her impeccably tailored suit, she wore unrelieved black. The only color was a slash of red lipstick. “We don’t pay you to sit on your ass and flirt.”

  Her bitchy attitude, more than her Asian features, made Tabitha assume this was Drew’s boss. Rescuing him from a bad situation definitely fell under her hazy job description. “I’m flattered you think a man as terrific as Drew would spend his precious spare time with me. He’s quite a catch.” She sent Drew a wistful, yearning smile that required no acting ability whatsoever. His face blanked as he rose to his feet.

  “Keiko, you’ve got it all wrong.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and squared off to her. Tabitha could almost see the testosterone seething beneath his restraints. More than ever, he looked like a Major about to go to war. Or a gladiator facing tigers in the Coliseum. So. Damn. Hot. “This is Tabitha Bell. I hired her. As a…personality consultant. To prep me for the media rollout.”

  “Really? I didn’t think you had it in you to change. I’d written you off as just another hopeless geek.” She stalked forward, raking Tabitha with an assessing stare. “Most of Weston’s interviews we’ve lined up so far happen to be with women. From what I’ve seen, he sucks at one-on-ones with anything in a skirt. No filter. No rapport. You think you can get him comfortable with the fairer sex in the next ten days?”

  Oh, yes. Keiko was every bit the ballbuster Drew had described. Tabitha couldn’t believe she’d insult her employee like that in front of a stranger. Thank goodness they were back here where the rest of his team couldn’t hear. She stood, and crossed her arms with a confident tilt to her head. “Absolutely.”

  Keiko stared for one more moment, then turned to Drew. “This shows initiative. Willingness to work within the corporate structure. Impressive.”

  “I’ll jump through whatever hoop you wave in front o
f me to get Quest made,” he growled through gritted teeth. Wowza. Now Tabitha pictured Drew as the tiger. The set to his jaw, the cold glint to his eyes, everything about him shot off dangerous vibes. Keiko might have the upper hand in this first skirmish, but Tabitha had no doubt Drew would win the war.

  She held out a hand to Tabitha. “Do you have a card?”

  “Of course.” After a quick scrabble in her purse, she passed it over.

  “Game Domain will foot the bill for this miraculous transformation.” Holding up a finger, she added, “If it works. Have Drew pass along your invoice to me directly. What’s the next step in your plan?”

  Grabbing onto her half-baked idea, she flung it at Keiko. “Drew’s taking me to a wine dinner at Vinci tomorrow night. Lots of one-on-one practice.” Behind Keiko’s back, Drew’s eyebrows shot to his scalp. “By the end of the night he’ll be calm and charming. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll do great.”

  And actually, that wasn’t much of an overstatement. Because she was positive the root of Drew’s problem had little to do with women in general. Tabitha’s bigger concern was personal. How on earth would she survive an entire night—with all the romantic trappings of a date—without throwing herself at her sexily smart client?

  Chapter Five

  Drew didn’t have high hopes for the evening. Sure, the Italian restaurant smelled great, but he was too nervous to eat. Well, twenty percent nervous and all the way turned on. Tabitha sat across from him in a dress that had red, leafy cutouts that made her look naked underneath. Like if she twisted an eighth of an inch, he’d get to see something exciting.

  Except she had twisted, and it turned out some nude-colored slip underneath meant no peep show. Still. A man could hope. Every damn time he looked at her. The leafy things circled her neck, then came down to frame her breasts. Glittery earrings dangled from the soft ear lobes he longed to use his teeth on. Her fiery hair was up, which just made Drew long to rake his fingers through it until it draped across her white shoulders. Yeah. He had it bad. For a one hundred percent unattainable woman.