Interview with Love (3 page)

“Sienna? Sienna, can you hear me? You've got to wake up,” Sherry said, worriedly.

“We found smelling salts. Let's try these,” another person replied.

Vaughn Deveraux quirked an eyebrow. “Smelling salts? They still make those?” He held out his hand. “Okay, let's give it a shot.”

Sherry was crouched right next to him. “You think those will work?”

“We're going to find out.”

Vaughn waved the bottle under Sienna's nose with slow, deliberate movements. Her body jerked sharply. Her head turned side to side before she sputtered and her eyes popped open.

Vaughn watched her blink a few times. He was sure she was trying to focus.

She turned her head toward him. He smiled reassuringly into her confused face before he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Welcome back.” He watched as various emotions crossed her face. She glanced around. Eventually, her gaze traveled back to him.

“Who are you? Why am I on the ground?”

“I'm the guy that just barreled into you while sliding into third base.” Vaughn was concerned about her, but he was a tad bit annoyed that she had blocked his running line.

“Oh,” came her whispered reply.

“Let's help you up.”

“Do you think we should move her?” Sherry glanced at Sienna. “Maybe we should call an ambulance.”

“I'm fine, see?” she stood up to prove the point. Immediately Vaughn noticed the color in her face drain away. When she swayed, he moved his arms to grasp her shoulders. “Steady, I got you.” He looked down at her. “I think we should get you looked at.”

“No need,” Sienna spoke up quickly. “I just got the wind knocked out of me that's all. I'm perfectly fine.”

Vaughn's gazed flickered over her body. Her shorts had grass stains in various places, there was a cut on her right knee and her once neat bun was hanging haphazardly down the nape of her neck. Now that she was upright, he noticed she was almost eye level with him. With a teasing grin he winked at her. “That you are.”

 

“Is everything okay here?” someone called from a distance. Every head turned to see the Dexter brothers approaching with an entourage of people in tow.

The throng of onlookers parted immediately to let them through.

“Sienna's had a bit of a tumble,” Sherry assured everyone. “She'll be fine, though we should probably let her rest a bit.”

A photographer started snapping pictures. A reporter came to the forefront.

“Sienna? I didn't get your last name.”

Instinctively, Sienna turned her head toward Vaughn's chest.
Uh-uh,
she said to herself. There was no way she was going on record looking like a bleeding, bedraggled mess.

Without being asked to Vaughn eased her closer to his side and away from the curious journalist.

“Sherry, you can take her inside to get freshened up,” Eduardo replied ushering them toward the house.

It figures,
Sienna groaned to herself.
The first time I meet Eduardo Dexter face-to-face and I look like a science experiment.
“Thank you Mr. Dexter,” Sienna replied, sheepishly.

The older man folded her arm through his and took off toward the house. “Nonsense, young lady it was truly my pleasure. Sienna noted during his speech earlier that he was as charming and good looking as his brother. Up close and personal, his appeal drew you in like a well-placed magnet.

“Now if you need anything Dr. Lambert, you just alert my staff and they'll take care of you. If they don't, you come get me.”

“I'm sure I'll be just fine Mr. Dexter.”

“Mr. Dexter's my older brother,” Eduardo teased. “I think we'll save all that formality for him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sienna noticed the reporter scribbling furiously on his note pad. She put some effort into the daggers she glared at him, but considering her appearance she didn't doubt the intimidation she was going for fell way short of the mark.

 

Sienna checked herself in the mirror one final time. It had taken forty minutes to shower and repair the damage to her hair, but she felt better.

Placing her grimy clothes back into her duffle bag, Sienna straightened up the bathroom. The housekeeper had told her where to find the laundry chute to drop her towels.
A laundry chute?
Sienna had to laugh. She had never used one before and took great delight in lowering the used towels into the small compartment and seeing them slide out of view. “Now that's cool.”

She returned to the bedroom she had used and gave it a once over to make sure she hadn't left anything out of place. Confident that everything was tidy, she returned to the lower level family room.

She wasn't surprised to see Sherry sitting there waiting. The shock came in seeing the man she'd collided with seated next to her.

“There you are,” Sherry stood and walked over to Sienna. “You look none the worse for wear and tear.”

“Isn't it amazing what a shower can do?” she joked.

“We're having a water slide race in a few minutes. I'm going to be one of the referees. I just wanted to be sure you were doing okay. Catch up to you later?”

“Sure. Thanks for everything.”

After Sherry left, Vaughn's gaze returned to Sienna.

“She's right. You don't look like you've been through anything more traumatic than a paddle boat ride.”

She laughed. “Looks can be deceiving,” she extended her right hand. “I'm Sienna Lambert. Thank you for helping me, Mr?”

He grasped her hand in his. “Deveraux. Vaughn Deveraux.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Deveraux.”

“Call me Vaughn. The feeling is mutual though I'm sure you'd have preferred it be under less strenuous circumstances.”

“Actually, I found out for the first time today that I don't mind baseball.”

He released her hand. “That's good to hear, but make sure you watch your back. As you can see it can get physical sometimes.”

“True. I forgot to ask, did I get you out?”

“Uh—”

Something about his expression tipped her off. She eyed him with amusement. “Yes,” she almost yelled. She winced at the instant throbbing in her head. “I knew it!” she said, lowering her voice. “I got you out. You can't even deny it with a straight face.”

Vaughn laughed in a rich baritone voice that boomed in the quiet room. He ushered them outside into the sunlight. His hand automatically drifted to the small of her back. Snagging an iced tea off a nearby table, Vaughn handed it to Sienna before getting himself one. He found that the urge to tease her was not something he could resist. “I hate to tell you this, and after you worked so hard, but it was a foul, Sienna. You didn't get me out.”

“What?” she said, loudly and then cringed at the pain it caused her. “You mean to tell me I was knocked unconscious, I nearly suffered a concussion and you were safe?” Exasperation tinged her voice. “I can't believe it.”

Vaughn eyed her apologetically. “Afraid so. The umpire awarded me the base.”

She looked confused.

“The foul is called an obstruction,” he explained. “A fielder can't block the base from the runner.”

“I guess they forgot to tell me that rule,” she said, dryly.”

“Don't feel bad, you did great,” he winked. “It's hard to get me out. It's not something that happens that often.”

“Oh please,” she retorted as she lowered herself gingerly into a nearby chaise lounge.

“Would you hold this for a second?” he asked handing her his glass. Vaughn walked over to a nearby seating area to grab a vacant lounger. He sidled it up right next to Sienna sitting sideways on his so that he faced her. “So, what do you do when you're not taking one for the team?”

She chuckled at his joke. “I'm a consumer psychologist. Dexter Clothiers is a client of mine.”

“Really?” he perked up. “Mine, too.”

“Oh, I thought you were one of the cover models.”

Surprise registered across his face. “Me? No, I leave the modeling in the very capable hands of my younger brother, Pierce. He's a retired football player. I'm the creative director at Chase & Burroughs. You know it's too bad we're on the campaign. Pierce would've made a perfect addition to the line. He has a great deal of experience with women asking questions about his briefs,” he chuckled.

Sienna shook her head with amusement.

“Actually, we just found out we got the new line.”

“Congratulations. I conducted a few focus groups for it.”

Vaughn leaned closer to her. “I know. We read your reports. You got some great feedback that will be very useful for a few ideas we have, and the groups sounded very interesting.”

“That is an understatement.” Recalling the interviews Sienna couldn't help but laugh.

They chatted genially for quite some time. Each completely engrossed in their conversation. Both discovered they had much in common. In the midst of their banter Vaughn handed Sienna a piece of strawberry cheesecake from a nearby waiter. “I can't believe we both live in Raleigh and we've never met.”

She didn't respond until after she'd reverently placed a piece of the chilled dessert in her mouth. She moaned aloud. “That was sinful.”

Vaughn's fork clattered loudly on his plate. He cleared his throat.

Sienna didn't seem to notice his discomfiture. “I can believe we've never met. I work a lot. Most of my time is spent growing my business. If I have any free time I'm usually spending it with family.”

“Same here,” he said, absentmindedly as his eyes followed the progression of her dessert laden fork to her mouth and back.

Sienna looked up. Her gaze locked with Vaughn's. She was the first to look away. “So how's your campaign for Dexter going?”

He sat back slightly. “They seemed really impressed with what we pitched to them last week. A few of our teams are still in the late-night-concepting phase on some additional ads, but I'm confident my team will hit a home run when we're done.

She rolled her eyes at the pun. He winked.

Vaughn continued talking about his company's progress. Sienna's expression was still attentive so he continued. “We've got an idea for one commercial where this guy is wearing Best Kept Secrets. He's trying all sorts of things with them on. He's jogging, skiing, dancing and a few other activities. Then he sits down on this chair and after a few seconds a wide grin slowly comes across his face. Then a caption pops up on the screen. “Best Kept Secrets. You gotta SEAT to believe it.”

While he was talking, a look briefly crossed Sienna's face. He went silent.

“What?”

Sienna shook her head. “Nothing.”

Vaughn eyed her perceptively. “You don't like it?”

“Uh…it's not that I don't like it—per se.”

He gave her his undivided attention. “Then what was it exactly that caused that look of disapproval to flitter across your face?”

She remained silent.

“Oh come on, don't chicken out. If there's something wrong with my team's idea just tell me.”

Sienna looked at him as if trying to gauge what his reaction would be.

“Just tell me.”

“Okay. I think the last concept you had about the focus being on a seat that the guy is sitting on…well…it's kinda hokey.”

“Hokey?”

“I'm just saying it isn't as strong as some of your other ideas.”

Vaughn's jaw flexed. Her tone grated on his nerves reminding him immediately of an argument he'd had with his executive creative director just days before. This time when he spoke he couldn't help the annoyance that caused him to reply, “Hokey. Gee, is that a technical term, Dr. Lambert?”

Sienna bristled. “No, it isn't. I merely—”

“Said it was too rudimentary.”

“I said it wasn't as good as your other ideas,” she clarified. “The simplicity of it had nothing to do with it. It was the concept that was lacking.”

Whatever interest he'd had for Sienna fizzled faster than the air let out of a balloon. He wasn't used to the women he was trying to impress ripping into him about anything, and never, ever, about his work. This was something that simply never happened. Vaughn was definitely out of his element.

Sienna read his expression and keyed in on his body language. She looked incredulous. “Why are you upset? You can't expect every idea you have to hit the bull's eye dead center.”

Vaughn sat back on his lounge chair. The air between them crackled with tension. He cleared his throat. His eyes raked over her. “So, purchased many pairs of men's underwear, have we?”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm curious how often
you
purchase men's underwear.”

“As a rule—number five to be exact; I never discuss personal business with clients.”

“I'm not a client,” Vaughn pointed out. “My client is a client. Just answer the question. When's the last time you and men's underwear were up close and personal?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you don't like the concept about the seat, which by the way a guy would totally get. So it must be because you don't wear them—or buy them.”

“For your information I've purchased plenty of men's underwear before.”

Vaughn snorted. “Birthday, Father's Day and Christmas gifts for your dad don't count.”

Sienna's eyes narrowed. “You have no idea who I purchase anything for, and for your information I don't have to
wear
men's underwear to know what I like—or what's a crappy idea.”

Vaughn threw his hands up. “Oh, so we've gone past hokey and are now in crappy territory.”

Sienna couldn't believe the crazy turn their conversation had taken. She stood up and grabbed her bag. When she spoke this time her voice was edged with censure. “I'm astonished Mr. Deveraux that what started out as an amiable conversation between us somehow took a sharp turn for the worse. You are supposedly a professional, yet you seem incapable of listening to constructive criticism without insulting the person giving you their opinion—fascinating,” Sienna replied smoothly.