Interview with Love (4 page)

Stiffly Vaughn stood up. Her last comment really got under his skin. “I'm glad to see you're feeling well enough to turn the psychoanalyzing sign back on. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Lambert,” there was an edge to his voice when he said Doctor. “Hopefully if we ever cross paths again you'll know to step out of the way before you get run over.” he began to walk away.

“Who knows Mr. Deveraux; maybe next time you'll be the one that gets knocked on your…seat.” She replied in a voice so sweet a dentist would have gotten a cavity.

Vaughn felt like a total idiot. As he maneuvered his car onto the interstate to head home, he thought again about his behavior towards Sienna Lambert. He winced as he re-played their conversations—all of them—over in his mind. Granted their first meeting had started with him knocking her out, but from the moment she regained consciousness, they had hit it off. Vaughn couldn't explain why her criticism of his team's idea for the line had irritated him enough to go for her jugular, but it did. This wasn't his first day on the job. He had been in advertising for ten years and was used to having his ideas challenged all the time. Considering what he had to deal with at work on occasion Sienna's comments had been tame.

So why the all out battle with her?
His reaction didn't make any sense. He'd been trying to impress her. Even when she'd been battered and bruised Vaughn had felt that first spark of interest, after he got over her blocking his play, of course. Being a sports junkie made him appreciate her physical side that much more. Though he really couldn't understand what the severe hairdo was about, there was no way it detracted from her facial features. She didn't appear to have an ounce of make-up on and she still looked incredible. Overhearing the occasional conversation between women in his office clued him in that a woman looking as beautiful as Sienna Lambert did, sans make-up, was a bonus. She was tall, well-proportioned and he was glad to see nowhere near being skin-and-bones. That sickly look most women coveted made him cringe. She was shapely. Her already bronzed skin was enriched by the summer sun. She was breathtaking.

While they were talking he'd tried hard not to appear to be staring. He'd turned his gaze to the lake and then various points around the back yard. A minute later he couldn't help looking over at her with that smile he reserved for women he was trying to impress.

“So much for that,” he said, sarcastically. Despite his best intentions things had gotten pretty ugly toward the end. Agitation made him fidgety. Vaughn hit a button on his navigation screen and dialed his best friend, Carlton Petersen. When his buddy answered he spoke. “Got a problem.”

“Hang on. Let me schedule my client's next appointment. Be right back.”

Vaughn listened impatiently to music in his ear as he waited for Carlton to return.

“Sorry, buddy. You've got my undivided attention. That being said, you've got twenty minutes before my next client comes so make it good.”

“Since when is giving someone a massage more important than a problem of mine?” Vaughn groused.

“Since she's paying me—and you're not.”

“Point taken,” Vaughn recounted the story for his friend in fluid efficiency leaving nothing out. “So there you have it. Stupid, huh?”

Carlton was silent for a few moments before he burst out laughing. Vaughn bristled. He squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles came into view. “That isn't what I had in mind.”

When Carlton spoke, his voice was laced with mirth. His Trinidadian accent was hard to miss. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn't have mentioned it if I weren't serious,” he snapped.”

“So you're waiting for me to confirm you made a jackass out of yourself in front of this lady?”

“I already know that, Carl. What I was hoping to get was some insight on why. It makes no sense.”

“You make no sense. This is the craziest thing you've done since the time you—”

“Will you focus?” Vaughn said, with impatience. “How do I fix this?”

“Apologize to the woman for your reprehensible manners. How can she not forgive you? It's not that often we admit to that, you know.”

“I'm glad to see you're having a ball at my expense.”

“Of course, it's what I'm here for.”

Silence ensued. Finally, Carlton broke the sound barrier. “Angella's been asking about you. She wants to know when you're taking your best girl out.”

Hearing mention of his nine year-old goddaughter made him calm down a bit. He loved being around her. The moment he'd held her little body in his big arms and she didn't cry he was hooked. The fact that she was as big a sports junkie as he was only made it more fun.

“The next two weeks are bad for me. I'll be swamped at work all this week, and the following week I'm on travel. I'll have to make it two weeks from now.”

“That's fine, man. She knows your job gets hectic sometimes.”

“Still, I hate to put her off. Tell my Angel she and I will hang out when I get back. We'll play a round of golf and grab dinner.”

“She'll love that, man,” Carlton replied. “Now about this mystery girl—”

“Sienna. Her name is Sienna Lambert. She's amazing, Carl. She has a great sense of humor, she's intelligent, personable, her smile is contagious and her body is on point. I'm positive there's nothing artificial on her—anywhere.”

“Fascinating. My advice is quit worrying about it. Just call her up, apologize and then ask her out—sexy body and all.”

“After the train wreck of our first meeting the last thing she would see me as is dating potential. Besides, it's easier said than done,” Vaughn sighed. “I don't have her number.”

“You mean you aggravated the woman past the point of no return
before
you got a number?”

More chuckling ensued. Vaughn gritted his teeth.

“You're resourceful, buddy. I'm sure you can find a way to contact her. Sorry, but I have to run. My next client is here. Keep me posted.”

“Don't I always?” Vaughn countered before hanging up.

Vaughn's mood hadn't improved by the time he got home. He was looking forward to a hot shower, crashing on his couch and getting caught up on some of his recorded shows. When he pulled into his driveway he groaned aloud. A shiny red Audi R8 was parked sideways. Vaughn stifled the groan that hung on the edge of his lips.
Pierce.

Of all the days to get an impromptu visit from his younger brother, this day was the absolute worst.

Vaughn gave the sports car a wide berth and pulled into one of the vacant stalls of his garage. Entering the house, he passed through several rooms with no sign of his brother. He headed downstairs to the basement and straight into the “Man Cave.” His brother was playing pool and listening to music. When Pierce looked up, he flashed his brother a grin. “Hey, dude. What's up?”

“Too much,” Vaughn groused going straight to the mini kitchen. Vaughn pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, and then retrieved a bottle opener from a drawer. He flicked the top off and pitched it into the trashcan.

“Really?” Pierce leaned over the table and sank a ball into a corner pocket. “Care to elaborate?”

Vaughn retrieved his favorite pool stick from a mounted rack. “Not yet.” Ignoring his brother's game, he started racking up balls. Pierce followed suit. Once they were lined up Vaughn sent the cue ball hurtling down the table. The balls scattered with the force of the collision. They had played two games before Pierce broke the sound barrier.

“Okay Vaughn, you've had time to stew, and I've allowed you to beat me for some time now. I think you need to tell me what's going on.”

“Allowed me to beat you?” Vaughn snorted.

“Don't act like you're a better pool player than me big brother. I take your shirt every game we play. Chase does too, and considering how often he gets back home I'd say that was pretty pathetic.”

Vaughn thought about their middle brother, Chase. He was in the Army stationed in Germany. He rolled his eyes. “Not every game.”

“Quit deferring. What's the matter with you?”

“I had a crappy day. No more, no less.”

“This is hardly what I would call the norm, bro. Even with the headaches you bring home from work. You've never been this…edgy before,” Pierce took his shot. “If I had to bet my money I'd say it was a certain psychologist that's got you all worked up?”

Vaughn's ball missed the pocket by a large margin. Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Carlton's got a big mouth.”

Quit complaining. He merely called to warn me that you'd be in a piss poor mood. Besides, this way you don't have to repeat how you tanked with the ladies.”

“It wasn't ladies,” he clarified. “It was just the one and there's nothing happening between us.”

“Because you blew it,” Pierce countered.

“If you have nothing to input other than sarcasm you know the way out.”

“Stop getting so riled up. I agree with Carl on this one. Just flash your pearly whites and combine it with an apology—she'll be all yours.”

“It's not like that. She isn't one of the superficial women you're used to dating, Pierce. Sienna has more character, and a higher IQ.”

“Don't knock what you haven't tried,” Pierce quipped. My ladies are into a good time. I go all out to make sure they get it, too. No harm, no foul.”

Vaughn gave up on the pool game. He grabbed his drink and stalked over to the couch. After he flopped down heavily he put his feet up on the nearby ottoman. “Spare me the details, Pierce.”

“I'm just saying—”

Vaughn looked up. “I wasn't kidding.”

“Suit yourself,” Pierce retrieved his duffle bag off a nearby table and headed toward the entertainment system. He grabbed the remote for the projection screen and flicked it on. “I brought over a DVD of me commentating on Sports Time last week. You can tell me how you like my new suit.”

“Pierce, I love you. You're my brother and all, but I'm not about to comment on how good you look in a suit.”

“Don't hate the player,” Pierce laughed plopping down next to him. “This segment has the new sports drink I'm endorsing. Cha-ching,” he pretended to press the spin button on a slot machine.

Pierce talked throughout the entire one hour segment. Considering how many times he backed up or pressed pause on the DVD player, it was an hour and a half of non-stop chatter.

He truly had to laugh at Pierce's enthusiasm for his subject matter—himself.

Eventually, his mood couldn't help but improve. There were times when despite himself Vaughn had to laugh at his brother's antics—both live and on DVD.

In the middle of Pierce mimicking one of the football coaches on the screen, Vaughn elbowed him. “Thanks, man.”

Pierce shrugged it off with a laugh. “That's what I'm here for. You do realize that it's a Saturday night and I'm here with you. There will be hearts breaking all over Raleigh tonight.”

“I know,” Vaughn replied playing with the bottle in his hand. “I know.”

 

Sienna was in her office a week later proof-reading a memo when Vivian came in.

“The mail just arrived, she said, cheerfully. “The invoices have been completed and are ready to go out.”

“Thanks.”

Vivian set the letters and a small FedEx package on Sienna's desk and walked out.

It was almost fifteen minutes before Sienna pulled her gaze away from the stack of papers in front of her. Bypassing the letters she grasped the padded envelope. Seeing the return address she flipped the package over. She tugged at the flap to open it.

“What is this stuff made out of,
Crazy Glue
?” she quipped, yanking forcefully on the seam.

Finally she was successful. She eased the contents out of the package and onto her desk.

Her smile was almost blinding as she held up the garments in front of her. “I owe you big time, Sherry.”

She placed the items back in the envelope. The papers she was working on were neatly stacked and put in her laptop bag. It took a few moments, but eventually her desk was back in some semblance of order. Sienna retrieved her purse out of a lower drawer. Balancing all her items, she walked to the door, flipped her light off and headed down the hall.

“I'm leaving, Viv. I'll be working from home for the rest of the evening so call me or e-mail if you need anything.”

“It's Friday night,” Vivian bellowed from down the hall. “Girl, get a life,” she shouted.

“I've got one—and you're sitting in it,” Sienna yelled back.

She hurried out of her office on N. Boylan Avenue and around to the side parking lot to retrieve her car. Once she'd deposited her things on the opposite seat Sienna slid in, secured her seatbelt and started the car. She plotted her course on her GPS,
Lola
, and then turned the satellite radio on. CNN piped through the cabin speakers. She listened to the day's headline news as she drove out of the parking lot and headed home.

The first thing she did when she got there was change out of her work clothes into something comfortable. After standing in front of the refrigerator so long its door alarm went off, Sienna retrieved a yellow, orange and red pepper out of the crisper, a few green onions and some asparagus. Next were shrimp from the freezer, olive oil and seasonings from the cabinet. While listening to
Watercolors
, a smooth jazz station on satellite radio, she made quick work of fixing dinner. She retrieved her favorite pasta dish and a wine glass from the cabinet. The weather was perfect for dining al fresco so she fixed her plate, poured a glass of wine, and then headed to her deck. Sienna kept the door open so that she could hear the music.

Taking the first bite of food, Sienna's eyes drifted closed. “Perfect,” she smiled. Unable to help it, Sienna's thoughts strayed to her encounter with Vaughn Deveraux. He'd literally swept her off her feet in the beginning, but it had gone all pear-shaped in the end. She still wasn't clear why her disapproval had provoked such a vehement response from him.

His inference that she didn't understand the concept because she couldn't identify with the product was asinine. This was what she did for a living. She darn well knew what she was talking about. She grabbed her dishes and went back inside. Fresh irritation sparked anew just recalling their disagreement. Sienna cleaned up the kitchen. The white FedEx package sitting on the counter caught her eye. She stalked over to the counter to retrieve it. “I don't understand men's underwear, huh Mr. Deveraux?”