Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (11 page)

He took another drink and scooted closer to her on the sofa. “I’m glad you decided to go.” The corner of his mouth dipped down, and he shrugged. “I just hate it I’m going to miss the show.”

“The show?” she asked, confused. “What show?”

“Clarise Robinson, unplugged. I’ve got to tell you, I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?” she asked, her vocabulary taking a momentary nosedive while he moved even closer.

“Of all the guys in Tampa. I’ve been waiting to see you let that airtight guard down for years. Now you decide to set the wild side free, and I’m stuck in Birmingham with a major acquisitions meeting. I’m not going to make the trip this year, Clarise, and hell yeah, I’m jealous.”

“You’re—not going?” she asked, her heart rate skidding to a near stop, from that fast and giddy thump-thump-thump to a slow, thick ka-dunk, ka-dunk. This was
not
happening. Ethan wasn’t going to Gasparilla? “This is the corporate bonding trip,” she said, trying to sound informative, rather than argumentative, because right now, she wanted to argue; in fact, she wanted to hit something. He wasn’t going? “How can we bond, if the owner doesn’t show?” she continued. “You’re joking, right?” She playfully shoved his arm, partly because she wanted this to seem like a friendly conversation, but mostly because she really did want to hit something. Problem was, the rock-solid biceps stopped the momentum of her palm and started the momentum of her uterus. Clarise forced a chuckle through the sexual tension that apparently existed only on her side of the fence. If he felt anything, he’d be going on this trip, or telling her to stay home. Wouldn’t he? She should have been smart enough to realize that he hadn’t looked at her sexually at that Christmas party. Obviously, she’d been seeing what she wanted to see rather than reality. Here she had thought the two of them were gearing up for a wild interlude in Tampa, and he wasn’t even planning to take the trip! Clarise swallowed past the urge to cry. She really wanted him to leave, friend or not.

“Like I said earlier, the Panache deal is going down tomorrow. I have no idea how long it will take, or if there will be loose ends to tie up after all of the legal matters are settled, but it’s probably not a good idea for me to leave town. But it’s still corporate bonding. With all of the department heads scheduled to attend, I’m sure you’ll all have plenty of opportunity to bond, with or without the boss.” He grinned, but it looked forced. Could he tell how disappointed she was? Yeah, he could; but he still wasn’t going. Clarise wanted to hit something, again, and at the moment, that something was him. Couldn’t he tell how good they’d be together? Didn’t he want to find out?

“And I really am jealous,” he said, and he sounded . . . regretful?

Was he regretting that he wasn’t going, or was he regretting that he’d told her to go? Or was she, as usual, merely drowning in wishful thinking? What had he said about being jealous? She couldn’t remember in her I-can’t-believe-he’s-not-going fog. “Jealous?” she questioned.

“Of the men who’ll be on the receiving end of your shimmy. By the way, I heard the guy’s command from the video. Did you give him what he wanted?”

Her blush came fast and furious, making her cheeks burn. She wasn’t about to answer his question. She was semimad at him right now and definitely not in the mood to shimmy for him. He was sending her to wild and wicked Tampa on her own, wasn’t he? And didn’t that say that he was wishing her well with some other guy, as in some-guy-other-than-him? Her disappointment washed over her, but she wasn’t about to let him see it. Instead, she stood and moved toward the television, then pushed the
EJECT
button on the VCR.
Making it in Gasparilla
popped out.

“So, are you going to let me see that shimmy? Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

Another trickle of heat burned her chest. Heck, she’d planned to show him plenty, but it was probably more than he wanted to see, twenty or thirty pounds more, she suspected. She grabbed the video and looked up. His expression had altered from teasing buddy to compassionate friend. Did he realize how much this was hurting her?

“Clarise. I’m not serious.” He placed his Coke on the table and stood, then crossed the room. She gripped the video like a lifeline, while she waited to see just how close he’d come. Ethan stopped merely a foot away, leaned casually against the wooden cabinet enclosing the television unit. “I wouldn’t do you that way. You can save your secret shimmy for the guys in Tampa. It was a joke.”

She blinked. Nodded. “Right, I knew that.”

“But I am,” he swallowed, “pleased that you’ve decided to have some fun. And—”

“And?” she whispered.

“And I really do wish I could go down there and see you at your first Pirate Fest. You deserve to have a good time. You deserve, well, everything you want, Clarise.”

As disappointed as she was, she couldn’t deny that his sincerity touched her heart. He really was her friend, and he did care about her and want the best for her. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to see that the best thing for her was him. She shifted from one foot to the other and backed away from the too-close-for-comfort situation. They were friends, good friends, and she should be happy with that. Shoot, maybe if she went to Gasparilla, she’d actually meet somebody who would be as enamored with her as she was with Ethan. It could happen, couldn’t it? But, then again, she didn’t want anyone else. Even Jake Riley, hottie that he was, hadn’t tempted her with his “we’ll get together down there” suggestion. She wanted Ethan. Too bad he apparently didn’t want her.

She took her eyes from his and spotted the notebook, merely inches from his drink on the table. Oh no. Had he noticed what she’d written on the pages? Surely not. Ethan would have mentioned it—rather, he’d have teased her relentlessly about her sex fantasies—if he had. He followed her gaze. With a brief surge of panic, she stretched toward the table and casually—God, she hoped it looked casual—slapped the notebook shut. “I wish you could go too,” she said, then quickly added, “since I know how much you enjoy Gasparilla and all.”

“Maybe next year,” he said, and again, she thought she heard regret in his tone, or was that merely what she hoped she heard? His brows knitted slightly as he focused on the notebook. “When does your flight leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Needing something to hold on to, she pulled the notebook and video to her chest.

He moved his gaze from the notebook to her eyes. “Better leave your apartment early. Friday morning traffic can be rough.”

Clarise smiled. He was such a good friend and a terrific boss. Still, she couldn’t fight that nagging little itch to know what it’d have been like to have something more with Ethan. Maybe she’d get over that and actually visualize herself with someone else eventually, though it probably wouldn’t happen by tomorrow. In any case, she was going to Gasparilla. She wouldn’t back out again this year, Ethan or not. “I’ll leave early,” she confirmed. “I shouldn’t have any trouble making the flight on time. I’m almost done packing.” Sure, she’d planned on this being her chance with Ethan, but she wasn’t going to stay home. Even if she merely went down and had a good time with Rachel and Jesilyn, she was going to Gasparilla. She might not be getting the guy she wanted, but she was still determined to come out of her shell, or at least her top. All of those provocative clothes in her bedroom were not going to waste, even if she didn’t have a sexy guy to model them for. True, he’d busted her bubble tonight, but she’d made up her mind to move forward, and she wasn’t going to stop.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and, oddly enough, sounding somewhat shy, “I mainly wanted to tell you about the Panache deal and remind you to be careful at Gasparilla.” His mouth did that slow shift to the side that made her want to lick the corner of it. Clarise blinked past the impulse. “I should probably head out so you can finish packing,” he said. “That way you won’t forget anything you need.”

Clarise nodded. Before this little meeting with Ethan, she’d believed her major necessity for the trip was an industrial-sized box of condoms that was already packed beneath a lining of clothes in her suitcase. Now that he was staying in Birmingham, those were undoubtedly wasting room in her bag.

“Don’t worry about the store while you’re gone,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got Abby set to run the Women’s Department just fine in your absence.”

“Yeah,” she said, then, as if her mind knew the personal portion of this conversation had ended, it jumped into business. “I made sure she knows about the new shipment on Saturday.”

“Fine,” he said, all businesslike, then his face sobered even more. “I’m curious. Do you plan to take someone along to Gasparilla?”

“Take someone along?” she asked. Who would she take? Babette was currently visiting their folks in Florida and was leaving tomorrow on a cruise that would celebrate, yet again, her December graduation from college. Clarise wondered if her sister would ever stop celebrating and start working. Probably not. Then there was Granny Gert, who would come to Tampa in a heartbeat and strip down to her enormous brassiere and equally enormous panties, regardless of whether gold beads were involved, if someone like blue eyes tossed her a come-hither smile.

“Tampa tends to be an interesting place for couples to visit,” Ethan explained. “I didn’t know if you had hooked up with anyone while I’ve been gone.”

Oh. Well. She should’ve figured that one out, but leave it to Clarise to hear “bring someone along” and immediately think of her whacked-out family. “I’m not bringing anyone along,” she said, “but I do plan to have fun.” She did, though she’d truly hoped to have it with him.

“Obviously.” He nodded toward the television. “I’m betting you’ll have the best shimmy there.”

An urge to touch him, hold him, just once before she left, pulsed through her, and she didn’t resist. She’d had such high hopes, and they were falling apart, but she wanted to be in Ethan’s embrace, even if only in the guise of friendship. “Thanks.” She wrapped her arms around him. The video and notebook slapped against his broad back with a loud
smack,
but Clarise barely noticed. She was too lost in her close proximity to Ethan to care. This close, she identified his scent as something similar to sea salt and soap, and she inhaled it thoroughly, but then reality teased her senses, and she realized he’d tensed against her attack. So she backed up. Quick. Sure, they were friends, but she’d never been a “hugger,” not this type of hugger anyway. They’d do that brief barely-a-hug greeting when they hadn’t seen each other in a while, like they’d done tonight when he entered her apartment, but typically they smiled their hellos. Maybe if she’d started out hugging him as boss or friend, this kind of thing could have been a regular occurrence. How she wished she’d hugged him after her first interview.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice thick and awkward.

What had she done? Clarise forced an uneasy snigger. “Sorry. Carried away, I guess.”

“No problem.” He ran a hand, with long fingers, she noticed, through his hair. The short blond and brown waves rippled with the touch and made her wonder how they would feel running between
her
fingers. Then she noticed a tinge of color on his cheeks, and he smiled.

Her thighs clenched, a typical response to an Ethan Eubanks smile. Man, she had to get over this thing for her friend.
Friend.

“Clarise?”

She looked directly into those blue-green eyes and instantly remembered all of those afternoon coffees, the two of them laughing and chatting and learning more and more about each other—as friends. “Yeah?”

“Be careful while you’re gone,” he said, depicting genuine concern and reminding her that he was truly a friend first and a boss second. He inhaled, as though he was going to say more, then he slowly exhaled. Hoping to hear the rest, Clarise waited a heartbeat before responding. When he didn’t continue, she playfully poked him in the chest. “I’m a big girl, Ethan.” She indicated the curves emphasizing that fact. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He moved to the door, put his hand on the knob. “Have fun, Clarise,” he instructed, then he opened the door and walked away.

Clarise watched the door snap closed with a light click, then she sighed. Maybe it was the preparations for stripping in Tampa that had caused her to cross over that invisible boundary that existed between friends. The line that says friendship is here; more than friends is there. She’d planned to cross it blatantly at Gasparilla, but she hadn’t anticipated starting that huge leap tonight. However, she had, and Ethan, being a true gentleman, graciously ignored her momentary lapse in good judgment and even told her to have a good time.

Clarise glanced at the notebook clutched tightly in her hand. She’d had such plans, such high hopes, for accomplishing the items on her list with Ethan. More than that, she’d had a secret ambition to accomplish more—actually to win his heart while they got to know each other intimately in Tampa. But it wouldn’t happen now. He was staying home, and she was going to Gasparilla to have a good time. Her fingers curled around the edges of the notebook. A good time, without Ethan—that’s what she’d have, and hopefully, if she kept saying it, her heart would start believing it was possible.

Her phone rang again, and this time, her parents’ number in Florida displayed on the screen. Undoubtedly, Babette was spending the night there before her cruise in the morning. Clarise picked up the phone and listened to her sister describe Gasparilla, the wild parties and the men. Little did she know, Clarise didn’t care one iota about the men. Sure, she wanted to meet Mr. Right. Unfortunately, though, she was fairly certain she already had, and he wasn’t making the trip.

Chapter 7

E
than Eubanks leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and propped his feet on his desk. His standard problem-solving position, but he wasn’t sure whether it’d serve the purpose this time. What had happened last night? He’d meant to test the waters between the two of them, try to determine if he could control that crazy sexual impulse that had sucker punched him at the Christmas party. Then he’d planned to tell Clarise he wasn’t making the trip to Tampa and warn her of the dangers of getting too free at Gasparilla. Even after viewing that tell-all video, she still had no clue at all of the madness; Tampa at Gasparilla was something that simply had to be experienced rather than seen. There were no descriptions powerful enough to convey the excitement, the energy and the wildness that transformed the sexual allure of the city to a fever pitch. Sexual allure. Hell, that sure described what he’d felt for Clarise, yet again, last night. The sensation had hit him like two fists to the chest when he heard that video playing and knew what she was doing on the other side of that door. He’d never thought of Clarise
that
way before. Ethan grimaced, knowing that wasn’t true. Closing his eyes, he visualized the Christmas party, and the powerful surge of desire that pulsed through him when she entered wearing that dress.