Something Wild (6 page)

"See you then," he concluded, disappearing out the door before Penny could utter another word. She finally quit nodding and simply stood there, staring after him, then reached behind her for a bottle of rum. Maybe adding just a dollop to her drink wouldn't hurt, after all.

"Wasn't that the new guy who works for Martin?"

Penny looked up, this time caught in the act of spiking her own drink, as Patti peeked cautiously from the office.

"Yeah." Penny tried to sound very casual as she wiped the bottle off with a rag—dusting, she was just dusting it, that was all—and returned it to the shelf behind the bar.

"Cute," Patti said, then gave her head a suspicious tilt. "Why did he want to talk to you alone?"

Swallowing, Penny pasted on a fake smile, something this whole bizarre situation was giving her a lot of practice with. "He's going to design our computer system. Just wanted to touch base, that's all."

"But …
alone?"
Patti raised her eyebrows.

Penny replied with a shrug. "Weird, I know, but I guess it's just because my name is listed as the main contact. Maybe he thought you were a spy or something." Then she made herself laugh, as if she'd just said something terribly humorous. "Who's on the schedule to tend bar tonight?" she asked, effectively steering Patti onto another subject, since she had no intention of discussing this one any further. Or thinking about it, either.

But that part was harder. Because if she'd started to calm down at all about last night, that was over now. Her insides had resumed doing flip-flops.

Partially because she felt sick about Martin and what she'd done and what he didn't know. And partially because she was so darned excited about seeing Ryan again.

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O
n Monday afternoon, Penny sat on the couch in her small, tidy house, nestled on a quiet Hyde Park street, waiting for Ryan to arrive and thinking about her sister's unspoken suspicions.

"So, big meeting with that cute systems guy today, huh?" Patti had asked right in the middle of the lunch rush a couple of hours ago, customers and servers navigating the pub around them.

"Uh, yeah." Again, Penny had been the queen of casual.

Not that Patti bought it. A wicked grin had graced her face. "Is there something going on between you two that I don't know about?"

"Something going on?" Penny had repeated as if it were the most preposterous accusation she'd ever heard. "I don't even know the guy."

Now, as she waited for this guy she didn't know, but with whom something had definitely gone on, she asked herself why she hadn't just told Patti the truth. Even as mortifying as it was, and even if she often found herself at odds with her sister when they discussed their love lives, they'd always been honest with each other. Penny knew everything about Patti's sex life, from the moment she'd lost her virginity right up to the guy she'd slept with for the first time just last weekend, and Penny usually felt as equally compelled to confide in her sister.

This situation felt different, though, as if it were something so intimate she simply couldn't share it. Her silence was about more than her embarrassment over what had happened; it was about her fantasies, and for the same reason she hadn't told Patti about those either. There were just certain moments, she decided, that a woman wanted to keep all to herself, moments so intense even sisters couldn't be let in. Like her fantasies, she wanted to keep her limousine encounter with Ryan entirely private, belonging to her and no one else.

Well, it belonged to him, too, of course, but guys just didn't treasure the outstanding, individual moments of their lives the same way women did, did they? No, surely not.

And then it hit Penny—hard.

She treasured what happened! In fact, hardly a moment had passed since Friday night that their lovemaking hadn't permeated her thoughts and senses.

How the heck had that happened? How could she possibly cherish something that had taken place with a man she didn't even know? Especially when it was something that should have her quaking with guilt.

Yet again, she supposed it came back to the fantasy he'd helped her live out. Which meant it really had nothing to do with him exactly, only her and her fantasies, right?

Just then, the doorbell chimed. She nearly leapt from the couch as a familiar tingle ran the length of her body. She was about to see him again.

Smoothing back a lock of hair and wishing she'd worn something prettier, she walked to the door and took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for the afternoon ahead. Because even if she tried to pretend otherwise, the truth was, this felt far from finished.

* * *

Ryan stood on the doorstep thinking about what he'd envisioned the other day upon finding out about this meeting—her … on top of him. Ludicrous. He didn't want that and neither did she. They'd had a bizarre meeting in a limo, but they were putting it behind them now like the mature young professionals they both were.

Of course, that didn't mean a little spiral of sensation didn't bite into him when she answered the door, or that he didn't spend a fleeting thought on her black bra even when she appeared in shorts and a T-shirt. But he was a guy; sexual thoughts were supposed to be in his blood. He decided that made it okay, so long as he knew where his head and heart lay, which was in being mature and doing this job without any further intimate complications.

"Hi," he said. He found himself blinking at her uneasily. She wasn't wearing the baseball cap today and her hair fell over her shoulders in silky waves. Her dark blue eyes struck him as warm and deceivingly innocent.

"Hi." She glanced at his face, then her feet, then his face again.

They both seemed nervous already. This wasn't going to work without some radical move on his part.

"Listen," he said, stepping inside, "as I said the other day, I know this is awkward, but let's not worry about it anymore. How about this—let's just pretend this is the first time we've ever met." He held out his hand and put on a professional voice along with a professional smile. "I'm Ryan Pierce from Schuster Systems, and I'll be designing the system for your restaurant."

Her sweet smile seemed appreciative. "Penny Halloran, half owner of the Two Sisters Restaurant and Pub."

She took his hand, squeezing it gently in hers, after which they moved to the living room, to a desk where Penny had pulled up an extra chair next to her computer. Maybe this would all be okay, Ryan thought.

By the time she'd offered him a drink and returned with two glasses of iced tea, Ryan had drawn his laptop from its leather case and set it up beside Penny's monitor. "Let's get started," he suggested.

"I've made a lot of lists and typed up some questions and ideas," Penny said, sitting down next to him. She motioned to her computer screen. "Now I just hope they make some sort of sense."

Ryan smiled, but it came more naturally this time. "I'm sure we can make sense of them together and transform them into a workable system for you."

To his relief, things soon settled into a nice, easy rhythm, and before long, he felt so comfortable talking business with her that it almost shocked him. Maybe he'd not really believed things could go well, but they were. Penny filled him in on all the things she wanted the system to handle, from payroll and budget to food and drink orders, and Ryan couldn't help but be impressed by how well thought out her ideas were.

"This is great," he said. "You've done half my work for me. Now let's see if we can start putting your ideas together with mine." He turned to his laptop and pulled up the first of several screens he'd already started creating from templates at the office.

"Oh, you used our logo!"

"Yeah," Ryan replied, following her eyes to the monitor. He'd thought the system might feel more as though it belonged to her and her sister if he headed each screen with a small graphic of the Two Sisters logo. On the opening screen, the graphic appeared much larger. "I just scanned it from the card on…" Damn, he hadn't meant to bring that up again. "…my, uh, sandwich bag the other day."

She tensed at his words, but he could see she was a trouper, trying to maintain her composure. "That's great. I love it." She even met his gaze for good measure. Unfortunately, after having reminded them both of their encounter in the limo, he couldn't help looking into her eyes more deeply than seemed prudent.

She jerked her gaze back to the computer.

Good idea, he thought, doing the same.

"So this is a start-up screen?" she asked.

"Precisely." Back to business. "This is what you'll see each morning when you turn on the computer. We'll label the boxes under the logo with the various system components we create and you'll touch them or click on them with the mouse to go to, say, payroll or menu."

"Okay." She nodded.

"What I suggest we do next is go over each of the areas one by one. I'll design everything to your specifications, then we'll go into test phase, looking for things that don't work, or changes you'd like to make. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

The serious work began then, and after much intensive talking, brainstorming and studying screens, Ryan felt he'd gathered enough information from Penny to lay out preliminary designs for the accounts payable and accounts receivable sections of the system.

As Penny leaned back in her chair next to him, he glanced toward the antique-looking clock on her mantel to see that it was already five-thirty.

"Time to call it a day?" she asked.

"Well," he admitted with a grin, "I haven't exactly been following normal business hours lately, so if I knock off this early, I'll feel like I'm really slacking. I'll probably head home and get back to work, start getting some of this information keyed into the laptop."

Penny gave him a derisive look. "Don't tell me, you're one of those guys who burns the midnight oil and never takes time to stop and smell the roses."

He shrugged. "Looks like you're onto me."

"That's bad for your health, you know. And I know your type. I bet my sandwiches are the healthiest food you've been putting into your body lately. Am I right?"

"Okay, you caught me again. I've had a standing late-night date with the girl at the McDonald's drive-through for the past week. But when you're in a competitive market and you want to get ahead, you've gotta give a hundred percent."

"Sure, but you don't have a hundred percent to give if you never stop to refuel." She shifted her gaze toward the kitchen. "Me, I'm gonna heat up some pot roast.
Real
food," she added teasingly.

"Wow, pot roast. I haven't had anything that good in ages." He winced inwardly as soon as he'd spoken, though—he hadn't meant to sound as if he was hinting for an invitation.

Penny's reply affirmed his fears. "I have plenty. I made dinner for my parents and sister yesterday, but I'll never be able to eat all the leftovers myself."

He shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'm really anxious to get to work on this. I want to have some fresh screens to show you before we meet tomorrow afternoon."
And I also want to make sure we keep this just business.
The afternoon had gone surprisingly well and Ryan hated to risk screwing it up now by changing it into something social.

"I really don't mind. I can heat it up in the microwave and bake a couple of potatoes while I'm at it. It'll take fifteen minutes. And it's the least I can do, considering all the overtime you're planning to put in on this job. Unless…" she added, cringing slightly, "you think eating together would be too…"

"No," he said. "It's not that." Which was a lie, of course. He definitely thought it would be too awkward—maybe even tempting?—but he certainly couldn't admit it. Besides, maybe Penny was right; maybe he needed a little downtime if he was going to keep doing worthwhile work. He'd kept his professional wits about him all afternoon, so surely he could handle another hour in her presence. "Okay," he finally conceded, summoning a smile. "I'd love some real food."

When he offered to help, Penny assigned him the job of setting the small table in the breakfast nook that jutted off from the old-fashioned white-on-white kitchen. "Very retro," he said appreciatively of the white Formica table.

"Very garage sale." She laughed as she dug in the refrigerator, which also looked as though it had a few miles on it. "I like old things," she added, turning toward him, a large bowl covered with plastic wrap cradled in her arms. "I love these old hardwood floors and the old wooden cabinets. I bought this house with the idea of remodeling it, but by the time the restaurant was doing well enough that I could afford it, I'd grown attached to it all, just the way it is."

He found himself looking at her face then, seeing her features more clearly than ever before, concentrating on her perky nose, her easy smile. He smiled back, but then he stopped, because it was the smart thing to do.

He set out the aqua Fiestaware plates she'd handed to him, then rummaged in her drawers until he found silverware. Before, he'd only been vaguely aware of the vintage qualities of everything in her house, but now that it had been drawn to his attention, he concentrated on it, and he thought it was very Penny—simple, no-nonsense, yet full of an unnamable appeal.