Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) (8 page)

He forced his gaze away before she caught him staring. His weren’t the only eyes following her around the room. She was an attractive woman. If Meg wanted to find Judy a temporary husband, it wouldn’t take long for someone to snatch her up.

That was not going to happen, not as long as he was breathing.

“Hello, Captain Obvious?”

Rick snapped his gaze away from Judy again, found Meg standing beside him. “What?”

Meg shook her head. “You know, Rick, I find it amusing the two of you are dancing around this attraction.”

He thought about that for a second. “I didn’t think I was dancing.” No, he’d been asking her for a simple date for well over a month.

“I guess that’s true.” Meg waved in Judy’s direction and Rick noticed the look between the two women, a silent warning spoken from Judy’s eyes to Meg’s.

“Women like to dance,” Meg told him as she turned and walked away.

Good to know.

After dinner, when the music started, Judy and Mike hit the dance floor with a little drama and flourish. At one point Zach jumped in and gave up Karen to dance with his sister. The photographers were having a field day with the four of them. It helped that Karen and Michael smiled and danced as if they hadn’t once been married and were now happily divorced and living different lives. Rick knew the truth about their temporary marriage, but not many others in the room did.

Rick waited for the right moment, and when the music slowed and the couples paired up, he cut in and wrapped his arm around Judy’s waist before she could see him coming. Before she could tell him no.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered next to her ear. She stiffened, briefly, then relaxed in his arms and moved along with the music.

She was silent for about thirty seconds, then she managed, “You didn’t call.”

Instead of answering, Rick swung her around, led her into a spin out, and back in, getting more than one flash of a camera. Only when he had her back cheek to cheek . . . or in their case, he had to bend down to talk in her ear, he said, “I told you I wouldn’t call.”

She opened her mouth to say something but he spun her again, robbing her of a slow dance and making this one much more active. Talking under their breath on the dance floor wasn’t what he wanted, not where she might get the opportunity to blow him off just as easily as a phone conversation. It wasn’t as if he would call her out with an audience watching. However, he would make sure anyone in the room who might be watching her knew of his attraction.

Rick wound his hand around her waist and pulled her even tighter, leading her, and used the music to weave heat onto her cheeks. She was smiling, almost as if she couldn’t help it.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

The question was innocent enough, but he blinked, nearly missed a step. “It wasn’t the military.”

The hand resting on his chest pushed back and she moved her gaze to his. “Well . . . you’re good.”

Happy she didn’t quiz him more, he moved her around, giving her ability to follow his lead a solid test. “You’re not bad yourself, Utah.”

The music started to wind down, both of them with it.

“About that lack of a phone call . . .”

“I’ll call next time.”

Some of the couples around them broke off the dance floor.

“I don’t know if—”

Rick didn’t like where that was going and he cut her off with a finger to her lips. He replaced it briefly with his kiss. Chaste, simple, and full of promise.

The earpiece buzzed, ending their dance-floor kiss. “Rick, we need you out back.”

He pulled away, happy to see Judy’s lips grinning. “Have to get back to work, Utah. We’ll talk later.” He kissed her forehead and left her standing on the dance floor.

Chapter Eight

Meg nudged Karen’s elbow and brought her attention to the kissing taking place on the dance floor. “Check it out.”

Karen glanced over her shoulder and let out a soft whistle. “I knew that was coming.”

“Judy’s really crazed over him.”

Neither of them stopped staring while the kiss ended and Rick said something in Judy’s ear.

“Crazy good or crazy bad?”

“A little of both.”

Rick left Judy staring after him, and when she swiveled toward the two of them, both Karen and Meg turned their attention to the wineglasses in their hands. They couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Is he a good guy? I mean, he seems like he is.”

Karen brought her drink to her lips and talked over the rim. “I’ve never seen anything that raises any alarms. He’s been Neil’s right hand for over two years.”

“Does he date a lot?”

“I’ve never seen him with anyone. I’m sure he’s been out, but not with anyone he’s brought around us.”

Zach slid up alongside his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Was that Rick kissing my baby sister on the dance floor?”

Karen leaned into her husband with a giggle. “There is not one other man in this place that can be mistaken for Rick except Neil, and we both know how happy Neil and Gwen are.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed toward the door Rick had used to escape the room. “Hmm.”

Meg glanced over and saw Mike talking with Judy. Both Mike and Zach had the same expression on their faces.

Zach started for the door and Karen caught his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said a little quickly.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Judy’s a grown woman.”

Zach kissed the side of Karen’s head before walking away.

Meg watched with appreciation. “As an only child, I’ve never had a brother or sister worry about the guys I’ve dated.”

“Me either,” Karen said. “It’s nice to see.”

Mike met Zach at the door and they both walked side by side to confront Rick.

“Should we warn him?”

Karen shook her head. “No, but I sure do want to watch.”

Meg liked her spirit. “You watch. I’ll catch up with Judy.”

Rick circled to where two guests were getting a little heated about whose name was last on the list before the auction table closed. Security stood to the side and watched while one of the auctioneers attempted to resolve the situation as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, the men weren’t having anything to do with the woman’s negotiations.

“I have to go with the last name on the list, Mr. Phifer. Perhaps we can contact the organization that donated this item and have another one offered.”

Mr. Phifer wasn’t happy with the possibility of not leaving with the auction item. He glared at the taller man standing on the other side of the volunteer. “And if they don’t?”

“We can only try.”

“If you really want something here, you need to stand over it,” the taller man snarled over the voices around him.

Rick had no idea what the men were fighting over, but it couldn’t be so important that two grown men should have it out at a charity event to obtain it.

Mr. Phifer pushed in, almost sandwiching the volunteer.

Rick made his presence known with one step. Between them, Rick circled around with a smile. “Gentlemen? Have you forgotten why you’re here?”

Accusing fingers were pointing; both men started voicing their argument. It soon became apparent that they’d both been drinking and neither was listening.

Rick turned and reached for the clipboard in the volunteer’s hand. He offered a more genuine smile to the fiftysomething lady and glanced at the last name and the amount on the bottom of the sheet. “You’re Mr. Connors?” he asked the tall man.

“I am.”

“Your last bid was for two thousand five hundred.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re Mr. Phifer?”

Phifer wiggled his pudgy finger over the entry prior to Connors. “That’s my bid, which was done right as the time limit for this table was up.”

Rick glanced up to see Zach and Michael walking toward him. They stopped short to watch.

“Well, since there seems to be some discussion about timing, let’s do the diplomatic thing and make this a live auction. The bid’s at twenty-five hundred, Phifer, will you offer more?”

Phifer narrowed his eyes. “Twenty-six.”

Rick swiveled his head to Connors.

“Three thousand.”

Rick turned to Phifer.

“This is crap. My bid was the last one and on time.”

Connors crossed his arms over his chest with a shit-eating grin on his face. The lookie-loo crowd around them had grown silent.

Rick had no idea who these men were, or how connected they might be to Karen and Zach, but he was getting a serious headache.

“If it’s too steep for you, back off,” Connors said.

Phifer attempted to push around Rick.

Rick pushed the clipboard into Phifer’s chest, the smile on his face dropped. “I wouldn’t even try.”

Michael took that moment and lifted his voice above the mumbling. “Six thousand.”

The crowd gasped and all eyes swiveled to the celebrity.

Then, as if it was a game, Zach added, “Seven thousand.”

“Eight.”

When it reached ten grand, Zach patted Michael on the back. “All yours, brother.”

Connors and Phifer glared at each other but then seemed to notice the scene they’d both made. When the two men moved in opposite directions, neither of them winning, the crowd dispersed.

“Man, Zach, you need to screen your guests better.”

Zach shrugged.

The volunteer thanked Rick and moved to the next table.

Rick turned to find the focus of both men on him, their expressions unreadable. Then he remembered the small public display of affection with Judy.

“What can I do for you, boys?” The coming conversation was inevitable. One better off done and under the table.

“Just a chat,” Michael said as he led them away from the mass of bodies in the auction tent.

Zach started first. “So, Judy?”

Just the mention of her name brought a smile to Rick’s face.

When he didn’t say anything, Michael added, “Our baby sister.”

“A sister, yes, a baby, no.” Nothing about Judy was infantile.

Both men glared at that.

“Should we be worried about you?” Zach asked.

Rick would have been offended if he didn’t know that these men were only trying to protect their sibling. “I don’t think it’s me you need to worry about.” He turned to Michael. “Do you want to enlighten Zach about the conversation you had with Judy as you were leaving to come here?”

Michael narrowed his eyes, then realized what Rick was talking about. “Alliance.”

“Right. I don’t think any of us want to see Judy signing up . . . am I right?”

Zach glanced beyond the two of them toward the house. “She wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, Zach,” Michael said. “She was talking about it.”

Zach clutched his fists. “No. Just no.”

Rick let out a sigh.

“Judy’s sensitive, Rick. Messing with her just to keep her from Alliance will backfire,” Michael told him.

He shook his head. “Who said that’s what I was doing?” Exploring the possibilities wasn’t messing with someone, was it? He questioned his own intentions for about ten seconds. The chase was exciting, the sizzle worth the run. Besides, he’d waited nearly a year to pursue his little pixie.

“Don’t hurt her,” Zach warned.

“It’s hard to hurt her when she won’t agree to go out on a date.”

Michael laughed. “You’re kissing her and not dating her?”

Zach shook his head, tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t want the details.”

The three of them started back toward the house when Michael asked, “So what did I win at the auction?”

Rick, realizing he still held the clipboard, looked at the auction description and burst out laughing. “Looks like you and four of your youngest friends are going on a studio tour at Nickelodeon.”

Judy purposely wore what she called her power suit. It wasn’t a suit, but a black pencil skirt complete with black boots and a red blazer. If anyone at Benson & Miller was going to notice her, she needed to start forcing some eyes her way. She showed up thirty minutes early Monday morning and finished the mail detail before the receptionist answered the first call.

As expected, Mr. Archer had a pile of papers, mainly crap from his desk that needed to be sorted and filed or given back to him in some kind of order before noon. She could have finished the job in two hours, but took her time looking over the designs, the contracts for future projects.

Two of the projects were remodels of office buildings, nothing too grand, and nothing that required anything other than a facelift on the interior. The third project was nothing more than a bid with a few sketches on a blank piece of paper. A performing arts center was going up in Santa Barbara, and Benson & Miller were apparently in the running for the contract. The size of the proposed site would house the square footage needed for an eight-thousand-seat hall. The conservative bid wouldn’t lend itself to much in the way of details. She pored over the estimates, the details of what the committee in Santa Barbara wanted, and started to sketch. The mission-style buildings in the area helped the overall design in her head take shape. The morning flew by, and when she glanced at the clock it was eleven thirty. She made a dash to the copy room, made her own portfolio of the project to take home, and then gathered up all the files to return to Mr. Archer’s office.

With her hands full, the phone on her desk rang. It never rang. “Judy Gardner,” she answered.

“Uhm, Judy?”

It was the receptionist, Nancy, and she sounded winded.

“I’m running to Archer’s office, Nancy, what’s up?”

“Y-you have a visitor. Uhm . . . can you . . .”

Judy rolled her eyes. There was only one person who generated that kind of frazzled female.

Get noticed
, he’d said.
It’s easy
, he’d said.

“Tell him to come on back.”

“But it’s—”

“Yeah, I know.”

She met Mike in the main hall just feet from Mr. Archer’s office.

Eager faces poked out from cubicles, and more than one executive stepped from an office as word of Michael Wolfe’s presence made it through the office like a California wildfire during a Santa Ana wind event.

“Hey, sis.” His Hollywood smile had her shaking her head even harder. “Am I too early for lunch?”

Judy shifted her load to her other hand. “I didn’t know we had a date.”

“Didn’t I mention it? Oh, let me help with that.” Mike took the papers from her. “Where do you want these?”

She offered a coy smile, glanced at the manager of landscape design, who poked her head from her office, and then lowered her voice so only Mike could hear her. “I should be mad at you.”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as your big brother if I didn’t bug you in some way. Now where do you want these?”

Twisting on her foot, she moved around the corner into Mr. Archer’s office. “You can set those here,” she said, pointing to the top of the cabinet.

Mr. Archer sat behind his desk, his jaw halfway to the garage floor of the building. “Sorry to bring a stranger into your office, Mr. Archer, but my brother is early for our lunch date and our mom never let us girls carry anything if one of our brothers were around.”