The Gift of Love (9 page)

Without thinking he called, “Isabella. Isabella Rodriquez. It’s you, isn’t it?”

She turned. “Yes, I’m Isabella Rodriquez.” She cocked her head and frowned. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

Their gaze met and the sizzle was probably felt as far away as Mount Rainier. Taylor smiled and motioned to her to break away from the group. “Can I talk to you for a moment? Before you go into the conference room, I mean?”

Nate Benjamin interrupted. “Taylor, can this wait? We’re about to have a meeting.”

“It’ll only take a minute. I promise,” Taylor said. “I have to apologize to Isabella.”

Nate looked confused. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “I don’t know what to say. He’s not usually like this.”

The blond woman glanced at him, then at Isabella. “What’s this about, Bella? Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She seemed to be considering what to do. Finally, she squared her shoulders, touched the blond’s arm, and said, “But I’m curious. Give me a minute to see what he wants, and I’ll join you.”

She walked toward him, and the rest of the office fell away. All he could see was the gentle sway of her hips and the faintly puzzled look on her beautiful face. It was like the cliché scene in a movie where the lovers float toward each other across the meadow of wildflowers and fall into one another’s arms. He could feel the heat of the summer sun, smell the earth and the faint scent of some blossom. He’d never believed those scenes were anything other than a screenwriter’s fantasy. Now he knew otherwise.

• • •

She didn’t know why she needed to find out what the man wanted, but she did. Maybe it was his looks. She’d always been attracted to dark-haired, dark-eyed men like the ones she’d grown up around. This man was neither. Yet from the moment they’d locked eyes, she could feel all the tingles accompanying a chemistry that excited her. And she could see in his eyes he felt it, too. His blue eyes had looked like the sky on a beautiful August day at first. But the closer she got to him, the darker they got.

His blond hair seemed to have a glow about it. All he needed was to lose his shirt and don a pair of shorts, and he’d be the picture of summer. And with the body he had—six feet something of well-toned male muscle from what she could see underneath his conservative Oxford cloth shirt, striped tie, and nicely fitting trousers—she wouldn’t mind seeing him in nothing but a pair of shorts.

She never drooled over men. Never. But how could she avoid it when this one had the body of a young god and the face of an angel, if angels had sinfully sensuous mouths and the cheekbones of a male model? And his voice! Deep and soft, the kind you wanted to hear whispering in your ear while you ran your fingers through his thick, wavy hair, preferably when both of you were considerably less clothed than they were at the moment. The way he held himself and talked, he oozed confidence from his pores. He might not trace his family roots to the southern hemisphere, and he might not be able to
hablar Español
,
but he was
muy sexy
nevertheless.

As soon as she was within handshake distance, he reached for her. “My name’s Taylor Jordan.”

“Hello. Apparently I don’t need to tell you mine. You already know it.” She took his hand and was startled. The sizzle she’d felt when their eyes met occurred again. When he didn’t let go of her hand but rather covered it with his left hand and caressed her thumb with his, she was sure he’d felt it, too.

“Yes, your friend Marius Hernandez told me. I saw you with him at the Chamber of Commerce after-hours a couple weeks ago. When I couldn’t find you in the crowd to introduce myself, I called him to ask for an introduction.”

She shook off his hand, the sizzle replaced by her memory of how she felt when he didn’t appear at the reception. “Oh, are you the man who never showed up at the Erickson Gallery?” She took a step back.

“Yes, and that’s why I had to talk to you. To say how sorry I am I didn’t make it in time to meet you. I was at a business dinner with a client, and it ran over. Way over. I got to the gallery less than five minutes after you left. Marius wasn’t happy with me. And he said you weren’t either. Rightly so. I couldn’t persuade him to give me your number so I could apologize. I couldn’t believe my luck when you walked past me a few minutes ago.”

Nate Benjamin called from the door of the conference room, interrupting Taylor’s apology. “Ms. Rodriguez, we’re about to start the presentation. Taylor, finish this up after our meeting.” She could tell from the tone of his voice he was losing patience.

“I have to get to the meeting.” She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to give the man a chance to explain further. “Will you be around in an hour or so?”

“I’ll make sure I am. My office is the second one on the right, straight ...”

“Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry. I guess you don’t know
Peter Pan
as well as I do. I’ll find you after my meeting. I promise.”

She walked back down the hall to the conference room where her boss waited, feeling quite sure the young blond god was watching her every step. Hell, yes, she’d find him after the meeting. She had to find out if he was sincere or if he was only trying not to offend Marius. God knows, she hoped he was for real. She hadn’t met anyone as attractive as this man in a long, long time. It would be a shame if he were only apologizing because of a business connection.

• • •

Taylor sat at his desk, a box of office supplies in front of him, which he was supposed to be stashing in his new cherry wood desk. Instead, he was looking up at what felt like ten second intervals to see if Isabella had appeared at the door of his office. Jesus, Nate was right. He never behaved like this. What the hell was he doing? What happened to the plan to swear off women for the foreseeable future? Or at least until he figured out what kind of woman he wanted to fit into his life.

No, here he was mooning around like a lovesick teenager with his first crush. Over a woman he knew nothing about other than her grandparents came from Cuba and they had a friend in common. Oh, and she was beautiful. The worst part was, in spite of knowing nothing about her to assure him she’d fit into his plan, he didn’t care. He knew he had to convince her to go out with him.

The next hour was probably the most unproductive of Taylor’s entire career. He kept looking out at the conference room where Isabella was meeting with Nate and the blond, checking the time on his computer or listening for her voice coming down the hall. So busy was he with those activities, all he got accomplished was to figure out where he wanted to keep paperclips and rubber bands. Oh, and he set the password on his new laptop.

Finally he heard Nate’s voice out in the hall saying, “Great. I think I have a clear idea what you’re looking for, and I know we can deliver something you’ll find useful.”

A woman’s voice, the blond he was sure, said, “I loved the ideas you talked about. How soon do you think you’ll have something for me ... for us ... to look at?”

“Maybe in a week, ten days, if that time frame works for you.”

“More than works.” Her laugh didn’t have much humor in it. “At the rate we’re progressing on this project, you could probably take ten weeks and we’d be okay.”

Nate said, “Maybe we can give you some help with the problems you described, too. Let me give it some thought and see what I can come up with.”

“If you can give me some advice on how to get a project unstuck, I’ll be your fan for life.”

Even Taylor could hear the smile in Nate’s voice. “If that’s the reward, I’ll work on your stuck project problem first. I can always use another fan.”

For God’s sake, Nate,
Taylor thought,
quit flirting and walk them to the reception area so I can have a chance to talk to Isabella.

But just as he was about to go into the hall, the trio walked past him. Nate and the blonde kept walking, seeming not to miss the third member of the group who had stopped and was standing at the door of his office, smiling at him.

“How’d your meeting go?” Taylor asked.

She took two steps into his office. “Really well. Nate had some amazing ideas.”

“He’s a marketing genius.”

“Easy to understand.”

The ensuing silence was broken when both of them started saying, “I was wondering ...”

Taylor waved his hand as if encouraging her to speak ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

“I was wondering ... maybe we could, I don’t know, have coffee or something.”

He glanced at the clock on his computer and groaned. “I’d love to. But I have a client meeting in ten minutes.”

“Oh. Well, maybe another time.”

He was happier than he should have been at the disappointment in her voice. “But I don’t know where to reach you, remember?”

A smile appeared as she said, “I’ll give you my card. Call me when you have time for coffee or lunch ... or something.”

He took the business card she’d dug out of her messenger bag and stuck it in his trouser pocket. “Oh, and I apologize for babbling when you first got here. It was the surprise. Of seeing you, I mean.”

“Don’t apologize. I was flattered.” She touched his hand, and the sparks ignited again. Damn, the woman was amazing. “I better catch up with my boss. She’s got the car keys. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

After he watched her disappear into the reception area, Taylor went back into his office and dropped into his desk chair. He wasn’t exactly proud of how he had handled the whole interchange. He’d barely gotten out with his dignity intact, all because Isabella Rodriquez was the most attractive woman he’d met in forever. Her smile warmed parts of his heart he didn’t even know had been cold. And her body reminded other parts of him what it was like to be alive and aroused. He was sure she’d figured out how attracted he was; he’d been that obvious. But he didn’t care. Nor did he care he was violating his plan not to get involved with anyone for a while. Not to mention his rule about not dating clients. All he cared about at the moment was figuring out how long to wait to call her.

Call her. Her card. He needed to get it out of his pocket before he lost it or it got sent to the dry cleaners or something. He pulled it out and glanced at it. The logo, a heart with fancy script letters over it, looked vaguely familiar. She must work for a company he knew from someplace.

Then he read the text and swore. Goddamn son of a bitch.

No wonder he recognized the logo. Her card said she was a project manager for Break Up or Make Up, the company he’d blamed—in front of witnesses, even—for wrecking his relationship with Allison. The most beautiful woman he’d met in years worked for the demon-in-chief, Summer Olsen. Then another reality dawned. The blonde with Isabella, the one she said was her boss.

Summer Olsen in the flesh.

Not only did Isabella work for her but now so did his firm. MBA was about to create a marketing plan to make Summer Olsen’s company successful in Seattle. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The irony didn’t escape him. He was a partner. Some of his income would come from the company that had badly battered his pride.

Even worse, all his plans to inveigle Isabella Rodriguez into a date would have to be put on ice. He had to erase any thought of how good being with her could be. If he didn’t, he’d have to face his own foolish behavior in her boss’s office every time he looked at her, as well as admit to her what he’d started with his offhand comment to the neighborhood association president. Even if he’d gotten past the letter Allison had sent him, and he was reasonably certain he had, he still had all the embarrassment and guilt of those two things to contend with. He’d almost been willing to break his rule of not dating clients for her, but this client carried a whole lot of other baggage.

No, he’d better stick with the plan the way he’d originally set it up. Isabella Rodriquez was off limits.

Damn it.

Summer had parked a couple blocks away from the MBA offices, and it was raining so the sprint to the car made conversation difficult. But once they were settled and Summer had pulled out into traffic, she started the cross-examination.

“Okay, spill. Who is he? Where did you meet him? What did he want? When are you seeing him?”

Bella laughed. “Slow down. His name is Taylor Jordan. You saw where I met him—in the hall of MBA Consulting.”

Summer glanced over at her and shook her head. “Oh, come on. He knew who you were. I don’t believe you just met him. I saw the way he looked at you. And the way you’re blushing now.”

“I said
I
met
him
there. I didn’t say that’s where
he
met
me.
Or at least where he saw me. Remember the Chamber of Commerce thing I went to a few weeks ago? He saw me there with an old family friend, Marius Hernandez, who ...”

“Was the one you threw yourself at after your father died. Right?”

“Thank you for reminding me of my humiliation.”

“Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“Do you want to know about Taylor or not?”

“Sorry. Finish.”

“Anyway, he called Marius and set up a way to meet me at the Erickson Gallery.”

“Oh my God! He’s the guy who stood you up.”

“Again, thanks for the reminder of my humiliation.”

“Give it a rest, girlfriend. He’s clearly interested. There must have been a good reason.”

“He was held up in a dinner meeting, he said, and arrived at the gallery right after I left. I could check it out with Marius, but I believe him. Anyway, the reason he practically chased me down the hall today was to apologize for not getting to the gallery on time.”

“He couldn’t have called you and apologized?”

“I asked Marius not to give him my number.”

“So? What now?”

“He has my number now, and he says he’ll call. I hope he does. He’s well, he’s ... I don’t know. He’s ... how can I put it? Maybe blond Viking god works. Or ‘wow.’”

“His boss is pretty ‘wow,’ too, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” She smirked at Summer. “Assuming you think tall, dark, and handsome with a sexy voice and jade green eyes is ‘wow.’”