Leanne Banks - Feet First

He glanced down and saw the leather box and opened it. His lips tilted in a smile. “Peppermint patties.”

“Your emergency stash,” she said.

He looked at her, and she felt the flicker of understanding shimmer between them, as if they were both on a secret team. Her heart stuttered.

“Thanks,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time a woman gave me candy.”

Oh, no. Did he think she was flirting with him with peppermint patties? Coming on to him? Which she would if she knew how. But this was really just a thank-you. She’d thought it was, anyway. Jenny bit her lip and strained to dream up a flirty comeback. “Maybe that will make them taste even better,” she managed, surprising herself.

“Maybe,” he said, and she saw the slightest spark of sexual challenge in his eyes. “You’ll need to keep me well supplied.”

Feeling as if she were stepping into untried waters, she resisted the urge to back out. “I’ll have to find out what your appetite is. For peppermint patties.”

“Yeah, you will.”

Her throat swelling from the tension, she decided to run before she did something stupid. She cleared her throat. “I’ll do that. Thanks again for your time, and please don’t forget to have your assistant send me the directions to the party.”

“Will do. Thanks again for the candy.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and felt his gaze on her as she exited his office. Holding her breath until she reached her office, she closed the door behind her and sank against it.

Omigoodness, Marc Waterson had actually looked at her and even kinda flirted with her. Her heart was still racing, and she knew her face looked as if she’d spent the day in the sun.

A dozen thoughts raced through her head. Okay, so this Marc Waterson thing had been a fun, unrequited fantasy like Huey Lewis. Did she really want to make it come true? And sheesh, were men really so superficial that they couldn’t notice a woman until she raised her hemline and took off her glasses? Ridiculous, she thought, frowning in disgust.

Right, her conscience prodded her. And was she so superficial that she noticed Marc Waterson because of his bone structure and body?

Jenny mentally stuck her tongue out at herself and decided to call Chad. Whether or not she had the guts to go through with her fantasy with Marc, she would still need some help getting ready for the cocktail party.

Two hours later she got ready to leave work, and her e-mail alert went off. She checked her in-box and found a message from Marc. “J—No need for both of us to drive. I’ll pick you up at 7:45 p.m.—M”

AFTER SPENDING THREE HOURS shopping with Chad on Saturday, Jenny was still grumbling as the two entered her apartment. “The hem is way too short. I’m going to end up hurting someone in those spike-heeled sandals. You wait and see.”

Chad gave a bad boy smile. “That might not be all bad. Maybe VP guy is into a little S&M. Besides, you’re wearing a jacket. The color is dark purple instead of the red I chose. You could almost wear this as a business suit.”

“If I were a hooker,” she retorted in disbelief. She was so nervous she was considering canceling.

“I still think you should go no panties,” Chad said and looked in her refrigerator. “I’m opening this bottle of wine. You need a glass or two. I do, too.” He opened the bottle of Chardonnay, filled a glass and gave it to her.

Jenny took a big gulp then a second. “I don’t know about this, Chad. This isn’t me.”

Chad filled his glass and groaned. “Maybe your ‘me’ needs to expand a little bit. Besides this is my big opportunity to do my queer eye for the straight girl. Don’t blow it for me,” he said, then put his arm around her. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I’ll do something stupid,” she said.

“I’ll have you looking so stunning it won’t matter what you do.”

“What if he thinks I look like a slut?”

“A dream come true,” Chad said.

Jenny scowled at him.

“You will be classy but sexy. Okay, we’re obviously going at this from the wrong angle. What’s the best thing that could happen?”

That was easy. “He’ll remember my name.”

“During or after sex?”

Jenny gave a double take. Despite the sexy dress and the condoms Chad had insisted she put in her purse, she knew there was no way she was having sex with Marc Waterson. No way. She had to take this step by step. “I really don’t think Marc and I are going to have sex at this party. I would just be happy if he remembered my name, period.”

Chad shot her a look of pity and shook his head. “Oh, dear girl, you must learn to aim higher.”

“I’ve been hearing that my whole life,” she muttered, and took another long gulp of wine.

MARC SLID OUT of his Porsche and squeezed the lock button on his remote key as he walked the two flights up to Jenny’s apartment. Climbing the stairs reminded him of his junior year in college and made him feel oddly nostalgic. Those had been simpler days before his father died, when his greatest concerns were acing a midterm and making it with a sorority sister at his fraternity’s keg party on Friday night. Now that he was older and wiser, his family expected him to be the responsible one. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke hadn’t been required to invite him. Her parties tended to end with uniformed officers hauling disorderly people off to jail.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock, the door flew open and Jenny appeared, her cheeks flushed with color, her hair hanging shiny and loosely to her shoulders. Her laser blue eyes skimmed him from head to toe and back again. Her gaze was so thorough his suit started to feel a little warm.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. She smelled of mint and chocolate and some sort of sweet spice. “You look gorgeous.”

He couldn’t resist a chuckle. Her bold compliment reminded him of the same sensation he felt riding on a Harley. “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he returned, taking in her short purple dress and jacket. She had great legs, he thought, noticing and appreciating her high-heeled sandals. “Those aren’t Bellagio,” he pointed out.

“No. Michelle K. These are my favorite shoes. They look great, don’t they?” she asked, glancing down at her sandals.

“Not bad,” he conceded. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, and turned to lock the door, which gave him a quick view of her rear end and made him wish she wasn’t wearing the jacket. Mentally swearing, he shook his head. It was the lack of sex. This woman wasn’t even his type.

She turned back around and gave him another quick-blast gaze, and her lips tilted in a smile that held at least a dozen secrets. “All I know about Brooke’s parties is what I’ve read in the papers. What should I expect?”

Marc groaned as he walked beside Jenny toward his car. “Hopefully not what you’ve read in the papers. No police, no vice squad. This is at the family house with members of the press, so it shouldn’t be as wild. Brooke likes team sports, so this will be her way of trying to get everyone playing on the same team.”

Marc opened the car door and watched Jenny slide her legs inside his low-slung vehicle like a well-trained debutante. He didn’t even get a microglimpse of her panties.

Inwardly swearing again, he slammed the door closed and rounded the car to the driver’s side.

“Do you think it will work? The team-building theory?” Jenny asked as he got in the car and buckled his seat belt.

“Depends on the goal. Will it work for Brooke or will it work for Bellagio?”

“Not one and the same,” she said, sliding her legs to the side, toward him.