Leanne Banks - Feet First

He felt her gaze on her for a long moment. “You’re big on delivered pizza, but if you’re forced to stop for fast food, you go for Arby’s.”

He stared at her as he pulled into the drive-through lane. “How do you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. I get these gut feelings every now and then. I’ll take an eight-piece chicken tender meal with waffle fries and a coke. And Polynesian sauce.”

He repeated the order, and they drove through. He paid and she put money in the center dash. “You’re a little anal about the paying thing, aren’t you?”

“Well, this isn’t a date.”

No it wasn’t, he thought, and wondered why he’d found this evening so much more interesting than last night.

She gave him the rest of the directions to her apartment and he stopped in front of it. “Thank you very much, Mr. Waterson,” she said, her face and tone serious.

“Marc,” he corrected and couldn’t resist the urge to fix the strand of her hair that was awry. She gave a quick little intake of breath, and he glanced at her mouth. Poufy and pink, it looked soft. And kissable.

Hell, where had that thought come from? He pulled back. “You’re welcome. Let me know when you find out what’s wrong with your car. Do you need a ride to work tomorrow?”

She shook her head quickly. “I have a neighbor who won’t mind at all. Thanks, though.” She dug into her purse and placed two peppermint patties in his hand. “Maybe these will hold you until you order your pizza.”

“Or stop by Arby’s,” he said. “You’re welcome.”

“G’night,” she said, and got out of the car. He watched her dash through the rain to the steps and disappear. Spooky woman, he thought. Not that pretty. Blatantly ambitious. He wondered what her body looked like. He didn’t think he’d ever noticed.

THE NEXT EVENING Jenny tossed another couple of spices into the chicken creole she and the Zatarains were making tonight. Stella had already gone home with her mother, so Jenny had decided to treat herself to her favorite boxed dinner.

A knock sounded on the door and she felt her mouth stretch into a half smile despite her bummed mood. Chad again.

He opened the door and gave a wolf whistle. “Look at her. She’s got legs!”

Jenny laughed and rolled her eyes. “What did you think I used for walking? Stilts?”

“You keep them covered up in jeans and slacks so much I’d forgotten,” he said and snatched the spoon from her to take a taste of the creole. “It needs something. Heat. It needs more heat.” He opened her cabinet and grabbed hot pepper seasoning.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” she asked as he took over the cooking. Chad was a lovable combination of mooch and faithful friend. He never forgot her birthday and he’d brought brownies and sat with her through three viewings of the movie Oklahoma while Jenny had recovered from a disappointing love affair.

“Yes, I would. Charming of you to ask. Do you have any good bread, or are you still on that disgusting South Beach diet?”

“I brought home some fresh sourdough.”

He smiled in approval. “Very good.”

“Paul’s still on graveyard shift?” she asked.

He nodded. “I thought you and I could go out for a bite, but since you’ve already prepared the meal, it would be a shame to waste it.”

Cheapo. “You tried your neighbors first,” she concluded, sinking into a kitchen chair.

Unabashed, he nodded. “Two of them. I would have tried you first if you lived closer.”

“Real hardship to get in your car and drive three miles,” she said.

His eyebrows furrowed together. “You sound like a bitter shrew tonight. What’s your problem? Wasn’t something exciting supposed to happen at work?”

“It did,” she said. “Kinda. I got a promotion and raise.”

“Fantastic! You should be celebrating.” He grinned engagingly. “You should take me out.”

“It’s complicated. There are conditions with the position. It’s mine, but not really mine,” she said, and realized that didn’t make sense. “It’s temporary.”

“So take the money and enjoy the moment.”

“I will, after I pay for the new battery for my car,” she said, and sighed. “It just made me start thinking. Do you realize everything I have isn’t really mine? I keep a great kid after school almost every day, but she’s not mine. I have a new position, but it’s not really mine. I have a friend who takes me salsa dancing, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

Chad looked stricken. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “I don’t. I’m just venting. My apartment isn’t even really mine. I sublet it.”

“Then get a different one.”

“I like the price and location.”

“Then quit griping.”

“Plus my boss can’t remember my name.”

“I thought you said your boss was a nice guy. Sal Somebody.”

“Different boss. The vice president.” She sighed again. “He’s so hot, and he can’t see me.”

Chad gave her a double take. “Oh, my. Unrequited love?”

“Unrequited lust.”

His eyes widened. “Jenny, I never knew. You always seemed so…so…”

She covered her ears. “If you say sexless, I’ll scream.”

He removed her hands from her ears. “I was going to say shy, inhibited.” He paused. “Don’t you ever get tired of not going after what you want? If this VP is so hot, then why don’t you just bed him and get it over with?” He shrugged. “If your job isn’t really yours, then I don’t see the problem.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re saving yourself for Prince Charming. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

She glowered at him and pulled her hands from his. “It’s really none of your business, but no.”

“Must not have been a great experience based on your expression,” he taunted.

“It was more than once,” she said, then stopped herself. She’d made love with two men and neither experience in bed had rocked her world. “Besides, this situation isn’t that easy. This man is going out with a beauty pageant winner.”

Chad’s eyes rounded as he spooned servings of creole and rice onto plates. “A beauty pageant winner,” he echoed. “I wonder what kind of plastic surgery she’s had.”

Jenny laughed despite herself. “Maybe none. Maybe she’s just naturally beautiful.”

“Honey, natural and beautiful rarely go together in the same sentence.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not beauty pageant material.”

Chad took a seat. “Well, not looking like that you aren’t.”

Affronted, she pursed her lips. “What do you mean, not looking like this? This skirt is above my knees and the sweater is fitted. This is office sexy,” she told him.

“If you’re my mother,” he muttered, and took a bite. He immediately fanned his mouth. “Oooh, too hot.”

“You went overboard with the seasoning.”

“Stop fussing and get me some bread.”

Jenny grabbed the fresh loaf from the counter and pinched off a large piece. Chad immediately put the bread in his mouth and chewed it. “Thanks,” he said, and added more rice to the creole. “That’s not office sexy. Your skirt should be shorter, although it doesn’t have to be skintight. I like the idea of one that flips a little as you walk. You need to show more cleavage.”

“I don’t have a lot of cleavage.”

“Then create it.” He shook a piece of bread at her. “If men can create cleavage, then women can, too. And you need to wear sexier shoes.”

“Not if I’m on my feet all day.”

“I thought the objective was to get off your feet and into VP boy’s bed,” he retorted without batting an eye. “And you need to lose the red glasses and do something different with your hair.”