Surprise Package. Joanna Wayne
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sounds much too boring, and I have a feeling you’re not a boring lady.”
“Actually, I am.” She sipped her water. “But if you want to know about me, I can certainly give you the details that affect my ability to do my job. I have an undergraduate degree in graphic arts and a master’s degree in commercial advertising. I’ve worked for Clintock, Mitchum and O’Connell for almost two years.”
“And I’m sure you’re very good at what you do. But you can’t just work. As pretty as you are, I bet you have dozens of men on the string.”
“Afraid not. I’ve never wanted the kind of man who would settle for dangling from a string.”
“Then you must break a lot of hearts.”
“None that I know of.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
He scooted the candle from the center of the table. She met his gaze, hopefully achieving the look she was after. Business or nothing. “I’m sure that you’re far more interested in what I can do for the Ranchers Association than you are in my personal life.”
“Everything has a time and a place. Right now it sounds as if you could use more fun in your life. I know this great little club we could visit after dinner.”
Another dirty old man. She’d have to nip in the bud any ideas he had about including her in his extracurricular activities. But she couldn’t nip so sharply that she drew blood, at least not if she could help it. She wanted to keep this account.
“I don’t dance,” she lied, “and I hate nightclubs. The smoke bothers my contact lenses. So let’s talk about you. Let’s see, you’re married and have four children. Am I correct?”
His glowing ardor cooled as quickly as if she’d dumped her glass of water on his head. He downed the rest of his drink and motioned to the waiter to bring him another. After that, he sat quietly for a moment, his hand wrapped around the base of his empty glass while he stared at her from beneath his bushy, salt-and-pepper brows.
“You’re correct,” he said. “I have a lovely family, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. But if you’re more comfortable talking strictly about business, I can do that, too.”
“I appreciate that, and I want you to know that I’m committed to giving you and the association the type of modern, progressive image we discussed. I’ll make sure you get what you’re paying for.” And that didn’t include her. “So what are your ideas for the ad campaign?” she asked, determined to salvage something from the meeting besides irritation.
He rolled his fresh drink around in the glass, staring into it as if it were a crystal ball. Finally, he set it on the table and looked at her. “The association wants something bolder than we’ve ever had before, something that says we’re happening and on the technological edge of beef production. But we don’t want to lose our image as ranchers. You know, kind of John Wayne and Bill Gates rolled into one. Does that make sense to you?”
Perfectly. He wanted a miracle. And she darn well planned to give it to him, just as long as she didn’t have to get any closer to him than she was right now in order to deliver.
The rest of the meal passed without incident, though she was certain from some of the looks he gave her that he was still eager to inject her boring life with just about anything she wanted, as long as the facts never got back to his wife.
What she wanted was to go back to her apartment and sink into her nice, comfortable bed. Alone.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY half-past ten when the elevator stopped at the eighth floor of the Prentiss Apartment Building. The door slid open, but before Ashley stepped out, she noticed a woman rushing toward her, head down, her raven-colored hair pulled back from her face. She looked up for a second as they passed, and Ashley could see that her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying.
“Is something wrong?” Ashley asked. “Can I help you?”
“No.” Her voice wavered, and her hands were shaking as she put them up to stop the door from closing.
Ashley hesitated, then walked toward her own apartment. If the woman didn’t want her help, she couldn’t force it on her.
Besides, she was exhausted. Of course, she could always knock on Kyle Blackstone’s door and tell him she’d come for the massage.
Or she could jump off the balcony onto the street below. It would be about the same kind of suicide. She had willpower, but not the kind that could survive Kyle Blackstone’s hands roaming over her. Even the thought of it sent tingles to parts of her body that didn’t need to tingle.
She walked past his door on the way to her own. A huge wicker laundry basket sat in front of his door. Probably a gift from one of his many admirers. She was tempted to go back and peek inside but changed her mind. It was probably better not knowing what kind of gifts women sent that man.
Once inside her apartment, she twisted the dial of her dimmer switch until the living area was bathed in a welcoming glow. Neither her brother Dylan nor her sister Lily could ever understand how a person raised on a ranch could consider an apartment in a high-rise in downtown San Antonio home, but it fitted her lifestyle just fine, provided everything she needed.
She walked to the bedroom and kicked out of her black pumps, shedding her panty hose before she took off her suit. She draped the skirt and jacket over the hanger but didn’t bother to change into her pajamas. Her black slip would do just fine for the activities she had planned. A nice settling glass of wine while she worked.
Ranchers. Cattle. Beef. The words came back to ramble through her mind as she poured a glass of chardonnay and curled into her overstuffed chair. Ranchers. Cows. Worse than counting sheep, she decided as her eyes grew heavy. Her weary mind lost the power to concentrate, and instead pictured Kyle dressed in a cowboy hat and boots.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want the man, but she might as well enjoy the image.
* * *
ASHLEY JERKED AWAKE, spilling half a glass of wine onto her living room carpet as she did. She’d obviously been a lot more tired than she’d realized. Only half-awake, she stumbled to the bathroom, wet a cloth, then hurried back to get the stain out before it had time to set.
Down on all fours, she had pain in places she didn’t even know she had places—proof that with Bernie’s help she was working muscles she’d never worked before. And now either she was hearing things, or there was a kitten trying to tell her something.
She looked around the room, half expecting her neighbor’s cat to poke its head from beneath the couch. Mikasa liked nothing better than to sneak in while the door was open, hide out and then pounce on Ashley when she least expected it.
The cries stopped, then started again, several decibels louder this time. But the sound was coming from the hall and not inside the apartment. Ashley stepped to the door and put her eye to the peephole. There was no sign of a cat. No sign of anything or anyone, except that basket in front of Kyle’s closed door. For a second she thought it had moved, but when she blinked and looked back, it was still. Nonetheless, the noise persisted.
If it was Mikasa, she was in trouble, likely caught behind or under something and couldn’t free herself. Ashley slid the dead bolt until she could open the door a crack. She peered up and down the hall, searching for some sign of the cat.
She was nowhere around. The noise had stopped as well, but the basket in front of Kyle’s door was most assuredly shimmying now. She crossed to the basket and leaned over.
Ohmigosh! It definitely wasn’t a cat but it was alive. An absolutely adorable baby girl—at least it looked like a girl—with chubby cheeks and the most beautiful dark brown eyes Ashley had ever seen. She fell to her knees and tugged the blanket to the side so that she could see all of the surprise package. The infant kicked her tiny feet and threw a few punches into the