A Word With The Bachelor. Teresa Southwick
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at Bar None she’d introduced herself as his research assistant. That gave him an idea. “You know, it would help if you looked some things up for me.”
“Great.” That put the splashes of gold back in her green eyes. “What?”
“Why don’t you go ahead and pack your stuff up and take it downstairs. I’ll have a list ready when you’re finished.”
“Okay.”
Erin disappeared down the hall but unfortunately the scent of her skin lingered in his work space. Later he would figure out how to man this place up again, but right now he had to do something to keep her busy and out of his hair.
Jack searched gold and diamonds on Google, figuring either one could put Mac Daniels’s life on the line. As he browsed, something caught his eye. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Say it with diamonds.
Erin came back into his office with her rolling suitcase and a bag she held in her hand. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever made her smell so good was in the little one.
“I’ve got everything,” she said cheerfully.
“That didn’t take long.”
“Told you it wouldn’t.” She headed for the door.
“Do you need help with those bags?”
“No. You keep working. I’ll be back shortly to help.”
Jack waited for the door to close and noted that Harley stayed where he was in his bed. “Good move, buddy. Never bite the hand that feeds you.”
He typed in some more search words and scrolled through articles, information and sources for all the material. It was interesting stuff, not relevant to his writing, but she might get something out of the research. He printed out a list of topics then went back to his Mac Daniels file.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said to the blank screen, where his fictional character waited for a story. “You’ve been out of the military for a while and all you’re good at is war and training for it. In the first book an old girlfriend sucked you into using those skills. You can handle yourself in a fight because you’re trained to beat the crap out of bad guys. Now what?”
Except for the ex-girlfriend-rescue part that pretty much described himself, not Mac Daniels. Jack made a disgusted sound then leaned back in his chair. He was a piece of work, talking to himself. Well, not technically, since Harley was here, but too close for comfort. At least he knew his own flaws and keeping them to himself was the best way to control them.
There was a knock at the door then Erin poked her head in the room and smiled. “I’m back.”
“Like the Terminator,” he mumbled.
“I love that movie.”
“Really?” He pegged her as more of a romantic-comedy type.
“Yes. You know romance is at the heart of the story.”
“No pun intended.”
She smiled. “What woman wouldn’t want to hear, ‘I came across time for you, Sarah.’”
Jack had never met a woman he’d want to time-travel for. But that was the best segue he could have hoped for. He pulled the sheet from his printer and held it out. “Your research topics.”
“Right. I can’t wait to get started.” She took the paper and scanned it. To her credit, her perk factor only slipped a little.
The average person probably wouldn’t have noticed. Jack was surprised that he had.
Her gaze settled on his and the vivid green was back. “The fine art of romantic talk?”
“Dialogue.”
She glanced down at the paper. “A hundred and one ways to be romantic?”
“Mac spent a lot of time in a war zone.” He shrugged as if to say that explained all.
“Understanding the female mind?”
“If he ever wants to get lucky, Mac might need some help.”
There was a skeptical look on her face—she was suspicious and just a little annoyed. “These topics are important for an action-adventure book...why?”
Jack realized she’d already given him the answer to that question. “The Terminator effect.”
“As it happens, women don’t typically understand the male mind, either. I need more than that to connect the dots.”
“You said you like the movie because there’s a romance at the heart. It crosses genres and broadens the appeal.”
“And?” One eyebrow rose.
“Maybe if Mac has a relationship it could expand my readership to women.”
Her eyes narrowed and the I’ve-got-your-number look was back. “You don’t fool me, Jack.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” Did a half truth make something an out-and-out lie?
“Oh, please. This is you patting me on the head and telling me to run along.”
“Not true.”
“So in all of your own experience you’ve never sweet-talked a woman? Never made a romantic gesture? Or two?”
“Hard to say. I tried.” With his ex-wife. But he didn’t think she left him for lack of romance because she stayed for years while he went through numerous deployments. She left when he didn’t re-up with the army. “But does a guy really know if he hit it out of the park with a woman?”
“You really don’t know how to read people?”
“Hence the research for understanding the female mind,” he pointed out.
She made a show of folding the paper and sticking it in the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll do the research. But don’t for a second believe that I don’t know what you’re up to. This is all about keeping me at a distance.”
Jack didn’t get a chance to respond because she turned and walked out of his office. Just as well. He needed to get to work. And she was wrong about his goal. The phony research wasn’t to keep her at a distance, but to keep her in the dark about the fact that he didn’t have a story. With luck he could fix the problem before she figured out what was going on.
The good news was that it was now quiet enough to work. And the bad news was he had to put some words on that blank page. And, damn it, he could still smell the scent of her skin. That brought to mind images of her smile and the fact that as hard as he’d tried to make her, she wouldn’t back down from him.
Harley stood in his bed glancing from him to the door where Erin had exited. “Yeah, I know, buddy. I’m as surprised as you are that it’s not so bad having her around for a distraction.”
In her new room Erin lay on her back trying to get to sleep, but the sound of pacing upstairs was distracting. So much for not waking her if he couldn’t catch some z’s and decided to work. Hard to type when you weren’t sitting in front of a computer.
She was on the futon in the spare bedroom downstairs and it was surprisingly comfortable. That wasn’t to blame for her restlessness; that was Jack’s fault and not just on account of his walking back and forth, hitting that one squeaky board every time. Earlier he had opened the futon to make it flat and she’d been mesmerized by the play of muscles underneath the smooth material of his snug T-shirt.
Then she thought about one hundred and one ways to be romantic. Bring a woman flowers. Make her breakfast in bed. Surprise her with a B and B weekend. Picturing Jack doing any of those things made her smile. Forget romantic.