Mr. Right Now. Kate Hoffmann

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found anything to give her. I’m going to have to go back to the office.”

      Cameron was tempted to give her everything she wanted just to spend a little more time with her. He’d tell her about his childhood, his stumbles toward puberty, the awful teenage years and the grind through college. He’d give her his banker’s number, his attorney’s number. Anything she wanted to know, he’d tell her. But Cameron knew that wasn’t possible. For now, he was better off hiding behind the guise of Mr. Wright. “If you can’t have dinner tonight, how about lunch tomorrow?”

      She stood and gathered up her papers. “All right. Lunch would be fine.”

      Cameron slipped out of his chair and helped her into her coat, allowing his hands to rest on her shoulders for a few minutes. He leaned closer and drew a deep breath. Her hair smelled like fresh air and flowers. Then she stepped away, walking toward the door. Cam tossed a few bills on the table for a tip, then followed her.

      When they reached the sidewalk, an uneasy silence settled between them. This was the time he was supposed to say something incredibly clever or smooth, so she’d invite him back to her apartment. But Cam couldn’t come up with anything except, “Can I give you a ride? We can share a cab.”

      Nina giggled. “I’m just going across the street.”

      Cameron groaned inwardly. The doofus gene had asserted itself again, just when he thought he’d managed to knock it out of his DNA. “Right,” he said. He rubbed his hands together. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch?”

      â€œLunch,” she repeated. “Where?”

      â€œI’ll pick you up at your office.”

      She nodded, then took a step toward the curb. As she did, Nina turned back to look at him and all Cam knew at that moment was he didn’t want to let her go, not yet. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. And then, without even considering the consequences, he brought his mouth down on hers in a soft, but hungry kiss.

      Never in his life had he acted so impulsively. But with Nina, it didn’t pay to think. The moments flew past so quickly, that he couldn’t help but reach out and catch one and hold onto it for a time. He’d meant only to indulge in a brief kiss, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he gently pushed her back until she stood against the brick facade of the coffee shop. Slowly, Cameron explored her mouth, tasting and testing. When he finally found the strength to pull away, he brought his hand up to her cheek and skimmed her silken skin.

      She swallowed hard, her eyes wide and dewy. “If—if I tell you something, will you promise not to take it the wrong way?”

      Cameron nodded. “I’ll try.”

      â€œI was hoping you’d stop by the coffee shop tonight,” she murmured. “That’s why I came.” A pretty blush stained her cheeks and her gaze dropped to his chest.

      â€œAnd I was hoping you’d be here.” He reached down and caught a finger under her chin. Then, without a second thought, he leaned forward and brushed another kiss across her lips. “I’ll call you,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth for a long moment.

      â€œYou don’t have my phone number.”

      â€œBut I know where you work,” he countered. “We can decide where we want to go for lunch.”

      Nina nodded. “That would be nice.” Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace. She sent him one last smile, then turned and hurried across the street. Cameron watched until she disappeared through the front door of Attitudes, then he let out a tightly held breath.

      With a soft curse, he raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I sure hope you figure out what the hell you’re doing, Ryder. Because once she finds out who you really are, she’s not going to want to kiss you anymore. Hell, you’ll be lucky if she lets you live.”

      â€œWHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’ve been waiting for you all morning!” Nina called.

      Lizbeth hurried through the hallway to the fashion offices, Nina falling into step beside her. “I had a photo shoot,” Lizbeth explained. “I’m just back for a few minutes. Hervé insists that we use that silly fedora. He thinks it’s sexy—I just think it looks stupid.”

      â€œBut I have to talk to you. Can’t you stay for a few minutes?”

      When they reached Lizbeth’s office, Nina followed her inside and slammed the door behind her. Unlike her own office, which was neatly filled with books and binders full of useful information, Lizbeth’s office looked like a bomb had exploded in a designer showroom. Clothes and accessories were scattered everywhere, hanging from shelves, tossed over chairs, folded on the floor. Nina wasn’t sure how Lizbeth kept anything straight since all the clothes seemed to be black.

      â€œI’ve got three minutes,” Lizbeth said. “Talk fast.”

      â€œAll right, here’s the condensed version. I saw him again last night. We kissed, three or four times, I can’t even remember. And it was so incredible. And he’s coming here to take me out to lunch.”

      Lizbeth looked up. “What?”

      â€œThe coffee guy,” Nina explained, “from Jitterbug’s. His name is Wright. Can you believe that? Is that too perfect? Jack Wright. W-R, not with just an R. He was in there last night and we—”

      Lizbeth held out her hand to stop Nina’s words, then slowly circled her desk and sat down. “Honey, Hervé can do without that hat. Tell me all the details.”

      â€œBut I thought you—”

      â€œI have all the time in the world for your love life,” Lizbeth cried.

      Nina sighed, then sat down across the desk from her and began to recount the events of the night before. She made a special point of telling Lizbeth how she refused his invitation to dinner. “That was good, right? I mean, I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic, or too easy.”

      â€œYou did very well.”

      She smiled proudly. “I did. And oh, he just makes me feel so good. I get all warm inside and my knees go a little soft and my brain doesn’t seem to work right, and—and I can barely breathe. Do you know that feeling?”

      Lizbeth raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I invented that feeling. Now, when is he coming to take you to lunch?”

      â€œIn about fifteen minutes,” Nina said.

      She gave Nina the once-over. “That gives us just enough time.”

      â€œFor what?”

      â€œTo fix you up.”

      Nina glanced down at the outfit she’d so carefully chosen that morning. The little sweater dress was from the sixties, pale melon pink with bugle bead starbursts on the cuffs, collar and hem. She

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