Robin lifted the rotund cat and cradled it into her arms. Nuzzling its head with her chin, she scratched it behind its ear. The cat closed its eyes in bliss and purred so loud, it sounded like an engine chugging to life. Damn, he knew just how that cat felt right now.
“You can stay with me tonight, you silly thing.” Offering a slight smile to Johnny, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She took a deep breath, her back to Johnny, hugging the cat tightly against her. Now was her moment.Ask him inside. Let him stay the night, too.
Damn, she was shaking just thinking about Johnny being inside her home, touching her, kissing her…savoring a night of love…something she’d never done with any man. Romps in the back seat of her hometown boyfriend’s car ended after a few hours, so she’d never known what it was like to have a man hold her the entire night. She could only imagine the sensation of her and Johnny’s bodies curled around each other, all night long, then watching the next day dawn on their new relationship as lovers.
And what would that relationship be? Maybe he had no intention of spending the night, and she’d wake up alone. Was there a girlfriend in the picture? There was definitely no wedding ring, but Johnny had always been good—no, make that dynamite—with women. Maybe he was playing the field, and she’d be just another woman in his menagerie….
Only when Otto squirmed in her arms, emitting an irritated meow, did Robin realize she was squeezing the poor cat to her chest, holding on to it like a furry life raft.
Instead of worrying, she needed to cut short tonight’s visit. She wished she could grab a piece of paper and write, “It’s happening too fast…let’s take our time, figure out what’s going on between us…” But instead she just stood and stared at him, her eyes growing moist with all the pent-up needs and emotions storming within her. Maybe he’d return…but she knew she shouldn’t count on it. This was, after all, an unusual reunion.
Johnny stared into her eyes, which glistened with emotions that confused him, and wondered what to do. He, who prided himself on knowing just how to read and play people, especially female people—digressed into an awkward teenager, unsure what his next step should be. Was she taking the cat and Johnny inside for the night? He felt a gut-deep yearning like he hadn’t experienced in years as he wished, damn near prayed, that he got visiting rights, as well.
Robin held the cat close, and for a moment, Johnny hated that cute, furry creature. So close to Robin’s silky, flower-scented skin, cuddled and cooed over.
Getting what Johnny wanted, bad.
A twittering sound came from somewhere behind Robin. She looked over her shoulder, then back to Johnny. “I—I have a bird.”
He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. Instead, after a funny little shrug of her shoulders, she blinked rapidly—yet despite her nervous gestures, he swore he read that look in her eyes. Swore she wanted to ask him inside.
“G’night,” Robin mouthed and shut the door.
Well, he couldn’t have sworn that was going to happen.
Johnny remained standing on her doorstep for what seemed a small eternity, half tempted to meow pathetically like Otto in the hope Robin would reopen the door and take pity on him.
Right. I know how to read and play people. I’m standing outside a woman’s apartment in the middle of the night, contemplating doing animal impersonations so she’ll open the door. He heaved a lungful of cool air, willing the chilled air to temper his fierce physical need. Willing himself to get his head on straight even if his body was out of control. It’s sweet Robin Lee, he reminded himself.Take a step back, buddy. Take it easy. Get to know her better before you jump her bones. Maybe he’d call her over the next few days. They’d visit. He’d talk to her…well, try to. Ask to see some of her writing. Ask to see pictures of her family.
The sound of a car cruising down the street reminded Johnny about the light-rail. He flicked his wrist, checked the time. The rail had stopped running a good hour ago. He needed to find a taxi or bus so he didn’t end up walking all the way back to Cherry Creek. With tremendous effort, he turned and headed down the stairs, remembering how Robin had clutched that poor cat so hard, its eyes were damn near bulging.
Johnny chuckled under his breath, recalling the image. And what had her last words been? “I have a bird.” He crammed his hands in his jacket pockets, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. He’d stood on his share of ladies’ doorsteps, but never had one of them said that before closing the door.
“I have a bird,” he whispered under his breath, hunching against the cool evening breezes, relishing a passing scent of lavender. “I want one, too,” he murmured. “A Robin.”
3
“CHRISTINE SLAYTER to see you, Mr. Dayton.”
Johnny sat in his leather swivel desk chair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of lofty Denver skyscrapers against the distant jagged Rockies. He’d just been enjoying the view, taking a moment to savor the world outside work—something he rarely did anymore—and now he had to deal with Christine. It was like he’d been soaring through the clouds and now he’d crash-landed.
He wished to God he’d never made her a vice president—she seemed to think that meant he liked her more then he really did. But, as his advisors kept reminding him, it made good business sense to give her the title—it was an incentive for her to continue delivering projects under budget, with minimal carcasses in her wake. She was like an imperious queen in that sense—when a project faltered, she went hunting, looking for someone to blame. And inevitably, that person met a gory death—which in business parlance meant she fired the poor bastard on the spot. So far, Human Resources and the legal department had found legitimate backing for Christine’s infamous firings, but even Johnny knew that Christine couldn’t keep going this way. She would calm down with a bigger, better title—or so she’d whispered to him right after the promotion.
He mistrusted words—those spoken in meetings or whispered in his ear. Robin’s expressive eyes flashed in his mind—he trusted what he saw there more than any hollow assurances.
His thoughts returned to Christine, who waited outside his door. Despite her overachiever mentality, he regretted approving that damn promotion because ever since then, Christine had let him know repeatedly that she was available for more. Much more.
But he was also personally to blame for that headache.Never, ever kiss a woman after two martinis. Women like Christine took such slightly inebriated overtures to mean there was hope. Forget that it happened a full year ago, the result of a long day’s work that turned flirtatious after a few drinks…an overture that went from hot to cold within seconds. For Johnny, anyway.
Blowing out a gust of air, he turned his head slightly toward the intercom. “Thanks, Shelia, let her in.” Shelia’s physical appearance reminded him of that English actress, Judi Dench. Mature, professional and punctual Shelia had organized his work, and often his life, since he founded OpticPower five years ago.
The door opened with a swoosh and in blew Christine, dressed in one of her designer suits—this one so purple, he imagined her as one of the irises in that Van Gogh painting. An iris topped with blond-streaked hair and a too-toothy smile. “Good afternoon, Jonathan.”
His butler William called him Mr. Dayton, like most OpticPower employees. Christine and her peers called him Jonathan. No one had called
