style="font-size:15px;"> Now that it was too late, he knew what he wanted. His perfect life would include living in a small town, working a nine-to-five job for somebody else, and simply enjoying himself in his free time. More specifically, he wanted to enjoy himself in a particular way, i.e., with some special woman.
He’d even imagined what she’d look like. She’d be a blue-eyed blond, because he was a sucker for blonds, blonds with hair down past their shoulders. He didn’t require centerfold measurements, but he’d like her to have a figure that would look good in the lingerie he’d buy for her.
Not too long ago he’d seen a woman who matched that description in this very building, which was probably why he was thinking about the subject now. He’d had a tantalizing glimpse of her through an open door on his way back to Traynor’s office to discuss the installation. She’d been concentrating on her work and hadn’t looked up.
Because she was a lawyer, she’d satisfy another requirement of his: she’d be smart. But one glance couldn’t verify whether she had a sense of adventure, and he wanted that in a woman, especially when it came to sex. He harbored his share of fantasies, and most of them were unfulfilled.
Maybe he was asking too much of one woman and nobody would be able to fit his admittedly ambitious specs. But he’d never know if he didn’t go looking. With the demands of his company, he’d had precious little time to do that.
He was so lost in his daydream of the perfect woman that when someone coughed, he jumped and dropped his cordless screwdriver. Looking up, he did a classic double take. Standing just inside the hallway was his blue-eyed blonde, the same woman he’d seen so briefly through an office doorway. She stood posed in a way that showed off a Victoria’s Secret figure. And she was smiling.
EILEEN’S HEART BEAT fast enough to make her ears ring. On the far side of the reception area stood a red metal dolly loaded with boxes, presumably holding new telephone equipment. But the boxes didn’t interest her. The man kneeling on the carpet beside the telephone jack did. Maybe she’d been concentrating so hard on finding the perfect stranger that she’d caused one to appear, like a genie out of a bottle.
However it had happened, there he was, her fantasy come to life. Rumpled black hair, green eyes, square jaw—and that was only the beginning. She’d put in an order for a rugged guy in jeans and a T-shirt, and he’d filled it. The T-shirt wasn’t quite snug enough to suit her, but his chest created an excellent backdrop for his company logo, a Greek god with wings on his feet. Mercury Communications was spelled out in navy on a gray background. He wore no rings, wedding or otherwise.
All her specifications had been met, even to the leather tool belt strapped around his lean hips. If Benjamin’s trip to Switzerland had been an engraved invitation to sin, then this man’s appearance was a red carpet rolled right up to the toes of her high-heeled pumps. But she had to play it right.
She cleared her throat and hoped her voice wouldn’t tremble. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His direct gaze disconcerted her.
“We got a memo about this installation, but the whole thing slipped my mind. I stayed late to get some work done.”
“Oh.”
He seemed at a bit of a loss for words, and she wondered if she could have great sex with a stranger who had zero social skills. She’d never given that angle much thought because conversation hadn’t been part of her fantasy.
“I hope I didn’t startle you too much,” she continued, thinking that eventually he’d have to utter more than two words or this fantasy would never get off the ground.
“You did startle me.” He got to his feet, picked up the cordless screwdriver and laid it on the receptionist’s desk. “But not for the reason you think.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Yet she was very glad that he could form complete sentences when he chose to.
“I was just thinking about—” He paused and shook his head. “Never mind. Look, if I’m interrupting your work, I can come back in a couple of—”
“Tell me what you were thinking about.” She had a hunch it would lead to something good.
“You’re going to think it’s a line. And I don’t do lines.”
Now she definitely had to hear what he’d been about to say. “Try me.”
He eyed her for a moment. “Okay. It just so happens that while I was working just now, I was picturing my ideal woman.”
It did sound like a pickup line, but somehow she didn’t think he meant it that way. Her mouth grew moist with anticipation. “I look something like your ideal woman?”
“Except that your hair is up like that, yes, you look exactly like her.”
Without giving herself any time to think, she reached up and pulled out the two tortoiseshell combs holding her hair in place.
He drew in a quick breath. “Why did you do that?”
She paused for a beat and held his gaze. “Because while I was in there working, I was thinking about my ideal man.”
“That’s hard to believe.” But he looked very much like he wanted to believe it.
“It’s true.”
He shifted his weight. “Are you saying that I…”
“Yes.” Amazing how the simple act of taking her hair down aroused her, just as it seemed to be arousing him. The gesture felt more intimate than stripping naked.
“So we were each thinking the same thing at the same time.”
“Looks that way.” She trembled as she contemplated the next step. She would have to be the aggressor. As the employee of a company licensed and bonded to work inside corporate offices like Traynor and Sizemore, he wouldn’t dare step out of line unless she made him feel completely safe.
“Ideals don’t truly exist in the real world,” she said.
“Don’t try to tell me this isn’t real. And I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming,” he said with a crooked grin.
“This moment may be real. But our view of each other is likely skewed right now. We may seem to fit each other’s ideal, but I’m sure neither of us is close to perfect.”
“I’d never claim to be perfect. No human is—even you, I suppose.” He grinned again. “But I still say you look a lot like the picture I’ve been carrying around in my head.”
“I could say the same about you.” She responded to everything about him—the sound of his voice, the scent of his aftershave, the subtle gestures he made with his hands. And he reacted to her, too. She could see it in his eyes and the flare of his nostrils.
“Look, we both have work to do,” he said. “What if we go back to it, and when we’re finished, we can go out, have a drink and find out a little more about each—”
“No.”
He appeared taken aback for a moment. Then his gaze sharpened. “You’re married.”
“No,
