best part. And the girl—woman, female or whatever the politically correct term was these days—was the sole reason the paper jam was a highlight.
Until he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be having female highlights. He had enough trouble with the females in his life as it was. He needed to keep his eyes in front and his mind blank.
But he couldn’t. She’d had brown eyes. Soft brown hair. A quiet, conservative manner. Such a refreshing change from most Texas women who were all woman and let a man know it at every opportunity and expected said man to acknowledge their womanliness constantly. In-your-face-female pulchritude. For some men, sexual nirvana. For Simon, who had temporarily forsworn women, torture. Texas women were so much effort. As he had cause to know, they were well worth that effort. But restful they definitely were not.
The photocopier woman looked restful. Truthfully, in his more active dating days, he might have overlooked her. How ironic that now that he’d noticed her, it would do him no good to dwell on the eyes and the hair and the soft voice and the slim, discreetly covered body and the thought of finally finding a female who could just be and not feel compelled to fill the silence with chattering or discussing or arguing or commenting or complaining or fussing.
Simon hated it when women fussed over him. Some men really got off on that, but he liked to solve his own problems. If he wanted advice, he’d ask for it.
Simon took off his glasses and rubbed the places on either side of his nose where the pads fit. His new glasses were trendy, but uncomfortable. Wasn’t that always the way?
Sara from payroll hadn’t been wearing glasses, but if she had been, he imagined she’d go for comfort over style.
But he shouldn’t be thinking about her. Kayla gave him plenty to think about.
Simon exhaled. Were relationships supposed to be this much work?
As penance, he impulsively picked up the phone and dialed her number.
“Hey, Simon,” she answered. “What’s up?”
He hated caller ID. “I’m just checking in. Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
There was silence. Or rather, Kayla didn’t speak. Simon could hear loud music in the background, the kind Kayla liked to play in his car. The kind he didn’t like.
“Will you have any businesspeople with you?”
Kayla didn’t do well in the corporate entertaining arena. He was unlikely to make the mistake of bringing her along on business dinners again. “No, it’s just you and me, kiddo. But you still get to dress up.”
“Yeah, okay I guess,” she said at last. The way she said it told Simon she was in a mood. Lately, Kayla was always in a mood. At first, Simon had wasted a lot of mental energy trying to discover the source of these moods, but he had since learned that it was best to ride them out.
Or order two desserts. What was it about women not ever ordering their own desserts? Where was it written that dessert had to be shared? Simon had realized the key was to order a dessert, pretend not to like it and give it to Kayla. Then order another one and give up half of that, too.
It made Kayla happy and mellow and they had very good times together when Kayla was happy and mellow.
They made arrangements for her to meet him at his office. In the meantime, he could return phone calls and do some scut work so he wouldn’t have to come in so early tomorrow.
He grabbed a stack of expense account receipts and headed for the copy machine wondering on the way how Sara felt about desserts.
“SIMON NORTHRUP?” Sara shook her head. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he’s, well…he’s old.” She didn’t know how old, but she could find out if it became necessary.
“Not that old,” Hayden said chillingly.
Oops. Sometimes Sara forgot that Hayden was over thirty. She could find out how far over, if she wanted, but she wouldn’t. Hayden was a friend. Snooping wouldn’t be right.
Not to mention against company policy.
“I don’t know.” Missy stared at the tiny screen.
“Well, I do.” Hayden was in a huff.
Puzzled by the tone in her voice, Missy looked up, then batted her hand. “I meant that Sara said she didn’t want a man who had children and there have been rumors that Simon Northrup has been spending a lot of time with a woman who has a daughter.”
“An ex?” Sara shouldn’t have said anything.
Sure enough, Hayden’s eyebrow arched. “You should be so lucky. Simon doesn’t have an ex. Therefore, this is a current and fairly well-entrenched relationship, if he’s met her child. Too bad.”
“I wasn’t considering him anyway.” She knew nobody believed her. But she wasn’t, she told herself. Nope. But even she didn’t believe herself.
“Well, it makes sense that he’s already in a relationship,” Hayden said. “Since he was totally unresponsive.”
“To whom?” Missy asked with precision.
Hayden gave her a look.
“You went for him?” Sara grappled with the image of a Simon/Hayden pairing.
“Well, I—”
“And he rejected you?” Well, that was it. If Simon had rejected Hayden, Sara didn’t stand a chance. Not that she wanted a chance. Not really.
“Reject is such a harsh word. We didn’t click, that’s all.”
“Still, she can practice on him,” Missy said. “Talk to him and see what his interests are. Flirt a little.”
“What’s the point of that?” Sara asked.
“To see what his reaction is,” Hayden answered. “Then you’ll know how to approach men of his type. And, honey, you did describe his type.”
Had she? Had she described a man so out of her league as her ideal man? This was not looking good. “Do you really think I should practice on him?”
Hayden and Missy both nodded. At least they didn’t laugh.
“How am I supposed to approach him, anyway? He’s a vice president. It’s not like I’m going to run across him at Happy Hour or that he’ll have a sudden urge to get coffee from the twenty-fourth floor.”
“No, but there’s always the photocopier. You’ve set a precedent.”
“Won’t he catch on?”
“I hope not.” Hayden fanned herself.
“I am going to have to go to the twenty-sixth floor and copy something,” Missy said.
“You’re engaged,” Sara reminded her, not happy with the idea of
