Mr. Right There All Along Page 11

  “Aren’t you bringing a date?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

  But he could find a date if he wanted. Someone totally hot and drool-worthy. Simon had long ago outgrown his geekiness. Well, what other people considered geekiness. Add in a successful career and a touch of stand-offishness that women couldn’t resist, and members of the opposite sex were all but lined up outside his door.

  Chloe swallowed. “It’s all right, you know.”

  “What’s all right?”

  “You don’t have to take pity on me. Bring someone to the reunion if you’d like.” She nodded and worked up a smile, hoping to seem more convincing. “That model you dated awhile ago would probably go with you. You parted on good terms. If you bring her, every guy in the place would drool.”

  “That’s the thing, Chloe, I don’t see the need to make them drool.”

  She tilted her head. “You don’t harbor just a little resentment toward them for the way they treated you?”

  “If I did, it’s long over. They didn’t like me because they didn’t understand me. I was…weird.”

  “You were not.”

  “Mature, then.”

  “I’ll give you that,” she agreed.

  “Whatever. It was a long time ago. I turned out okay.”

  Chloe laughed. “That’s a total understatement and we both know it. You’re company will make the Fortune 500 within the next couple of years.”

  “Assuming we continue the current level of growth,” he added, matter-of-fact. No braggadocio was required when you had the business community’s respect to back it up.

  “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?”

  He glanced away. “A time or twelve.”

  “That’s because I am. You are amazing, Simon. Not just because you’re smart and a whiz at what you do professionally. But because even when you’re supposed to be going over notes for a meeting, you make time for a friend who’s in the midst of a crisis.”

  “You’re orange,” he said deadpan. “What was I supposed to do?”

  She laughed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can make me see the humor in this.”

  “You would have eventually.”

  “Eventually,” she agreed. Ten or twenty years from now, she probably would laugh like a loon. “But thanks for helping me see it now.”

  “You’re amazing, too, you know. I’m proud of you, Chloe.”

  “But I haven’t—”

  “Haven’t what?” he demanded almost angrily. “You graduated with honors from high school despite constant bullying and an older sister who was only too happy to keep you in her shadow. You graduated from college in four years, paying for a good chunk of it yourself.”

  “You did the same.”

  “I had a full-ride scholarship.”

  “Because you’re so stinking smart.”

  He rose abruptly to his feet. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sick of you taking shots at yourself. It’s bad enough you had to endure them from Natasha and company during high school. And your sister certainly doesn’t help your self-esteem.”

  “Frannie?”

  “She’s jealous of you. Always has been. Always will be.”

  She gaped at him and said again, “Frannie?”

  Simon waved a hand. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you denigrate yourself.”

  “Actually, you’re standing.”

  “I’m…” He put his hands on his waist. His tone was impatient when he asked, “Is that all you’re taking away from this conversation?”

  Chloe blinked. “I…don’t know.”

  “Then, let me clarify it for you.” He stalked around the desk, grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. “You’re a good person, Chloe. You’re kind and funny and plenty smart. You’re also beautiful and…and as sexy as hell!”

  “You’re yelling.”

  “Yes, I’m yelling. Because I’m mad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you keep settling for less. You settle for idiots who say the right things but never follow through on the promises they make. You settle for a part-time position because your boss claims that’s all that is available when you have the skills and credentials to go elsewhere.”

  “Mr. Thompson—”

  “Is taking gross advantage of you. Again, because you let him. You’re a doormat. For your boss, for your sister, for the men you date. For that matter, when are you going to stop letting a bunch of jealous and insecure girls you haven’t seen in a decade dictate your life?”

  “They’re not dictating my life.”

  He snorted. “Chloe, you’re contorting yourself to fit their idea of perfect.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “You’re orange! Orange!”

  “We agreed on tangerine. And it was a mistake on the salon’s part.”

  “The only mistake was that you were at the salon— Frannie’s suggestion, by the way—in the first place.”

  “What do you want from me, Simon?”

  “I want…I want…” The hands gripping her shoulders tightened before dropping away. “I just want you to be happy. I want you to look in the mirror and be pleased with the woman who’s looking back at you.”

  “I like myself.”

  “I want you to love yourself.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course. Well, most of the time. I’m not perfect, but I’m getting there.”

  “See, I don’t agree. I think you’ve been perfect all along.”

  “That’s because you’re my friend.” The words were automatic. His scowl told her how off the mark he found them. Once again, her breath hitched.

  “Your friend.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and glanced away.

  “Sim—”

  He hauled her into his arms. Her breath and the rest of his name whooshed out when she came into contact with the solid expanse of his chest. His face was so close to hers that she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Odd, she’d never noticed the intricacies of his eye color. Before she could comment on it, his mouth lowered to hers.

  Chloe told herself it was surprise that kept her from pulling back. Just as it was surprise that had her opening her lips and granting him access. Good heavens, the man could kiss even better than she’d been expecting. And, oh yeah, she could admit she’d been anticipating this moment. Eager for it in the way one is eager for the plunge before cresting the highest peak of a roller coaster.

  “Friends don’t kiss like this.” The words followed her ragged sigh when the kiss ended.

  His eyes were pinched closed. “I know. Should I apologize?”

  “No, but…”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He blew out a breath and nodded. “Well, I do know.”

  “What?”

  “I need to apologize. I was trying to get you to see yourself through a pair of objective eyes. I went too far.”

  “So the kiss…” She swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. “It was like a life lesson?”

  Say no. Say no. Say no.

  Simon had always seemed able to read her mind in the past. Now, it was painfully clear he was not telepathic. “Yes. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me.”

  “I…well…” She settled a hand on one hip. Between that damned lump and confusion, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Mr. Ford… Oh, Chloe.” His secretary glanced between the two of them. Whatever she thought of the situation—or Chloe’s orange skin tone—she was too professional to let it show. “Those other charts you wanted were faxed over while I was at lunch.”

  Simon backed away, nodded. “Terrific. Great. I’ll have a look at them now.”

  “I was just leaving,” Chloe said.

  His secretary withdrew. “Chloe, you…”

  “I have to go.” She pulled the scarf b
ack into place and plopped the glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “You know better than that.”

  She didn’t know anything at the moment, except that if she stayed much longer, she was going to cry.

  She backed out the door, nodded. “And thanks.”

  “For…?”

  Good thing for the dark glasses. Despite her best efforts, her eyes were filling. “The life lesson.”

  It wasn’t one she would soon forget.

  Simon had screwed up royally.

  He knew that even before he watched Chloe dash away. Sunglasses or not, she’d been on the verge of crying.

  Go after her, he told himself. Apologize and explain. But he returned to the chair behind his desk instead. An apology was what had caused her hurt feelings. Another one would only make matters worse. As for an explanation, he didn’t have one. Not one she would understand.

  “I love you” weren’t words he used often or, when it came to women, ever. But he knew without a doubt that he loved Chloe. He’d always loved her.

  The only thing more painful than being in love with her was hurting her.

  And now he’d done just that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Most Focused

  CHLOE COULDN’T THINK straight.

  She soaked in the tub, catching the drips from the leaky faucet with the tip of one prunelike toe and trying to wrap her mind around what had happened.

  And she wasn’t talking about her skin tone, even though this was her third bath in two hours. The first two had been as hot as she could stand. She’d gone through an entire bottle of body scrub and two loofah sponges. She couldn’t tell if her skin was less orange since it was now red and irritated. Which is why she’d opted for a third bath. This one had started out tepid and had since grown cold. She was too preoccupied to care.

  Simon had kissed her. He had really kissed her. With passion and purpose and, for a moment she’d thought, promise. The earth had moved. Maybe that was being a bit dramatic, but Chloe definitely had felt off-kilter afterward.

  And ridiculously hopeful until he’d apologized and chalked it up to a life lesson. She hadn’t seen that coming.

  She would be the first to admit that she wasn’t good at reading men. She had a hard time assessing their true feelings and their level of interest in her—well, beyond sex. It had led to a lot of heartache over the years, as well as one particularly embarrassing situation involving a guy from her political-science class who had flirted outrageously with her. On Frannie’s advice, Chloe had gone to his dorm room after finals armed with a bottle of wine and a box of pizza. (It was college and pizza was all she could afford, especially since she’d splurged on the wine. No twist-off cap this time. Nope. She’d gone for a bottle with a bona fide cork.)

  She’d felt like one of the cast from Sex and the City until a beautiful young woman answered the door. Mortified to discover that Mr. Flirtatious was all but engaged, she’d handed over the wine and pizza, and pretended to have been paid to deliver both. The night wasn’t a total bust. She’d made back five bucks in a tip. But it was yet more proof of her ineptness when it came to reading men.

  Still, she’d always thought she understood Simon. He said what he meant. He was up front. No subterfuge. No game playing. Straightforward. Until lately.

  Right now, thanks to that amazing kiss, Chloe found him to be a full-blown enigma.

  A life lesson? Seriously? He’d kissed her in his office to teach her something? That wasn’t like him. Oh, Simonhad given her plenty of advice and instruction over the years, but it had been constructive and helpful. It had never caused her to question…everything.

  The phone rang. By the time Chloe toweled off and pulled on a robe, the call had already gone to voice mail. It was her sister. Frannie had heard from a friend about what happened at the tanning salon and was calling to see if there was anything she could do.

  Chloe dialed Frannie’s number and waited for her sister to answer. Children’s shrieks could be heard before a woman’s weary-sounding hello made it through.

  “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call. I was in the tub when you called.”

  “Chloe, hey. Just a minute, okay?” Muffled threats followed. And then there was silence. Frannie’s children had either obeyed her commands or had been bought off with cookies.

  “I’m back. How are you? Or, I should ask, how is your skin? According to Melanie Lester, the people at the salon said you were all but glowing when you left.”

  “Did they?” And here they’d assured Chloe that the orange tint was barely noticeable.

  “How did the bath work?” Frannie wanted to know. “Did some of it come off?”

  Chloe studied the backs of her hands. “It’s hard to say, since I’m red from all the scrubbing. I think I sloughed off several layers of skin.”

  On the other end of the line, Frannie sighed. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I know you wanted to look your absolute best for the reunion. On the bright side, your freckles won’t be so noticeable now.”

  Simon was right, she realized. Her sister always did this. Whenever something bad or disappointing happened in Chloe’s life, Frannie was the first to commiserate with her. There was nothing wrong with that, except that Frannie, who’d always been popular and pretty, never encouraged her younger sister to keep trying. Indeed, she often accepted defeat long before Chloe did. And sometimes had a hand in talking Chloe into accepting it, as well.

  She recalled some of those incidents now.

  In middle school:

  Chloe, hon, you’re just not cut out to be a cheerleader. You’re too uncoordinated. But don’t worry. You can always cheer from the stands with your friends.

  In high school:

  So what if you can’t fit in the dress I wore to my prom? You need to accept that you’ll always be a little chubby. We can’t all be a size four or even a ten. Besides, you have pretty eyes.

  And most recently:

  If you were passed up for that promotion to full-time again, it’s probably because Mr. Thompson doesn’t think you’re ready for it. Whatever you do, don’t rock the boat. You’ll find yourself out of a job. Do you know how hard it will be to find another one without a good recommendation from your former employer and an impressive resume?

  Time and again, Frannie had encouraged her to embrace the status quo, to settle for less, all the while implying that was all Chloe deserved.

  “I’m not giving up,” Chloe said now.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  I’m talking about being happy. About being satisfied with myself and fulfilled in all aspects of my life.

  “I’m talking about the reunion, of course. I’m going and I’ll look spectacular. I’ve got some time yet. Nearly three weeks.” Surely she would experience some more epidermal turnover by then. “Simon said it will fade.”

  “Simon? When did you see Simon?”

  “I went to his office after leaving the salon.”

  “That was brave of you,” Frannie murmured. “I would have hurried home and barricaded myself in my bedroom.”

  That had been Chloe’s first inclination. She wondered now if she should have heeded it. Her life certainly wouldn’t have been turned upside down.

  “So, did Simon make you feel better?”

  “He put things into perspective.” Yep. They were clear as mud now.

  “He’s good at that.”

  Chloe frowned. “Frannie, what do you think of him?”

  “Of Simon?” She sounded surprised and no wonder. It was like asking, what do you think of breathing? He was a constant in their lives. “What do you mean? As a man?”

  “Yes.” She hurried ahead with, “I’m thinking of fixing him up with a colleague from work. She’s been in some bad relationships and she’s, um, got a knack for picking some real losers.”

  “It sounds like the two of you should form a support group,” Frannie remarked.

  “Thanks.�
� Between gritted teeth, Chloe said, “Could you just answer the question?”

  “Simon’s great. But you know that. The man is smart, good-looking and very successful. Given all of the women who have thrown themselves at him in recent years, I can’t believe he’s still single. For that matter, I’m a little surprised the two of you never… Forget it.”

  “Never what?”

  “You know, got together. You get along better than most married couples. God knows, you’re together as much as most married couples.”

  A ripple of excitement worked its way up Chloe’s spine, but she forced herself to keep her sister’s words in perspective. “We enjoy one another’s company.”

  “Probably because you like the same weird things,” Frannie said.

  Chloe sniffed. “We have eclectic tastes.”

  “Weird. Eclectic. Same difference,” Frannie said on a laugh. “You’re the only two people I know who regularly flock to midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

  “It’s a pop-culture phenomenon and your friends are boring.”

  “You know all of the songs by heart. You quote the lyrics in ordinary conversation. Time warps and whatnot. People who aren’t familiar with the movie probably think you’re insane.”

  “I don’t care what other people think.” She frowned and realized that, when she was with Simon, having a good time, she really didn’t care.

  “And Sudoku puzzles,” Frannie was saying.

  “A lot of people like Sudoku puzzles. Where have you been? They’re hugely popular and considered a good way to keep a person’s mind sharp.”

  “Okay, but what about Guess. Honestly, who our age listens to Guess?”

  “It’s not Guess. It’s The Guess Who. And we’re not as much fans of the original group from the 1960s and ’70s as we are of its former lead singer, especially the stuff he recorded after going solo.” She hummed a few bars from “You Saved My Soul.”

  “It’s from 1981. Classic. And for the record, he’s still around.”

  On the other end of the line, Frannie exhaled dramatically. “This is my point exactly. It’s really too bad that you and Simon don’t have any chemistry.”

  Chloe plucked at the lapels of her robe and felt her cheeks grow warm. If her face hadn’t already been in the red-orange color family, it probably would be now. “Wh-what do you mean by that?”