Mr. Right There All Along Page 9

  As she dried the ends of her hair with a towel, she asked, “So, what did you think?”

  His mouth went dry before it dawned on him that she was referring to the biography.

  “I didn’t realize you were so talented,” he replied drily.

  She cleared her throat. “Everybody embellishes when it comes to these sorts of things, Simon. Well, unless they’re like you and have practically conquered the world before age thirty.”

  “You’ve done plenty to be proud of.” He shrugged. “But I know better than to argue with you. So, I sent it.”

  “You did? As is?”

  “As is.”

  He refused to feel the least bit guilty about lying.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Easiest to Talk To

  SIMON GRUMBLED AN oath as he reached for his tie. What on earth had possessed him to offer to host a party at his apartment so Chloe could chat up Trevor with the goal of getting him to take her to the reunion?

  “Because I’m insane,” he told his reflection in the mirror.

  He also was jealous.

  He wasn’t willing to admit that character defect out loud. It was hard enough to admit it to himself. He’d thought he’d dealt with his attraction to Chloe a long time ago and accepted the necessary limits that he’d imposed on their relationship. He loved her, but he would never make love to her. Or act as anything other than her longtime friend. But lately he was having a hard time not trespassing on territory that he’d deemed out of bounds.

  It didn’t help that Simon was between girlfriends or that ever since the invitation to their reunion had arrived, he and Chloe had been spending more time in one another’s company.

  Being with her was proving to be hell on his self-control. The other night was a prime example. He’d left her apartment not long after sending her biography into cyberspace. But he’d wanted to stay, and not just to watch the old Hitchcock movie she found playing on cable.

  But what really concerned Simon was the way she was letting their damned reunion take over her life.

  If she were anyone else, he would suggest she seek therapy or, at the very least, urge her to take up a hobby. But since Simon had been present for Chloe’s high school years, with an up close and personal view of the bullying and abuse she’d endured at the hands of that brazen trio of girls, he understood what drove her. And he understood that going back, rubbing their faces in her current success, was her therapy.

  That’s exactly why he’d talked her into attending in the first place.

  In that regard, he was proud of her. She was standing up for herself and willingly facing her demons. He’d always known she didn’t lack nerve. Or smarts. Or anything else. She was the one with doubts.

  But he wished that she would face her past just as she was, comfortable with herself, proud of the girl she’d been and the woman she had become. She didn’t need to change, let alone improve. Sure, he was happy to see her eating healthier and getting more exercise. It was her motives for doing so that troubled Simon.

  Just as it was his motives for throwing this party that troubled him. He was doing it for Chloe, because he was her friend, and yet hoping desperately that nothing would come of any flirtation that might occur between her and Trevor. That didn’t exactly make him the friend he professed to be.

  Simon’s tie was a mess. He pulled it loose and started over.

  “He’s not that good looking,” he grumbled.

  Who was he kidding? Trevor was a god. Adonis dressed in Armani.

  “I don’t want to see her get hurt,” he told his reflection.

  And he was worried that she would despite her assurances that she had no real interest in Trevor beyond thinking he was hot and wanting him to take her to the reunion so that the other women there, especially a certain three, would turn green with envy. He pictured Chloe and Trevor walking into the old gym, the guy’s hands resting in places that, while respectable, still held an overtone of intimacy. They’d share a dance. A laugh. Maybe steal a kiss or two. Chloe would get that dreamy look on her face and the other women would sigh, imagining the hot sex to come.

  When he mangled the knot a second time, he decided to give up. After tossing the tie aside, he unbuttoned his collar.

  He sighed heavily. “This is going to be a very long night.”

  The bell rang just as he came out of the bedroom. His housekeeper went to answer it.

  It was Chloe. She was wearing a damp trench coat and water dripped from the tip of her closed umbrella onto the foyer floor before Mrs. Benson took both it and the coat.

  “It’s raining buckets out there,” Chloe said. “I thought I’d need a rowboat to get here.”

  Simon glanced at the rain-splattered windows. According to the forecast, the worst of the storm was supposed to have subsided by now, but it was showing no signs of letting up. Surely that was an omen of some sort. Whether good or bad, though, he didn’t know.

  “The party doesn’t start for another hour,” he reminded her.

  “I know, but I thought I’d come early.” She pointed to her hair. “I straightened it for the occasion. Can you tell?”

  It was a mess of corkscrews. In other words, adorable. He loved it this way, but he knew better than to say so. He knew better than to say anything. So, he kept his expression neutral and offered nothing more than a grunt that could be interpreted a number of different ways.

  “I brought my flat iron, just in case.” She’d brought more than that judging from the small suitcase she’d wheeled in behind her.

  “You know, you could have gotten ready here and saved yourself the hassle of doing your hair twice.”

  “Next time.”

  Two words that caused an inappropriate amount of interest to lick up his spine like flames. To douse them, he crossed to the makeshift bar that had been set up in the corner and helped himself to a gin and tonic.

  Chloe joined him there. “What do you think of my outfit?”

  He took a liberal swig of his drink. She’d gone for understated with a copper-colored, cotton dress that she’d paired with wedge sandals. She wasn’t limping…yet. In fact, given the graceful way she’d just crossed the room, he’d say the hours she’d been spending walking around her apartment in high heels with a book on her head were paying off. He focused on her toenails. They were painted a hue similar to that of the dress.

  His gaze traveled back up her legs and stopped at the hem. Just what did she wear with her heels when she walked around her apartment with that book on her head? A dress such as this one? Or maybe shorts and a T-shirt. Or…or…

  “I’m a dead man.”

  “What?”

  He coughed. “That dress. It’s killer. Hence my…um deadness.” He coughed again.

  Chloe frowned. “Are you all right? You’re not coming down with something I hope.”

  He nearly laughed at that. Coming down with something? Hardly. He had a full-blown case and he’d probably suffer from it for the rest of his life.

  “I’m fine.” He gave his chest a couple of thumps. “My drink went down the wrong pipe is all. Getting back to your outfit, is it new?”

  “Sort of.”

  “How can something be sort of new?”

  “I went to a secondhand shop in the Village that my sister told me about. It carries mostly designer label stuff, castoffs from the well-to-do.” She plucked at the fabric and grinned in triumph. “This retailed for three times what I paid for it.”

  “Is it another contender for the reunion?”

  “No, but I felt it an essential investment in my prereunion preparations.”

  “Like the whitened teeth.”

  “Exactly. As for the reunion, I’ve decided to go with black.”

  “The color of mourning.” He sipped his drink again.

  “It’s also a power color. And classic for formal occasions,” she replied primly.

  “The reunion is in the old high school gym. How formal will it be? I’m thinking of wearing my
workout clothes.”

  “You are not.”

  He shrugged. “Fine, but I’m not wearing a tux.”

  “But you’ll put on a suit, right?”

  “I’m thinking sport coat and maybe no tie. Kind of like what I’m wearing tonight.” He pushed away thoughts of the mangled length of silk he’d tossed in his closet.

  Chloe was frowning. “Do you think Trevor will wear a suit?”

  Already she was banking on the man as her date. Simon’s grip tightened on the tumbler in his hand.

  “I’m not a mind reader. You’ll have to ask him.” The words came out harsh, so he moderated his tone and changed the subject. “Getting back to your dress, non-power-color that it is, you still look amazing.”

  She smiled shyly and her gaze slid to the side. Just as she had the other night, she didn’t try to brush off the compliment.

  “That looks good on you.”

  “What?” She looked confused.

  “Confidence.”

  She eyed him a moment, obviously searching for a response. He figured she couldn’t find one, because what she said was, “Do you mind if I use the bathroom in your room to revisit my hair? More room to spread out my stuff.”

  He glanced at the suitcase again. “Not at all.”

  “Thanks. It won’t take me long. When I’m done, I can help you set up.”

  “Don’t worry. I have a staff for that,” he said. “And I hired some extra people to help out this evening.”

  The added help arrived about the time Chloe began obliterating her curls with a flat iron, and included a caterer, a bartender and some waitstaff to see to his guests’ needs. Simon needed the extra hands now that his small soiree had ballooned to more than three dozen people.

  He blamed Chloe for that. He’d tried to keep it small, no more than a handful of guests, but she’d insisted that if it were too intimate a gathering, Trevor might suspect a setup.

  When Trevor arrived fashionably late more than an hour into the party, it became clear he’d been none the wiser. He brought a date, a lithe and leggy young woman who dwarfed every female in the room and quite a few of the men. Including Trevor. She even had an inch or two on Simon. And she was wearing flats.

  “Who is the Amazon?” Chloe wanted to know.

  “No idea.”

  Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her nearly empty glass of white wine against one biceps. “God, this is just great. Did you know he was seeing someone?”

  “He’s always seeing someone, Chloe. I told you that. The guy is a serial dater.”

  “Like you?” she asked with a subtle arch of one brow.

  Since he couldn’t argue the accuracy of her assessment, he didn’t try, but he pointed out their differences. “Worse. He moves on to his next victim before he’s finished with his current one.”

  “Yeah, she looks like a victim,” Chloe muttered. “All six-plus feet of her.”

  “She’s crying on the inside. She just doesn’t know it yet,” Simon said, earning a half-hearted chuckle.

  Chloe’s laughter stopped abruptly. “Oh, my God! They’re coming this way.”

  “Of course they are. I’m the host.”

  “And I’m out of here.”

  “Too late.” He put a hand on her arm. “Stay. Face them.” When she continued to edge away, Simon pulled out his trump card. “Consider it good practice for the reunion.”

  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan when Chloe squared her shoulders and her face brightened with a smile.

  “Simon, great party,” Trevor said. The two men clasped hands.

  “Glad you could make it.”

  “Yeah. Sorry we’re late.”

  “The weather is horrible,” Chloe commiserated.

  Trevor nodded, but his smile turned carnal when he added, “We decided to wait out the worst of it in my apartment.”

  The Amazon issued a smoky laugh that could have served as foreplay.

  “This is Shauna Ferrone,” Trevor was saying. “Shauna, this is Simon Ford and, I’m sorry, I can’t quite remember your name.”

  Ouch. Simon nearly winced on Chloe’s behalf, though part of him was overjoyed that his oversexed colleague apparently hadn’t catalogued her in his mental black book. “Chloe McDaniels.”

  “Chloe. Right. Simon’s friend.” Trevor nodded, his expression turning speculative again as his gaze traveled south.

  His date seemed to notice. “My Pomapoo is named Chloe,” she said.

  “Pomapoo?” Simon asked.

  “She’s half Pomeranian and half toy poodle.”

  One of those trendy little designer dogs for which an entire industry of clothing and accessories had been born. Next to him, Chloe was poised like a pit bull ready to attack.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Shauna. So, are you a lawyer like Trevor?” he asked.

  The woman looked insulted. “You don’t know who I am?”

  “I’m…afraid not.” Simon glanced at Chloe for support. She gave an imperceptible lift of her shoulders.

  “I design jewelry,” the woman said. “Celebrities clamor to wear my pieces on the red carpet.”

  “Shauna crafted the necklace the first lady wore at the inaugural ball,” Trevor supplied. Simon doubted he cared in the least who the woman had designed jewelry for, but Trevor was a man hoping to get lucky, so he had to look suitably impressed.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t know that, Simon.” This from Chloe, whose eyes shimmered with amusement. To Shauna, she said, “You’ll have to forgive him. You know how men can be. They don’t pay attention to such things.”

  Shauna tossed her mane of perfect waves. She was a beautiful woman, if self-centered. Standing next to her, Chloe looked simple, but in the best possible way. Even wearing more makeup than normal and dressed über-fashionably she exuded an authenticity that the Shaunas of the world couldn’t match.

  “Is this piece one of yours?” Chloe pointed to the gemstone necklace that fell into Shauna’s décolletage.

  “Yes. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “I can see why. Can I get you a drink?” she asked, steering the woman toward the bar.

  That was Chloe. She might not like someone, but she would always be polite and find common ground for conversation. She was so easy to talk to.

  “I can’t believe your friend’s name slipped my mind,” Trevor said. “I hope I didn’t offend her.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Is she…seeing anyone?”

  Simon’s hand froze halfway to bringing his drink to his mouth. Here was the moment Chloe was hoping for.

  “No. She’s not seeing anyone.” Only, that wasn’t what made it past Simon’s lips. Rather, he said, “Yeah. She’s involved.”

  “Oh. Is it serious?”

  Take a hint, dude, he wanted to say. Instead, he nodded. “I think so. Maybe even heading-to-the-altar serious.”

  “Really.” Trevor rocked back on his heels. “I got a totally different vibe from her the other day in your office.”

  “Cold feet.” He shrugged. “She told me tonight she’s pretty sure he’s about to pop the question.”

  Trevor glanced around. “Is he here?”

  “No. He’s…away on business. He travels a lot. He’s a…a…an archaeologist.” Simon was astounded at the lies popping out of his mouth. And ashamed, of course. Really ashamed. “No kidding.”

  Ashamed or not, they just kept coming. “Seriously. He digs up dinosaur fossils and…and stuff like that for a living. He’s on a big dig now. It could change the theory of evolution.”

  Trevor looked impressed. Hell, Simon was impressed. But then, no one was too good for Chloe.

  Neanderthal that Trevor was, he honed in on only one detail. “So, he’s gone a lot?”

  Uh-oh. “Yeah. But he’ll be cutting back on travel soon. You know, with their wedding right around the corner.”

  “Too bad. She looks like she’d be a lot of fun,” Trevor said.


  Fun. That was code for a good romp, in Trevor-speak. Simon gritted his teeth. No doubt Trevor was already considering offering to be a last fling.

  “Yeah. Chloe’s really great. Smart, funny.” He sipped his drink. “She has a black belt in jujitsu, you know.”

  “Jujitsu?”

  Simon made a chopping motion with his hand. “She could probably kick your ass.”

  Trevor frowned. Simon held back a smile. Judging from the women his colleague had dated, it was clear he preferred strong females, but probably not the kind who could flip him over one shoulder and then crush his larynx with their bare hands.

  “Is that how she keeps in shape?”

  Great, now he was checking out her body. What was with this guy?

  “Nah. Weight lifting. She can bench press almost as much as I can. It might not be obvious now, but she considered going into professional body building at one time.”

  Trevor grimaced. “Those chicks are scary. Arnold Schwarzenegger in a bikini.” It was exactly what Simon wanted to hear. Until the other man added, “I’m glad she changed her mind. She’s not all grossly sinewy now and she has a really nice…upper body.”

  “They’re fake.”

  “How do you…?” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Have you guys ever dated?”

  “Me and Chloe?” He laughed. Maybe a little too loudly and a little too long. He reeled in his manufactured mirth. “Nah. We’re just friends.”

  Trevor’s eyebrows bobbed. Like the rest of the man, they were a little too perfect. Simon suspected waxing. “Friends with benefits?”

  Simon wanted to punch him. One solid jab to that Brad Pitt-like jaw.

  “It’s not like that. Chloe and I have known one another since we were kids.” Across the room, he saw her laugh at something Shauna said. She was a good listener. Even when she was bored, she always gave the appearance of hanging on the speaker’s every word. As he watched, she reached up to push a straightened bunch of hair behind one ear. A flash of silver caught his eye. The small hoop earrings had been a gift from him for her twenty-first birthday. All these years later, she still wore them, even though they weren’t especially flashy or expensive. He hadn’t been able to afford expensive back then. “She’s like my sister.”