Must Like Kids Page 9

  “I’m thinking a cab this time,” she replied dryly.

  By cab or foot, how Julia got to her lunch-with-a-loved-one date wasn’t Alec’s problem. She was right about that. But he still found himself offering, “I can take you.”

  Even more than wanting to help her out, he didn’t want her kids to be left to wonder when or if their mother would show up. No kid should have to wonder that.

  “Oh, no. Really. It’s an imposition.” She shook her head and a few wilted locks of hair fell into her eyes. Had Alec been closer to her, he might have been tempted to brush them away.

  “I don’t mind. And...” Because his thoughts kept wanting to stray into personal territory, he added, “On the drive over we can discuss those talking points.”

  She made a humming sound before nodding. “Okay. That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  “I mean it,” she stressed.

  The hair fell back into her eyes. This time, Alec went with his impulse, and, coming around his desk, reached out to brush it aside.

  “You’re a good mother, Julia.”

  “I try.”

  “And that’s exactly why you are. I’m happy to help.” His hand had lingered at the side of her face. He pulled it back now on a sigh and surprised them both by admitting, “We’d better start talking business or I’m going to want to kiss you again.”

  * * *

  Julia’s heart beat out in triple time after he said that. She was flustered and flattered and...conflicted. Julia the image consultant didn’t want Alec to kiss her again. Julia the woman very much did. Indeed, that Julia wanted Alec to do a lot more than kiss her. Like Sleeping Beauty, she’d been awakened from a long slumber. Part of her was eager to make up for lost time. The more practical part, however, knew caution was in order.

  “How about we start with what you should wear,” she managed to say in a voice that sounded only slightly strained.

  “Good idea.” Alec’s expression, however, didn’t match his words. And no wonder. “What the hell,” he muttered and leaned forward.

  This kiss was brief, a close cousin of chaste. Even so, it stirred her blood.

  “Don’t expect me to apologize,” he warned afterward.

  “I...I...”

  While she stammered, a smug smile creased his cheeks.

  “Back to business,” he said. She was hardly reassured when he winked and added, “For now.”

  It took fifteen minutes to hammer down the appropriate clothing for Alec’s television appearance. It helped Julia’s concentration that he’d retreated to his side of the desk once again and that the intimate look he’d sported had turned pensive to the point of brooding.

  “I know for other events I’ve said you need to come across as more accessible to your core customer base, but in this instance, I’m thinking your attire needs to reflect your position of authority.”

  “In other words, a suit and tie.”

  “You look really good in them.” His brows rose and she felt her cheeks heat. “A-and they make sense since you’re representing the company and the board of directors. You’re reaching out to stockholders as well as consumers. Also, the host of the morning show will be wearing professional attire. If we go too casual, it might seem as if you’re not taking either your position or the interview seriously.”

  “So, I should wear what I wear every day to the office. Something like this.” He splayed his hands out in front of him, and she was forced to look at him.

  He had on a cobalt-blue dress shirt and black, gray and light blue-striped tie, knotted in a half Windsor. Draped over the back of his chair was a black suit coat. The gabardine held the faintest hint of a pinstripe. Alec had impeccable taste and wore clothes well thanks to a well-honed physique. It didn’t hurt that his affluence afforded him the luxury of custom-made garments that were guaranteed to fit his athletic frame. Her mouth threatened to start watering as her thoughts turned to what the body beneath those garments might look like...and feel like under her hands. Work, she reminded herself. They were talking about work.

  She cleared her throat. “Almost.”

  “Almost?”

  “I was thinking a pastel-hued shirt underneath charcoal gabardine.” But that wasn’t all she was thinking, making her ever so grateful that Alec was incapable of reading minds.

  “Pastel?” His lips pulled back in a sneer as he all but spat out the word, and he crossed his arms.

  Julia was grateful for the fight she sensed coming. Better the two of them butt heads than dance around their mutual attraction.

  “You need something softer.”

  “I prefer bold colors.”

  “Yes, well, I prefer mild winters, but that’s not what I get living in Chicago.”

  He wasn’t done arguing. “White then.”

  She shook her head. “Too stark and, frankly, unimaginative.”

  “Is that another way to say boring?”

  “Oh, not at all.” But, given the way his brows lowered, she suspected he didn’t believe her.

  “I won’t wear pink, so don’t even ask.”

  The color wouldn’t suit him, but the devil made her say, “I suppose lavender is out of the question, too?”

  A snort served as his reply. Oh, they were butting heads all right. It was just her bad luck that she found that to be a turn-on, too.

  “Yellow might make your complexion appear sallow, especially on camera. Sea-foam-green is popular right now. What do you think?”

  “I don’t like green, in the shade of sea foam or otherwise.”

  “That’s a very broad assertion.”

  “Bad association.”

  She waited for Alec to expound on that or at least crack a smile. He didn’t. He was dead serious. What did he have against green? Something in his gaze kept her from asking.

  “Light blue it is,” she said. “Do you already have a shirt in that color?”

  “I do. Six, as a matter of fact.”

  Six light blue shirts? This despite claiming he preferred bold hues. She could only imagine how many of those he owned. Or, for that matter, how large his closet must be to accommodate such an expansive wardrobe. Unfortunately, thinking about his closet had her thinking about his apartment. In particular, it had her thinking about his bedroom. Not merely what it looked like, but what it would be like to be in there with him, alone, with no outside responsibilities to intrude and satisfying long-forgotten needs her sole concern.

  Because her rusty libido was busy undressing him, Julia made herself focus on doing the opposite.

  “Now, for your tie. I’m thinking a darker shade of blue, perhaps with a small geometric print. Nothing too loud or busy.”

  At his comically appalled expression, she added, “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Understated is your middle name.”

  Alec was definitely conservative when it came to his clothes and the neat cut of his hair. She glanced at his desktop with its leather blotter. Precise. Structured. Orderly. Those were traits she appreciated, even if she didn’t always get to apply them in her own life. Raising kids required organization, but it also demanded flexibility. Could he be flexible?

  “It doesn’t matter.” He frowned and no wonder. Julia rose to her feet. “We should be going.”

  On the drive over to the school, she planned to talk about the importance of facial expressions and hand gestures, and how both could be misinterpreted, but she got distracted as soon as she was ensconced in the leather bucket seat of his sports coupe. Nothing about the little black number could be labeled conservative. It was sleek, unapologetically sexy. It made her feel the same way. When Alec turned the key in the ignition, the engine let out a throaty growl. The sound was raw power.

  “This is some car.” And it was, if impractical. By their very nature, two-seaters were. Still, she was enjoying sitting in it, and couldn’t help thinking that every once in awhile a little impractical indulgence wouldn’t be a bad thing. And not just
when it came to modes of transportation. Her gaze slid to Alec.

  “Not exactly understated, hmm?” He sent Julia a wink that for all of its casualness still had her pulse picking up speed.

  “Not exactly,” she agreed.

  “Want to drive?”

  She moistened her lips. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Worried about your image?”

  “More like I’m worried about the Porsche’s gears. I haven’t driven a manual transmission in over a decade,” she replied.

  He nodded slowly. “That’s a long time.”

  “You have no idea,” she muttered.

  “Another day we’ll remedy that. If you’re game, that is. I’d be happy to give you a refresher course. It will all come back to you.”

  “Maybe.” Even that equivocation seemed bold, since, based on the interest reflected in his green eyes, they weren’t just talking about cars, gears and test drives.

  * * *

  Thanks to an accident that further snarled the already heavy midday traffic, they arrived at St. Augustine School just after the appointed time. Alec wouldn’t have minded the delay—he was enjoying his time with Julia—but her kids were waiting for her. She was unbuckling her seat belt and gathering up her belongings before Alec came to a full stop at the curb in front of the entrance.

  He knew better than to think she would wait for him to come around and open the door for her, but he prevented her from jumping out by asking, “Will you need a ride back to your office afterward?”

  She shook her head. Wayward curls bobbed. “That’s all right. You don’t need to wait. I’ll catch a cab. Thanks again.” After she got out, she leaned down to smile back at him through the open door. “I’ll call you later. I’d feel better if we went over the talking points one more time.”

  Alec wanted to be more irritated than he felt. What did it say about him, he wondered, that he was actually looking forward to it?

  He refused to think about it. Likewise, he refused to think about what meaning might be attached to the fact that, just up the block, when he spied a parking space, he pulled into it and placed a call to his secretary.

  “I’m going to be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon,” he told her. “You can reach me on my cell if something important comes up.”

  “Okay.” There was a slight hesitation. “Is everything all right, Mr. McAvoy?”

  “Fine.”

  In a strange way, it was.

  SEVEN

  Alec was leaning against a lamppost, finishing up an ice cream cone, when Julia exited the school with a herd of other departing parents. She no longer looked harried. Rather, she was smiling absently, something he’d never seen his own mother do after spending any length of time in his company when he was a kid. Or as an adult for that matter. As hectic as Julia’s day had been, it was clear that she’d enjoyed herself.

  She saw him and crossed to where he stood.

  “You didn’t need to wait. I thought I told you that.”

  “You did. I decided to stick around anyway. I didn’t have anything pressing.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. It was out of character for him and they both knew it. He motioned toward the school with the ice cream cone. “So, how did it go?”

  The smile was back, more focused this time, when she told him, “It was a lot of fun. The kids acted as servers for the adults. They brought our food to our tables and then took away the dishes afterward.”

  “Full service.”

  “Yes. If only I could get them to do that at home without complaining.”

  “What was on the menu?”

  “Deep-fried chicken nuggets—heavy on the breading—French fries and a side salad of iceberg lettuce that came doused in the house dressing, which I think was creamy Italian, although it might have been ranch.” Julia wrinkled her nose. “It was hard to tell.”

  He grimaced on her behalf. “Hungry?”

  “I’m starving!” Her laughter bubbled out. “I picked just enough to be polite, but I didn’t actually finish anything.”

  “There’s a deli up the block. I could buy you lunch. Repay that debt.”

  “But you’ve eaten.” She pointed to the ice cream.

  “Technically, I haven’t. I’ve only indulged in dessert.” He tossed what remained of the cone into the large garbage can that was chained on the opposite side of the lamppost.

  “What’s the saying? Life’s short. Eat dessert first? Hmm. I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort of person who subscribed to that philosophy.”

  For the most part, Alec wasn’t. He’d made it a point to be the polar opposite of his feckless and free-spirited parents. Still, he said, “You don’t know me, Julia. You only know my image—the besmirched one and the one you’ve been hired to create and replace it with.”

  “True,” she agreed with a slow nod.

  “How about we remedy that? Besides, I still have an appetite.”

  His gaze lowered to her mouth after saying so and he watched her lick her lips. They both were hungry and it went well beyond food. Alec had the advantage and he knew it. He could press and she would buckle, at least momentarily. Then she would spell out the ground rules again. Where was the fun in that? Next move, if there was one, would be hers.

  He made the decision, but it didn’t stop him from taking her bag from her and then tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. The gesture could be interpreted as merely polite. Old-school manners of the sort his grandfather had complained were sorely lacking among the younger generations. He studied Julia’s right hand. Slim fingers were tipped with tidy nails that were painted in clear polish. He’d shed his suit coat out of deference to the heat. He swore he felt his skin tingle through the fabric of his shirt.

  * * *

  They sat in a booth that was snugged up against the windows that faced the street. The spot was prime real estate for people-watching and Julia told Alec as much. He got the impression she would rather keep her gaze trained on the pedestrians wending their way past than let it fall on him for any length of time. Whenever it did, she seemed flustered. His ego took that as a compliment, his libido as a challenge. Regardless, Alec played along. He’d meant it when he’d told Julia that she really didn’t know him. Despite some personal details she’d shared with him, he really didn’t know her, either. But he wanted to.

  “If clothing and body language say so much about a person, tell me about that guy.” He pointed to a man clad in black bike shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with an off-color adjective. His hair was dyed bright green and, thanks to either natural curls or a really bad permanent, it billowed about his head in a frizzy, neon halo.

  Instead of answering his question, Julia asked, “Would you hire him to work at Best For Baby?”

  “Maybe for the mailroom.”

  “Image. Fair or not, people make up their minds just that quickly.” Julia snapped her fingers. “Now, what if you saw on his resume that he was a Rhodes scholar or graduated top of his class from a prestigious university?”

  Alec glanced at the guy again and then shook his head. “It would still be hard to get past the bright hair and offensive T-shirt. That’s where you come in, I suppose. What would you do to him?”

  “Nothing he wouldn’t agree to have done,” she remarked dryly.

  Alec allowed his grin to show this time. “But you’d exert some pressure, make your preferences known.”

  The waitress came by with a couple of glasses of ice water and took their orders. A club sandwich for him. Julia went with grilled chicken on a whole wheat bun.

  When she was gone, Julia said, “Okay, I’d make my preferences known. But subtly.”

  “Or not. You know what you want and that’s what you go after.”

  She seemed to consider his assessment before nodding slowly. “I do.”

  He held up a finger then. “I take that back. I think sometimes, you hold back.”

  “Of course I do. It
’s called restraint.”

  “It’s more than that,” he challenged.

  Her eyes narrowed. “We’re not talking about my job now, are we?”

  He shook his head. “I want you to get to know the real me. I guess I wouldn’t mind if you returned the favor.”

  “Why?”

  “I think you know why.”

  She reached for her water glass and took a sip.

  Alec decided to let that statement sink in for a bit, and returned to the subject they’d been discussing before the waitress’s interruption.

  “So, back to our guy, suit and tie? Military-style haircut?”

  She blinked, and he got the feeling she’d lost her train of thought. It was small of him, but he claimed that as a victory of sorts.

  “Oh. Um, it would depend on the kind of job he’s after. Creative types have a little more latitude when it comes to their looks and wardrobe.”

  “I can’t think of a position at Best For Baby that has creative type in the job description.”

  “Fine. Then I’d strongly suggest that he lose the hair.”

  “Shave it?” Alec asked, enjoying himself.

  “I was thinking trim it and subdue the color so that it was something a little more natural, but shaving would work, too. Still, long hair doesn’t have to be a no-no.”

  “Do you like long hair on a man?”

  She shrugged, but a smile crept into her voice when she said, “I don’t mind it on musicians. Take David Lee Roth. I saw some pictures of him where he wore his hair shorter. It looked better long.”

  “I never would have taken you for a heavy metal groupie.”

  “Groupie? Please. I’m too old to be a groupie.”

  “You’re what? Thirty?”

  “Add a couple years.”

  “Ancient,” he agreed. “Definitely too old to like head-banging music.”

  “As it happens, my husband played lead guitar in a local band back in the day.” She smiled as she shared the information.

  “Yeah? Is that how you met?”

  “No. We met in chemistry class in the eleventh grade.”

  “High school sweethearts.” Alec whistled through his teeth. He felt strangely envious. The kind of life Julia had led was alien to him, but alluring. His parents, on the other hand, would consider it pedestrian if not downright boring. No jaunts aboard borrowed jets or yachts. No access to private clubs. No butlers or chauffeurs to tend to their needs.