Unwrapping Mr. Wright. Michele Dunaway
then and there she decided that Jeff Wright needed to notice her, really notice her. Couldn’t he see how perfect they’d be together?
But then, Jeff Wright was often a man with blinders on. When he focused on a computer problem he could be so one-tracked that he would forget to eat. Not once, though, had he made any type of move on her. He’d always treated her chivalrously, as if she was a treasured friend. His cryptic words suddenly resounded in her ears: “You’re such a pal, Lauren.”
A pal. She was a pal. P-A-L, which could stand for Pitiful Always-Around Lauren. Lauren controlled the sudden raw anger that consumed her. Jeff probably didn’t even have a clue that she was interested in taking their relationship further. She was like a properly functioning computer—taken for granted and low maintenance.
At twenty-eight, she didn’t want to be Jeff’s pal any longer. She wanted to be the girlfriend! Wanted to be the hot sexy one he couldn’t refuse or resist. While her biological clock wasn’t exactly ticking—okay, maybe a little—she did want the whole shebang: marriage, career and family.
She wanted Jeff Wright. She didn’t know if they’d have any chemistry, but who cared? She’d been there, done that. Passion flared and burned out. It was stability she craved now in a twosome, and that was Jeff. She’d waited long enough for Mr. Secure and Safe to notice her. She’d have to be the one to make a move.
“Do you always hang out in doorways?” Justin Wright appeared in the hall between her office and the cubicles in the center of the building; a dubious look on his face. Just how long had he been there? He glanced upward as he inched toward the opposite wall. “Well, not that. I don’t see any mistletoe.”
Did he think she was that desperate? “I’m being creative,” she retorted—the first reply that came to her lips. “And, yes, you pay me for that.” She heard him laugh as she entered her office and shut the door behind her decisively.
Lauren tossed the file folders onto her desk. The candy-cane pen fell to the floor. Jeff’s words again rang in her ears, this time louder than the church bells on Christmas morning. You’re a pal, Lauren. A pal.
Oh, how she hated that phrase. Just how many times had she heard those exact words or their variation in the years since high school? How many times had she been told, “You’re a great friend, Lauren, but I just don’t want you the way I want—” Every guy said the same thing; the only thing that changed was the girl’s name. And the one man who hadn’t—he was still a lesson in heartache that she never wanted to repeat.
Lauren stomped her foot with newfound determination. She sat down in her overstuffed desk chair and reached into the desk drawer. Her fingers fished in her purse for the mirror she knew she had but rarely used. Moving it at various angles, she took stock of herself. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Boring makeup. Practical business attire except for the red sweater. All told, nothing to write home about. The woman she could only see in bits and pieces in the looking glass was not a girl for a guy to get excited about.
And to hook Jeff Wright, she had to get him excited. She’d seen him with a few bimbos over the years. The relationships never lasted long, maybe a week or two before his interest waned or they tired of his job coming first.
Most of his women had one thing in common: they were blond. Insight hit her. Maybe that was what she needed. Hair color. Tweezed eyebrows. Pouty red lips. Those things certainly couldn’t hurt. Beauty and brains in one sexy, irresistible package. Perhaps if she just spiced up the package—like spicing up a résumé or making a computer run faster—she could catch Jeff Wright.
The Yellow Pages thumped open as Lauren flipped to the beauty parlor listings. She ran her finger down the black print, her gaze searching for the day-spa salon that did all those makeovers for the local news channel. The door to her office opened.
Lauren’s head shot up and she quickly closed the phone book, keeping her arm inside it to hold her place. In this position she was bent over at an ungodly angle, her right hip jutting out. “Yes?”
“You seemed upset about something earlier,” Justin said as he entered her office. “I thought I’d stop in and see if I’d offended you in some way, or at least more than I usually do. If I did, I want to apologize. I haven’t caught you at a bad time, have I?”
Lauren shifted a little, covering any telltale clues that might reveal her makeover goals. “Uh, no. And no, I’m not upset at all,” Lauren replied. She added a wide smile to make her lie convincing. Hopefully, he’d get a clue and leave. Justin cocked his head. He didn’t look too persuaded and he made no move to go back out the door.
She knew how silly she must appear with her arm stuck in a phone book and her rear end sticking up. Her face flushed as it heated under Justin’s appraising stare. “Um, apology accepted, not that there was a need,” she added to the lie—anything to get him out of her office.
“Did you have anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Justin said slowly. Lauren’s arm started to numb and she again shifted under his intent appraisal. “I’d just realized that I didn’t tell you I had an overseas call scheduled, which is why I left the meeting so abruptly. I didn’t want you to think I was being rude when I cut you off in the conference room today.”
He was worried about being rude? Please. After six months of working with him, it was a little too late for worrying about that. The man defined rude. Lauren struggled to stop herself from laughing at the bitter irony. She managed to keep her tone sarcasm-free as she said, “No problem. Our constant sparring keeps my job interesting. Honestly.”
“If you’re sure.” Justin walked over toward her desk, and Lauren inched the Yellow Pages closer to her body. He frowned. “That’s a great sweater on you. By the way, what are you doing?”
Surely he wasn’t picking this very moment to start being civil by chitchatting with her. “I have an important call to make.” She glanced pointedly at the phone book. “I don’t want to lose my place.”
“Oh.” He tempered his curiosity and gave her a charming smile. Despite her previous imperviousness to him, Lauren flushed more, this time not because she was in an ungraceful position.
No wonder women liked Justin. Even she now had to admit that she wasn’t totally immune to his killer I’ll-melt-that-heart-of-yours grin. Seeing she wasn’t about to elaborate on the details of her phone call, Justin said, “Well, okay, then. I guess I should tell you to have a good weekend and get out of your way.”
Lauren nodded. “You have a good weekend, too.” She watched him leave, and tried to look pleasant when he stopped at the door and turned back around.
“Lauren?” he said.
“Yes?”
“We do have Post-It notes in the supply closet. You know, to hold your place,” he added, and with that he left. She swore she heard him laughing as he closed her door behind him.
She counted to twenty just to make sure he wouldn’t return, and then she sat down and reopened the phone book. She ran her finger down the page and found the number she was looking for. It was time Lauren “before” became Lauren “after,” a femme fatale.
She secured an appointment for Monday, and composed e-mails to Justin and Clint indicating that she was taking a personal day. She frowned as she hit Send. Justin Wright. So different from his brother. He raised every one of her hackles. He had that lethal smile that needed to be outlawed. He…ooh. Jeff was definitely the better of the two men. Definitely.
Satisfaction filled her as she leaned back against the plush leather desk chair. Jeff loved Monday Night Football. They often watched it together, sharing beer and popcorn. But if she had her way—and oh, would she—Jeff Wright wasn’t going to do much football watching this Monday night. Instead, they were going to play. Yes, come December 6, the better of the two men was in for a very big holiday surprise.
Chapter 2
Justin