Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 67

She left him with many questions. All of which intrigued him even more. He would see her again on Friday. And if she didn't show up, it hardly mattered. Because if she did work in his building, it was only a matter of time before he found her again.

He hadn't recognized her.

As she stared out the open window of Keegan's Jeep that thought rattled around in her brain. Like the clickity-clang noise her car sometimes made, impossible to ignore and annoying as h.e.l.l. A little frightening as well, like a portent of impending doom.

Tonight on the roof, when Reid had reached out to shake her hand-to introduce himself to her!-he might as well have kicked her in the teeth. It certainly wouldn't have hurt more.

Maybe she should have been prepared for it-after all, Pete hadn't recognized her, either. But it was one thing to have your geeky coworker not recognize you, and it was something else entirely to realize the man of your dreams-literally-couldn't pick you out of a lineup.

Unfortunately, Keegan wouldn't let her sit there, simmering in her own impotent angst.

"Tell me again why you needed me to pick you up."

She kept her attention on the pa.s.sing buildings outside the window as he navigated through downtown. "I went up to the roof to eat dinner and ran into Reid."

"Babe, you're going to have to talk me through this one. Why did meeting your boss on the roof mean you couldn't drive yourself home?"

"He didn't recognize me."

"At first?"

"At all."

Keegan winced. "Ouch."

"And he hit on me."

"Oh." As Keegan turned south on Congress Avenue he was strangely silent. No witty comeback. No quip of bad advice.

Keegan's silence unsettled her. If he'd laughed off the experience or made a joke of it, she'd have had an easier time doing the same.

"He wanted to see me again," she added.

The silence seemed to hang between them. Keegan waited until he'd crossed the river and was nearing her neighborhood before he asked, "What did you say?"

"I told him I'd meet him next Friday at the hotel." Then-for some reason she couldn't quite explain-she rushed to fill the strained silence with, "I'm not going to do it, though. That's why I had you pick me up. If I'd stopped at the office to pick up my car keys, he could have followed. He would have known who I am."

"So you're not going to meet him?"

"Absolutely not."

But even as she said the words, they didn't ring true.

Okay, Ms. Smarty-pants, she said to herself, if you're not going to meet him...if you were so hurt by him not recognizing you, then why did you ask him to stay? Why did you flirt with him? Why did you enjoy it so much?

That certainly was the million-dollar question.

Yes, she'd been surprised that he hadn't recognized her. And, yes, she'd been a little hurt. But she'd also been intrigued.

She'd felt the strong tug she always felt around him, but for the first time she'd seen the spark of interest in his eyes. The lure of that mutual attraction was too strong to resist. Would she be strong enough to resist it next Friday?

Honestly, she couldn't say.

"You don't sound convinced," Keegan pointed out.

"I don't ever want him to know the woman he kissed tonight on the roof was Plain Jane Demeo."

"You kissed him?" Keegan's tone made it clear he thought she was insane. As if she needed confirmation.

"Yes...well, sort of. Actually, he kissed me." She just hadn't put up much of a fight.

"And you never told him who you are?"

"Good G.o.d, no." She laughed nervously. As Keegan slowed to a stop in front of her house, she s.h.i.+fted towards him. His face was cast in shadows, his expression unreadable. "Can you imagine someone like Reid actually going out on a date with me? I mean, if he knew who I was?"

Keegan stared straight ahead as he answered, "Yes, I can."

Then he turned towards her. She still couldn't read his expression, but he reached across the Jeep and chucked her on the chin. She took comfort in the familiarity of the action.

"Tell me what I should do."

"Can't do it. This one's up to you."

She stuck out her tongue at him in an expression of pure, childish disgust. "That's not fair. For ten years, you've been giving me bad, unwanted, and totally unwarranted advice. Now that I actually want your opinion about something, you change to a laissez-faire policy?"

"Okay, you really want my opinion?"

"Yes, please!"

"I think you should go for it. Get him out of your system. Have one night of great s.e.x-or maybe just mediocre s.e.x-and then you can go back to being yourself for the rest of your life. Unless you tell him who you are, he never has to know it's you. What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity. My job. My-"

"Don't worry about it. It's not like any of those things are really important to you, anyway, right?"

"That's really helpful. Thanks."

"Come on, I'm teasing. If he didn't recognize you tonight, chances are good he won't recognize you next Friday."

"Okay, so he probably won't. But what if he does? Shouldn't I have a contingency plan or something? Just in case?"

Keegan, who'd never had a contingency plan in his life, looked annoyed. "Sure. If he recognizes you at work, you laugh it off. Lie and tell him you weren't really planning on meeting him."

"But-"

"Didn't you once say you didn't think Reid even knew who you were?"

She sighed. Keegan was right. She wouldn't need a contingency plan because Reid wasn't going to recognize her. He barely knew she existed. Which meant Keegan was right about something else, as well. If she was ever going to make her fantasies about Reid come true, it was now or never.

"You really think I should do this?"

Suddenly serious again, Keegan said, "If you don't, I think you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

And for a moment, she actually considered it. Next Friday night, she'd rent a hotel room, get all dolled up as Sasha, and seduce her boss. It was the stuff of fantasies.

Which was exactly the problem.

Sleeping with Reid was the stuff of fantasies. Her fantasies.

Unfortunately, the stuff of her fantasies was also the stuff of her work.

If she acted out her fantasies with Reid, what would happen to her creativity? To her mojo?

It would vanish, that was what.

Which meant, no matter how much she wanted to, there was no way Sasha could meet Reid next Friday night.

A week of "good ol' boy" networking with his father's buddy at Tres Bien had earned Forester+Blake a shot at the account. Reid had spent the whole time playing golf with the guy, eating barbecue he'd spent a fortune flying in from the Salt Lick in Austin, and singing the praises of his creative teams. He'd talked ad nauseam about innovative work Jane's group had done and espoused the benefits of hiring a smaller boutique company like Forester + Blake.

And, ironically, he hadn't been bored. Not even once. After a week of doing little but talk about Jane's work, he was more convinced than ever that only one thing would keep his fascination with Jane from turning into a full-blown obsession. A quick, mindless affair with Sasha.

It bothered him that he still didn't know her last name. That he knew next to nothing about her. Only that she worked in his building, liked hot and sweet peppers, and was the one woman on the planet who could make him forget about Jane.

Which meant he had to see Sasha again. Even if she didn't show up for their date tonight, he would find her. After all, he had her first name and a pretty good physical description-it had been dark, but not that dark. And, he had a partial license-plate number for her friend's Jeep. If it came down to it, he could find her through that.

Reid fingered the sc.r.a.p of paper on which he'd scrawled 976-MR? as he waited for the elevator to take him up to the tenth floor. He glanced back down at the license plate number. How did you find someone from a license plate number? Nearly everything was available online these days, but he doubted that was. Did he know anyone in the police department who could help him out? Would he have to hire a private detective?

More importantly, had one evening with Sasha turned him into a psycho-stalker?

G.o.d, he hoped not.

The doors opened on the tenth floor and he nudged his way through the crowd and out into the hall. As he walked through the gla.s.s double doors with the words "Forester+Blake-Innovations in Advertising" written above them, he felt the weight of those words bear down on him.

He had a job to do-a business to run. Did he really need this kind of distraction?

As he pa.s.sed the receptionist's desk he tapped his hand on the marble counter. "Morning, Polly."

"Hey, Reid. How'd the meeting go in New York?"

He paused, glancing back at the woman who'd been the receptionist here for as long as he could remember. Audrey had undoubtedly told Polly about the trip, but no one other than Matt knew whom he'd met with. So he smiled enigmatically. "Great."

Might as well give her something to gossip about.

Polly beamed. "That's good to hear. And you were meeting with..."

"Nice try."

Polly shrugged cheerfully and went back to her work on the computer.

He'd known her since he was fifteen and she was the prime example of why they desperately needed to win this Tres Bien account. A prime example of why he shouldn't let any woman-not Sasha and certainly not Jane-distract him from the work he needed to get done.

But at least an affair with Sasha wouldn't distract him at work. Much.

Trying to force his mind away from Sasha, he headed for the break room, only to stop in his tracks when he heard her voice. He stood there-his palm pressed to the swing door-listening.

There it was again...the self-conscious laughter followed by the sensual timbre of her voice. Definitely Sasha.

But what was she doing here? Was she some new employee he'd never met? Or maybe she worked on another floor, but had made friends with someone who worked for him.

Either way, he'd get to see Sasha even sooner than he'd hoped.

But when he swung open the door and walked into the break room, he saw only two people standing over by the coffee bar. Pete and a woman who had to be Sasha...but wasn't.

Jane Demeo hovered by the espresso machine, waiting for her latte, chatting with Pete. Chatting in Sasha's voice. She stood angled away from the door. She wore her hair tucked back into a ball cap and was dressed in jeans and a loose top that stretched the limits of Forester+Blake's lax dress code. If he hadn't heard her laugh, who knew when he would have put the pieces together?

Sasha was Jane Demeo.

CHAPTER SIX.

"SO YOU'RE definitely going through with it?" Keegan asked as soon as Jane answered her cell phone.

"Yes. For the gazillionth time, yes." She should have known better than to take a call from him at a time like this.

Tonight had to be perfect. This was, after all, her one. And only. Chance.

It was tonight or never. "Never" just didn't work for her.

As she pressed her cell phone to her ear she studied her reflection in the mirror of the hotel bathroom. Dorothea had come by earlier to do her hair and makeup. She'd brought with her a simple, low-cut black dress and a whole array of lingerie. Jane had been gartered, hosed, and pushed up. She had more infrastructure than the state highway department.

Once again, Plain Jane had been transformed into s.e.xy Sasha.

"What about your mojo?" Keegan asked.

She sighed. "With or without tonight, my mojo is gone."

"You know that's-"

"I know you don't believe me, but it's true. Seven days, Keegan. Seven whole days and I haven't had a single decent idea. Ever since he didn't recognize me on that rooftop, it's been a certified mojo drought."

Keegan laughed, making her fume with annoyance he couldn't see. "This isn't funny."

She studied her reflection in the mirror but found no signs of the frumpy, denim-and ball-cap-wearing woman she'd been just a few hours ago. No wonder Reid hadn't, either.