Eric drew from his beer, then settled back in his chair and shrugged, his face wreathed in smiles. “Can’t remember exactly, the money I suppose.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  He nodded. “Auburn.”

  “What did you study?”

  He hesitated, then leaned forward. “Psychology.”

  She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

  Eric seemed almost sheepish. “When you think about it, I guess it’s as good a preparation as any for sales.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth. “I’ve certainly met my share of personalities—John Handley being one of them.”

  She nodded in agreement, then decided to cut to the chase. “Eric, you don’t think John should have offered me this job, do you? Because I’m a ‘paper-pusher’ as I overheard you say?”

  He shrugged slowly, as if trying to gauge whether she wanted an honest answer. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Actually, it does.”

  “How so?”

  “You know the situation I’m in here, Eric. You’re the top salesman, and the other reps take their cues from you.”

  He laughed. “I think you give me way too much credit, Kate.”

  “Eric, I need your support. Let’s try to find some kind of common ground. It’s in both our best interests to work together, not to mention the rest of the sales organization.”

  He lifted both arms. “I thought that’s what we were doing—working together.”

  She bit down on the inside of her jaw. “But I sense a certain…resentment.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you think. Ah—here’s our food.”

  Kate frowned, perplexed by his comment. But he was completely distracted by the food, becoming animated, making a show of inhaling the aroma of the calamari appetizer and sighing in satisfaction. “Rob, tell Chef Aaron that this is fine-looking squid.”

  “I will, Mr. McDaniels.”

  He divided the food between their plates, and Kate watched as he ate with gusto, his gaze suspiciously averted—she knew a sidestep when she saw one. A few feet away, a man with a Spanish guitar began to strum and sing quietly, effectively filling the silence as they ate. Their entrees arrived shortly. Eric didn’t seem eager to resume their conversation and, in fact, had fallen into an uncharacteristically serious mood. Kate forked in mouthfuls of buttery sea bass and rice pilaf and studied him under her lashes.

  A furrow had developed between his thick dark eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth were turned down as he chewed. Her conversation had obviously stirred some deep-seated concerns—apparently Eric did have reservations about her ability to lead the sales organization, more than his offhand comments to a young sales rep had revealed. In fact, if he would make jokes about her lack of experience, she might feel better. It was his lack of teasing that concerned her, because it seemed to represent something deeper.

  They were sitting scarcely three feet apart, but they might as well have been on opposite sides of the room. Even the air between them seemed to clash, bursting with unsaid words, resentment, and…something else. Something dark and disturbing. Was it dislike…or desire?

  Did Eric consider her to be weak because she had succumbed to his flirtation all those years ago? She swallowed a mouthful of wine, savoring the slight burn as it slid down her throat. Did she consider herself weak for succumbing to his flirtation?

  Their eye contact was sparse and awkward. Under the table, their legs brushed occasionally, prompting shifting and murmured apologies. She hadn’t felt this awkward since ninth grade, and frankly, she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Because as much as she wanted to move past their former sexual encounter and get on with their professional relationship, they couldn’t. Not, she realized with a sinking heart, when the electricity they still felt when they were together was like a big white elephant sitting between them. Ignoring it seemed childish, but giving it a name, well, that seemed dangerous.

  The guitarist took a break just as the waiter cleared their dishes. “May I bring you a dessert menu?” the man asked, and they talked over each other in their haste to decline.

  “No, thank you—”

  “I need to—”

  “—I’m full.”

  “—turn in early.”

  The waiter nodded, then set a small leather folder on the table between them. “I’ll take the check whenever you’re ready.”

  They both reached for it at the same time, although her hand closed around it first. Eric’s hand covered hers a half-second later.

  “I’ll get it,” she said.

  “No, I’ll get it,” he said.

  Neither of them budged. The warmth of his big hand consumed her much smaller one. The feeling unnerved her, rekindling memories of the heat they could generate together. She locked gazes with him and was alarmed to find something akin to desire in the depths of his stare. Seconds ticked off, and she blamed her sudden headiness on the wine and the intimate surroundings. She moved her hand, but he resisted. Panicked, she blurted, “Eric, you should always let the boss pay.”

  That did it. After a heartbeat, he lifted his hand abruptly, then scooted his seat back and stood, his mood changing from serious to congenial in an instant. “I think I’ll call it a night. Thanks for dinner…boss. See you in the morning.” Then he nodded and strode back toward the bar.

  Kate gave her credit card to the bemused waiter and waited for a receipt. That hadn’t gone well. The man certainly brought all of her insecurities to the surface, which frustrated her even more. She was in a position to put Eric in his place, but that place wasn’t as well defined as it should be. It wasn’t enough that she had decades of a male-dominated society’s conventions to battle, but her own lapse as well. Sex transcended titles. Good or bad, the fact was that Eric had seen her naked, and that would always color his judgment where she was concerned.

  And vice versa.

  She didn’t glance his way when she walked past the bar on the way out of the restaurant, but she heard the young bartender’s laugh. Apparently, they had picked up where they’d left off, and apparently, Eric still had a girl in every port. Which had nothing to do with his ability to sell, she reminded herself on the elevator ride to her room.

  And his ability to sell was the extent of her interest in Eric McDaniels.

  Really.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Life is one fool thing after another

  whereas love is two fool things after each other.

  —Oscar Wilde

  AT THE SIGHT OF Kate standing next to the valet station with her roll-along suitcase, Eric scrubbed his hand down his face. She was perfectly coiffed, perfectly beautiful in an orangey-colored jacket and long, swishy skirt that revealed her fine ankles. She hadn’t yet noticed him and pulled back her sleeve to check her watch, her expression cool and calm.

  Apparently she had slept well. He, on the other hand, had closed down the bar, then sat on his bed in his underwear and watched ESPN. It was supposed to have taken his mind off the fact that he was experiencing some strange feelings toward Kate that he shouldn’t be having toward his boss. Feelings that he’d never had toward any woman that he could recall. Wait, there had been a woman in Vegas…

  He frowned—no, that was Kate.

  She looked up and gave him a tight smile. “Good morning.”

  “Are you always early?” he asked irritably.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Usually.”

  He handed his ticket to the valet. “Hiya, Mick.”

  “Hiya, Mr. McDaniels.” The man wagged his finger. “You really had me going last time—I really thought someone had been joyriding in your car.”

  Eric started laughing and turned to Kate. “I went to a collision place and rented a wrecked black Porsche and switched it out with my car in the valet parking lot.” He laughed harder. “Mick here almost had a stroke when he went to get it.”

  Mick laughed until they were both leaning on each other and wiping tears, but Kate seemed less amused.

  “I guess you had to be there,” Eric said, his laughter petering out.

  Kate smiled to humor him, he was sure, and he had another flash of irritation for the people in the world who couldn’t take a joke. If a person couldn’t laugh once in a while, what was the use in living? He gave Mick the “women—sheesh” look and the man jogged off to get the car.

  “What’s on the schedule today?” Kate asked, all business.

  “We’ll head on down to Jacksonville to meet with the buyer for Lincoln Toys.”

  “They’re a chain of independently owned toy stores?”

  “Right.”

  “How long will we be on the road?”

  “Six hours, give or take, depending on traffic.” He walked out when the car arrived at the door, helped Mick to settle their luggage in the tight trunk, then gave the man a generous tip. When he slid into the driver’s seat, Kate was already buckled in, a notepad and pen on her lap.

  “Let’s keep the top up today.”

  Not a question—an order. He pursed his mouth and snapped his own seat belt into place. “Whatever you say.”

  “Tell me about Lincoln Toys.”

  Maybe it was because he hadn’t had his second cup of coffee, but Eric didn’t feel like talking about business. “What did you do last night after dinner?”

  She looked surprised. “Me? I…went back to my room and got caught up on e-mail.”

  He checked the smile that came to his face. He’d phoned Winston this morning, eager to know if Kate had indeed responded to the notes they’d concocted and, more importantly, if she’d revealed anything interesting, but he’d gotten his buddy’s voice mail. “E-mail has definitely changed the way that people communicate, hasn’t it?” he asked, keeping his tone offhand.

  “Yes, although I admit I’m not as proficient at it as I should be.” She shrugged. “I guess I’d still rather hear the person’s voice or talk to them face to face.”

  Was she referring to communication in general, or to her secret admirer? He nodded, going along. “Nothing can replace personal interaction.”

  Kate gave him a wary look and he realized that his words could be construed as having a more intimate meaning than he’d intended.

  “In sales,” he added quickly, not sure why he was suddenly restless—innuendo had never bothered him before. He’d practically made a career out of it. Eric flipped on his signal, then eased into the choking rush-hour traffic heading south into the city. Feeling anti-social, he turned up the radio to fill the silence, although with Kate sitting close enough to touch, he had a hard time concentrating on the driving. She seemed oblivious to his agitation, which aggravated him further.

  The woman was driving him crazy. His attention span was nonexistent. His mind ran in circles and figure-eights, crisscrossing memories from six years ago with more recent impressions until he could almost believe they had slept together only last night.

  While he concentrated on keeping space between his car and the cars around him, Kate returned calls on her cell phone. He told himself he wasn’t interested, but he found himself strangely riveted. There was something voyeuristic about watching her while she was unaware, but he was shameless. And he was hoping she’d call that girlfriend of hers and mention something about her secret admirer.

  The first call was to her assistant, Patsy—the one who hated him, he thought wryly. Kate went down a laundry list of items, giving succinct follow-up instructions with self-assurance and a well-rounded knowledge base that surprised him. John Handley had credited Kate with acquiring and reestablishing two defunct toys from the Mixxo lineup, but frankly, he’d thought the old man was being generous. He remembered Kate as being extremely beautiful and quietly intelligent, but not particularly driven.

  Maybe he’d underestimated her. Or maybe she’d simply changed a great deal since he’d known her.

  He liked listening to her voice, he conceded, her precise diction softened by the slightest accent. Her assistant must have said something funny because Kate laughed, a surprising burst of happiness that lit her face and made him instantly want to hear it again.

  The next few calls were to people whose names he recognized but with whom he had never worked directly. Some of the information she dispensed sounded out of her realm as VP of sales, then he realized that she was answering questions from former colleagues in other departments—product management and branding. They must have relied heavily on her if they were still calling for her opinions. She handled everything with aplomb and finesse, acting as arbitrator during one call that he gathered was a three-way conversation.

  Her next call was to John, which gave him pause. He talked to John maybe once a quarter, and in between only when there was a problem. But Kate addressed John in a tone and with shorthand phrases that told him they spoke often—perhaps every day. And if he’d expected her to gush or to shrink to appease the boss, he was wrong; she handled John with the same composure and ease with which she handled peers and subordinates. Eric’s respect for her nudged higher—maybe the lady knew what she was doing after all.

  Suddenly, her tone changed and she looked in his direction. “Yes, he’s right here…okay, let me activate the hands-free feature.” Then her expression changed. “Oh…okay.” She extended the phone. “John wants to talk to you.”

  Panic blipped in his chest—had John somehow heard about him accepting the job at Mixxo? That didn’t seem likely, and besides, some crazy part of him reasoned in a split second that if John knew and fired him on the spot, there would be no obstacle to sleeping with Kate.

  Well, except for Kate herself.

  He took the phone. “Hello, John.”

  “Hello, Eric. I wanted to congratulate you.”

  His heart dropped. “On what?”

  “Silverstein’s voted you their sales rep of the year.”

  One of his most hard-won accounts. He exhaled with relief and pleasure. “Wow, that’s great. What did I win?” He glanced over and Kate was looking at him with open interest.

  He liked it.

  “A weekend in Vegas.”

  “No kidding?”

  “I’m not a practical joker like you,” John said with a chuckle.

  “Thanks for the bulletin.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, and Eric?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  The older man’s tone ratcheted lower. “I probably don’t have to say this, but…you will behave yourself around Kate, won’t you?”

  Eric scoffed. “Of course, John.”

  “It’s just that I can’t afford to have my new VP made to feel…uncomfortable.”

  “No problem.”

  “I mean, I’ve heard that you’re quite the ladies’ man, and Kate is so lovely—”

  “Say no more,” Eric cut in with a little laugh, despite the clench in his stomach. “Is that all, sir?”

  “Yes. Tell Kate goodbye for me.”

  “I will. Goodbye.”

  Kate took the phone that Eric extended to her, burning with curiosity about their exchange. The men had worked together for so long, it was hard not to feel left out.

  “John told me to say goodbye.”

  “What was that all about?” she asked lightly.

  “One of my accounts named me sales rep of the year.”

  She smiled. “That’s great.”

  “And John is concerned that I might be misbehaving around you.”

  Her smile faltered. “You mean the practical jokes?”

  “Among other things.” He sighed with melodrama. “For some reason, he thinks you won’t be able to resist me.”

  Kate’s stomach jumped. If John had concerns about her and Eric traveling together, why hadn’t he mentioned it to her?

  “That was a joke, Kate. John knows you’d never do anything inappropriate.”

  She closed the phone, glad for an excuse to look away. “You make it sound like a shortcoming.”

  He shrugged. “It just doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t my objective.”

  “Maybe it should be.”

  She looked up sharply and saw the glow of desire in his gaze before he adopted his trademark jauntiness and looked back to the road. Longing hit her midsection, and she hated herself for not being able to stop it. She shouldn’t want him. The reasons to stay away from him were too numerous to count. Yet she’d lain awake most of the night, wondering if he was sleeping alone, and berating herself for caring. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she was drawn to Eric with an intensity that suggested something deeper than a physical attraction. It was as if on some level she craved the very characteristics about him that she railed against, to counter her own extremes.

  The air hummed with sexual awareness. He shifted gears and she was engrossed by the rippling of his thigh muscle beneath his dark slacks. Her chest welled with yearning to the point of pain, and she desperately tried to distract herself from a sinking realization that she very much wanted to sleep with Eric. The fact that she was entertaining thoughts that might jeopardize her job shook her to the core.

  She flipped open her phone and dialed Lesley’s office number, willing her friend to be at her desk. On the fourth ring, her friend answered. “Handley Toys. This is Lesley Major.”

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Hey! I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

  “I tried to get through last night, but the phone was busy.”

  “Oh, Hank was on the Internet most of the evening. One of these days we’re going to join the rest of the world and get DSL. How are things going?”

  “Oh, fine.” She could feel Eric’s heated gaze on her and strained not to look at him.