Might as well tell him. If he thought she was crazy maybe he’d get lost. “The annoying little voice in my head.”
Instead of backing away as if she were nuts, he nodded. “I’ve got that same little voice.” Something she couldn’t decipher flashed in his eyes. “I’ve been telling mine to shut up a lot recently, too.”
Curiosity pricked her, but before she could question him, the bartender handed Jack his beer. He raised his drink and said, “To our bet. May the best man win.”
She tapped her wineglass against his long-necked bottle. “Especially if he’s a she.”
After he took a swallow, he leaned back against the bar and again studied her. “May I be perfectly honest with you?”
“I’d prefer if you’d be perfectly absent.”
Instead of looking annoyed, he smiled. “And here I thought women just wanted honesty. Except for that ‘Does this make my butt look fat?’ question. So… may I be honest?”
“Why not? Honesty from a man would be a refreshing change.”
His gaze wandered down her body then back up again. “You’ve surprised me. Or rather, the contents of your suitcase surprised me.”
“I could say the same about the contents of yours.”
“Oh? What’s surprising about sneakers and sweats?”
She recalled the size of those sneakers and felt her cheeks flush. “I meant your reading material.”
“Says a woman with Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover tucked into her bag. That’s much more interesting than anything in my suitcase.” He nodded toward the blond guy. “You were planning to try out one of those fifty ways on him?”
“Again, none of your business.”
“I know. But I’m curious, and not averse to tossing out the brutal truth. So here it is: From day one you struck me as a prim, proper, uptight, rigid schoolmarm type. What I saw in your suitcase, coupled with your obvious intent to meet someone in this bar tonight, blows all my theories about you out of the water.”
“I see. Well, in light of your brutal truth, I’ll return the favor. From day one you struck me as the fast-and-loose, girl-in-every-port playboy type I loathe. What I saw in your suitcase makes me wonder if you might not be quite as loathsome as I thought.”
“Thanks. I think.” His gaze searched hers for several seconds, then he said, “Gavin sent us here to bond, so rather than waiting for tomorrow morning, how about we start now? Since at least some of our preconceived notions about each other seem to be wrong, I vote we start all over. Not as feuding CFO and consultant, but just as… you and me. At work we’re at odds with each other, but we’re not at work now.” He held out his hand and smiled. “Hi. I’m Jack Walker.”
Suspicion instantly filled her. She knew damn well Jack didn’t like her, yet here he was, pouring on the charm. Why? He had an ulterior motive, of that she was sure. But what?
Yet along with her suspicions came a heated awareness. Of him. Of the way he was looking at her. As if he were seeing her for the first time. As if he were really interested. And curious. Just as you’re curious about him. He was undoubtedly playing some sort of game. He had to be. So why not play along? At least her curiosity would be satisfied. And if he could temporarily set aside their work-related enmity, then so could she.
She extended her hand and gave his a firm, businesslike shake. But there was nothing businesslike about the tingle that shot up her arm as his big, warm hand engulfed hers. She had to swallow to locate her voice. “Hi, Jack. I’m Madeline… Maddie Price.”
He continued holding her hand, again looking at her with that I’ve-never-seen-you-before expression. She slipped her hand from his, then quickly picked up her wineglass so she didn’t give in to the unnerving, overwhelming urge to touch him again. To see if another tingle would zing through her.
Deciding her best defense was a strong offense, she said, “So tell me about your reading material regarding raising a four-year-old. I didn’t know you had a child.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. But I have a four-year-old niece. We spend a lot of time together and, well, kids don’t come with instruction manuals, so I figured I’d buy one.” He hesitated then asked, “Would you like to see her picture?”
Surprised, by both his answer and his offer, she said, “Sure.”
He withdrew his wallet from his back pocket and slipped a photo from the black billfold. “Her name is Sophie,” he said, handing her the picture.
Maddie looked down at the image of an adorable blue-eyed sprite whose grinning, dimpled face was surrounded by a halo of bright copper curls. “What a cutie,” Maddie said, smiling at the photo. “She looks like a red-haired angel.”
“Thanks. But don’t let that angelic face fool you. She’s a sweetheart, but she also has the temperament to go along with that red hair, believe me. Totally takes after my sister.”
“She’s a fiery redhead?”
“No, just fiery tempered. Sophie got the red hair from her dad.”
She handed him back the photo. “They live in Atlanta?”
“Sophie and Claire do-Claire’s my sister.” A shadow fell across his features. “Claire’s husband, Rob, died last year. Killed by a drunk driver.”
Sympathy filled Maddie, and without thinking she reached out and touched his arm. “A close friend in college was the victim of a drunk driver. I know how painful it is. How helpless and angry you feel. I’m so sorry.”
He stilled and looked down at where her fingers rested against the sleeve of his white dress shirt. It felt to Maddie as if electricity ran between them. Did he feel it, too? Several long seconds passed, then he reached for his beer and her hand slipped from his arm. After swallowing, he said, “Thanks. It’s been tough on all of us, but especially on Claire. She and Rob were a perfect couple-really in love-and she’s still floundering. Our dad is career army and currently based in California, so our folks are far away, and Rob’s family all live in Texas. I’m the only family Claire and Sophie have here.”
“So you spend a lot of time with them,” Maddie said, her heart hurting for his sister who’d lost her beloved husband, and that adorable, fatherless little girl.
“As much as I can. Claire’s gone back to teaching at the private school where she worked before Sophie was born. Sophie and I have a lunch date every Wednesday at her preschool daycare, and Friday nights the three of us share a family dinner. I think having a constant male figure in her life has helped Sophie a lot. At least I hope so.”
Understanding struck and Maddie’s hand froze with her wineglass halfway to her mouth. Long lunches on Wednesdays… leaving at five every Friday…
A sensation she couldn’t name filled her. She lowered her glass, then murmured, “That’s why you don’t work late Friday nights.”
He nodded. “I explained the situation to Gavin before agreeing to take the position with Java Heaven.”
The realization that she’d made a mistake-a big mistake-slapped Maddie square in the face. One she felt it only fair to admit to. “May I be honest with you?” she asked, repeating his earlier question to her.
“Sure. Hit me with your best shot.”
“Between you coming come back to the office with your tie askew after your long Wednesday lunches and leaving at the stroke of five every Friday… well, that’s why I pegged you as a player. Which, for all I know, you may be,” she added quickly. “But at least in those two cases, I misjudged you. Sorry.”
“Accepted. As for the askew tie, those preschool playgrounds can get rough.” He grinned, and she thanked God she was sitting down because her knees seemed to melt at the sight of that devilish smile. “Between that and the finger painting, I’m lucky to get out alive sometimes.”
Finger paint… she recalled the red smear on his collar this past Wednesday. Finger paint. And she thought she’d known lipstick when she saw it. Clearly she didn’t know much. Especially about Jack Walker, whose character she’d obviously grossly misjudged.