Just Dare Me...

DELL PRESSED the elevator button and drank deeply from his large cup of coffee, trying to wake up. He’d gone mountain biking yesterday morning in the summer heat, then spent the afternoon rock climbing. It had seemed worthwhile—even enjoyable—at the time, but this morning his ass was dragging and his joints moaning.

He nodded to the security guard, the only other person in the lobby at this early hour. But Bruce Noble was always in his office before most people were out of bed, and Dell had decided to use the opportunity to formally request the CEG account. Formally because it was a near certainty that he would get it—he was a senior account executive with an impeccable track record. And CEG was a perfect fit for him because he spent most of his free time outdoors pushing his body to new limits.

Plus, stuffing his resume with A-list accounts was the shortest route to success.

Success meant early retirement.

Early retirement meant having the time to do the things he enjoyed most.

Ergo, CEG was an important brick in his career path.

Still, he didn’t want to appear presumptuous. It was best to follow protocol and plead his case to Noble so that there would be no misunderstandings.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. Behind him he heard the click of high heels on the tile floor, a sound that always spiked his pulse.

“Hold the elevator,” a female voice called.

He pressed the open button, then looked up to see a tall, leggy woman stride across the lobby like a beautiful colt, her slender figure clad in a trendy green suit, her long legs extended farther by a pair of those high-heeled, pointy-toed shoes that made his cock jump. God, he loved those on women.

She walked into the car and murmured, “Thank you.”

He took a deep drink from his cup to cover his frank perusal of the beauty next to him. Her hair was the color of a red maple tree in full fall flame—spectacular.

Damn, what was it about redheads lately that had him so worked up?

Actually, except for the fact that this woman was polished to a professional shine, her makeup glamorous, her posture self-assured, she reminded him a little of…

He inhaled a mouthful of scalding coffee and sputtered like a car engine. “Gabby?” he gasped.

She turned to him, eyebrows arched over the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. “Yes?”

He blinked. Wait a minute—he had seen those eyes before, only…were her lashes always so long, her mouth always so wide and inviting? “You look…wow,” he said, stumbling over his words.

The blush that pinked her cheeks was the first sign of the old Gabby. “Were you planning to push the button for our floor?”

Feeling like an idiot, he stabbed at it three times before it lit up.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” he asked, still reeling.

“Yes, thank you,” she responded, tucking a long lock of hair behind a delicate ear.

As they climbed, he tried not to stare, but couldn’t drag his gaze away from her profile. The transformation from ugly duckling to siren swan was just short of miraculous.

Desire swelled in his midsection and suddenly, the prospect of Gabby assisting him on the CEG account held even more promise. And she must be entertaining similar thoughts of a collaboration, he reasoned with smug satisfaction, or else why would she be dressed like that?

The elevator doors opened and she walked out in front of him.

“Um, Gabby,” he said.

She turned back. “Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the CEG account.”

“What about it?”

He pulled out his most charming smile. “Well, I’m going to need some…help. And I know that Courtney found you indispensable.”

The tightening of her mouth told him that Courtney had not been that forthcoming with her about her value.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to share your expertise with me, now that I’ll be taking over the account.”

Her eyes clouded slightly. “Has Mr. Noble officially assigned the CEG account to you?”

“No…not officially,” he felt obligated to say. “Actually, that’s why I came in early, to talk to him about it.”

A small smile curved her mouth. “What a coincidence.” Then she turned and walked away from him.

Dell stood there nodding, too distracted by the swing of her shapely backside to fully comprehend her words. Then he blinked—what had she said? Something about a coincidence?

His eyes widened. Surely she didn’t mean…He scoffed—she couldn’t possibly think…

Alarm blipped through his chest when he realized that Gabby hadn’t gone in the direction of her cubicle, but in the direction of Bruce Noble’s office!

GABRIELLE STOPPED at the closed door of Bruce’s office, inhaled deeply and knocked. She was feeling more than a little off-kilter from her encounter with Dell, but she had to focus on her goal.

“Come in,” Bruce called.

She drew on the strength of a weekend of rehearsing with an amiable Bruce Noble cutout that followed her around the apartment and smiled at her across the kitchen table, while she picked at her microwave entrees and McGee munched the kibble in his doggie dish. She could do this. With a deep inhale, she opened the door and walked in.

“Good morning, Bruce.”

Her boss squinted at her, then his eyes flew open. “Ms. Flannery?”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Er, no…what can I do for you?”

She looked at his smiling face and as she’d practiced a thousand times said, “Bruce, I want the CEG account.”

She braced for his reaction—confusion, derision, belly laughter. Instead, Bruce removed his glasses and set them aside. “The CEG account. Well, I have to admit, Gabrielle, this is a surprise…but a welcome one.”

A short rap on the door sounded, followed by Dell Kingston walking in. “Good morning, Bruce.”

Gabrielle set her jaw at the intrusion.

“Morning, Dell. Ms. Flannery and I were just talking about the CEG account.”

She caught the flash of panic in Dell’s eyes before it was replaced by cool confidence. “Oh, good. Because I was thinking that Gabby should be given the official title of assistant on the account.”

Bruce pursed his mouth. “You do?”

“Absolutely,” Dell said magnanimously.

“Gabrielle thinks that she should be given full responsibility of CEG.”

Dell emitted a good-natured laugh that stiffened her spine. “No offense, but I don’t think that Gabby’s ready to take on a client as high-maintenance as CEG.”

“You mean as important?” Gabrielle said, crossing her arms.

Dell conceded with a nod, splaying his hands wide.

Under Dell’s penetrating gaze, a hot flush began climbing her neck. For a few seconds, her mind whirled in desperation as the familiar speechlessness threatened to overtake her. With great effort, she dragged her gaze away from Dell’s and back to the smiling face that had watched television with her and chased a tennis ball around the apartment.

“I’ve devoted six years to this firm,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ve worked with some of the most obscure, unusual and difficult products in our lineup, and the clients have always been pleased.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, and it was all she could do not to pet his head.

“I want this account,” she added, lifting her chin. “I know the products inside and out. I designed the advertising literature and wrote most of the copy. I suggested and managed the overhaul of the online store.”

Dell scoffed. “Desk work is one thing, Bruce, but you know the people at CEG—they’re outdoorsmen, and so am I. When I’m not here, I’m mountain biking, hiking, climbing, rappelling, you name it. I live this stuff.”

Bruce looked to Gabrielle, seemingly waiting for more ammunition.

She swallowed hard. “I’ve worn out the stairs in my apartment building, personally testing CEG backpacks and hiking boots. And for the past three months I’ve slept in one of their tents pitched in the living room of my apartment.”

Both sets of male eyebrows shot up at her pronouncement, then Bruce’s phone rang. He glanced at the console. “Excuse me for a minute, I need to take this call.”

Gabrielle turned and reached for the door, but Dell beat her there and held it open for her. She glared at him, then walked through. Out in the hall, the tension between them was palpable. She tried to tamp down her nervousness, telling herself that she had presented her case well. Bruce hadn’t laughed at her, hadn’t dismissed her, hadn’t reminded her that last week he and everyone else had seen her tighty-whitey underwear.

Then Dell’s soft laugh caught her attention. He looked conciliatory. “Gabby, come on, you don’t really expect Bruce to give you CEG. Why don’t you just stick to the feminine hygiene products and leave CEG to someone who can handle it?”

In that instant, her heart shriveled. She realized that all the times Dell had been flirtatiously teasing her, inside he’d been laughing at her clumsiness and labeling her as incompetent. He truly didn’t think she was capable of competing on his level. If he knew how she’d fallen for him over those fleeting shared moments, he’d have an even bigger laugh at her expense.

She felt like a fool. Her wounded pride threatened to disable her, but she hardened her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. “My name is Gabrielle. And no matter what Bruce decides, please don’t patronize me, Dell.”

Something unrecognizable flared in his eyes—hostility? Resentment?

Bruce’s door suddenly swung open and he beckoned them both inside. Gabrielle preceded Dell, her body stiff, and wondered if she’d be able to back up the statements rolling out of her mouth, which seemed to have a mind of its own this morning.

That darn magazine article had blown her up with false bravado. If Bruce gave the account to Dell and asked her to assist, she’d be stuck working with Dell under rather tense circumstances.

Bruce Noble leaned against the front of his desk, his arms folded. “I just got off the phone with Eddie Fosser at CEG. He also wants to know who’ll be taking over the account. I told him my dilemma.” He gestured toward Dell. “On one hand I have a senior account executive who would fit nicely into the CEG corporate environment.”

Dell smiled, and Gabrielle seethed. “Fit in,” meaning a testosterone-laden male.

Then Bruce gestured to her. “On the other hand I have a junior account executive who is familiar with the client’s products and might have been, er—” he coughed “—inadvertently overlooked for past opportunities.”

Gabrielle smiled—maybe Bruce was going to do the right thing after all.

“So Eddie and I were talking, and he suggested something that might give you both a chance to prove yourselves.”

She and Dell exchanged a puzzled glance, and she felt some measure of relief that apparently he didn’t know what their boss had in mind.

“CEG is sponsoring a wilderness survival trip this weekend in the Georgia mountains with their celebrity spokesman. Eddie will be there with some other CEG execs, and a couple of their big customers. It’s a good-natured competition to showcase their products, with each player accumulating points. Eddie suggested that both of you attend and…whichever one of you scores the highest will get the account.”

A vacuum of silence pulled at her ears.

“This is based on athletic ability?” Dell asked, shooting an amused smile in her direction.

“Well, certainly athleticism will help,” Bruce said, “but it’s more like a test of wills…and logic. And it’ll give you a chance to interact with Eddie and his people.” Bruce clapped his hands together. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s on the Amicalola Falls State Park property. You’d leave Thursday and return Monday. What do you say?”

Gabrielle felt like an animal trapped in a searchlight…in a tree…having sex…upside down. Compete with Dell in a wilderness survival weekend? There must be thousands of ways for him to humiliate her in the woods.

“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Dell said, then turned to Gabrielle, his eyes alight with predetermined victory, his mouth barely able to contain a grin. “But if you’re not up to it, Gabrielle, then just say so and we’ll go back to the original arrangement—I’ll take the lead on the account, and you’ll be my assistant.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing over the advice in the “Adrenaline Rush” article.

Then Dell lowered his head and leaned slightly toward her. “Come on, Gabby,” he whispered in a taunting voice for her ears only. “I dare you.”

At his challenging words, an unfamiliar strength swelled in her chest—at least she hoped it was strength, and not a reaction to the fact that for the first time, Dell would have to deal with her as a rival, a competitor, a peer.

The article had described moments like this—when a person’s life choices, past and future, seemed to converge into one decision that had to be made on gut instinct and self-trust.

She looked Dell Kingston square in his dreamy eyes and, after almost faltering under the sheer impact of his sexy gaze, she found her voice. “You’re on.”

A cocky grin split his face and he extended his hand to her. “Then may the best man—or woman—win.”

She stared at his large hand before clasping it with her own, unprepared for the shock of his warm fingers swallowing hers. His gaze raked her up and down, taking in every inch of the exterior she’d carefully constructed over the weekend—a facade of confidence that shook precariously when Dell looked at her that way…the way a man looked at a woman.

On a challenge bolstered by a silly dare, she’d agreed to spend four days in the woods with this man.

And four nights.

And something in his never-ending eyes told her that with all the dangers in the wild, Dell Kingston himself posed the biggest threat to her well-being…and to her state of mind.

4

“I STILL THINK you’ve lost your freaking mind,” Tori said, her eyes bleary, her sleep-mussed hair sticking up at all angles. “First you go through some Stepford executive makeover, and now you’re heading off to the mountains with…that man.”

“We’ve been over this,” Gabrielle said, handing over McGee, who squirmed in Tori’s unfamiliar arms. “I have to do this to get the CEG account.”

“I don’t know why that stupid account is so important to you.”

Detecting a note of abandonment in her friend’s voice, she laid a hand on her arm. “Tori, you were the one who pointed out the inequity of the account assignments. I’m only fighting for what I deserve.”

But instead of cheering up, Tori only looked more morose. “I’ve seen documentaries on these wilderness survival trips—they lure you in with romantic notions of sitting around the campfire, and the next thing you know, you’re running for your life, being hunted by some guy with a crossbow.”

Gabrielle squinted. “You watch way too much television. And I assure you, there were no romantic promises. I’m expecting the worst—eating bugs, dangling from cliffs—”

“Sharing a tent with Dell Kingston.”

Gabrielle blinked. “What? Now who’s lost their mind?”

“That’s what everyone in the office is saying,” Tori said, her voice tinged with a gossipy tone. “That Dell is going to get the CEG account and get into your pants.”

Anger flared in her chest. “Well, they’re wrong, and you can tell them so.”

“Just be careful,” Tori said earnestly. “I know how you feel about Dell—”

“I don’t—”

“I know how you feel about Dell, and I just don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret.”

Gabrielle inhaled a calming breath, trying not to let her friend’s comments make her any more nervous about the long drive into the mountains with Dell that stretched ahead of her. She’d never missed having a car before today. She closed her eyes against the image of his dancing brown eyes. Come on, Gabby. I dare you.

“Trust me,” she said forcefully, for her benefit and for Tori’s, “Dell Kingston has nothing on his mind for this weekend except scoring higher than me on the competition.”

“I’d say you’re right about one thing,” Tori said dryly. “His mind is on scoring, all right.”

Gabrielle massaged her temples—this she did not need. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking care of McGee?”

“We’ll be fine until you get back. Hey, have you ever noticed that McGee looks a little like Mr. Noble?”

“You think?” Gabrielle said, backing down the stairs and shoving on her sunglasses. “I’ll call you if my cell phone works in the mountains.”

“Good luck,” Tori yelled. “Get Nick Ocean’s autograph for me. And keep your tent flap closed!”

DELL CHECKED his watch, then glanced at the front of the Marta station for the hundredth time. Had he missed her? Considering the color of her hair, he didn’t think that was possible.

And considering her flair for misadventure, she might be lying at the bottom of a set of stairs somewhere, or hanging from a flag pole. The pale slip of a woman would be lucky to make it through the weekend without breaking her lovely neck. Still, he shook his head, smiling at Bruce’s genius. The man couldn’t flat-out deny Gabby’s request for the account without Human Resources climbing all over him. A competition was the perfect way to give Dell the account without making it look so obvious.

And Gabby had nearly conceded on the spot—he’d seen it in her eyes. He still wasn’t sure what had driven him to dare her to accept the challenge. Something about the woman had always piqued his interest, even before her transformation. Gabby had this air of aloof independence that made him want to rankle her. Her pluckiness intrigued him. He could have walked out of Bruce’s office with CEG in his pocket. But this way, he told himself, she’d feel as if she’d given it her best shot, and would be more willing to assist on the account. And it would give her a chance to warm up to him.

There was only one problem—

A flash of red caught his attention and sure enough, it was Gabby, dressed in loose cargo pants and a white T-shirt, her blazing hair pulled back into a long, thick ponytail. She struggled to stand upright with the large backpack strapped to her slender body. God, she looked so young and vulnerable and…sexy.

The problem that had been gnawing at him all week hit him full force, causing him to shift in his seat. Little Gabby Flannery had always been a curiosity to him, but over the past few days in the office, every glimpse of her in her new slim suits and short skirts, with her hair flowing wild around her shoulders, had him setting his jaw against an unexpected surge of lust.

How he was going to keep his hands to himself during four days of close contact with her in the great outdoors while trying to make sure she didn’t kill herself, he didn’t know.

He climbed out of his SUV and waved. She smiled and lifted her hand, but the movement threw her off balance and sent her stumbling backward to sit down hard on the sidewalk.

He rolled his eyes and hurried across the street to help her. “Are you okay?”

She looked up and nodded, fumbling with the straps of the backpack across her chest.

“Let me,” he said, then unfastened the straps, willing himself to ignore the incidental contact with her full breasts.

This was not a promising start.

When she was free, he helped her to her feet and picked up her pack, wincing at its weight. “Christ, do you have a body in here?”

“No,” she murmured. “Just trying to cover all the bases.”

“Let me guess—high heels and makeup?”

She frowned. “No.”

He winked, then headed toward his SUV. “You’re late, we need to get on the road.”

“Sorry. I had to drop my dog off at Tori’s, and the trains were delayed.”

“Do you have one of those Tinkerbell dogs?”

She gave a little laugh that he liked the sound of. “McGee is a bulldog, and I don’t think he’d take kindly to being called a Tinkerbell.”

“Nice name,” he said grudgingly, surprised that she would own such a substantial canine. He’d always wanted a dog himself, but his hectic travel schedule had always prevented him from owning one…at least that was his excuse, he acknowledged wryly.

He loaded her backpack into the rear of his vehicle, next to his own pack, which was half the size and weight. He’d been camping and hiking enough to know that most people packed too much gear. “So your friend, Tori…she’s a little gloomy.”

“She doesn’t like you, either,” Gabrielle said, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door with a bang.

He frowned, then swung up into his own seat. “I didn’t say I didn’t like her.”

“It’s okay,” Gabrielle said matter-of-factly. “We’re used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Used to being ignored by the senior account execs.”

He sputtered. “We don’t ignore the junior account managers.”

“Really? What’s the name of the guy who sits in the cube next to mine?”

“The new guy?”

“He’s worked there for five years.”

“Oh…right.” Dell tried to conjure up the man’s face in his mind. “Mike something?”

“Close—Oscar. Oscar White. Nice guys with two kids, puts in about seventy hours a week at the office.”

“Oh. Well, I guess our paths haven’t crossed that much.”

Her mouth flattened, and she remained infuriatingly quiet.

He started the engine and tried another tack as he pulled away from the curb. “So do you live around here?”

“No, I was coming from my friend’s place. I live in Midtown.”

“Really? So do I.”

“I know. I’ve seen you at my grocery Sunday mornings.”

“Why haven’t you ever said hello?”

“You were always with a woman. Sometimes Courtney, sometimes…not.”

He squirmed and inexplicably, he thought of Gabby waking up in his bed on Sunday morning and them running to the store for a newspaper and a carton of juice. The image very nearly made him miss the ramp to the interstate that would take them north toward the Georgia Mountains.

“I’ve seen you at the Fox Theater, too,” she said.

“Oh? Do you moonlight at the Fox?”

“I’m a volunteer usher.”

“Really? I thought only old people did that.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Old people and me,” she said cheerfully.

How did she do that—keep him off balance, make him feel as if he were a snob? “I guess that’s a great way to see all the shows.”

She nodded and turned to look out the window. He hadn’t given much thought to her salary, but he vaguely remembered being on a tight budget back when he’d been a junior account manager. There had been no money for theater tickets.

“How old are you, Gabby?”

After a few minutes of silence, she said, “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

He gave a little laugh. “I think it’s cute.”

“I don’t want to be cute,” she said stiffly. “I want to be taken seriously. You think I don’t know what everyone is saying?”

“What is everyone saying?”

“That this competition is a joke, that there’s no way I can beat a superjock like you on a wilderness survival course.”

He weighed his words, especially since he might have inadvertently fueled a few of those sentiments going round the office. “Apparently Bruce feels differently.” His conscience plucked at him, though, for giving her false hope that she could actually beat him. After all, the woman had nearly been done in with her backpack.

She fell silent again, watching the passing scenery on Georgia 400 until they were north of the city. Dell couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually wanted a woman to talk.

“Where are you from?” he asked finally.

“I grew up in a small town outside Chattanooga.”

A small-town girl—not surprising. “Sounds nice. Are your parents still there?”

She nodded.

When no other information seemed forthcoming, he offered, “I grew up in D.C.”

“I know. I helped to put together the bios for the senior account execs for the annual report. Your parents work for the Pentagon and you have an MBA from Emory.”