Plain Jane's Plan

“Is it about your fiancée?”

That threw him. “You…know?”

“I ran into Allison a few minutes ago. She’s…sweet. But you could have knocked me over with a feather when she said you two were getting married. I always got the feeling you weren’t the marrying kind.”

“Well, people change.” Jeff wondered how much of Sherry’s orange lipstick was smeared all over his face.

“She just doesn’t seem your type,” Sherry persisted.

“Why is that?”

“Well, she’s so…sweet. I can’t picture her being able to handle a tiger like you.” Sherry made a noise, a sort of combination meow-purr.

“Believe me, I’m thoroughly tamed.”

“A tiger can never be tamed. You can put a collar on him and make him jump through hoops, but the minute the trainer drops her guard…” She swiped the air with her hand, her coral talons curling like claws.

Jeff had had just about enough of this conversation. Was the woman not able to take a hint? “Yes, well, interesting observation. I have to go. Allison’s waiting for me.” He made his escape, finally breathing a sigh of relief when he reached the safety of the elevator.

None of the afternoon workshops appealed to him. He went for a swim in the hotel’s Olympic-size pool, wishing he’d worked out with Allison instead. At least he’d have had someone to talk to, and he wouldn’t have that pastrami sandwich sitting in his stomach like a lump. He sat in the whirlpool for a while. The only other person there was a woman from Albuquerque, a bookkeeper for a medical clinic who was attending the conference to brush up on the latest insurance laws. Jeff steeled himself for a come-on, but then she started talking about her husband and daughter, and he realized she was just being friendly, not flirting.

Not all women threw themselves at him, as Allison believed. Hell, he’d been turned down by plenty of ’em. He could remember times he’d been ignored and overlooked by the opposite sex. She didn’t have a corner on that market.

Come to think of it, though, he couldn’t remember Allison ever dating anyone. Maybe he should set her up with a nice guy. He had a few single friends left.

That thought immediately made him uneasy. No, he wouldn’t meddle in Allison’s love life. That was a sure way to ruin a perfectly good friendship—introduce her to some guy who later dumps her, and then Jeff would take the blame.

When he glanced at the clock, he realized he ought to go to the suite and change for the reception. He hoped Allison was there, so they could go together. He didn’t want to face Sherry again without her.

ALLISON WAS READY a half-hour early. Her new hairdo and makeup routine took forever, so she’d left herself plenty of time. But it was only four-thirty, and the reception didn’t start till five.

And where was Jeff? That thought had scarcely formed before she heard him at the door. Oh, shoot, she didn’t want him to see her yet. He would know how eager she was, and besides, she wanted to make an entrance. She quickly retreated to her bedroom and closed the door.

“Allison? You here?”

“I’m getting dressed,” she called through the closed door. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

“Thanks. Oh, and thanks for running interference with Sherry. You did good.”

“No charge.” She hoped they could steer clear of Sherry from now on. Lying didn’t sit well with Allison.

With time to kill, she decided to polish her nails and tried not to think about the fact that Jeff was naked in the shower. Then she would get all hot and bothered, and her face would glow and her hair would go flat, and she would chew off her lipstick.

The water in the bathroom stopped, and she heard Jeff moving around in the living room. Probably getting dressed. Maybe she could walk in by mistake and catch him half-naked.

Oh, Allison, you are sick.

When her nails were dry and she judged she’d given him plenty of time to make himself decent, she doused herself with perfume guaranteed to drive any man wild, grabbed her tiny evening bag, and opened the door, walking with as much sensuous grace as she could manage.

Apparently, that wasn’t very much, because the first thing she did when she entered the living area was trip.

Somehow, Jeff caught her before she hit the carpet face first. “Whoa. You all right?”

Just dying of embarrassment. “Fine, fine. New shoes. I’m not used to them.”

He inspected her four-inch heels, then tsked at her. “Do you know how many women I’ve had in my office who have sprained their ankles wearing ridiculous shoes like that?”

“Don’t lecture me, Jeff. I happen to like these shoes. Anne picked them out for me.” She figured mentioning Anne couldn’t hurt, since she was only slightly less revered than a saint in the Hardison family.

“I’ll have to have a talk with her.” He sneezed. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think I’m allergic. What is that stuff?”

She would die before she admitted it was something called Seduction. “Mmm, I don’t remember.”

“Could you tone it down a little? I have to hang out with you all night.”

Her face burning, Allison retreated to the bathroom. So, he thought hanging out with her was a chore, did he? She swiped her wrists, behind her ears, and between her breasts with a damp washcloth. The beast! He hadn’t even noticed her dress, which had cost her two root canals and one crown. It was a sexy little black thing with a plunging neckline and no back and a hem much higher up her thigh than she’d ever worn before. And he hadn’t said a word.

She said nothing as they rode down the elevator together. She wished he didn’t look so damn handsome in his suit. She wished she could find something wrong with his appearance—some evidence that he was turning prematurely gray or thickening around the middle. But no such luck. He was more handsome than ever, and at the moment she hated him.

As soon as they arrived at the reception, which was packed with conventioneers eager to take advantage of the complimentary hors d’oeuvres, she excused herself to the rest room. In the ladies’ lounge, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Anne’s number.

“Allison? What are you doing calling me? You’re supposed to be seducing Jeff.”

“It’s not working. He said my shoes were stupid, my perfume stinks—”

“What about the dress?”

“It could have been a potato sack for all he noticed. I might as well be a piece of furniture.”

“Why don’t you pretend to trip and let him catch—”

“Been there, done that. He patted me on the shoulder like I was a golden retriever.”

“This calls for drastic action. You’ve got to shake that boy up—but good.”

“How?” Allison wailed. “I’ve tried everything.”

“I bet you haven’t kissed him.”

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