Old Enough To Know Better

Maybe he’d developed heat stroke. He forced himself to engage in normal conversation instead of the caveman-speak that occurred to him. “Sure,” he said. “I’d love some water.” Now wasn’t the time to let her know he had several bottles of the stuff in a large cooler in his truck.

“I’ll toss it up,” she said.

“No, I’ll come down.” The way she’d messed with his concentration, he didn’t trust his hand-eye coordination right now. Nothing would be worse than missing the bottle she threw up to him.

Correction. Worse would be missing the bottle and falling out of the tree at the same time. Besides risking serious injury to his body, he could destroy his pride forever, not to mention his chances of dating this woman.

He left the saw propped in the tree. Then he took off the goggles and hung them on a branch before grabbing his shirt and pulling it on over his head. At last he started the climb down.

He’d never descended from a tree in front of an audience before, and self-consciousness made him clumsy. His foot slipped and he nearly fell. Grabbing a limb with both hands, he dangled for a humiliating second or two before finally relocating a supporting branch with one foot.

He could imagine Carlos and Murphy snickering behind their hands during this stellar performance. They both knew he had plenty of water in the truck. They knew because he always brought enough for all of them. Dehydration was a real danger working outside in Arizona.

But he was willing to look foolish in front of the guys and accept the bottled water from a woman he desperately wanted to meet. He would have liked to meet her when he was a little less fragrant, but he’d stand down-wind of her and hope for the best.

No sense missing a golden opportunity because he was sweaty. If all went as he hoped with this woman, they might end up sweaty together, eventually. Yes, he was getting ahead of himself, but this connection had fate written all over it.

He dropped to the ground and headed toward her, ignoring his two employees. If either of them took this moment to go to his truck and pull a bottle of water out of the ice chest, they’d be on fertilizer duty for the rest of the summer.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” Her voice had a silky quality to it.

He liked silky. Silky usually meant a woman had a sensuous nature. “That’s okay. I needed to take a break, anyway.”

“I’ll bet. You look hot.”

So do you, sweet thing. Her eyes were a startling shade of blue, possibly helped along by tinted contacts. He liked the blue, although he wondered what color her eyes were, really. “But it’s a dry heat.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed and held out the dripping bottle. “Here. This should help.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He took the bottle, his hand brushing hers. He figured that was the idea. She’d obviously brought the water so they could have an interchange. As a way to meet a guy, it was clever.

“That’s me,” she said. “Kasey Lifesaver.”

“Kasey?” He unscrewed the top of the bottle. “Is that all one word or initials?”

“One word. K-a-s-e-y. Kasey.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Kasey Lifesaver. I’m Sam Grateful.” He took a long drink of the water, gulping down half the bottle. Although he really was thirsty, the drinking moment gave him time to think. He’d ask her to dinner. Yeah, that was a good idea. Dinner. What about tonight? Did he have anything going?

Damn it, he did. The Tin Tarantulas had a gig in a little club downtown, and he’d promised to be there. He didn’t think taking a woman to hear his brother’s very loud rock band was right for a first date. So he’d ask for tomorrow night, although he hated to wait that long.

He took one last swallow, lowered the bottle and smiled at her. “Thanks. That was great.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Listen, in exchange for the water, how about if I—”

“So how come you climb around in the tree? Wouldn’t it be safer to use one of those cherry-picker things?”

Obviously he hadn’t impressed her with his coordination. “You mean because I almost took a header a minute ago? Usually I’m smoother than that.”

“You did give me a scare, but that isn’t what I meant. It seems dangerous to me, being up in the tree with a chain saw.”

“Well, I’m a professional.” That sounded stuffy, so he grinned and added, “Don’t try this at home.”

“Don’t worry about that! Just watching you makes me nervous.”

“Don’t be. I’ve logged a lot of hours in plenty of trees.” But her comment made him realize she probably worked in the office next to this tree and had been observing him from her window. That was gratifying. “I do use a cherry picker for some jobs, like palms and eucalyptus, but for big mesquites like this with an elaborate canopy, I’d rather get right into the tree so I can see how it needs to be shaped.”

“Oh.” She glanced over at the mesquite. “I guess there’s more to it than I thought.”

“Believe me, there’s more to it than I thought when I first started out.” He didn’t want to talk about his work, though. He wanted to ease back around to the subject of having dinner tomorrow night. “Listen, would you—”

“Are you by any chance free for dinner tonight?”

Oh, hell. Now she’d beaten him to it. “Not tonight, but tomorrow night, I’d love to.”

She hesitated. “Well, tomorrow night I have this…thing. Maybe the next night…no, wait a minute, there’s—”

“Hold on.” He could see they were losing steam, and he didn’t want that. “Let me tell you what I have to do tonight. You might be willing to go with me.”

“Okay.” She looked wary. “What is it?”

“My little brother has this rock band, and they’re playing tonight at the Cactus Club. It’s not exactly my kind of music—they appeal to a younger crowd, but this is an important gig, and I want to show my support, so I promised I’d be there.”

Instead of making a face, she actually looked interested. “What’s the name of the band?”

“The Tin Tarantulas. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”

“But I have! I heard them play when I was…um, when I just happened to be down at ASU last year. It was an open-air kind of performance. I…the college kids really seemed to love their music.” She combed her hair back with both hands, a gesture that jiggled her breasts under the lacy top. “I wouldn’t mind going, if that’s your question.”

“It’s my question.” He was careful not to let his gaze rest where it wanted to and looked into her eyes, instead. “So that wouldn’t be too painful? We can have dinner first, of course, but I need to be at the Cactus Club by nine. Colin expects me to show up.”

“That’ll work.” She smiled. “And don’t forget I asked you to dinner, so that part’s on me.”

“Okay.” He was so wrapped up in her smile that he didn’t care to debate who would pick up the check. Her lips, decorated in the same shade of red as her car, made him think of hot kisses. But what made her mouth even more fascinating to him, a man who loved details, was the tiny scar in one corner.

It was so faint that someone would have to look close to notice, but that little scar made her unique, and he liked that. Maybe tonight he’d ask her how she got it. He loved hearing those kinds of stories about people. It gave him a handle on who they were.

“How about if I pick you up around seven?” she asked.

He thought about that and laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll drive. I’d probably need a shoehorn to get myself into your car.”

She gazed at him. “How do you know that?”

Uh-oh. Oh, well. Confession was good for the soul. “I saw you get out of your car this morning.”

“Really?” The light dawned. “Were you the person who honked?”

“I accidentally hit the horn.” Leaning forward to get a better view of your tush. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“I just thought somebody was trying to get my attention. But when no one called out my name, I figured it wasn’t for me.”

It was all for her, but he’d eat grubs before admitting that. “I didn’t know your name then.” He laughed. “I still only know half of it, Ms. Lifesaver.”

She held out her hand. “Kasey Braddock.”

He wiped his on his jeans. “Sam Ashton.” He noted that her handshake was firm and her skin felt cool and incredibly soft. She met his gaze during the brief moment of touching, and he enjoyed the warmth of their eye contact.

What a great custom, the handshake. Sam thought of it as a sample of who the person was, like a taste of an ice-cream flavor served on a tiny pink spoon. In this instance, the sample made him want to take home a gallon’s worth of Kasey Braddock.

KASEY WAS CONVINCED that Sam had no clue they’d ever met. After she gave him her full name and he didn’t react, she knew she was home free. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to react. He’d remember a buddy named Jim Winston, but the last name of Braddock shouldn’t ring any bells for him.

“So I’ll pick you up, then,” he said.

Kasey hesitated, wondering if an assertive woman would insist on doing the driving, even if her car was a tight fit for her date. No, she’d let him drive. She knew the Miata was small, and Sam wasn’t.

“Or maybe you’d rather meet at the restaurant,” he said, obviously misinterpreting her reluctance. “After all, you don’t really know me, so maybe you’d rather not give out your address to a perfect stranger.”

But she did know him. Still, she couldn’t say that. “You’re Sam Ashton, so either this is your business or you’re working for a relative.”

“It’s my business.”

She’d thought as much from the way he’d talked about his work with the tree. “Then I can’t believe you’d jeopardize your professional reputation by turning into some kind of stalker. I’d be glad to have you pick me up.”

He smiled. “I promise I won’t bring a truck.”

“I’m not a car snob. You could bring a truck.”

“Glad to hear it, but I’ll bring my car, anyway. So let’s head over to the truck and I’ll locate a pen and paper.”

“Okay.” She walked beside him to the truck and trailer parked in the street next to the building, with orange cones set around it to divert traffic. Now she could see it was the same truck that had been parked behind her this morning. She liked knowing that he’d watched her get out of her car.

He opened the passenger door, grabbed a clipboard and closed the door again, but not before she noticed a cooler on the floor of the cab.

“Um, what’s in the cooler?” she asked, thinking she already knew the answer.

He grinned sheepishly. “Bottles of water.”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t very well tell you I didn’t need that water after you’d gone to so much trouble, could I?”

“You could have.” But knowing that he’d wanted to take the excuse to talk to her did a lot to calm her nerves. Maybe she was better at snagging a guy’s attention than she’d thought. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me, too.”

After giving him her phone number and address, she decided to get the heck out of there before she screwed something up. So far, so good, but her luck might not hold much longer. “See you at seven, then,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

She turned and walked toward the building, wondering if he was watching her. She did her damned best to walk like an experienced temptress. And she was well on her way to becoming one after successfully completing Phase One of the operation. Maybe her little red car had something to do with it, if he’d taken the time to notice her in the parking lot this morning. She thought of her license plate and wondered if he’d seen that, too.

The members of her family, especially her brother Jim, were not fans of that license plate. They’d predicted it would get her into trouble. No doubt they also wondered if that was exactly what she’d intended.

Her sexual experience so far couldn’t be classified as getting into trouble. Losing her virginity in college—to another nerd—had been more of a social experiment than a night of grand passion. About a year and a half ago, she’d decided she needed a makeover to attract sexier dates, and Alicia had been there to help.

Coincidentally, her parents had sold the house she’d grown up in and moved to a condo in Gilbert, a good hour away. That small degree of separation had given her a surprising sense of freedom and had made changing her image even easier. By the time she’d started work at Beckworth Public Relations, she’d been transformed into glam girl.

To give her confidence a boost, she’d ordered the vanity plate. She’d told herself that any day now she’d start getting into that trouble her family was so worried about. Well, apparently she was going to start with Sam.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, while dressing for her date, Kasey mulled over her game plan. After reading a ton of restaurant reviews online and interviewing her co-workers, she’d made reservations at a trendy Italian restaurant within walking distance of the Cactus Club. That way, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about finding a downtown parking place twice.

Thank God she had fake ID. She’d felt like a criminal getting one in college, but it had come in handy. It would come in handy again tonight, because she wouldn’t be allowed into the Cactus Club without it.

The trick to this evening, Kasey decided, was coaxing Sam to talk about himself. The less he knew about her, the less likely he’d figure out who she was, which could cause complications. Blowing her cover at work was only part of the problem. She didn’t relish having Sam contact her brother, who would then fill him in on what his baby sister had been up to or, rather, hadn’t been up to.

Therefore she wouldn’t take this charade too far, only far enough to convince herself that Sam wanted her. This was simply a test of her abilities, one that would erase any lingering feelings of nerdiness she carried around and establish her new babe status for good.

At that point, she’d be ready to enjoy what the world of dating had to offer, maybe even juggling more than one guy at a time. Chances were that Sam, at age thirty, had moved beyond that exploratory stage. She’d seen the change in her brother, who’d been really serious about Alicia and hadn’t dated anyone else since the breakup.

As for her, she had no illusions about holding on to Sam and zero interest in lasting relationships. She was only twenty, for crying out loud. No way would she tie herself down until she was really old, as old as her brother. As old as Sam. With tons of sexual experience.

Wiggling into the red slip dress she’d chosen for the evening, she thought about how much experience Sam must have had. A guy who looked like him must have gone horizontal with a bunch of women. She wondered what kind of lover he was.

A picture flashed through her mind—Sam sitting in the emergency room with her, Jim and her mom. Sam, looking remorseful every time he glanced her way. She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but talking made her mouth bleed, so she’d had to sit there silently and let him suffer. He’d bought her a can of root beer from the pop machine and rounded up a straw so she could drink it without moving her lips.

And then he’d sent the flowers the next day, pink, red and white carnations mixed in with baby’s breath and lacy ferns. She knew now that it hadn’t been an expensive bouquet, but because it was her first ever, she’d never forgotten how it had looked or how amazed she’d been when her mother had called her to the door to sign for the delivery. Come to think of it, the vase, her only one, was tucked into a cupboard in her apartment kitchen. She’d taken it when she’d moved away from home.

If he’d been that sweet at eighteen, he could be a wonderful lover with all the experience he’d surely collected since then. But she wouldn’t be finding out. Way too risky. Once she’d made him drool, she was outta there and on to her regularly scheduled dating program.

She thought her outfit would be a good start. Alicia would approve of the slip dress, the high-heeled slides, the braided leather jewelry and the upswept hairdo. Sam would never connect her with the kid he’d wrestled with in the pool all those years ago.

Pacing her apartment, she reminded herself that she couldn’t be too enthusiastic about the Tin Tarantulas, either. Even though she’d loved their music the one time she’d heard them play, they definitely appealed to the college crowd more than young professionals. And she was a young professional now. She should act slightly bored.

Maybe she needed to practice her slightly bored expression. After returning to her bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and tried out a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes. Yeah, that was good. A world-weary, tolerant smile, perhaps. Excellent.

Her doorbell rang, and she yelped softly. World-weary disappeared as her heart pumped faster and her palms grew sweaty. Sam Ashton had arrived to take her out for the evening. How amazing was that?

She dried her shaking hands on a towel, took one last glance at her flushed cheeks, and decided she’d have to work on her bored expression later. Right now she looked and felt exactly like that little kid who’d received her first bouquet of flowers twelve years ago.

3

SAM STOOD at Kasey’s door holding a dozen first-cut red roses in a cone of green tissue paper. In his early and poor-guy dating years he’d gone for the bargain roses, not understanding that those had been trimmed at least three times and wouldn’t last more than a few days. First-cut lasted much longer, long enough to make a real impression.

That’s what Sam intended to do. He had a gut feeling about this woman. Although he’d be hard-pressed to explain why she seemed so right for him, he was letting his instincts dictate his actions. Thus the pricey roses on the first date. He wanted to let her know he wasn’t kidding around.

When she opened the door and he got a look at her red slip dress and take-me-now shoes, he was doubly glad he’d brought the first-class roses. A woman who looked like Kasey Braddock had seen her share of bouquets, and he wanted his to stand out from the crowd.

“Hi,” she said. “Wow, roses.”

“And I’m sure glad I picked red.” He handed her the bouquet. If she was used to getting flowers, she didn’t let on. “I’m guessing it’s your favorite color.”

“It’s my new favorite color. Come in and I’ll find a vase for these.”

“It should be your favorite color.” He stepped inside the door. “You look terrific in it.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He nodded, although he had no intention of sitting down. He’d be able to get a better view of her apartment if he stood right where he was.

What he saw surprised him a little. It looked like a college pad instead of a career girl’s place. Makeshift bookcases of bricks and boards overflowed with paperbacks, hardbacks and what looked like textbooks. A futon took the place of a regular couch, and over it hung posters from various art galleries. The women he’d dated recently had graduated to real furniture and professionally framed prints.

The place was neat enough, but it didn’t look as if she’d spent lots of time thinking about decorating. One scraggly pothos in dire need of repotting hung from a hook in the ceiling, and the coffee table looked like a hand-me-down from her parents.

Okay, so she wasn’t domestic, wasn’t into nest-building. Was that such a problem? Reluctantly he admitted it might be. Nest-building instincts ranked pretty high on his list these days.

Then she walked back into the room holding the flowers, her cheeks flushed and the rosebuds a perfect match for her lipstick, and he forgot about his nest-building requirements. Hell, if this turned into something wonderful, he could build the damned nest. Roles were changing more every day. So what if she didn’t own a decent crystal vase and had plunked his roses in a cheap glass one that looked like it had been stashed in a cupboard for years.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” From her expression, anyone would think he’d given her diamonds.

He found her enthusiasm sexy. Maybe she didn’t bother decorating her apartment or buying crystal because she had too many other exciting things in her life, like asking a complete stranger to have dinner with her.

“Okay.” She set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and scooped up a small purse from the futon. “I’m ready.”

He thought of her license plate. Yep, her vibrant approach to life really turned him on. “Then let’s go.”

HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEAL, Kasey congratulated herself on how well she was doing. Probably because the restaurant was upscale, the waiter hadn’t carded her when Sam had ordered a bottle of red to go with the pasta. She was relieved about that. Although she had the fake ID, she didn’t want to use it more than necessary, in case somebody spotted it as bogus.

As per her plan, she’d steered the conversation so they talked about Sam. During the antipasto, she’d confirmed what she already knew, that his family had moved to Oregon right after his senior year in high school. He’d gone to college up there but never could get used to the weather, so he’d decided to come back to Phoenix to build his landscaping business.

With a little prompting, she got him to talk about his business during the main course. She didn’t blame him for being proud of what he’d accomplished, creating a thriving enterprise during tough economic times. Besides, she liked listening to him. There was a sexy, husky sound to his voice that hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.

“The tree you worked on today looks amazing,” she said. “Like a sculpture. How did you learn to do that?”

He put down his wineglass and gazed across the table at her, a little smile on his face. “Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice. Besides, it’s fun. I like climbing trees. It’s probably not much different from you designing a PR campaign. How do you go about that, by the way?”

Although it was an innocent enough question, she pegged it as an attempt to switch the topic to her. “Trust me, it’s not half as interesting as what you do. So, what’s the biggest landscaping challenge you’ve ever had?”

He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to think you’ve dated a bunch of egomaniacs.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just the way you’ve made sure we talked about me all the time. Maybe the other guys wanted to bask in that constant limelight, but I’d love to hear something about you.”

“I’m… I’m not all that fascinating.” It was a truthful statement. She was hoping to become fascinating, but that would require more seasoning. He was to be part of the process, although he didn’t know that.

“Come on. A woman who drives a red convertible with such an interesting license plate?”

So here was the fatal flaw in her plan. With the car, the dress, even the shoes, she’d presented herself as a daring Sex and the City kind of girl. She’d hoped that concentrating on him would prevent the spotlight from being turned on her. Spotlights picked up discrepancies. She wondered what she could offer up that would fit the image she’d projected without telling him too much.

Then she remembered her current project at work. “Well, right now I’m designing an image make over for Slightly Scandalous.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really.”

“So you know the place?”

“Um, yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

From his initial reaction she thought he’d had more intimate contact than that. At any rate, sexy underwear seemed to be a savvy topic that went with the red car and the license plate. She’d get some mileage out of it.

“They’ve seen how well Victoria’s Secret is doing,” she said, “and they want some of that market. They’ve rented mall space and they want a classier image when they move.”

“So how do you do that? I mean, when I think of Slightly Scandalous, I think of G-strings and those bras with the cutouts…everywhere.”

Having him mention such things changed the atmosphere of the table, and maybe that’s what she needed. She wouldn’t get him to drool over a discussion about trimming trees. “Exactly. It’s all about branding. If I do my job right, when you think of Slightly Scandalous, you’ll picture a runway model in silk underwear that’s decent enough to be shown on national TV and yet still very sexy.”