15
GRIFFIN GLANCED OVER at Macy sitting in the passenger seat. She’d been a little morose all afternoon at her parents’ place, and nothing he’d tried had broken her out of the funk.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She looked at him as if he’d just startled her out of a daze.
“Your dark mood—do you want to talk about it?”
“Oh, sorry. I guess I just get this way around my parents.”
“Are you sure they’re all that’s bothering you? I mean, they’re not here now, but your mood still is.”
She stared out the passenger window, not answering for a while.
“I used to be such a nerd growing up, I didn’t have a life, so I spent all my time fantasizing about the one I would have someday. I’d be pretty, have a glamorous job… I’d be confident, a risk-taker, the kind of woman people write books and TV shows about.”
“Sounds like you’ve accomplished all your goals in spades then.”
More silence, and then, “I guess.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“I never could figure out how to exorcize the miserable fat kid. She’s still here. She’s just dressed up in cool kids’ clothing.”
Griffin tried not to laugh. He really tried. But he failed. “Why would you even want to? I mean, you are who you are, and I think you’re amazing just like you are.”
“Maybe I imagined, I dunno, that the confidence part would be easier. That I’d always know the right thing to do, and I’d never have any huge problems to deal with.”
“That was just adolescent idealism. You know better now. But as far as confidence goes, you have no reason not to be sure of yourself. You’re amazing at everything you do.”
“Not always. Sometimes I do stupid things.”
“Like what?”
She glanced over at him, but in the waning light, her face was shadowed and he couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes.
“Like have an affair with a guy in my office that I know will be doomed and that will likely complicate our lives unnecessarily.”
“Complication can be a good thing.”
“But seriously. We keep saying, ‘after this weekend we’re done,’ or ‘just one more night and we’re done,’ and now look at us. You’ve met my parents, for God’s sake.”
“So?”
“So now I’m going to spend the next three years fielding questions from my mother about what ever happened to that nice boy Gavin.”
“Gavin?”
“She’ll forget your name by next Tuesday.”
Outside the car, the rural scenery of Gilroy rolled past, and the scent of garlic filled the air from the many garlic farms surrounding the town. This was a much more enjoyable part of the drive than going north on 99, but the sometimes windy, narrow road meant he had to pay close attention to the wheel.
“I liked your parents,” he said. “They were nice.”
Also a little wacky, and clearly not aware of what a great daughter they had, but that was their own loss.
“Yeah, well. I liked having you there. I mean, I’m sorry you had to eat microwaved meat loaf, but as far as parental visits go, that was one of the more pleasant ones. Having you there helped.”
“So I’m still not seeing what the big problem is.”
“I’m not supposed to like you!” she said a little too vehemently.
“You’re not?”
“I’m supposed to be cool and detached, because this is our little meaningless office fling, and instead I’m falling for you.”
“Oh.”
“That’s what’s wrong!”
Griffin was tempted to point out that he was falling crazy in love with her, but in her current state, he wasn’t sure how the news would be taken. Better to wait until she was in a cheerier mood.
“You know, it’s not unheard of for office romances to work out,” he offered, searching for solid ground.
She sighed. “I’m supposed to fall in love with a dark, brooding lone-wolf type. I’m not supposed to be with a gregarious all-star jock.”
“Did you visit a fortune teller?”
“I just know. We all have our fantasy mate, and…”
“And I remind you too much of those guys in high school who ignored you and made fun of you?”
She said nothing.
He wanted to tell her to get over it, but he realized that would make him sound like an insensitive jerk, and probably dark, brooding lone wolves never said insensitive things to their lovers. He also considered pointing out that maybe she’d taken all those romance novels she read too seriously, but again, it wasn’t going to score him any points.
“Macy, I know we’re both ad people. We deal with images all the time. But this is a case where you have to move beyond the image. You’re putting the wrong spin on this situation.”
Finally, she smiled. “You mean, I should be looking for the value-added features in our relationship?”
“Absolutely. Spin it the right way, and you can sell yourself anything.”
“I like that.”
They rode a few minutes longer in silence as they neared the entrance to Highway 101.
And when he was about to take the on-ramp, Macy said, “Ooh, look. McDonald’s drive-through. Let’s get milkshakes.”
Griffin slowed the car and flipped on the turn signal. He wasn’t positive he’d completely dodged the our-relationship-is-doomed bullet, but once he had Macy home, naked and thoroughly satisfied, he was pretty damn sure he could sell her anything. Including a commitment with him.
In fact, after getting to know Macy privately from all these different angles, falling for her harder and harder, he was beginning to understand that he wouldn’t have any peace in his life until he knew Macy was not only his for the night, but his for keeps.
MACY HAD SUGGESTED they go to his place tonight to avoid anymore phone calls from her mother, and Griffin was happy to oblige. He liked showing off his bachelor pad. It wasn’t very big, but he’d done some remodeling, and he thought he’d done a damn good job.
Granite countertops, custom maple cabinets, refinished hardwood floors. He’d even painted the walls. Okay, they were all beige because he didn’t know what other color would match everything, but still. It looked better than white.
Griffin had a feeling that this was his last chance to prove to Macy that he cared for her enough that their working together didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he felt, and of course, he realized, that wasn’t exactly fair. The way she felt mattered just as much, and she’d already made clear her desire not to get themselves entangled any further.
He watched her checking out the books on his shelves as he undressed. She could browse all she wanted, but he had one thing in mind tonight. Sexual persuasion.
His shelves contained lots of American classics like Hemingway, Thoreau and Emerson, and a hodgepodge of more contemporary classics. He’d studied English in college and had first started collecting classics to impress anyone who checked out his bookshelves, but once he’d finished school and had time to read for pleasure, he’d discovered that he actually liked the classics.
“Have you read all these?” she asked.
“Yep, most of them a couple of times.”
“I never would have labeled you a literary type.”
“It’s my dirty little secret. I might lose my all-star jock image if word ever got out.”
“Your only dirty secret?” she asked, eyeing him with mock suspicion.
“Well, that and the fact that I’m about to sleep with one of my subordinates.”
“Oh, so now that you’ve got me alone in your apartment, I’m your subordinate.”
“Only if it turns you on,” he said, catching her hand in his and pulling her close so that she could not just see the evidence of his arousal, but feel it, too.
Her body molded against his, and she rested her head on his chest instead of looking up at him. The gesture created a heavy feeling in his gut, as if he was about to lose something dear.
“No comment,” she whispered.
“Do you ever read anything besides romance novels?” he asked.
“Why? You have a problem with them?”
“Not at all. I’m all for guys in billowy shirts and girls in revealing dresses.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that saying about not judging a book by its cover?”
“Sure. I was just wondering if you’ve ever read Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms.”
“I did in college. I remember it was really depressing. I hate tragic love stories.”
“I feel the same way right now that I did when I read that book—like a world has ended.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t want to just gaze across the room at you knowing I can’t have you. What’s the fun of that?”
“You’ve got me right now.”
“I mean tomorrow, and next month, and next year.”
She was silent for a moment, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.
“Sometimes it’s more fun to want something than to have it.”
“In your case, I can confirm that’s definitely not true.”
“Well, thanks, but—”
“I know, I know. I’ve heard it all before.” Griffin’s throat tightened. He’d never felt as if so much was at stake. He’d never felt so wildly, blindly in love before, and he needed to know that Macy shared his intense feelings. He tilted her chin up until she was looking him in the eyes.
“I love you,” he said, and the words felt as natural and simple as the act of breathing.
Macy’s expression transformed then, but not in the way he was expecting. He watched all the softness vanish from her features, replaced by a hardness that he knew had to spell bad news.
“Griffin, there’s something I have to tell you,” she said.
He imagined the possibilities. Maybe she had huge, unbelievable credit card debt, or maybe she had a weird foot fetish, or maybe she was a member of a cult. He could get past that stuff.
“Don’t look so solemn,” he said, nudging her. “How bad could it be?”
“I’ve got something really awful to tell you.” She broke free from his grasp and paced across the room, putting some distance between them, leaving him standing there naked and exposed.
“What?”
“I had an agenda last weekend when we went to Las Vegas. I was trying to dumb you down with sex.”
“What?” His brain tried to process her words, but she wasn’t making any sense.
“Didn’t you feel kind of fuzzy-headed Monday after our trip, when you were doing the presentation?”
Griffin recalled how he’d felt as if his thoughts were stuck in molasses. His brain had been operating at reduced capacity that day and even the next day. But no way was it because of sex…was it?
“Yeah, so?” he said.
Macy looked as if she was about to confess to capital murder. “A friend of mine is a scientist, and she’d just completed a study on the effects of sex on human intelligence. She told me about how she’d discovered that sex temporarily reduces our mental capacity, and—”
“That’s impossible.” Griffin crossed his arms and paced across the room. When he spotted his pants and boxers on the floor, he grabbed them and tugged them on, his mind stumbling around the facts.
Stumbling. Was it really impossible? He’d had sex earlier today. It’s possible he wasn’t thinking at full capacity.
Damn it.
“Griffin, I’m sorry. I feel awful about having manipulated you. It was a nasty, underhanded thing to do.” Macy was walking toward him now, but he didn’t want her too near, where he could forget what he was supposed to be pissed off about.
He took a step back away from her. “What do you mean you manipulated me?”
She sighed, and her pained expression grew even darker. “I didn’t come at all during that weekend in Vegas.”
Whoa! He stopped his pacing, and the air left his lungs.
“You really were faking it? The entire time?”
She nodded. “It was an act,” she said, her gaze focused on the shiny wood floors.
“But why?” Though the truth was lurking in the dark recesses of his brain, trying to find its way out.
“I wanted to keep you from being mentally sharp during the presentation.”
“That’s…diabolical.” Big word for a guy who’d just been dumbed down by sex, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe it.
“If it’s any consolation, it was really hard not to come with you. I definitely got the bad end of the deal.”
“It’s not any consolation, not when I thought we were two adults being upfront with each other.” He grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head, shoved his feet into his shoes and headed for the door.
But damn it, this was his apartment. She was the one who needed to get the hell out.
The more he thought about what she’d done, the more pissed off he got. His thoughts were emerging from the molasses, and now he understood exactly what was going on here. He’d been had.
Macy came toward him again, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I’m very, very sorry,” she said. “It was a crappy thing to do.”
“You need to leave now,” he said as he opened the door. “I’ll call you a cab. You can wait in the lobby of the building until it comes.”
She made a weird gasping sound, and he realized she was crying. She picked up her purse from the coffee table, then cast a pitiful look in his direction. He almost wanted to take her in his arms, but how could he?
When would he know when she was being fake and when she was being real? Had he fallen in love with a real woman, or an act?
“Could we please talk about this first?” she said. “It’s more complicated than it sounds.”
“We’re finished talking. I don’t know when you’re lying and when you’re telling the truth, anyway.” Macy wasn’t the woman he thought he’d fallen in love with at all.
He’d fallen for her act. Like a fool.
He could fall once, but not twice. “If you want the damn promotion so badly,” he said, “You can have it.”