Love By Design (3 page)

“Hey Russ,” yelled Brett from down the hall, “they need you in personnel to sign paperwork.”

“Here, I’ll write down the address and you can meet us there at one o’clock.” Ava scribbled on a note pad and tore off the page with a quick snap.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

“Hoo-roo, then.” Russ took the slip of paper, turned away and headed down the hall, but before the elevator doors slid closed he heard Victoria say:

“Hoo-roo? Ava, is that some kind of sex talk?”

“Let’s hope so,” Ava responded.

Russ smiled as the doors shut tight, wondering if Victoria hoped so too.

Chapter 3

V
ictoria sipped on a cosmopolitan. Normally she didn’t drink at lunch, but the delicious liquid, along with the two ibuprofen she knocked back, loosened the tight knot in her shoulder before it threatened to move up into her neck with a full blown migraine not far behind. She liked to call it preventive medicine.

While Ava chattered on a cell phone with one of her other clients, Victoria scrutinized the decor of the restaurant. She didn’t know what they were thinking when covering the over-stuffed chairs in a hideous striped pattern. The designer who selected the fabric for the upholstery had given no thought to how it would clash with 5
th
Avenue fashions. Stark white walls accented with paintings of overpriced art hung throughout the space. The arcing cathedral ceilings honored those who considered food a religion. The waiters were as stiff as the white crisp tablecloths creased just so. Up-scale and uptight, Brooks reeked of big money deals. She preferred the hipper, retro places in the city, but Ava, for lunch meetings anyway, liked to be seen wheeling and dealing in posh establishments. At least the food was good, even if the portions wouldn’t fill a supermodel.

Places like this encouraged three-hour lunches so she wasn’t surprised to find the absence of clocks from the walls. Didn’t want the high-powered suits feeling guilty on company time. She flipped open her phone: 1:07. Aggravated, she snapped it shut and picked up her drink for another soothing sip. “Where is he?”

Ava ended her call. “Miss him already, Vicki? Or is it Vee?”

The comment earned Ava a death stare. “He’s late. Again.”

“What? Five minutes.”

“Seven.”

“He doesn’t know his way around yet. Give him some slack. Especially on the small stuff.”

“You know the saying give an inch?”

“Yeah, I bet he’s got ten to give you.” Ava took a sip of her apple martini.

“Really? Ten?”

“Changes things, doesn’t it?” Ava smirked.

Victoria re-evaluated her stance on not mixing pleasure with business. Ava could freakishly estimate the size of a man’s penis like a carnie could guess your weight. She called it her ‘gift.’ And she was never wrong. Victoria and her sorority sisters learned quickly not to bet against the predictions. Nothing like taking the walk of shame to Ava’s dorm room to fork over fifty bucks, especially if the prediction was on the small side. The double screw, they used to call it. Eventually, Ava took pity on them and offered her expertise free of charge with a simple thumbs down or up. Oh, the poor boys in the bars of New York City. Some of them never even had a chance.

“Well, doesn’t it?” Ava asked again.

Victoria shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and merely answered, “I’m surprised he didn’t list it on his resume.”

Ava waved off a waiter who came over with free drinks from a group of men attired in custom made designer suits. One had possibilities. In fact, just her type, tall, dark, and ready for her to strip off each piece of his three-piece suit. She’d leave on the tie to grab for better leverage.

“He’s married.” Ava stirred her drink.

And that ended that little fantasy. Her friend was also the resident expert on a man’s marital status. Victoria never hit the clubs without Ava. Like the American Express card, never leave home without her. As intent as she was on hooking her up with Russ though, Ava could be lying and Victoria would never be the wiser.

Over the rim of her cosmo, she peered at the entrance, and she nearly choked when she spotted him at the door smiling at Mildred, the seventy-year-old hostess, who grinned back, which was a feat. In the five years Victoria had been coming to Brooks, the woman had never cracked a smile. Had to be his accent. Better than Botox, the sound of his voice could make a woman of any age turn into a seventeen-year-old. And overlook the fact that he wasn’t wearing a tie.

He confidently strode toward her and Ava, maneuvering around tables and waiters. He should have looked out of place among the crowd of suits, but it was everyone else who seemed out of place. Russ had changed into black slacks, but kept the white shirt, and replaced the puka beads with a silver chain. His hair was disappointingly brushed back into a ponytail. Women turned their heads, wishing they could be on him, no surprise there, but he also received glances from men, wishing they could be him. Of course, there were probably a few men who wanted to be on him to, or rather behind him.

But Russ didn’t appear to notice, his gaze never straying from hers. “G’day, ladies.”

“You’re late,” she blurted, glad to remember her plan to be a pain in his ass. Which was a miracle, since all she wanted to do was pinch his.

“I didn’t know your job description included time keeper.” Russ flipped open the menu. “So Ava, how long have you two known each other?”

“Since college.”

“We’re sorority sisters,” added Victoria.

“Sisters.” Russ shook his head in approval.

A waiter appeared, looking down at Russ’s attire, sniffing into the air. “May I take your order?”

Victoria selected the grilled chicken with lemon, tomato, and arugula, Ava chose the Portuguese octopus, black olives, capers, and oregano, and Russ ordered off the menu asking for a burger.

“I’ll ask the chef if he can rustle something up for you.” The waiter rolled his eyes, snapping the menu out of Russ’s hand like he was child, and walked away.

“Wowser.” Russ shook his head.

Ava leaned forward, her elbow on the table with her chin resting on her palm. “What does wowser mean?”

“Straight-laced.”

“And Hoo-roo?” Ava’s eyebrows rose a notch.

Russ laughed. “Good-bye.”

“How boring. Tell us the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?”

Victoria picked up her drink. “She means the dirty words.”

Russ turned back to her and she squirmed under his stare.

“I don’t know, Victoria. I don’t want to be brought up on sexual harassment charges.”

Maybe it was better if he called her Vicki or even Vee. The way he said her full name was like that of a lover.

“Don’t worry about her. Victoria acts all wowsering but you’d be surprised,” offered Ava.

“I would?” His gaze that never left Victoria’s lit with interest.

Her cheeks flamed and she hoped her make-up hid the blush. “Not that you’ll ever find out.”

Russ’s beer arrived. “Ah, thanks, mate.” Ignoring the glass, he took a swig. The waiter sighed and left. “But to make it more interesting you have to guess.” He pointed the bottle to each of them. They agreed. “What is a franger?”

“A penis,” Ava said a little too loud.

Russ laughed. “No, a condom. Okay, how about root?”

“A penis,” Ava answered again.

Russ’s laugh deepened. “No, it’s the f-word.”

“For heaven’s sake, just tell her the word for penis,” said Victoria, upset that he was smiling at Ava and not her.

“Donger.” Russ took a pull of his beer but it was Victoria who swallowed hard.

Ava kicked her leg under the table. When Victoria tore her gaze from Russ’s wet lips she found Ava holding up all ten fingers. Victoria drained her drink and raised her hand for a refill.

“Have I shocked you?” He addressed his question to Victoria.

“Not in the least.” Victoria recovered and made a show of looking up to the ceiling in thought. “I was just wondering if the word donger was derived from the phrase ‘hung like a donkey.’”
That’s it, no more alcohol!

Ava gagged on her drink and Russ’s smug expression was replaced by a deer-in-the-headlights look. Victoria wallowed in throwing him off balance. She fought the self-satisfied smile threatening to appear on her face.

“Bloody hell, I think you can handle me after all.” Russ thumbed the bead of moisture on the beer bottle.

An image of his thumb brushing across her nipple invaded her thoughts. “Got anymore?” Victoria challenged. The waiter rested a fresh drink on the table and she casually pushed it away.

“Okay … okay. It’s obvious you two sheilas can play with the big boys. What are white pointers?”

Ava and Victoria glanced at each other confused.

“Topless female sunbathers.”

Victoria tried to remain aloof but his smile made it impossible. Russ drew people to him without any effort. Trouble was, if she came out of her shell and started acting nice: one, he’d think she was bipolar, and two, he’d think she was ripe for seduction. But the idea of white pointers was just too funny and she started laughing.

“I’ve got one more.” The predator gaze was back in full force. “Australian kiss.”

Her eyebrows drew together trying to think of what an Australian kiss was, but she couldn’t think beyond what it would be like to kiss him, Australian or otherwise.

“Come on, think about it.”

“Got me,” said Ava.

“Me, too,” admitted Victoria.

Russ’s smile turned lethal. “It’s a French kiss, down under.”

Chapter 4

R
uss leaned back in the chair like a man who’d just won a big hand of poker. All he needed was a cigar to enjoy the victory while he observed the play of emotions on Victoria’s face. The color of her eyes deepened into a sapphire pool, a blush stained her cheeks, and her mouth opened in an innocent gasp. But as Russ just learned, she was far from innocent.

He glanced at Ava’s shocked reaction, then back to Victoria who clutched the sides of the table like she was ready to dive under it. Perhaps he’d gone too far?

No way, not after that ‘hung like a donkey’ comment. No pressure there. Russ resisted the urge to grab his ‘donger’ for reassurance. Not that he’d ever had any complaints. Unless you counted ‘Oh my God, you’re huge!’ His smile widened.

Victoria spoke first. “Ava, I know where we’re booking our next vacation.”

“Oh, yeah. No wonder they call it the Land of Oz.”

Russ laughed as they clinked glasses. The two were so different, yet both so beautiful. Ava, blonde, tall, and vivacious—the type he usually dated. Yet, he found himself rethinking what his type was or at the very least expanding it to include tiny, ebony-haired pixies. Despite Victoria’s petite frame, she appeared regal and at times so reserved she looked like she was carved in marble. That is, until you got some alcohol in her.

The two had one other thing in common. They were both trouble. He pictured them letting loose in Sydney and causing a ruckus about town. “Let me know when so I can alert the ATWS.”

“What the heck is that?” asked Ava.

“Australian Tsunami Warning System.”

“What, for little old me?” Victoria said in what he thought was a mock Southern drawl, which sounded sexy as all hell.

“Especially you. In fact, wait until I get back and I’ll be your tour guide.”

“Oh, and when are you going back?”

Gone was the sweet, honeyed voice. Instead Victoria was all business. How could he forget she wanted him gone? How did she forget for all of the five minutes she acted human?

Who was the real Victoria Bryce? The uptight, all business, slightly bitchy, but intriguingly beautiful woman, or the carefree, funny, slightly inebriated, but intriguingly beautiful woman?

Lunch arrived with great flair that Russ found annoying and as his plate was gracefully placed in front of him he couldn’t help holding up the fork and asking the waiter, “What’s this for?” He played up his accent for show. The ladies giggled. The waiter didn’t even crack a smile as he left. “Why do you come here?”

“It’s the place to be seen.”

“And we like torturing the waiters,” added Victoria. “But so far, none have broken.”

“I was right, you two are trouble.”

“So, Russ, do you have a girlfriend back in Australia?” asked Ava.

He caught Victoria glaring at her friend.
Interesting.
“No.” He picked up his burger. “You’ve already told me Victoria doesn’t have a boyfriend—” Now, the evil eye turned on him. Man, she gave a whole new meaning to the expression if looks could kill. “—but how about you?” He bit into the burger.

“I’m dating Josh Grillo. He plays a doctor on Hospital Wives.”

With his mouth full, he shrugged his shoulders.