A Sure Thing?

Chapter 4

Jilly steamed into room 312, annoyed at Matt Davidson, but even more annoyed at herself. After pushing the door closed with a hard hip-check, she kicked off her shoes, set her laptop on the dresser, then plopped onto her back on the freshly made bed, her stockinged feet hanging over the edge of the forest-green, grapevine-embroidered comforter.

What on earth was wrong with her? Never before had her mind veered off course like that during a presentation. And why-despite the fact that her mind knew Matt Davidson was insufferable-was her body not falling in line with the program? His insinuation that she was trying to charm Jack Witherspoon with more than her creative ideas was insulting and infuriating. But what made it even more infuriating was the fact that while ninety-nine percent of her was outraged at his innuendo, there was unfortunately that one percent-some errant feminine chromosome she was beginning to dislike intensely-that quickened at the notion that Matt thought anything about her was sexy.

"Augh!" She plunged her fingers into her hair-her loose, sexy hair-and fisted her hands. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping to ward off the sound of her excruciatingly honest inner voice, but it tapped her on the shoulder.

Hey, Jilly, her inner voice said. Let's be honest here, okay?

You did wear a skirt and heels and your hair down and red lips with the thought of enticing a man-but that man wasn't Jack Witherspoon.

She blew out a long sigh filled with resignation and frustration. As much as she'd like to lie to herself, what was the point? While she wouldn't compromise herself by dressing sexy for a client, deep down she knew she'd tried to look more alluring than she normally would, hoping that Matt would notice. And obviously he had. And obviously he thought she was playing the sexy card to win Jack's favor.

And yes, while that was insulting, she couldn't really blame him. After all, he didn't know her. He had no way of knowing that she would never stoop to something like that. That her sense of fair play and her integrity balked at such underhanded tactics. That she'd rather lose fairly than win unfairly. All he really knew about her through their frequent head-butting was that she was highly competitive, extremely ambitious, and wanted very much to land the ARC account. That, coupled with the fact that many women-and men-in their industry did use sex to get ahead… well, it really wasn't unreasonable or unthinkable that such an assumption would cross his mind. If their situations were reversed, she would have thought the same thing.

She rose and paced to the window. The thick green drapes were pushed back, allowing daylight to flood the room. Drawing aside the sheer, cream curtain panel, she looked out at the snow-covered vineyards. Row upon row of bare vines, held in place by thick wooden stakes and a trio of horizontal cables, stood at attention like a battalion of soldiers. With the harvest season over, the vines resembled thick stems with gnarled fingers pointing upward toward the gray, snow-leaden sky.

Fat white snowflakes drifted downward, beckoning Jilly to come out and play in the winter wonderland. Since she wasn't meeting Jack until three, and she had no desire to remain in this room where the tantalizing fragrance of Matt's musky cologne still lingered, she gave in to the beckoning. She crossed to the closet and pulled out her favorite pair of jeans and a thick, cable-knit sweater, ignoring how disturbingly intimate Matt's clothes looked hung next to hers.

She changed in quick order, slipped her suit onto a hanger, and was just preparing to lace up her sturdy snow boots when she heard the door lock click. She looked up just as Matt, laptop case in hand, strode into the room.

He halted at the sight of her, and for several seconds silence swelled as they stared at each other. Annoyance at his earlier assumption mingled with a tingling awareness of his dark good looks and masculinity. Whew. He might be a pain in the butt, but there was no getting away from the fact that he was a damn fine-looking pain in the butt.

Finally she glanced pointedly at her watch. "It's barely nine-fifteen. Your breakfast meeting didn't take very long."

"Jack sent a message that he was delayed and rescheduled our appointment for ten. Thought I'd come back up here where it's quiet and review my presentation."

She raised her brows. "Are you sure you didn't come back up here to check on my whereabouts? To see if maybe I was what had delayed Jack?"

He hesitated a moment, then said, "I have to admit, I'm relieved to discover you here."

A humorless laugh escaped her. "Don't you mean surprised?"

"No. I mean relieved." He shrugged. "With maybe a little surprise thrown in."

Humph. For an answer, she returned her attention to lacing up her boots. "I'll be out of here in just a minute."

"Fine." Without another word, he crossed to the desk, set his laptop on the polished oak surface, then flicked the On button. Peeking at him from under her lashes, she watched him settle himself in the chintz-covered wing chair, then pull a disk from his laptop case and insert it into the computer. Seconds later a frown pulled down his brows. His gaze scanned the screen, and his frown turned into a scowl.

She heard his fingers tapping away on the keyboard, then a muffled curse. She pressed her lips together and kept lacing. Clearly something was wrong. Well, too bad. It wasn't her problem. Whatever disaster had befallen Matt Davidson, he most likely deserved it.

Done with her lacing, she looked up, and her gaze involuntarily flicked over to him. His face was pale, his lips flattened into a thin line, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

Before she could clamp a hand over her mouth, she found herself asking, "Problem?"

With his gaze still glued to the screen, he dragged his hands down his face. "Ever have the day from hell?"

"Frequently. Today, for instance, is a front-runner, thanks to you."

He shot her a glare. "Ha ha. You're a real laugh a minute."

"Thank ya, thank ya verra much," she said in her best Elvis impersonation. "I'll be here all weekend. So what's wrong?"

"Well, yesterday was my latest day from hell. Everything that could go wrong, did." His gaze returned to the screen, and his fingers resumed typing. "And I've just discovered that the day from hell simply keeps on giving and giving."

"Meaning what?"

"My laptop crashed yesterday. Got infected with the Missionary Position virus that's wreaking havoc everywhere."

Sympathy instantly overrode Jilly's annoyance and she winced. "Ouch. I've heard that virus is especially bad."

"You're not kidding. I turned on the computer and this little dancing naked guy appeared, then pffft," he snapped his fingers, "little dancing naked guy gave an evil chuckle, said, 'You're screwed,' then proceeded to hump his way across the screen and delete all my files."

Her eyes widened. "Yikes. That is bad-and undignified to boot."

He shot her a glare. "Don't you dare laugh."

"I wouldn't dream of it. My computer got fried by the Lollipop virus last year, so I know how awful it is. Did you bring the laptop to Maxximum's IT department? I took my machine to them when it was infected, and they were able to recover most of my files."

"I left it with them yesterday afternoon and filled out an emergency requisition for a new laptop." He nodded toward the machine in front of him. "This is it."

"And I gather that there's something wrong with it?"

"You could say that. It appears that whoever loaded the software onto this particular set neglected to load any of the standard word processing programs."

"You're kidding." She crossed to the desk, then looked at the screen over his shoulder.

"I wish I was. Look." He pointed to the icons. "Not there."

"Did you search through the program files?"

"Twice. Not there." He tunneled his fingers through his hair and groaned. "I should have suspected something would go wrong since the guy in IT yesterday was a temp. Obviously the temp from hell. A perfect match for the day from hell." A very unamused sounding laugh erupted from him. "Well, that's going to delay my presentation for Jack-at least until I can get to a computer store and buy the software I need and install it. God knows where the nearest computer store is. This area isn't exactly a booming metropolis." He glanced over his shoulder at the heavy snowfall visible through the window. "And with all this snow, the roads are most likely a mess."

"The last forecast I heard predicted from one to a hundred and twenty-five inches of snow," she said with a half smile.

"Well, at least the weatherman has a chance of being right by covering his bases that way."

"Can't you give Jack a hard copy of your presentation?"

"Except for a few sketches, I don't have one." He popped the disk from his useless laptop and held it up. "It's all on here. On a fabulous-if I may say so myself-PowerPoint slide show." He shifted in his chair and looked at her over his shoulder. "Seems I'm temporarily out of commission. Nice break for you."

She studied him for several seconds. She could almost feel the frustration emanating off him. She should be happy. Should be celebrating having this small advantage handed to her on a silver platter. But her conscience kicked her in the butt, forcing her feet to carry her across the room. She picked up her laptop and returned to him, setting her computer on the desk.

"You can use mine."

He stared at her, his expression a combination of suspicion, amazement, and confusion as his gaze alternated between her and her laptop. Finally he asked, "What's the catch?"

"No catch."

His eyes narrowed. "There's always a catch."

Annoyance prickled her. "Sheesh. You sure are suspicious. Look, if you don't want to use it, fine. You can sit here until the spring thaw, or hitch your car up to a team of mush dogs and try to get to a computer store. Makes no difference to me."

"Why would you let me use it?"

She planted her palms on the desk and leaned forward until less than a foot separated their faces. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and she noted the unmistakable desire darkening his eyes. She ignored the quickening of her pulse in response.

"Why? You know what, Matt? I'm not sure, especially since I don't particularly like you. Maybe it's because if the situation were reversed, I'm not certain you'd show me the same courtesy and I want you to feel guilty about that. Maybe it's because I've been in a similar situation and someone was kind enough to help me out and I just want to pay it forward. Maybe it's because I want to prove to you that I mean it when I say I play fair. Or maybe it's because when I win the ARC account, I don't want to hear any whining from you that I only got it because you couldn't play your 'A' game due to technical difficulties."

She remained leaning on the desk, heart beating hard against her ribs as they studied each other, tension and awareness bouncing between them. He clearly felt that tension and awareness, too. She could see it in his eyes.

Finally he said, "Aren't you afraid I'll look through your files?"

"They're password protected."

"Now who's being suspicious?"

"I prefer to call it cautious. Besides, you have the corner marketed on suspicion. Are you suspicious of everyone, or am I the only proud recipient of your doubtfulness?"

"Don't take it personally. It's not just you. And I have my reasons."

Something flickered in his eyes, the shadows of past hurts, piquing her curiosity, but she didn't ask. "Well, that's good to know. I think." Straightening, she headed toward the closet where she pulled out her black goose-down winter coat. When she turned around, she found him standing directly in front of her. Clutching her coat to her chest as if to ward off the sensual vibes he threw off, she backed up a step. Her shoulders hit the wall.

"Where are you going?" he asked in a husky voice that brought to mind candlelight and satin sheets.

"Outside."

"It's cold and snowing."

"I like the cold and snow." Yup, something icy would be really welcome right about now.

He reached out and plucked her coat from her fingers, then held it out by the shoulders for her, a gentlemanly gesture she'd thought died with the dinosaur. Turning her back toward him, she slowly slipped her arms into the sleeves, trying without success to ignore his disturbing nearness. After he settled the coat on her shoulders, she turned to face him once again. She was about to thank him, but the intense look in his eyes obliterated every thought from her head. She remained silent, stuck in place like an insect trapped in a web.

A good ten seconds of silence passed. Then he reached out and trailed a single fingertip down her cheek. Her breath caught at the feathery touch, and a trail of heat ignited on her skin where he'd touched her.

"You've surprised me, Jilly," he said softly, his gaze searching her face. "And I don't particularly like surprises."

She blinked and swallowed. "Gee, thanks."

He shook his head and frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I meant is that the unexpected unsettles me. And you… well, you're not what I… expected." His hand lowered to his side, then he stepped back, and she released a breath she hadn't even realized she held.

"Thank you, Jilly," he said, still studying her face, as if trying to solve a great puzzle. "I really appreciate you loaning me your laptop. Believe me, I am well aware that not everyone would be so generous."

"You're welcome. See you later." With a quick smile, she left the room, walking swiftly toward the elevator, anxious to put as much space between her and Matt as possible. And even more anxious to get outside where it was cold, because she was feeling an uncomfortable warmth-warmth that had nothing to do with the resort's heating system and everything to do with her roommate. Yes, the farther away she stayed from Matt, the better off she'd be. But what on earth was she going to do tonight when they would once again have to share a bed?

Matt watched the door close behind Jilly. When it clicked shut, he tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and groaned.

This was so not good. Damn it, from the moment he'd walked into this room last night, his world had gotten turned upside down. And every time he managed to set it back on his axis, she did something else to throw him all off-kilter again. Like wear black satin lingerie to bed. And leave her long hair down. And accentuate her gorgeous lips with kiss-me red. And loan him her laptop.

Would he have done the same for her if the situations had been reversed? As much as he'd like to tell to himself that he'd have chosen the highroad, in his heart he knew he wouldn't have. While he wouldn't do anything to directly sabotage Jilly, he definitely would have taken advantage of her misfortune-a realization that left a bad taste in his mouth. Especially when it hit him that only a year ago, before he'd been stabbed in the back by Tricia and his former best friend, he most likely would have acted as Jilly had. Probably. At least he liked to think so.

But Jilly had made that generous gesture with little or no hesitation-despite the fact that she "didn't particularly like him."

Humph. "Well, I don't particularly like you, either," he muttered. He certainly didn't like that she had him tied up in all these damn knots. And he definitely didn't like that her generous gesture was making him examine his own behavior and realize it was coming up short. And he really didn't like the disturbing suspicion that maybe he didn't dislike her at all.

He blew out a long, frustrated breath. Just as she'd suspected, he had come back to the room to see if she was here, to see if she was the reason Jack had rescheduled their meeting. And when he'd found her in the room, he was far more relieved than he cared to admit. The thought of her seducing Jack Witherspoon bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have-on a gut-wrenching, personal level it shouldn't have.

He was feeling things for Jilly that he wanted no part of. Heat. Desire. Admiration. Things he'd vowed never to allow himself to feel again for a co-worker. He knew where that led. Never again. He needed to remember his vow: No more fishing off the company pier. He needed to concentrate on Jack Witherspoon and ARC. And he needed to forget all about Jilly Taylor.

Then his gaze fell to the bed… the bed they'd be sharing in only a matter of hours. Damn. That was going to make it very difficult indeed to forget about Jilly Taylor.

Shortly after one o'clock that afternoon, Jilly walked up the long, curved driveway leading to Chateau Fontaine. She'd spent a few head-clearing hours walking a half mile up the road to the quaint town, strolling through the cozy shops, then enjoying lunch and a cappuccino at a café. The snow had stopped, and the cold, still air had done wonders to clear the Matt Davidson-induced cobwebs from her brain and shift her priorities back into some semblance of order.

Cool, aloof, and professional would be her watch words for the remainder of the weekend. Clearly her hormones were suffering from some sort of glandular imbalance brought on by nine months, three weeks and nineteen days of neglect, which explained this ridiculous, unwanted physical attraction to Matt. Well, next week that would change. She'd call an emergency summit meeting with Kate and together they'd set about finding her an acceptable man-or two-to date. Once her social life started humming again, she'd forget all about Matt.

As if the thought of him had conjured him up, she saw Matt making his way from the parking lot toward the hotel. Slowing her pace, she looked him over. One hand was jammed into the pocket of a black ski jacket. In the other hand he held a white plastic bag that proclaimed he'd visited The Computer Warehouse. Faded jeans hugged his long legs, and snow crunched beneath his sturdy brown Timberland boots. He looked big and strong and sexy and-she shook her head to adjust her runaway thoughts. And completely… undelicious. Yup, that's what he was-the exact opposite of delicious.

He must have felt the weight of her regard, because he turned and their eyes met. His steps slowed, but then he shifted his direction and walked toward her.

Her stupid heart rate kicked up a few beats per minute, and her hormones perked up their ears. She shot her hormones an inward frown and told them to take a hike.

"Don't tell me you're still out here from this morning," Matt said as he neared her. "I've only been outside for a few minutes and already I feel like a Popsicle." He pulled his hand from his pocket, cupped his fingers near his mouth and blew to warm them.

Jilly's wayward gaze wandered over his dark, windblown hair, and she clenched her fingers inside her gloves to squelch the urge to brush back a wayward lock that fell over his forehead. Ruddy color from the cold stained his cheeks, lending him a very outdoorsy, masculine appearance. He looked incredibly appealing, and all the resolutions she'd just spent the past three hours making evaporated like a puff of steam.

Darn it, why did this particular man have to be so damn attractive? He shifted his feet, drawing her gaze down his long legs. Yikes. Last time she'd seen a guy fill out a pair of jeans that nicely had been… never. Her thought processes derailed, and her mind executed a mental striptease, peeling off his heavy coat and sweater. Whew, he sure looked good. She imagined sliding those Levi's down his long legs, then slipping off his boxer briefs-with her teeth.

A feverish flush washed over her, no doubt generating enough heat to melt the snow beneath her feet. She was going to look pretty stupid standing out here in a big puddle of water.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Her gaze jerked up to his, and she stilled at the speculative interest simmering in his eyes. Damn. Bad enough to indulge in such unacceptable fantasies, but it was bury-your-head-in-the-snow embarrassing for him to catch her indulging.

She attempted a laugh, inwardly cringing at the shaky sound she produced. "I, uh was just imagining how good you'd look…" naked "…covered in snow." Yeah, that's the ticket.

He cocked a brow, his gaze filling with a wicked gleam and alternating between her and the pile of snow near his feet. "Funny, I was thinking how great you'd look all covered with snow."

"Oh, yeah? Wanna put that theory to the test?"

He stroked his chin. "Hmmm. An intriguing invitation, and one I think I'll take you up on. And seeing how nice you were about loaning me your laptop, I'll even let you win."

"You won't have to let me win. I'm gonna whip your butt."

"Okay. But after that we're gonna have a snowball fight." A slow smile curved his lips and her heart tripped. Pointing to the deserted area beyond the parking lot, he said, "Shall we take this to yon empty field?"

"Lead on, sucker-uh, I mean, oh wise one."

He chuckled and they walked toward the parking lot. Glancing down at his bag, she said, "I see you found a computer store."

"Yup. Bought the software I needed. I was on my way up to the room to install it." He looked down at her, his eyes serious. "Thanks again for the laptop loan. That was really decent of you."

"I'm sure you don't mean to sound so surprised that I'd do something decent. How'd the presentation go?"

"Very well. He liked my ideas."

"He liked mine, too."

"I know. I liked yours as well." He shot her a cocky smile. "But I like mine better."

"Well, I wouldn't know, seeing as how I didn't see yours."

"Would you like to see mine, Jilly?"

Something in the husky timbre of his voice made her suddenly wonder if they were still talking about his presentation. "Sure," she said breezily, "if you'd like to show me."

Something flared in his eyes, something that indicated very clearly that he'd like to show her more than his presentation. And God help her, she wanted to take a good, long look at whatever he wanted to show her.

He huffed out a long breath that formed a cloudy vapor. After several long seconds of silence, he cleared his throat, then asked, "So… what's the prize for winning this snowball fight?"

How about a long, slow, deep kiss? Beating back the heat-inducing thought, she held up her small, shiny red shopping bag. "I'm willing to put up the box of candy I bought in town, which, I'll have you know, because they're my favorites, I wouldn't dream of risking if I wasn't completely confident of my winning."

"What kind of candy?"

"Homemade chocolate-covered marshmallows."

He shot her an odd look. "They're my favorite."

"Oh, sure."

At her dubious expression, he added, "Really. Always have been. Not that I admit that to a lot of people since marshmallows aren't exactly he-man like, but there you have it. Actually, growing up, it worked out well. I didn't eat my sister's Oreos and she didn't mess with my Mallomars." A wolfish grin curved his lips. "It's going to be sweet indeed to relieve you of your chocolates."

"Dream on, Marshmallow-boy. And just what do you plan to wager?"

"What do you want?"

"What have you got?"

"Since I'm so confident of my victory…" He leaned toward her, and his masculine scent, mixed with winter cold, invaded her head, fogging her brain cells. "If you beat me, I'll give you anything you want, Jilly."