Mr. Right Now

“I’ll just get you cleaned up and then—” She reached up and dabbed frantically at the front of his pants, then realized where she was dabbing and groaned softly. “I—I guess you should probably do that area on your own.” What was she thinking? Nina glanced around to see the entire clientele of Jitterbug’s watching her with amusement. What were they thinking?

He grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet. Afraid to look up, Nina halfheartedly wiped at his shirt with the sheet of paper she had clutched in her other hand. When he took it from her fingers and shoved it in his pants pocket, she had no choice but to meet his gaze. An apologetic smile twitched at her lips and she risked a look up. “I—I’m sorry. Sometimes, I’m so clumsy. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on hers for the first time. “And there’s no need to apologize. It was partly my fault, too.”

She’d never seen a greener pair of eyes in her life. Or a sexier smile. Or a straighter nose. Or a—Nina swallowed hard. “But your shirt. It’s ruined.”

He chuckled dryly. “I never liked this shirt. Gives me a good excuse to toss it.”

For a long moment, they didn’t speak. Nina tried to remember if she’d apologized, but she couldn’t recall exactly what she’d said to him. Maybe it was the eyes, the penetrating eyes that seemed to send every rational thought running from her mind. Or the lips that looked like they’d been made especially to kiss women, and lots of them. Even the faint stubble of a beard was more than she could bear.

Was this one of those men she’d been wondering about, the one in a million and a half, the last single decent guy in all of New York City? She glanced at his left hand, looking for the telltale wedding band. There was none. Oh, if he was the one in a million, she’d certainly made a mess of destiny! “Can—can I buy you another coffee?” she offered.

He shook his head, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I was just leaving. I’ve got a meeting.”

Her breath caught again and she waited for him to step away, to walk out the door and out of her life forever. For all she knew, she’d just dumped coffee all over Mr. Right and now he was going to just disappear without another word. “Of course,” she murmured. “And look at what I’ve done.”

He glanced over his shoulder and winced. “I really have to go.” He grabbed his suit jacket and briefcase from a chair, then slowly turned and started toward the door. Nina took one step to stop him, but then she noticed the rest of the patrons still watching her.

“I really am sorry,” she called as the door swung shut behind him. “A little cold water and a good non-chlorine bleach will get that stain right out!” She looked around the coffee shop, frowning. “Show’s over. You can all go back to your coffee,” she muttered.

With a flush of embarrassment, she hurried back to her table and sat down. “Was that as bad as I think it was?” Nina murmured. “Did I make a total fool of myself? And was there anyone in this place who didn’t hear me giving him laundry advice?”

Lizbeth reached over and patted her hand excitedly. “That was absolutely perfect!” she cried. “Honey, I didn’t think you had it in you, but that move was pure brilliance!”

“What move?”

“Spilling coffee all over that stunningly gorgeous man. I don’t even think I would have had the courage to do something so outrageous, especially when he had on a handmade French shirt. Those things cost five hundred apiece if they cost a penny.”

“Really?” Nina squeaked. “Five hundred dollars?”

“Couldn’t you tell? Oh, honey, the way it hugged his body and nipped in around that waist. It fit him like a second skin. That kind of shirt makes a girl wonder what’s underneath. Every woman in this place was pea-green with envy of you.”

“It was an accident,” Nina said numbly.

Lizbeth gave her a sly look. “Oh, please. You expect me to believe that? So, did you give him your phone number? You know, offer to pay his cleaning bill? Buy him a new shirt?”

“No. He didn’t ask that I pay.” Nina frowned and looked over at the door. “He said he was going to throw the shirt out. I guess I should have offered. But it was his fault, too.”

“You didn’t give him your phone number,” Lizbeth stated, her voice flat and laced with disbelief. “Please tell me you at least got his name. Or you gave him yours.”

Nina covered her face with her hands. “No. I just couldn’t think. I mean, there he was, all covered with coffee. And there I was,” she moaned, “rubbing his crotch with napkins.” She moaned again, this time with more emphasis. “I really screwed that up. For a second, I thought it might be destiny, but then he looked at me and my mind just went haywire and my knees went all wobbly.” Nina peered at Lizbeth through her fingers. “He probably wasn’t my type anyway, right? I mean, he was wearing a suit and I never go for businessmen. And he seemed a little uptight.” She drew a shaky breath. “And a guy who wears five-hundred dollar shirts is way out of my league. I’m sure it would never have worked out.”

Lizbeth pushed to her feet, shaking her head. “Did you bother to look at the man? He’s every woman’s type! Nuns would lust after the guy.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then wagged her finger at Nina. “Maybe you should place that ad. It’s clear that you don’t have a chance of getting a gorgeous man the regular way—by trickery and manipulation. I have to go, I have a date. But I want you to sit here and think about what you did wrong. We’ll discuss it later.”

Nina nodded dejectedly, like a child chastised. “I don’t think I’ll be able to put it out of my mind.”

“I’ll call you.” Lizbeth turned on her heel and walked toward the door. When it closed behind her, Nina busied herself with picking up her belongings. She grabbed the pad of paper and started to shove it in her bag, but decided against it. Snatching up her pencil, she closed her eyes for a moment, then began to write.

“Coffee Collision,” she murmured, writing the words out in capital letters. “Jitterbug’s in Manhattan, March 15th. My latte met your shirt. Call me.”

Nina stared down at the text. Did she really have the courage to place the ad? Chances were remote at best that he’d see it. After all, he wasn’t the typical Attitudes reader. With a soft oath, she ripped the page off the pad. But instead of crumpling it in her hand, she carefully folded it and placed it in her jacket pocket.

“Forget the guy. You’re not looking for Mr. Right, you’re looking for Mr. Right Now—he’s the man who will get you a job in editorial.”

But as Nina tried to compose another ad, she couldn’t keep her mind on the task at hand. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the man in the coffee-stained shirt, to the firm set of his mouth when he smiled, to the strong grasp of his fingers on her elbow, to the tremor that raced through her arm and made her head swim the moment he’d touched her.

She’d never believed in instant attraction, but that was only because she’d never experienced it before. Now that she had, Nina wanted to experience it again. She’d just have to find a way to make it happen.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”

Cameron Ryder stood on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. He glanced down at his ruined shirt and tie and shrugged. “A little accident with a cup of coffee…and some crazy woman.”

He looked back over his shoulder. A beautiful, bewitching, crazy woman, he added silently. Now that he’d put a little distance between them, he wasn’t quite sure what to think of her. She hadn’t really been a woman at all, at least not the kind of sophisticated and overtly sexy woman he usually socialized with. She was sweet and slightly goofy, more a girl than woman. She’d been dressed a little oddly, in a hairy chartreuse sweater and a short little skirt that showed off shapely legs.

His mind conjured an image of her, her startling blue eyes and her golden blond hair twisted into a knot with spikes sticking out all over the place. He frowned—and chartreuse legs. In truth, she’d looked like one of those bohemian girls who spent her days and nights in Soho coffee bars and art galleries, smoking cigarettes and quoting Sartre.

Still, he couldn’t deny the current of attraction that had raced through his body the instant their eyes met, the warmth that seeped through his bloodstream when he touched her, the flood of amusement that made him smile when she so earnestly wiped off the front of his trousers.

Unlike most of the women he’d known, this woman lacked the hard, cynical edge that came from living in Manhattan. Her eyes were wide and clear blue, almost innocent. And she had a fresh, unpretentious look about her, unmarred by overdone cosmetics. With any other woman, he might have suspected she dumped the coffee on purpose. But the look of sheer surprise and mortification on her pretty face was enough to tell him differently. Cam laughed softly and shook his head. Good grief, he’d barely been able to get out a word or two, looking into those eyes.

What was this instant fascination he had with a complete stranger? Maybe he’d been working too hard lately. He hadn’t had much time for a social life and any woman would appear attractive to a man who hadn’t bothered with dating in the past few months. He fought the urge to walk back inside for just one more look, but then Jeff cleared his throat and pointed to his watch.

“We’ve got a half hour before we meet with Charlotte Danforth,” he said. “There’s probably time to run back to your apartment and change.”

Ever the organized businessman, Jeff Myers was chief operating officer of Cameron’s company, NightRyder. Jeff had been a fellow college student when, ten years ago, Cam had created the Internet site for Gen X entertainment and night life. He’d been there when the company moved from dorm room to apartment to office complex across the river in Jersey. And he’d been there at their stock offering, when the IPO turned Jeff’s thirty-percent interest into millions of dollars in just a few hours.

“I don’t need to change,” Cam said. Though he might be able to make the trip uptown and back to his Riverside Drive apartment, he had no intention of doing so. “I’m not going to the meeting. You’re my partner and you have my complete trust and authority. I want you to present the offer.”

Cam had been working toward this acquisition for as long as he could remember and now that it was time to make his move, he preferred to stand back and watch. Five years ago, Attitudes was barely a blip on the media radar. No one expected it to succeed, especially with socialite-party-girl Charlotte Danforth at the helm. But her rich daddy was willing to pay a price to get his little girl into the work world and out of his hair. Charles Danforth, one of New York’s wealthiest men, was the magazine’s only investor. Even the headquarters of Attitudes was housed in a Danforth building, probably rent-free.

“I don’t know why you want the magazine,” Jeff Myers murmured. “With all the money the old man has pumped into it, we have no idea what it’s really worth. She’s probably never had to prepare a financial statement, so we’re buying blind. Why not buy something else?”

Cameron shrugged. “Well, Rolling Stone would be too expensive. So would Premiere and Entertainment. Attitudes is a weekly, it’s a trend-setter, and their subscription list fits our demographic. It’s a good match for us,” he said. “And I don’t care what it costs. I want the magazine and I want you to do everything necessary to get it.”

He smiled to himself. It felt good to say that, to know that when it came to a business acquisition, money was no longer an object. There was a time not so long ago that he’d struggled to make ends meet. He’d just founded NightRyder, and though hip and trendy New Yorkers visited the site to learn all the latest on movies, music, and entertainment, the Internet was still young. Every penny he’d saved, most of it earmarked for his last year at NYU, had gone into the design. Four years later, when NightRyder had become the most popular Internet site nationwide in the 20- to 30-year-old demographic, the advertisers started coming and Cam’s life as an Internet entrepreneur began.

“Don’t you think you’re carrying this mystery man thing a little too far?” Jeff asked. “You’re making too much money to keep your face out of the public eye forever. And you’re the Ryder in NightRyder, Cam. You should be there when we make our offer and Charlotte Danforth accepts.”

Cam chuckled. “She’s not going to accept.”

“What? But she has to. We’ve done our research. Daddy Danforth is just about ready to cut her off, if he hasn’t already. Her creditors are hounding her. And she’s spending more and more time partying with her high society friends than running her magazine. The time is right.”

“She’s not going to accept,” Cam insisted. “Attitudes is her baby. Besides, we’re only going to offer her half what we think the magazine is worth.”

“But I thought we decided—”

“I know what we decided. But I changed my mind. I need some more information before we make a solid offer.”

“Cam, it’s a privately held publication. I don’t think she’s going to open up the books and let us browse before we talk money.”

“I know. But we can afford to wait her out, until she’s a little more desperate. And while we do that, maybe we can get some inside information.”

Jeff nodded. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Charlotte Danforth has hired and fired enough people. We could always find a disgruntled employee who might want to talk.”

“Then do it,” he said. “And call me after your meeting with Danforth. I want a full report.”

Jeff nodded, then started across the street. Cameron watched as he walked in the front entrance of the ornate cast-iron building, one of the many that lined the streets in this section of Soho. Then he turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, warming them in the chilly evening air.

His fingers toyed with a wad of paper in his pocket and he pulled it out, only to find the crumpled sheet the beautiful girl had used on his shirt, the scribblings on it now blurred by the coffee. Part of the paper was still completely legible—the Attitudes logo across the bottom and the name on the top.

“From the desk of Nina Forrester,” he murmured. “Nina.” The name seemed to suit her, light, airy, a name that sounded like a peal of laughter or a twinkle in the eye. “So that’s her name.”

It took a few moments for the importance of his discovery to sink in. Nina Forrester worked at Attitudes! And he was looking for someone on the inside, someone to give him insight into the mercurial Charlotte Danforth and the state of her business affairs. His mind instantly began to form a strategy.

Why not go back inside and join her? He could engage her in conversation, bring up the subject of work. Most women loved to talk about their work, especially to a man who appeared interested in what she had to say. But the thought of manipulating her for his own purposes rankled.

Though rising to the top of the Internet world had taken immense technical knowledge, staying on top required a fair bit of ruthlessness. Still, he’d never deliberately deceived anyone to get what he wanted. Wasn’t that what he was considering now? He held the paper up to read the rest of the scribbling in the waning light of day, wondering what she’d been working on.

“Looking for Mr. Right Now?” he read, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Attractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.”

Cameron reread the words again, simply to assure himself that he’d read them right the first time. “Adventurous Adonis? Wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons?”

Usually, he was an excellent judge of character, able to detect hidden agendas and ulterior motives in a single glance. But if Nina Forrester had written this ad, then he’d been completely fooled by her innocent smile. A woman who enjoyed wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons would probably have no qualms about dumping her coffee on a single guy sitting in a coffee shop. Maybe he’d been too hasty in his earlier impression. Perhaps she might be able to help him get inside Attitudes magazine.

Cameron started back down the street toward the subway stop, carefully folding the paper as he walked. He’d never really thought of himself as an Adonis—far from it. Up until he made his first million, he was just a computer geek, the kid with the thick glasses and the pocketful of pens, the president of the computer club and the chess club, a guy girls did their best to ignore.

Funny how a little power and money seemed to change him in others’ eyes. It always took him unawares, for inside, there was still a tiny bit of the geek left. He’d simply gotten a few years older, so that grown-up muscle now covered his once bony body. An uptown haircut and designer clothing had completed the transformation in his outward appearance. Maybe money did make the man.

He turned and stared back at the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Though his curiosity was piqued, he wasn’t about to go back inside. He knew her name, where she worked, and where she played. He could find her if he needed to.

“Better to wait,” he murmured with a chuckle. “After all, no self-respecting Adonis would be seen with a huge coffee stain on his chest.”

2

“HURRY UP! Staff meeting in the conference room. Charlotte wants everyone there.”

Nina looked up at Lizbeth from the reference books spread across her desk. She’d been caught up in finding out the name of the original designer of platform shoes and had lost all track of time. Before that, she’d been immersed in an idle contemplation of the mystery man she’d spilled coffee on last night. She still couldn’t put him out of her mind, going over every stupid mistake she’d made.

Why hadn’t she offered to send his shirt to the cleaner or pay for a new shirt? Why hadn’t she given him her phone number or at least introduced herself? Nina had lived in Manhattan for seven years, since her college days at Columbia, and she’d never met a man quite as handsome as the man she’d affectionately dubbed “Coffee Man.”

A more appropriate name would come to her, but Nina was already certain that this man would occupy her fantasies for a long time to come. Besides being incredibly handsome, he was funny and smart and confident, though how she knew all these things she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that if she ever saw him again she wasn’t going to let him get away a second time.

“Nina?”

With a start, Nina glanced up at Lizbeth, drawn from her daydream. “Oh, right. The meeting.” She reached up and raked her fingers through her hair. Though Lizbeth looked like she’d just stepped out of a magazine ad, Nina usually managed to run a comb through her hair on the way down her apartment stairs and dash on mascara and a little lipstick during her bus ride from her East Village apartment. “She wants everyone there?” she asked.

“Big news,” Lizbeth warned. “I think bad news, too, from the look on Charlotte’s face. She’s wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday afternoon, her hair is a mess and she’s got raccoon eyes from her mascara. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Charlotte looking like a roadside rodent. Maybe Daddy Danforth has finally cut the purse strings.”

Nina’s heart twisted in her chest. If the magazine was having financial problems then the first jobs to be cut would be editorial assistants. Her current position as fact checker was safe as long as Attitudes was still publishing. But her future as an assistant editor with the magazine suddenly looked bleak. “Are you sure she wants me there? I’m never invited to staff meetings.”

“She specifically asked that you come,” Lizbeth said.

Nina jumped to her feet, hope springing to life inside her. “Did she ask for me by name?”

“Yes,” Lizbeth said. “She walked in my office, told me about the meeting and requested that I be sure to tell Tina.”

Nina rolled her eyes and cursed softly. “Is my name that hard to remember? I’ve worked for Charlotte for nearly three years! She sees me at least four or five times a week.” She looked down at the bottle-green satin Chinese jacket and flowered skirt she wore. “I don’t look like I blend into the furniture, do I?”

Lizbeth considered Nina’s skirt for a few seconds and put on her best Southern drawl. “My mama did have some dining room portieres that looked a lot like your skirt.”

Nina strode to the door, pinching Lizbeth’s arm as she passed. “You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why you’re still my friend.”

Lizbeth fell into step beside her as they strolled toward the conference room. “Because I’m the only one who really appreciates you,” she said with a lazy smile. “And your whimsical fashion sense.” She gave her the once-over with her critical fashion eye. “All right, I love the jacket. There, are you happy?”

One thing Nina was happy about was that Lizbeth had forgotten the events of the night before. The last thing she needed was her best friend chiding her about the mistakes she’d made. Lizbeth just didn’t understand. She’d always had boys fawning over her and men falling at her feet. Nina had discovered boys a little later in life, so she’d been playing catch-up since she was eighteen. She sighed softly, glancing at Lizbeth. No matter how long she worked at it, she’d never catch up to Lizbeth.

By the time they reached the conference room, all the chairs had been taken by senior staff. Lizbeth and Nina stood against the back wall and watched as Charlotte called the meeting to order. Nina couldn’t recall ever attending a staff meeting before. Charlotte preferred to deal with her one-on-one and important news was usually passed on to Nina through office gossip, haphazard memos, or not at all.

“We have a problem,” Charlotte began. “A huge problem. I’ve called you all in here because, frankly, I don’t know what to do.” To Nina’s surprise, the normally icy Charlotte looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t go to Daddy, so I’m asking all of you for your help.” She sniffed. “I know I haven’t always been the nicest boss, but I can’t change that now.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Yesterday evening I had a visit from a representative of NightRyder, some Internet company with truckloads of cash. They offered to buy the magazine.”

A collective gasp sounded in the silence of the conference room, followed by a low murmur of whispered comments. Lizbeth turned to look at Nina, her eyes wide.

Charlotte ran her fingers through her mussed hair and Nina noticed the shadows beneath her boss’s eyes. She had been crying. “Don’t worry, the offer wasn’t good enough to accept. But the next one might be. And as you all know, this magazine has always operated on a…tight budget. And now that Daddy—I mean, now that my investors have decided to curtail their rather generous funding, the magazine is more vulnerable than ever. We have to tighten our belt, be more efficient and—and do all those other things you people do when we need to save money. I’m sure you know what they are.”

“Like cutting back on expensive business lunches at the city’s best restaurants?” Lizbeth murmured. “And throwing lavish parties for male models then writing them off against our photo budgets?”

“Shhh!” Nina hissed.

“Lena, where are you?” Charlotte demanded. Her gaze searched the room, but no one spoke up. The rest of the employees glanced nervously back and forth. “Well, where is my head of research? Lizbeth, I told you to bring her along. Where is Lena?”