The Mandy Project Read online

  As soon as Miss Binks vacated the office, he intended to call Mandy. And he knew he could simply close his door if he wanted privacy—in fact, maybe it would give Miss Binks the message—but he needed his full concentration on the conversation, with no distractions. He had to make Mandy understand she had nothing to fear, reassure her that nothing she’d done last night had disturbed him in any way whatsoever. Which was surprising, but true. It upset him to think she’d rushed out of his house at three or four in the morning, worried over her actions. He needed to clear up the confusion and get them back to that perfect place they’d been last night.

  “Mr. Maxwell.”

  Benton glanced up to find Miss Binks posed in his doorway. He couldn’t have called it a seductive pose exactly, but she leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting on the outthrust hip beneath her navy blue suit, so it was…more relaxed than she usually appeared. He had the distinct worry that she’d been standing there longer than he realized, watching him. And he also had the bothersome feeling he’d been right in the first place—things were definitely escalating.

  “Miss Binks. You’re working awfully late tonight.”

  She lowered her gaze, hesitating. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.”

  It wasn’t so much the words that alarmed him, but the look in her eyes when she raised them again. Still not quite seductive, but perhaps her best shot at it. It set off warning sirens inside him. He couldn’t let her do it, couldn’t let her ruin their working relationship by expressing her true feelings for him. So he shifted his gaze to his computer screen. “Unfortunately, I’m very busy right now, and expecting an important call from the West Coast any minute. Catch me another time.”

  A bit cold, perhaps, but warranted. And Miss Binks, more than anyone, was accustomed to his shifting moods when immersed in business.

  Although, normally, such a response would have her saying something like, “Certainly,” then striding away. But now, even without looking, he knew she remained at the door, mooning at him. “If you’re planning to work late, would you like me to pick up some dinner for you?”

  This was really getting out of hand. “Thank you, Miss Binks, but no.” He was planning to work late, but the deli across the street delivered. “Why don’t you head home. And have a nice evening.” He still avoided looking at her, and even began keying gibberish into his computer to make himself appear busier.

  “All right, Mr. Maxwell,” she said on a sad sigh he felt all the way to his bones. After another slight hesitation, she finally departed, disappearing down the hall—and a moment later, the ding of the elevator echoed through the office.

  Alone at last. He wanted to feel badly for Miss Binks, but he was just too eager to patch things up with Mandy to spend any more concern on his assistant right now. He snatched up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello?” The familiar, airy voice set his heart in flight.

  “Mandy.” He spoke deeply, letting determination rule his tone. “This is Benton.”

  She released an anguished sigh. “Oh, Benton. I’m…so sorry about last night.”

  “I’m sorry you left. But I’m not sorry about anything else that happened, and I hope you aren’t, either.”

  He could hear the uneasiness in her voice. “It’s just that I was so…embarrassed by my behavior. And not only about the sex, but also about the way I acted at the club. I’m not usually like that.”

  “No?”

  “It must have been the wine. And the screwdriver afterward. I’ve always heard you’re not supposed to mix alcohols and now I know why. It must have made me crazy, made me act like, like…like someone else.” She coughed then and sounded as if she were choking a little.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “Listen, nothing you did last night changed the way I feel about you.”

  Her response came a little more high-pitched than usual, anxious. “Which is?”

  “I told you then,” he said warmly, a soft smile claiming him. “Repeatedly. Don’t you remember?”

  “Well, I was filled with wine and screwdrivers.”

  Benton found her frankness incredibly sweet. “I’m crazy about you, Mandy. Mad about you. And I can’t wait to see you again.”

  She sighed, in a skittish sort of way. “I see.”

  “You sound nervous.”

  “No. It’s just that I’m…I’m…” Her voice trailed off into exasperation, and just when he’d nearly given up on her finishing, she sighed and said, “Oh, Benton. The truth is, I’m completely head over heels about you, too!”

  Mindy lamented her most recent phone call with Benton as she stood before the mirror in her bedroom, adjusting her wig. She’d never meant to tell the man she was head over heels for him. Just like she’d never meant to fall into bed with him the other night, either. Obviously, she had a serious lack of control where he was concerned.

  “But no more,” she vowed, half to her reflection and half to Venus, who lay curled on the bed, still looking less frightened of the blond Mindy than she herself felt these days. “Tonight I’ll make Benton rue the day he ever trusted me with his love life. And I’ll definitely stick to the plan.”

  Stick to the plan, stick to the plan. She repeated the mantra in her head, as Jane had counseled her earlier.

  “Do you know what happened the last three times I didn’t stick to my plan?” Jane had scolded during her lecture.

  Already feeling contrite, Mindy had simply shaken her head.

  “I ended up with three kids, that’s what. I love them, of course, but they changed mine and Larry’s lives considerably, before we were ready. Do you want to end up like that?”

  “Benton used a condom,” Mindy told her quickly.

  Jane rolled her eyes. “I meant figuratively, not literally.”

  “All three times,” Mindy added before she could stop herself. Then she cringed. Darn it, another bit of information haphazardly spilled.

  Jane had given her the wide eyes again. “Three times? Does he also wear a cape and leap tall buildings in a single bound?”

  Mindy shrugged. “I couldn’t say—we haven’t spent that much time together. But don’t worry, there won’t be three times tonight. There won’t even be one.”

  And there absolutely wouldn’t—even if she was wearing the slinkiest thing she owned.

  “But there’s a reason for that!” she announced, turning to point a finger at Venus as if the cat had just started spouting accusations.

  The dress was a stretchy, sparkly, skin-tight, flesh-colored number she’d picked up at a vintage clothing store the year she’d gone to Jane’s Halloween bash as Marilyn Monroe, then having added a shorter blond wig and the required mole. It seemed being Mandy required frequent dips into her Halloween boxes since Mindy just didn’t have anything flamboyant enough among her real clothes to suit her alter-ego.

  She’d worn the Marilyn costume the same year Jane’s husband Larry had donned his Bill Clinton mask, and Jane had insisted Mindy sing Happy Birthday, Mr. President on the karaoke machine she’d rented. Of course, that had taken a lot of drinks beforehand, and it reminded Mindy of her plan for tonight. Step one: Have some drinks. Step two: Do horribly embarrassing things she would surely regret under any other circumstances.

  And she would start by wearing this totally inappropriate dress to dinner. It was shorter and much less see-through than Marilyn’s real “birthday suit,” and of course, she lacked Marilyn’s boobs—but she still filled the dress out nicely enough with her own, had left off a bra to ensure a tacky look, and knew she resembled someone headed off to a wild, glitzy party much more than someone going to a staid, sophisticated restaurant on the arm of an flawlessly groomed man. For good measure, she added glittery eye shadow in a gaudy shade she’d picked up from the drug store on the way home tonight and rubbed a little glitter body gel across her chest above the low-cut dress, as well. Fingers crossed he would find it immatur
e.

  Of course, she’d told him on the phone that her behavior on their last date was out of the ordinary—another flub up. She’d caved under the pressure of hearing his deep, reassuring voice, and she’d started letting the real her seep into Mandy with hardly a thought. Which was bad, very bad.

  She had to learn to keep those two apart, once and for all. And she had to stick to the plan.

  She could only hope the mistake had returned him to his comfort zone enough to make the things she did tonight seem doubly shocking.

  When the doorbell rang, she nearly leapt out of her skin and her skin-tight dress. Venus jumped, too, in response, and dove from the bed, racing from the room. Drat. Just what she needed—a runaway cat while her cat-hating date waited outside.

  And then it hit her. She had a cat. And a cat-hating man she was attempting to drive away. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to put two and two together.

  Chasing Venus down in her heels was no easy task, especially as Benton’s impatient second ring vibrated through the house, but when she flung the door open a minute later, she held the tabby looped in one arm.

  Benton’s eyes dropped from hers to the cat, then came back again. “You have a cat.” He obviously struggled to keep his expression blank.

  She tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, Caught me. “Guess the cat’s…out of the bag, so to speak.” She giggled lightly. “Mindy told me how you felt about kitties, so I…kept Venus hidden the first time you were here.”

  “Venus?”

  “Goddess of love,” she explained, stepping back to let him inside. “I thought it was the perfect name for a cat who belongs to a—uh…” She stopped, blinked nervously. “A person whose sister is a matchmaker.” Dear God, she’d nearly called herself a matchmaker.

  Benton blinked, too, and she wondered if it was contagious.

  She rushed ahead. “Mindy bought her for me, you see, so that makes sense. Doesn’t it?” In a twisted, backwards, goofy sort of way.

  To her surprise, her date grinned. “Well, I guess there isn’t a goddess of administrative assistants, so…sure—makes perfect sense.”

  She automatically smiled in reply, but…wait a minute. What was going on here? He no longer hated cats? And what about her tacky dress? Why wasn’t he noticing how inappropriate she looked?

  “So…do you think you can stand dating someone who owns a cat? Because if you can’t, I understand. A person has to have boundaries.” Not that she herself did, clearly. But if she had ever met anyone with boundaries, it was definitely Benton.

  Nonetheless, he shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Then he even reached up to scratch Venus behind one ear! “Seems like a harmless enough little guy.”

  “Girl,” she corrected. “Goddess, you know.”

  “Right.” He still grinned, darn it.

  So the cat thing was that easy? It made no sense. But since Venus had just proven to be a completely useless deterrent, Mindy lowered her to the floor—the better to show off her dress and get back to the plan.

  He noticed right away. “You look fabulous.”

  She blinked some more. “I do?”

  He gave her an appreciative once-over, then a suggestive nod that aroused her a little and probably had her nipples hardening before his very eyes, which was not what she needed right now.

  “You see, I was feeling impulsive tonight, just wanted to wear something kind of…wild, I guess. But I feared it might be too, um, showy for wherever we’re going.” He hadn’t mentioned where he was taking her for dinner, but she instinctively knew the dress would be way too everything for any establishment Benton would patron.

  Yet when he merely shrugged again, she wondered if that was getting contagious, too. “I think you look gorgeous. Any man would.”

  Flash!—a humongous imaginary light bulb lit up over Mindy’s head, leaving her to feel quite thick, especially after her slow uptake on the cat situation. She’d made an enormous error—she’d forgotten she was dealing with a man! Any sane woman would know she looked ridiculous right now. But most men, apparently even tasteful Benton, could only see her breasts and her hips and the take-me-now air she knew practically dripped from her. Which meant, darn it, that she had to go out looking this way for absolutely no good reason at all!

  But calm down, she told herself. Stick to the plan. Yes, that was the key—just stick to the plan and everything would be okay.

  And what was the first step of the plan?

  Drink something. And the sooner the better, at this point.

  “Let’s go,” she said, blinking. “I’m ready to get this evening underway.”

  Benton reached for the door, then paused, wearing an expression of concern. “Um, are your eyes okay?”

  “To romance,” Benton said, lifting his glass.

  Mindy just gaped at him as she raised hers, too. Because he was so, so handsome, and his blue eyes sparkled in the low lighting, and she wanted him. “To romance.” Which I can’t have. At least not with him. Stick to the plan. That meant no more gaping at his perfectly chiseled cheekbones or his devastating smile, no more drinking in the sheer masculinity that echoed outward from him in thick, intoxicating waves.

  Of course, sticking to the plan would be easier if anything at all were going her way. First the cat had failed her, then the dress. In fact, the dress continued to fail her—every man in the place had noticed her and it had obviously made Benton as proud as a peacock. She swallowed half a glass of wine in one long, indelicate sip—time to really get things rolling here, and acting unladylike could only add to the lack of appeal her date would surely start seeing in her any minute now.

  “How’s the wine?” He smiled at her across the table.

  “Dee-lish.” She took another long drink to prove it. “Whew,” she added as warmth spread through her glitter-covered chest. “Good stuff.”

  Just then, the maître d’ who had greeted them at the door appeared at their table. He peered uncertainly down at Mindy as he drew a black cardigan sweater from behind his back. “Pardon me, madam. Maybe you would like to borrow a sweater while you dine. Perhaps you feel chilled.”

  A quiet disdain rested in the little man’s beady eyes. Chilled, schmilled. More likely, at first glance across the dimly lit room he’d thought she appeared naked and sparkly. Finally, a man who realized she was terribly out of place here! She’d just never known they kept sweaters on hand for women at nice restaurants in the same way they kept jackets for men. This presented an opportunity that couldn’t be passed up.

  “Maybe you’d like a pop in the nose,” she replied.

  The maître d’ took a quick step backward and Benton flinched, cringing inwardly. Had Mandy really just threatened to hit the man? Obviously, she’d had too much wine. But that didn’t mean he could let the maître d’ embarrass her. He worked to keep his surprise from flashing across his face before raising his eyes to the other gentleman and speaking in a quiet yet firm voice. “The lady looks lovely this evening. She doesn’t need a sweater.”

  The small man appeared appropriately cowed by Benton’s tone. “Of course not, sir. My apologies.”

  Benton nodded shortly as the maître d’ turned and walked away, defeated. He almost felt cruel—after all, he understood the guy was only trying to do his job, and he respected establishments with certain standards. Yet a primal urge to protect Mandy had risen inside him unbidden, and even if she was a little “out there” at moments, as in completely unlike any woman he’d ever dated, he still couldn’t resist thinking she was fun and exciting…not to mention incredible to look at in that clingy dress. Covering it up would be criminal.

  He swung his gaze back to her and the mere sight stirred his arousal and removed any momentary awkwardness to the back burner.

  He leaned slightly toward her over the table. “I hope that didn’t embarrass you.”

  And Mindy just blinked, trying to hide her confusion. What just happened here? She’d threatened to punch a ma
n in the nose to no repercussions? Benton wasn’t angry? Instead he was protective, gallant? Dear God, if it wasn’t bad enough that she couldn’t do anything to turn him off, now she wanted to kiss him senseless for being so incredibly indulgent and protective. She’d never dreamed Benton Maxwell III would be so difficult for a girl to get rid of!

  “No,” she said, caught somewhere precariously between Mindy and Mandy. “But thank you for defending me.”

  He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Looked like you were pretty capable of that on your own.”

  And this amused him? She still couldn’t believe he didn’t mind having a scantily clad date who picked fights with maître d’s in fine restaurants. “I need more wine.”

  Three glasses later—or maybe it was four, but who was counting?—Mindy continued vacillating dangerously between her two personas. But when Benton started telling her more about his family than he had on their first date, like how much he missed them, she accidentally allowed some of her true self to shine through.

  “It sounds like you’re close to your brother and sister,” she said. She hadn’t gotten that idea upon first meeting him, but he’d turned out to be so different than she’d expected.

  A slight smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Not as close as when we were young, of course, but I miss seeing them and wish they lived nearer. I miss not knowing their kids as well as I’d like.”

  Of course, that made Mindy want to share more than just surface information about her own family, too. She explained that her father’s military service had required moving around a lot when she was growing up, and how all the relocations had slowly driven a wedge between her parents. She confided that she still missed her mom and dad being together, explaining how the family had settled in Cincinnati after his retirement only to have him head out west a few years later.

  Together, they commiserated how, even as adults, it wasn’t easy to have parents who lived far away, and Benton told her he really wanted some kids of his own, wanted to get that warm feeling of a family back in his life again.