Mr. Right Now

Lizbeth smiled. “And I’d guess that Charlotte got herself drunk last night and ended up in one of those 24-hour tattoo parlors in the East Village. And now she wants you to tell her that she didn’t make a big fashion faux pas getting that big old butterfly tattooed on her butt.”

Nina’s eyes went wide. “Really?” At least when Nina had decided on a tattoo she’d been sober and possessed of good taste, ending up with a tiny flower on a spot that only showed when she wore a bikini.

“As long as whatever she got is on the top of the list, hon, you’ll make her happy.”

“But how am I supposed to know?”

Lizbeth stood and smoothed her skirt. “Leave it to me. She’s bound to tell someone what she did last night. She always blabs when she’s got a hangover. Five minutes later, it will be all over the office. I’ll feed you the facts and you make up the research.”

“But that wouldn’t be ethical,” Nina protested.

“Honey, you do want the job in editorial, don’t you?”

Nina nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I do. And while you’re finding out about Charlotte’s new tattoo, I’m going to work on my ad. Even if it doesn’t result in a great story, at least I’ll have something better to do on a Saturday night than polishing my shoes and fishing spare change out of the sofa.”

“That’s the spirit!” her friend cried. “Get on that pony and ride! Yee-hah!”

Nina smiled at Lizbeth. “And maybe, if I’m very lucky, I’ll find Mr. Right. And if not him, then Mr. Right Now.”

THE AFTER-WORK CROWD HAD settled in at Jitterbug’s, the coffee shop across the street from Attitudes’ Soho headquarters. It was a favorite spot for the staff who gathered regularly to sip lattes and mochas and discuss whatever outrageous request Charlotte Danforth had thrown their way during the day. But Nina had more important things on her mind than commiserating about her quirky and unpredictable boss. Nagging little projects had occupied nearly every minute of her workday and she hadn’t had a single moment to get back to her ad for the Personal Touch.

Nina found her regular table in the corner and tossed her coat over the back of her chair, then dropped her bag on the smooth marble tabletop. She glanced over at the counter and waved at Martha who nodded, a silent agreement to make Nina’s usual—a double skinny decaf latte with a shot of hazelnut. She sat down and spread her work out in front of her—the Personal Touch ads from the last four weeks, her notepad, personalized with her name and the name of the magazine emblazoned across the bottom, and a pencil with a brand new eraser. She’d also brought a list of attributes she’d quickly compiled for Mr. Right during her lunch hour.

“Cute, considerate, humorous, spontaneous,” she read out loud. “Nice hair, kind eyes, and—”

“A fluffy tail and good teeth. Honey, you sound like you’re advertising for a Pomeranian, not a man. If I were you, I’d stick with the man. He won’t poop on the rug.” Lizbeth flopped down in the chair across from Nina’s and sighed dramatically. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had. They sent me size two samples and size six models. Thank God for duct tape. We cut the back seams open and taped the clothes on.”

Nina forced a sympathetic smile. She really wasn’t in the mood to hear Lizbeth’s tale of woe. She’d hoped to spend some time on her own, sipping coffee and carefully composing her ad. It had to be just right and it would take a lot of thought. “I’m just starting on this,” she murmured.

“So, what do you have so far?” Lizbeth asked.

“Actually…nothing.”

Lizbeth sighed and shook her head. She pointed to Nina’s pad. “Take this down.” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Headline—Looking for Mr. Right Now.” She glanced over at Nina and frowned. “I said, take this down.” Nina scribbled as Lizbeth spoke. “Attractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.”

“Don’t you think that last part makes me sound a little…loose?”

“Honey, the whole thing makes you sound loose. That’s the point. What do you think I mean by ‘fun-loving’ and ‘energetic’? Likes sex and likes it all the time.” Lizbeth gave her a long look. “You want someone to answer the ad, don’t you?”

Frowning, Nina ripped the top sheet off and crumpled it in her fist, then noticed Martha waving in her direction. “I’ll write my own ad, thank you very much.” She pushed back from the tiny table to retrieve her coffee, fully intending to toss Lizbeth’s ad in the garbage.

But as she paid Martha, she contemplated her friend’s strategy. Time was running out. Maybe she ought to put off her search for Mr. Right and concentrate on Mr. Right Now. And kissing a few frogs made a lot better copy than finding Prince Charming on the first time out. Nina opened her fist and dropped the wad of paper on the counter, then smoothed it out. She re-read the words as she grabbed her coffee. With a soft sigh, she turned and started back toward her table, making mental edits to the text. She didn’t have to sound like a trollop, did she?

She didn’t notice the man who stepped into her path, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. With a soft cry of surprise, she ran face first into a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Her coffee mug tipped between them, spilling hot coffee all over his wide chest, his flat belly and his…lap.

The man jumped back, cursing softly as he brushed the steaming liquid from his finely tailored shirt, his startled gaze taking in the coffee-soaked fabric. It was only then that Nina got a good look at his face. Her breath caught in her throat and, for a moment, she was unable to speak. “Adventurous Adonis,” she murmured.

Even wincing in pain, she could see what a handsome man he was—strong features, a chiseled mouth and vivid green eyes. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. Then the words began tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh—oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t see—and when you stepped in front—that’s probably a very expensive—are you all right—I didn’t—”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, plucking at the soaked fabric of his dress shirt and silk tie. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Nina reached over his table and grabbed the napkin dispenser, then tugged out a wad of napkins. But as she spun around to hand them to the man, she knocked over the tall mug of coffee on his table. It tumbled to the floor and splashed onto his shiny dress loafers. Half the napkins fluttered to the floor and Nina bent down to pick them up before attempting to wipe the coffee off his shoes. Good grief, he even had handsome feet.

When she glanced up at him, she caught him smiling sardonically. “I don’t think I’ve got any coffee on my left pant leg,” he said. “Maybe you’d like to order another cup and finish the job?”

“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.”