Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [41]
On Friday, he sent her a link to a Web article about a woman who'd discovered her husband of eighteen years was a cross-dresser who liked to impersonate Madonna. Lacey grimaced as she read it. By the time she was done, she had another message from him. "Bet she thought he was charming when they first met."
Remembering his comment about her Prince Charming being fictional or gay, Lacey chuckled. Then she fired back. "I thought you were charming when we met."
Twenty minutes later he'd sent her an attachment. A smiley face with a bandage over its head. And the words, "Ouch. That hurt worse than the chair."
In return, Lacey sent him a link to an Internet article about a cheating man whose wife and two girlfriends had teamed up to feed him small amounts of arsenic over several months.
He replied, "You asking me to dinner?"
"I can't cook," she replied electronically.
Five minutes later the phone rang. "I can cook."
She smiled into the receiver. "Nate?"
"You sending sassy e-mails to some other guy who can cook?"
"I wasn't hinting around for a dinner invitation."
"You've got one anyway. I make the meanest spaghetti in the city." When she didn't respond immediately, he cajoled her. "And did I ever tell you that I live right around the corner from an Italian bakery? They've got pastries that'll make you beg."
If she was crazy enough to spend an evening alone with Nate in his apartment, Lacey had a feeling it wouldn't be pastries she'd be begging for. "I don't know…"
"Come on, I'll finish up my other project this morning. You can come later this afternoon, we'll work, have an early dinner, and you'll still be home by nine."
They did have to get to work. The further Lacey got with the background interviews on this project, the more she realized she and Nate needed to coordinate on some topics, not to mention set some ground rules for their stories.
Not quite believing she was going to do it, she took a deep breath and said, "Okay. I'll come."
* * *
Nate got ready for Lacey's visit the same way he would have prepared if his parents were coming to town. That meant folding the mountain of clean laundry on his sofa and running the vacuum that usually only collected whatever dust landed on it, not to mention stashing the spoils of his freelance work.
In recent months, Nate had managed to accumulate a huge amount of goodies while researching articles he wrote for publications outside his Men's World day job. Much of the stuff he gave to friends or family members. The women's items, however, had been piling up. A week ago, he'd read about a local shelter looking for donations. Thrilled to finally have a place to hand off the makeup, magazines, books, feminine products and beauty supplies he'd received while writing articles for women's weeklies, he'd planned to box it all up and haul it out this weekend.
"No time now," he muttered as he scrambled to shove things out of the way before Lacey's arrival. He didn't really want to have to explain the case of tampons in his bathroom. Particularly given what she already thought of him!
He couldn't wait to see her again. It had been hell staying away from the office, not giving in to his urge to call her. Until now, he'd only allowed himself to e-mail her because they really did have to stay in touch. At least with the computer notes they didn't have to deal with this physical pull between them but it was still there, humming away right beneath the surface of his skin, threatening to drive him nuts if he didn't act on it soon. But not too soon. Not before she was ready to trust him, to trust what was happening. Not before she had a chance to decide with her brain as well as her body.
So e-mail was the only communication he allowed himself. With each message, he sensed her reserve dropping, her confidence building. Yes, they were working well on the story. Now he needed to show her how well they could work personally.
He'd told her to come around