Frisky Business Read online

  “Absolutely.” Marley took the box of tea out of the cupboard and set it in front of him. Then she turned and grabbed the teakettle off the stove. It was still warm, so she tipped it over Will’s mug and poured carefully.

  “Um, Marley?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it possible your teakettle has a crack in it?”

  “What?”

  “Well, it’s either that, or I just peed myself at your kitchen counter. I’m hoping it’s not the latter, but I won’t rule out the possibility.”

  Marley looked down and saw the dribbled splotch of water on Will’s crotch. “Oh no!”

  She dropped the kettle on the granite counter and whipped a dishtowel off the rack behind her. She scrambled around the island and began mopping at the front of his pants, dabbing frantically. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I hope I didn’t burn you or—”

  “Marley?”

  “—I’m happy to pay for dry-cleaning or—”

  “Marley?”

  “—maybe my dad left something behind that you could change into while I put those in the dryer or—”

  “Marley!”

  His shout was more amusement than anger, but Marley froze anyway. “What?”

  “As much as I’m enjoying the sponge bath, it’s probably best if I do that myself.”

  Marley looked down at his lap. Her hand was poised right over his fly, with only a thin layer of dishtowel and denim separating her from—

  “Oh, God!” Marley jerked her hand back. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

  “Don’t be. This is the most action I’ve seen in months, though it’d probably be better without the second-degree burns.”

  “I can’t believe I… here, wait, let me get some ointment.”

  “Marley.” Will grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. His mismatched eyes flashed with something Marley couldn’t identify, and she shivered as a flood of heat surged up her arm.

  “What?” Her voice was a strange little whisper.

  “I’m not burned, and I’m not upset, but if you keep rubbing me with that towel or you start smearing me with ointment, I might be arrested for public indecency.”

  “This isn’t public.” It was an absurd thing to say, and Marley couldn’t believe she blurted it out loud.

  Will grinned. “In that case, rub all you want.”

  Marley looked down to see she’d twisted the dishtowel into a tight, damp knot around her hands. Will’s fingers were still clasped around her wrist, big and strong and strangely possessive. Marley’s fingers throbbed, aching with the tension and with the ridiculous urge to touch him again.

  Will reached out and tugged the towel, releasing the pressure and drawing her closer. Marley looked up, scant inches from him now. She swallowed, searching hard for the right words to say.

  “I shouldn’t—”

  Then she kissed him, forgetting all about shouldn’t and embracing every should that pulsed through her veins. Will’s mouth was warm from the tea, and he kissed her back with an urgency that made Marley drop the towel and twist her fingers in his hair. His hands slipped around her waist and came to rest just above her hips. She pressed herself against him, the dishtowel tangling around her ankles, the scent of blueberries making her dizzy.

  Will pressed his fingertips into the small of her back and deepened the kiss. His lips were soft, and his hair was much too long. He tasted like summer berries and something darker, more mysterious.

  In the distance, Marley heard a fuzzy vibration. She thought it might be her brain exploding and decided she didn’t care. She just wanted to keep kissing him like this forever—

  “Marley?”

  “Mmm?”

  Will drew back, his lips less than an inch from hers. “Normally I wouldn’t interrupt something like this for a call, but it looks like your phone is about to vibrate itself right off the counter.”

  Marley jerked back and spun around, catching her iPhone just before it did the topple of death off the edge of the granite. She fumbled it to her face, not entirely sure which side was up or which button switched it on.

  “Hello?” Marley breathed, pretty sure she sounded like a woman who’d just been ravished against the kitchen counter by a mysterious, blue-collar stranger.

  “Marley, hon! I’m so sorry I’m late, but I’m just pulling up your driveway now, and—”

  “Jane!” Marley blinked at the sound of her realtor’s voice. “It’s no problem at all. I’m ready to go see the properties right now. Just let me grab my purse and I’ll meet you right out front.”

  “Thanks for understanding, sweetie. I’ve got some great places for you to take a look at. See you in just a sec.”

  Marley switched off the phone and stared at Will. She took a deep breath and one step back. “I’m so sorry. I forgot we set this meeting, and I really need to go.”

  Will grinned and nodded. “Actually, I’m the one who probably needs to go.”

  “What?”

  “You live here. It seems logical I should be the one to vacate the premises.”

  “Right. Um, thank you for the kibble. And, um… everything.”

  “Everything.” Will grinned wider. “Yes, thank you for everything. The tea was great too.”

  Marley took another step back, not sure whether to feel embarrassed, annoyed, or disappointed. As her doorbell rang, she decided it didn’t matter.

  “It was nice meeting you, Will.”

  “You too, Marley. I’ll see you around.”

  Not likely, she thought as she stepped toward the door.

  Pity, that.

  ***

  Thursday morning, Marley reported for duty at the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary. It was the first time she’d prepped for a board meeting while watching an otter groom its nether region.

  “Soothing, isn’t it?”

  Marley turned to see her new boss gazing fondly through the glass at Bridget the otter. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if Susan meant the peacefulness of the water or the ability to chew one’s own tail. Sensing her audience, Bridget the otter turned, ceased her grooming ritual, and did a belly flop into the tank.

  Marley looked at her new boss, the director of the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary. Forty-something and fit, Susan Reynolds wore a black pencil skirt, a green blouse, and a pouch of dead fish around her waist.

  “Want one?” she asked, offering Marley a fish.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Just toss it over there in the corner when she swims by. She’ll grab it.”

  Marley did as ordered and was rewarded by the sight of Bridget’s sleek little body streaking past to nab her breakfast.

  “I always come here before big meetings,” Susan said. “There’s something calming about it. This is one of the wildlife sanctuary’s most popular live exhibits.”

  “I can see why.” Marley touched a finger to the glass and watched the otter bob closer to check it out. “I’ve read that otters can swim faster than any other four-legged animal and can consume up to twenty-five percent of their body weight per day.”

  Susan smiled. “You’ve been studying your animal facts.”

  “I figured a certain amount of animal expertise might help me fit in better in this job.”

  “That’s one of the things the interview panel liked best about you. You’ve got a great ability to soak up new knowledge and really relate to people.”

  Marley beamed. “Thank you. I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

  “You’ll do just fine.” Susan tossed in another fish and looked at Marley. “I hope you’re not too nervous about being thrown in the deep end like this.” She glanced at the tank. “So to speak. We wouldn’t normally start you off with a board meeting so soon, and I know you’ve got your hands full helping out with th
e charity event tonight and dealing with the appraisal on those antique figurines. But this is a special executive session, and we won’t have all the trustees together again for another month.”

  “It’s fine, really. A good chance to meet everyone.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. And really, let me know if you want help dealing with the appraisal. I know it’s a pain, but we can’t have those figurines insured until the appraisal’s done.”

  “I completely understand,” Marley said. “I’ve been researching appraisers who specialize in… um… erotic art from the mid 1800s. The graphic nature of the figurines—”

  “It’s okay, Marley,” Susan interrupted. “We’ll call them figurines in front of the board, but in private we can call them what they are. Antique, Native American sex toys.”

  “Right,” Marley said, regrouping. “There are a number of experts in the field, and I just need to identify the right person to do the appraisal. I realize everyone’s on pins and needles with valuable antiques sitting around uninsured.”

  Susan smiled. “I’m glad you appreciate the delicacy of the situation. Nancy Thomas-Smith is one of our more challenging donors, so we’re eager to have this dealt with quickly.”

  “Challenging how?”

  “She’s a retired sex therapist with an entitlement complex and a penchant for making inappropriate comments in public.”

  “Another one of those?” Marley turned back to the otter enclosure and peered through the blue-green water where Bridget was making laps underwater. “Why is there only one otter?”

  “Bridget didn’t take kindly to the young male we had in there with her last year,” Susan said. “She’s a rather dominant female, and Fritz kept trying to exert himself and take charge. We had to move him to another facility after Bridget chewed off the tip of his tail.”

  “Way to stick it to him, Bridget,” Marley said.

  “Many species of otters just aren’t very social. She’s fine on her own.”

  “Maybe I should take a lesson from Bridget.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.” Marley smiled brightly. “I got all the paperwork filled out this morning, so human resources should have what they need now.”

  “Wonderful. Did you sign the form allowing us to pull your credit report?”

  Marley froze, her smile locked in place like a vise grip with teeth. “Credit report?”

  “It’s standard procedure for us to issue you a company credit card.” Susan waved a dismissive hand and zipped up the fish pouch. “No worries, we’ll take care of it later. Shall we get ready for the meeting?”

  “Of course.”

  Susan smiled down at Marley’s legs. “Thank you for wearing tights. I know it’s an antiquated rule, but one of our board members is very insistent on a dress code for board meetings. Pantyhose or tights—no bare legs for women.” She shrugged. “If it’s any comfort, she makes all the men wear ties, too.”

  “It’s no problem. I’m accustomed to dressing to impress in a professional environment.”

  “Still, it’s a pain sometimes. Things have gotten a little stuffy here with the change in management a few years ago. I just hope we don’t lose all the quirks that made this place so unique and appealing to community members.” She turned and pushed open the door to a small washroom. “Never mind. Let’s get cleaned up. Can’t go into the meeting stinking like dead fish.”

  Marley waited while Susan scrubbed up at the little sink. When it was her turn, Marley pumped the soap dispenser twice. The container sputtered and coughed up a disappointing teaspoon of foam.

  “Damn,” Susan said. “Harry was supposed to replace that.”

  “It’s okay,” Marley said, doing the best to de-fish her hands under the tepid water. “I’m fine as long as no one smells their hands after we shake.”

  Susan smiled again and pushed open the washroom door, holding it for Marley to pass. “Don’t worry about the meeting. You’ll do just fine. The board’s going to love you.”

  “Any last-minute tips?”

  “Speak loudly,” Susan said. “At least half of them are over seventy. Oh, and don’t be surprised if our chairman badgers you about the appraisal on the sex t—the figurines. The donor is his aunt, and the figurines have been in the family for quite some time.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  Susan stopped walking and lowered her voice. “You might as well know, our chairman can be a little… touchy.”

  “Touchy?” Marley frowned “Like he’s a sensitive old guy prone to emotional outbursts, or like I should be careful not to bend over within grabbing distance?”

  Susan laughed and shook her head. “Neither. He has some trust issues, that’s all. Don’t take it too personally.”

  “Got it. I appreciate the advice.”

  “On the upside, he keeps things interesting around here. Pretty much the opposite of stuffy.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Ready to head in?” Susan asked, nodding toward a pair of giant oak doors.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They pushed through the doors together and stepped into the small, overheated boardroom. Marley surveyed the crowd of well-dressed, older citizens gripping coffee mugs emblazoned with the wildlife sanctuary’s logo. Everyone turned to study her, and Marley resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her skirt.

  “Marley, I’d like to introduce you to some of the board members you didn’t meet during your interview,” Susan announced. “Folks, this is Marley Cartman, our new director of development. She’ll be taking charge of donor relations and financial management. Marley, this is Gladys Gainsworth, Bed Playman, Stan Martin, Peter Quon, and Martin Braylard. Oh, and here’s our board chairman.”

  Marley turned as a man in a three-piece suit strode into the room, straightening a tie she was pretty sure cost more than her car. She stared at the suit, at the shoes that were surprisingly devoid of duct tape, at the eyes that were disturbingly mismatched, at the lips that were disconcertingly familiar.

  Marley opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words at all.

  “Marley, this is the chairman of our board of trustees, William Barclay the Fifth,” Susan said. “Marley here is our new director of development.”

  Marley stuck out her hand like a trained dog. “William,” she stammered.

  “Just plain Will,” he corrected, smiling down at her. “How’s Magoo?”

  “Fine, thank you.” She glanced down at the floor, not trusting herself to meet his eyes. “You aren’t wearing the antique slippers.”

  “The duct tape clashed with the tie.”

  “You’re… you’re—” Marley stopped, not sure what she meant to say. You’re the guy I made out with didn’t seem right, nor did you’re the best kisser I’ve ever necked with in a kitchen.

  “You’re here!” she finished brightly, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

  “That I am,” Will agreed, giving her the tiniest wink.

  Susan clapped her hands together. “Okay, folks, shall we take our seats?”

  Marley stumbled toward a chair at the far end of the conference table, still trying to wrap her brain around the volunteer dogcatcher in holey slippers masquerading as a wealthy trustee oozing old money. Or was it the other way around?

  At the other end of the table, Will tapped a stack of papers with an expensive-looking pen. “Let’s get things started, since I know everyone’s time is valuable. Ms. Cartman, since this is your first board meeting, would you mind introducing yourself before we kick off the executive session?”

  Marley stood and smoothed the front of her skirt with her fingers. Be brief, be sincere, be seated, she coached herself silently. She cleared her throat and smiled.

  “I’m Marley Cartman, and I’m delighted to meet all of you and excited to be worki
ng with the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary,” Marley announced.

  “Cheez Whiz,” Will said.

  Marley blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Cheez Whiz. It’s the acronym for Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary. Much easier to say.” Will smiled, making his mismatched eyes sparkle, and Marley forgot her name for a moment.

  “Oh, CHSWS.” Marley nodded. “Okay then.”

  Susan cleared her throat. “Will’s family has been volunteering here for many years. It’s his chief goal to keep things… well, lively here.”

  “To keep it from being stuffy and dull so guests actually want to come here and learn things about wildlife and natural history instead of wanting to drown themselves in the otter pond out of sheer boredom,” Will said, turning back to Marley. “Sorry to interrupt. You can keep going with your bio.”

  “Right.” Marley cleared her throat. “I have a degree in economics, and I’ve worked in philanthropy and donor relations for twelve years now, most recently for Woolstein and Associates in Portland. I’ve done pro bono fund-raising work for the Bend Humane Society for a couple years now, so I’m thrilled to finally make it to Bend on a more permanent basis.”

  She flashed her best smile at the assembled group, pleased she hadn’t blurted what was really running through her mind. My name is Marley and my hands smell like dead fish, Stan Martin’s fly is down, and I’ve tongue-wrestled with the board chairman.

  “Do you golf, dear?” asked a woman at the end of the table wearing diamond earrings the size of small grapefruits. She smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We have twenty-six courses in Central Oregon, and so many business deals happen out on the course, you know.”

  Marley smiled back as her palms began to perspire. “I’ve been known to pick up a club from time to time,” she replied, trying to remember the last time she’d done that. Did visiting a driving range in college count?

  A man with salt-and-pepper sideburns picked up his green-and-yellow coffee mug, and Marley tried to remember which Oregon sports team had those colors. “Are you a fan of the Oregon State Beavers or the U of O Ducks?”