Mind Over Matter

Brady.”
    “I’ll pick you up on Friday.”
    “Eight,” she told him, already wondering if she was making a mistake. “Now go to bed. I have to get to work.”
    “Aurora.”
    “Yes?”
    “Give me a thought now and then.”
    “Good night, Brady.” A.J. hung up the phone, then sat with it cradled in her lap. What had possessed her to do that? She’d intended to give the tickets away and catch the film when the buzz had died down. She didn’t care for glittery premieres in the first place. And more important, she knew spending an evening with David Brady was foolish. And dangerous.
    When was the last time she’d allowed herself to be charmed by a man? A million years ago, she remembered with a sigh. And where had that gotten her? Weepy and disgusted with herself. But she wasn’t a child anymore, she remembered. She was a successful, self-confident woman who could handle ten David Bradys at a negotiating table. The problem was she just wasn’t sure she could handle one of him anywhere else.
    She let out a long lingering sigh before her gaze passed over her clock. With a muffled oath she was tumbling out of bed. Damn David Brady and her own foolishness. She was going to be late.

5
    S he bought a new dress. A.J. told herself that as the agent representing the lead in a major motion picture premiering in Hollywood, she was obligated to buy one. But she knew she had bought it for Aurora, not A.J.
    At five minutes to eight on Friday night, she stood in front of her mirror and studied the results. No chic, professional suit this time. But perhaps she shouldn’t have gone so far in the other direction.
    Still, it was black. Black was practical and always in vogue. She turned to the right profile, then the left. It certainly wasn’t flashy. But all in all, it might have been wiser to have chosen something more conservative than the pipeline strapless, nearly backless black silk. Straight on, it was provocative. From the side it was downright suggestive. Why hadn’t she noticed in the dressing room just how tightly the material clung? Maybe she had, A.J. admitted on a long breath. Maybe she’d been giddy enough, foolish enough, to buy it because it didn’t make her feel like an agent or any other sort of professional. It just made her feel like a woman. That was asking for trouble.
    In any case, she could solve part of the problem with the little beaded jacket. Satisfied, she reached for a heavy silverlocket clipped to thick links. Even as she was fastening it, A.J. heard the door. Taking her time, she slipped into the shoes that lay neatly at the foot of her bed, checked the contents of her purse and picked up the beaded jacket. Reminding herself to think of the entire process as an experiment, she opened the door to David.
    She hadn’t expected him to bring her flowers. He didn’t seem the type for such time-honored romantic gestures. Because he appeared to be as off-balance as she, they just stood there a moment, staring.
    She was stunning. He’d never considered her beautiful before. Attractive, yes, and sexy in the coolest, most aloof sort of way. But tonight she was breathtaking. Her dress didn’t glitter, it didn’t gleam, but simply flowed with the long, subtle lines of her body. It was enough. More than enough.
    He took a step forward. Clearing her throat, A.J. took a step back.
    “Right on time,” she commented, and worked on a smile.
    “I’m already regretting I didn’t come early.” A.J. accepted the roses and struggled to be casual, when she wanted to bury her face in them. “Thank you. They’re lovely. Would you like a drink while I put them in water?”
    “No.” It was enough just to look at her.
    “I’ll just be a minute.”
    As she walked away, his gaze passed down her nape over her shoulder blades and the smooth, generously exposed back to her waist, where the material of her dress again intruded. It nearly made him change his mind about the drink.
    To keep his mind off tall blondes with smooth skin, he took a look around her apartment. She didn’t appear to have the same taste in decorating as Clarissa.
    The room was cool, as cool as its tenant, and just as streamlined. He couldn’t fault the icy colors or the uncluttered lines, but he wondered just how much of herself Aurora Fields had put into the place she lived in. In the manner of her office, nothing was out of place. No frivolous mementos were set out for public viewing. The room had class and style, but none of