Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,3
because Christie was perfectly happy inside her shell.
She leaned forward to type in a reply but right on cue, her phone rang. She didn’t need to check the caller ID to know who it was.
“I was just replying to your e-mail, Marisa.”
“Damn technology,” Marisa replied. “I thought I’d actually talk to you.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“The date and how’s it going?”
Christie pursed her lips. “It’s going.”
“You haven’t set any up at all, have you? God, St. John, it’s only a couple of dates. Not open-heart surgery.”
“I know.” Christie sank into the couch. “I’m getting myself in the zone.”
“Yeah, right. And how, exactly, are you doing that? Pictures of naked men? Internet porn?”
Christie toyed with her wineglass. A sneaky online game of Zombie Force didn’t fall into either of those categories. More like the procrastination category. But Marisa didn’t need to know that. “No, of course not. I’ve been checking out…um…stuff.”
“‘Stuff’. Uh-huh. Well, do you want help with that ‘stuff’? I’ve got a few profiles set up on some dating sites. You can use them if you want.”
She knew Marisa had a few profiles. Just like she knew the photo that went along with them.
Long, blond tumbling locks. Curves that would’ve made Marilyn Monroe jealous. Wide, crystalline blue eyes. None of which Christie had. Oh no. She didn’t have curves, she had bones. And frizzy chestnut hair. And eyes an indeterminate shade between green and gray.
But hey, that was fine. After a lifetime of having her appearance picked over by her mother, she’d gotten to the point where she just didn’t care anymore. Bones and frizz were A-okay with her. They went with the jeans and the Doc Martens boots quite nicely, thank you very much.
“Uh, thanks for the offer, Mar. But no.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to do this?”
“Maybe because I don’t?” And she didn’t. In fact, she hated dating. With a passion. “I don’t even know why Ben gave me this stupid assignment. Probably because I’m the only woman on the team.”
“Ahem.”
“Sorry. The only female writer on the team.”
“Oh, come on. He chose you because you write extremely well and you know it.”
“Yeah, but face it, I’m the world’s worst choice to write an article on dating.” Christie bit her lip, trying not to dwell on the unfairness of it and failing. “I suck at that face-to-face, man-woman stuff.” At least she did when it came to stepping outside the gaming/tech world. Not that it bothered her. Most of her friends were guys, and being friends with them was cool. She wasn’t after anything more.
Marisa huffed. “So what was Greg? Chopped liver?”
“Greg was different. Greg was—”
“Greg was barely a man. You need to get over that loser.”
Christie’s grip tightened on her wineglass. “This has got nothing to do with G—”
“Bull. It’s been a year since you two broke up and you’re still single. What’s the holdup?”
With a conscious effort, Christie eased the stranglehold on her glass. “There’s no holdup. I’m happy being by myself.”
“Yeah, and I’m Elvis Presley reincarnated. Come on, sitting around at home IM’ing your friends and playing online games does not constitute a social life. Or any life, for that matter.”
Christie pulled a face. What was so wrong with it? She liked upgrading her computers and IM’ing people. She liked playing online games. Okay, so she didn’t get out much, but she hated bars and nightclubs. Being at home watching TV or reading a good book was much more interesting than the endless round of socializing Marisa seemed to do.
“Mar,” she said, trying for patience, “this dating thing isn’t about me being single or otherwise. It’s to do with Ben’s assignment.”
“But you can’t deny it’s a great excuse to get yourself a hot man.”
“I don’t want a hot man. Or a cold man. Or any man for that matter. Like I said, I’m happy as I am.”
Marisa made an exasperated sound. “Well, okay, fine. Ignore me then.”
Christie sighed. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and examined the steel-capped toes of her new cherry-red Doc Martens boots. “I guess you could help me sort out the weirdos,” she offered after a moment.
There was a small silence on the other end of the phone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll set up a few profiles on those dating sites you told me about. Hopefully I’ll get a couple of bites. Then when it’s date time, you can come along with me, check out the guy to make sure he’s