I pinched my nose between two fingers. “Right. Of course not.”
“Now let’s answer some questions. You drink occasionally, and you don’t smoke. Those are easy. You’re an animal person.”
“I’m allergic to cats,” I said.
“But you like them. Good enough.”
“Why do I get the feeling I should hang up and just let you do whatever you’re going to do?”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” she pleaded in that sweet voice that made me want to hand her the moon on a platter. “Now let’s get to the real questions, shall we? Okay, if you were going to have one romantic night anywhere in the world, where would you choose?”
I thought hard. Some girls would say Paris. Others would say a picnic on the edge of a lake.
Me? I glanced at my paused TV and said, “In my apartment. Homemade dinner and some movies. Perfect night.”
Hailey groaned. “I’ll never understand how we came from the same people’s loins, but I’m writing it down because I love you, and surely there is someone out there who will too. Okay, next one. On a scale of one to ten, how adventurous are you?”
“One,” I said.
“Five, then,” Hailey corrected. “Nobody says one. They’ll think you cower in your apartment like a hermit, afraid to leave the house.”
“That’s kind of what I do.”
“But people don’t need to know that.”
And so it went. Over and over again—for roughly a million questions—Hailey asked me about myself and then corrected me to make me more palatable to other people. When at last we’d finished, she clicked into my profile and let out a contented sigh.
“Okay, here’s your description. Hey there! I’m Piper, and I’m looking for like-minded people to hang out with as I’m new to the city. My interests include Netflix, a good glass of wine, board games, and snuggly couches,” Hailey said.
“Good enough,” I said, compromising because it was the best I was going to get from her at this point.
“Great,” she said, smacking her lips with satisfaction. “Ooh, lookie here! You’ve already got a match.”
“What?” My stomach kicked up a team of butterflies. “Are you serious?”
“Dead. Oh, wow,” Hailey cooed. “He’s sexy.”
“I’m not looking for sexy,” I reminded her.
“Oh, you’re definitely looking for this kind of sexy. Everyone wants this kind of sexy. Holy cow.”
“How do you know he’s not going to make a wig out of my skin or whatever you said?” I reminded her, trying not to let the panic set in.
“Oh, relax. You can keep me on speed dial through your whole date.”
“Date?” I asked.
“It’s tomorrow night at the Florentine Inn. That place is nice, so wear a dress,” she chirped.
“What the hell, Hail?” I said, my palms going clammy even at the thought.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to thank me just yet.”
“Cancel it,” I shot back. “Cancel it right now.”
“No. You need to get out there, and this is the only way you’re ever going to do it. I’m just giving you a gentle shove, sis,” Hailey insisted.
It felt more like a knife in my back. Everything in me wanted to fight her on this. Everything except this one, teeny tiny part of me that feared she was right—and I was terrified to spend the rest of my life alone. Of sitting inside this apartment with no one to talk to and nothing to do and, worse, getting more comfortable with it day by day until the only people I saw were workmates and Thai food delivery guys. That part had me considering it. Just this one time.
“Well, tell me something about him, at least,” I grumbled.
“Nope. You have to go into this with an open mind, and at least this way, I know you will.”
For a female, the size of my sister’s balls never failed to astonish me. “You’re evil,” I said.
“Yep, but you are going to like this guy and end up thanking me. I can feel it. Now I’ve gotta go. When I left, some chick was talking about riding the mechanical bull, and I’m pretty sure it’s about to get hilarious in there. Love you.”
She hung up, and I glared at my phone for a long moment before setting it on the coffee table in front of me and staring at the TV.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a first date—maybe not since college. I’d thought, way back when, that Tommy and I were going to make it, that we’d get married. But no. He got promoted to Head Douchebag or whatever his title was at some real estate firm, and he left me in the dust. And then, with his face plastered on every billboard in town promoting the firm, I couldn’t get away from the guy.
I’d needed a fresh start—something new. Different. So I came here.
And I’ve been wallowing and watching Netflix ever since. Though, to be fair, it had only been three days.
Placing my hands just outside my thighs, I propelled myself from the couch and made my way toward the calendar hanging from my fridge. Monday was marked with bright-green ink—my first day at my new job. And tomorrow?
Tomorrow was a day for pink. The color of romance.
I picked a pen from a little cup near the fridge, wrote the time and place of my date on the calendar, and then stood back and smiled. Hailey could be right. This could be my one chance to get back on the horse and spend my Friday nights somewhere other than lounging on my couch alone.
And she was right about one other thing too.
It had been a long, long time since I’d felt the warmth of a man’s skin against me. And the fact that I didn’t know a thing about this guy? Well, that made it all the more terrifying…but also kind of exciting.
The best part? If it didn’t work out, I’d never have to see him again. Maybe Hailey had really come up with the perfect plan this time.
Chapter Two
Jackson
The tension was starting to get to me.
Which, I should note, was extremely rare. Mergers fell through and clients backed out, but me? I was cool as a fucking cucumber straight out of the refrigerator.
Except, of course, in times like these…
When I’d gone more than two weeks without getting laid.
It was like clockwork, really. The moment the clock stroked two weeks, I was like a caged animal, tense and pacing, waiting for some brief moment of release. And now, two hours after I should have gone home for the day and one hour after my assistant should have ordered my dinner? I was more pent-up than ever before.
Hungry and horny was almost too much to bear. Horngry. It was a bad combination all around.
Stalking toward my desk, I pressed down on the intercom and said, “Jane, I need you to find me a date for tomorrow night. Some internet site or something should be fine. And when is dinner supposed to get here?”
I released the button and waited for Jane’s nervous, skittering voice to buzz through the line. Nothing happened. I held back a growl and paced to the door, opening it to find…nothing.
An empty desk with a neat lavender note folded in half and labeled with my name.
Taking it, I unfolded the letter and skimmed its contents.
Mr. Dane,
By the time you read this, I’m sure I’ll have been gone for hours. I’m sorry to leave this way, but I simply can’t work like this anymore. I need to have a job where I can be sure I’ll be able to pick up my children on time and make them supper. As I stated in my initial interview, this isn’t something I’m willing to compromise.
I informed HR of my departure two weeks ago—a fact I’m sure they told you but you’ve allowed to slip your mind. Thank you for the opportunity, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out. As I’m sure I’ll not be receiving a recommendation from you anyway, and this job will not be listed on my résumé, please allow me to provide you with some advice for dealing with future assistants.
I can’t read your mind. Nobody can read your mind. And you can’t work people like they were born specifically to serve you.
Good luck finding someone who will be able to meet your insane standards.
Regards,
Jane Clarence