I head over to the museum, stopping to pick up a couple of coffees from Starbucks on my way. If I know Lizzie—and I do by now—then she’s hitting her mid-afternoon crash right now, and it won’t be pretty unless I can smooth the troubled waters with a venti vanilla latte. I’m just heading down to her office when Morgan comes barreling down the hall towards me, her hair pulled back extra-tight today, a determined look on her face.
“Jake Weston!” she exclaims, taking me by the arm and pulling me into the conference room. “Just the man I wanted to see.” She closes the door and walks over to the conference table, perching on top of it like she’s some kind of nervous, exotic bird about to fly away.
“What can I do for you, Morgan?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t want me to attend some godawful cocktail party like I did last week, to try to convince donors to be more generous in their gifts to the museum. I hate schmoozing.
“I just got off the phone with Max Danforth’s lawyers, and they’ve agreed for you to visit this Saturday! You’ll meet with him that afternoon, and you’ll have access to the house, the grounds, all the memorabilia—everything!”
Holy shit. Lizzie and I have been playing phone tag with Danforth’s people for weeks now, and I, for one, had just about given up on making a trip happen. Which would’ve been a shame, considering that Danforth is currently in possession of one of the biggest collections of old Hollywood memorabilia in the country. But, then again, this guy could afford to collect on a grand scale, seeing that he was one of the most successful producers in Hollywood history—with a humungous estate in Bel Air to match.
“Has he agreed to loan out the pieces we need for the show?” I ask, already thinking of the treasures that could be back at the estate. Never mind Lizzie’s movie stuff, I have clients that would kill for some original mid-century furniture.
“Well . . .” Morgan’s voice trails off. “He hasn’t agreed exactly, but I know that with your charm, Jake, you’ll have no problem convincing him!”
Which means he’s said no flat out, and Morgan’s sending me anyway.
“Normally, I would represent the museum in these matters, but I’m just so busy here planning for the big gala.”
That’s right, I almost forgot. Once Morgan got wind that Lizzie’s exhibit might actually be a success, she decided to swoop in and upgrade the big opening to a massive fancy gala event. Goodbye, two lines in the NYT arts section, hello society event with catering, black-tie dress code, and sixteen-piece swing band. I’m pleased for Lizzie, it’s a big deal, but it means the pressure’s really on us now to pull this off.
“You and Lizzie will go this weekend,” Morgan continues. “I’m relying on you to make this happen,” she adds with a steely glare. “Don’t let me down.”
“Of course,” I mutter, with a sinking feeling in my gut. I wander back out into the hallway and take a sip of now-cold coffee. A weekend. In a hotel. With Lizzie. This isn’t exactly in line with my resolve to stay away from her. In fact, this fucks things up royally. But whatever. I’m a professional, right? I can make this work.
She’s a colleague—nothing more. A fucking hot colleague that infuriates you on a daily basis, yes, but she’s a colleague nonetheless. If you can do that, this trip should be a piece of cake, right?
And it’s only a weekend—two days, three, tops. I can do anything for a weekend—and that includes staying as far away from Lizzie Ryan as humanly possible.
I mean, what could possibly go wrong?
Just then Lizzie walks past wearing one of those tight little sundresses she favors that flares out at the hips and somehow simultaneously manages to hug every one of her curves. Fucking hell. When she sees me, her face breaks into a tentative smile before she realizes what she’s done and completely erases it. She stomps over to the espresso machine and begins noisily grinding some beans.
“Heard the news yet about LA?” I ask, yelling so she can hear me over the cacophony.
“Yep,” she says, not even turning around to look at me. “Morgan told me this morning.”
“Pretty exciting,” I say, wondering why she’s not bouncing off the walls with glee.
“I’m sure it’ll be a great opportunity for the show, yes,” she says in a robotic tone of voice.
“Wow, I thought you’d be going apeshit over the chance to plunder this guy’s estate.”
“Danforth’s a legend,” she says. “So of course I’m excited. And it’s not plundering, it’s borrowing!”
Was it something I said? Just for that, I don’t tell her about the latte sitting on the counter with her name on it. “I’ll meet you at the airport then,” I say, walking towards the door. I don’t know what happened between the movie and today, but she’s acting like I’m invisible. She doesn’t even say a word as I exit, just focuses on that coffee maker like it holds the secrets of the known universe.
Jesus, she runs hot and cold so often, you’d think we were dating.
I stop. Fuck. That’s not the way to think . . . because if we were dating, I wouldn’t let her off so easy. No, I’d push her up against the table and show her exactly why she can’t ignore me for long. Shove that skirt up, and find out if her panties were already wet for me—
Professional. Sure, Jake.
I storm down the hallway, needing some air, but I bump right into Liam, some tool from the HR department. As soon as he sees me, his face lights up like it’s Christmas. “Dude,” he says, leaning in closer, “did I see Lizzie heading back there?”
“Last time I checked,” I growl.
“You take a crack at that yet?” he asks. “I mean, fifty K is a lot of spare change, you know?”
Him too? Fuck, I’m going to need to hire Lizzie bodyguards at this rate, to chase off all the assholes looking to make a quick buck at her expense. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?” I snap. “I mean she’s not a fucking cashiers check, she’s a human being.”
Liam gives me a knowing look. “Fuck you, man, you just want it all for yourself.”
“No.” I’m seriously close to doing this kid damage but he just gives me a conspiratorial look, like we’re in this together.
“Hey, all’s fair in love and war.” He smooths down his thinning blond hair. “She smiled at me in the elevator yesterday so I think she’s into it. Wish me luck.”
He leaves before I can give him something else—with my fists. Dammit, why the fuck do these chumps think they stand a chance? Lizzie will see through them in five seconds flat.
But something makes me backtrack down the hall until I can spy through the glass of the break room. I watch as Liam sidles up to Lizzie and turns on the charm.