And she still wasn’t sure about the blue dress. The red one she’d brought would look good, too.
But Georgia needed the mirror, and they all admired her new pink sheath. They were in various states of makeup and hair-doing when someone knocked on the door. “Lauren?” came Nate’s voice.
“Hang on!” she called, setting down her round brush.
“We need a minute!” Becca hollered. “We’re not decent!”
It wasn’t remotely true, though, and so everyone laughed as Lauren walked over to the door and yanked it open. Nate stood there, bow tie in his hand. “Come in,” she said.
Looking a little shell-shocked, he took in the scene. Lauren watched his gaze travel around the suite, over their spread of food and wine and smiles. His eyes snagged on Rebecca, particularly her cleavage. Then he scowled. “I’ve been on the phone with Silicon Valley all day. Didn’t know there was a party next door.”
“You poor, poor, thing,” Becca crooned. She skipped over to take the tie out of his hand. “Did you really just knock on Lauren’s door because you can’t tie a bow tie?”
His cheekbones colored. “I hate tuxes.” His gaze dropped to the glass in her hand. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink?”
Georgia stepped forward to take the glass from her hand. “She’s holding that for me so I could try on these shoes.”
“That’s the truth, officer,” Becca said. “Now come closer so I can do this right.” She held up the tie.
Nate hesitated for just a second, and Lauren was probably the only one who noticed. She watched Nate do the math on how weird it would appear if he declined the help of one of his assistants only to request it from the other. So he took a step toward Rebecca, lifting his chin, and tried to appear disinterested.
He looked about as disinterested as a Doberman in front of a rib eye.
As Becca strung the tie around his collar, Ari and Georgia exchanged a loaded glance, proving that Lauren wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Nate’s reaction.
“So, about this thing tonight,” Becca said, fussing with the tie. She was so much shorter than Nate that he had to stoop down a little to help her out. “Am I your buffer for the whole evening? Or just the beginning part?”
“Just for drinks,” he said in a rough voice. “Alex can’t buttonhole me all evening. She’ll have to work the room for her charitable cause.”
“Awesome!” Becca said, tugging the two sides of the bow into place. “I want to dance with basketball players. They’re probably quick on their feet.”
Nate’s scowl deepened to epic proportions. “It’s almost time to meet Alex downstairs.”
“I know, slave driver. Let me grab my clutch.” She danced over to her manicure toolbox and snapped it shut. “Can I leave my things here for now?” She tucked her case under a luggage rack.
“Of course,” Lauren said quickly. “Have fun.”
Becca grabbed a tiny sparkly purse, slipped into a cute pair of red pumps, gave them all a wave and disappeared out the door with Nate.
After it clicked shut, nobody said anything for a minute. “Do you think she knows how Nate feels?” Ari asked. “Should we tell her?”
“I’m still not sure I believe it myself,” Georgia said softly. “He showers a lot of attention on Becca, especially since her injury. But Nate’s a great boss. He takes care of all of us in different ways. I wouldn’t want to put any ideas into Becca’s head if they’re false.”
They weren’t false. But Lauren had been watching it all play out a lot longer than the other two, so she was both better informed and more annoyed at Nate’s inaction. “The person who needs to talk to Rebecca is the guy who can’t tie a bow tie.”
“Some people need a push,” Ari said. “It’s not easy being Nate.”
“Then who is it easy to be?” Lauren countered. “I’ll give Nate a push myself, though. I can sense him meddling in my life lately, and I’m kind of tired of it.”
“Really? What’s he done?” Georgia asked.
Lauren fidgeted with her pocketbook and wondered if she was about to sound paranoid. “I have a difficult time believing that I’m the only one who could step in to run the Bruisers’ office while Rebecca is on sick leave.”
“He just trusts you the most,” Ari pointed out.
“Maybe. It’s possible I’m crazy. But it’s also possible that Nate’s supercomputer spit out a statistic suggesting that veteran goalies who are trying to impress their ex-girlfriends have an 8.2% improvement of their save percentages.”
Georgia and Ari burst out laughing. “That does sound like Nate,” Georgia sputtered.
“Or maybe it’s the other way around,” Ari suggested. “Maybe his computer thinks happy office managers save the company 8.2% annually.”
“Then he’s doing it all wrong. Because this party does not make me happy.”
“There is no rule that says you have to stay all night,” Georgia pointed out. “Order your favorite drink, talk to a couple of cute basketball players, then spend the rest of the night watching Netflix.”
“I really should find a cute basketball player,” Lauren said, giving her hair a last look in the mirror. “I wouldn’t have to make a big spectacle of it. Slipping a key into somebody’s pocket can be done on the sly.”
“You go, girl.”
Lauren found her wine on the coffee table and took a gulp for courage. Wine was another thing she might be giving up this year. Tonight she should live a little before the next chapter of her life began.
“Help me decide between these earrings,” Georgia prompted.
“Sure.” Lauren helped the publicist choose accessories, and made small talk about Florida. It was nice having a couple of women to chat with. So much so that she forgot to reconsider the blue dress.
TWELVE
The first hour of the party was fun for Mike. His teammates enjoyed shaking hands with the basketball team, trading barbs and talking smack about which athletes were the toughest.
Hockey players, of course. But everyone kept the ribbing friendly.
It was a good party, but it would have been better if he was wearing shorts and a polo shirt. Standing around on the sand in a tuxedo was a little ridiculous. The women looked more comfortable in their summery dresses. Some of them held a drink in one hand and their shoes in the other. The ocean made for a pleasing soundtrack in the background. And the lights strung up on the palm trees made the place feel festive.
Rich philanthropists circled the athletes, asking for autographs. He and O’Doul and Leo Trevi stood in a loose group with a couple of friendly basketball players and a handful of fans.
“Four words,” Trevi teased. “One time-out per game.”
“That’s more than four words,” pointed out Ty, the basketball captain. He was a towering man with a shaved head and laughing eyes.
“Not if ‘time-out’ is a compound word,” Leo insisted.
“Oh, college boy,” Patrick O’Toole chuckled. “Just ignore our rookie,” he said to the b-ball player. “He can’t help it.”