The answer to that was a big no. She’d donated the designer ballroom gown to a charity that auctioned off gowns and dedicated the proceeds to victims of sex trafficking.
In the end, Emma had gone with what she felt most comfortable in. For some women, that was yoga pants and a tank top, but Emma liked having a bit more…armor. For Emma, comfort meant feeling invulnerable.
So she was wearing tailored cream-colored slacks, a black silk blouse, and pointy-toed leopard print shoes.
Using both hands she gathered her hair back and pulled it into a smooth pony at the nape of her neck.
There.
Polished, cool, and a little bit badass.
It was the safest way she could think of to go toe-to-toe with Cassidy.
Speaking of which…she glanced at the clock.
Any minute now.
Cassidy knocked, right on time. He hadn’t always been so punctual. When they were in college, she’d forever been getting be there in 5 texts, which she’d eventually learned meant Be there within the hour. Maybe.
It hadn’t been because he’d been disorganized; quite the opposite. Cassidy had always been deliberate in everything he did. Instead, Emma had gotten the sense that Cassidy’s lateness had stemmed from a fear of missing out. As though he was always terrified that he’d miss an opportunity to be richer, smarter, better…
It had taken her a long time to realize that she was his backup plan. The quiet little mouse he could count on when all else failed.
But she wasn’t his mouse anymore. Wasn’t his anything.
Never again.
She opened the door. He was wearing a suit. Always with the damn suits. This one was navy, paired with a white shirt and a navy tie that should have been boringly monochromatic but instead looked sexy as hell for its simplicity. Cassidy always wore skinny ties—not in a trendy, hipster kind of way, but in a way that showed off his trim build to modern perfection.
“You’re so annoying,” she muttered, even though he hadn’t said a word.
He lifted his eyebrows and stepped inside her apartment. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you wine?”
“I have plenty of my own wine.”
“Yes, but this is better,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone as he headed to the kitchen for a corkscrew.
Emma didn’t even argue as she shut the front door. It probably was better.
“So why am I annoying?” he asked as she wandered back into the kitchen. He’d already found the wineglasses.
She waved a hand over him. “Just…too good-looking.”
His hand faltered in pouring the wine. Just briefly, but enough for her to know she’d caught him off guard.
“Don’t get excited,” she said, reaching out and plucking a wineglass from his hand. “I point it out as an annoyance because the good looks hide a rather dismal character.”
He blinked and although she’d meant the comment as off-the-cuff and teasing, she had the strangest sense that she’d hurt him.
Then he blinked again, and the moment was over. He clinked his glass against hers and gave her a cocky wink. “You once thought that dismal character was pretty damn alluring.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed “Mmm. That part of my life is all very fuzzy. Shall we?” She gestured toward the living room. She’d done every single one of her interviews there, and she was determined to keep Cassidy’s exactly the same.
To prove to him—and to herself—that he wasn’t special.
The knowing look on his face said he knew exactly what she was about, but he gave a gracious nod. “This is the hot seat, right?” he asked, gesturing to the chair where the other guys had sat, before settling his long frame.
Emma found her spot on the love seat and traded her wineglass for the notebook on the table. “I bet Camille had no idea just how many male butts would be visiting her furniture while she was gone.”
“Have you heard from her?” Cassidy asked. “I’ve gotten a few emails, but all work-related with bossy demands about the magazine.”
Emma shook her head. “She checked in the first week to see if I was settling in okay, but nothing since then.”