accent going for her, but she seemed to get more than her fair share of dates.
“Where do you meet all these men?”
“Online,” the younger woman said, her blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “It’s mad fun, you should try it.”
“Online dating? It seems so desperate.”
“It’s not. I do it all the time.” Dee didn’t bother saying she wasn’t desperate. All you had to do was look at her. “Our trouble is that we work in an industry that caters to women, and the only men who come round here are already spoken for. Honestly, you should at least give it a go.”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell you what, I’ll set you up a profile tomorrow and show you how to get on. It’s really simple and gives you a chance to screen someone first before you waste your time meeting them.”
“I guess I should be open-minded,” Karen said. Normally she’d have scoffed, but seeing Dexter today was making her feel more than usually single. And vaguely desperate.
“You’ll have fun, I promise.”
A slight woman with multicolored hair that looked as though Edward Scissorhands was her hairdresser drifted in behind Dee. She blinked big eyes and glanced around as though wondering where she was and what she was doing here.
“Hi, Laurel,” Dee said.
“Hello.”
“What do you think about Plenty of Phillys?”
“The online dating site?”
“That’s right.”
Laurel pulled her sketchbook out of her peace-sign-emblazoned bag. “I don’t think about it. Why?”
“Honestly, Laurel, how do you manage in the real world? I don’t mean do you contemplate the site the way you’d meditate on world peace or whatever you do when you sit around cross-legged and chant aum, I mean what do you think about Karen doing the online dating thing?”
“Oh.” The cake decorator turned her huge eyes to Karen. “Do you want to meet men on the Internet?”
“Of course she does, she’s desperate,” Dee announced. “And you should try it, too.” She sent them both a megawatt smile. “Right, then, see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Have fun tonight.”
Once Dee had gone, Karen turned to Laurel. “I’m not definitely going to do it, I’m only thinking about it.”
“I think you should do whatever makes you happy.”
And the amazing thing about Laurel was that when she said wacky things like that, she actually meant them. “I know you do. So, what have you got for me?”
Laurel was in the habit of bringing in her cake designs for Karen to approve. Not that she needed to, everything she baked was incredible, but Karen suspected she liked the reassurance of her approval.
But she really wished the woman didn’t bring sketches of the most delectable treats that looked so good even in the sketchbook that Karen’s mouth started to water. Especially not at the end of the day when her willpower was at its lowest ebb.
Once she’d approved half a dozen designs and they’d gone over timing and delivery of the cakes for this weekend, Laurel drifted out of the office and Karen got back to her accounts.
After giving in to her hunger and nuking a Lean Cuisine meal, she continued wrestling with her books for another couple of hours. When the muted chime that announced an after-hours caller rang, she wasn’t surprised. She supposed on some level she’d expected him.
Ignore the bell or go answer him?
It really wasn’t an option. With a sigh, she rose and stepped back into her heels and took her time going to the front door.
In the dim light he looked almost a stranger to her, so tall and elegant and, she reminded herself sternly, no longer hers.
“You look good, Kiki.”
In spite of herself she smiled. “No one’s called me that in years.”
“Good.”
It was cold outside and she shivered.
“Can I come in?”
Only now did she realize they were both standing at the entrance.
She stepped back to usher him in. “Of course.”
Once more he followed her into her office. He glanced around as though he hadn’t been there earlier that very day. “Place looks good. You’ve done well for yourself.”
Not compared to him. After they’d split, he’d become one of the top architects in New York, the go-to guy for bringing faded grandeur back from near death. He was fanatical about reclaiming and modernizing heritage properties and designing new buildings or additions to fit the old neighborhoods. She felt his approval at the way she’d used the best of the old building she occupied while still managing to bring in ultramodern conveniences.
“Do you own the building?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes I do.”
He nodded. “Smart girl.”
“Too smart to be charmed by you.” She sighed. “What do you want, Dex?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his head and her eyes were drawn to the thick, black hair she remembered so well. “I knew this was your outfit, obviously, but I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
“You certainly did surprise me.” But if almost giving her a heart attack was supposed to be fun, she thought she’d pass.
His gray all-seeing eyes locked on hers. “You didn’t tell Sophie about our past.”
“Didn’t seem very good for business to bring up my divorce when the woman’s here to plan a wedding.” She shot him a glance. “Did you tell her?”
“No.” He picked up her gold Montblanc pen off the desk, ran his thumbnail over the monogram. “I decided to leave it to you.” He’d given her that pen back in happier times, and now she was annoyed with herself for her sentimentality in using the damn thing every day.
“So, we don’t tell the lucky couple that their wedding planner and his best man used to be married?”
“No, I guess not.”
“And that we hate each other?”
He put down the pen, straightened to his full six feet and looked down at her. “I never hated you. That’s your department.”
A moment passed and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out that she missed him. Instead she said, “Why are you here, Dex? I mean, in the city. You work in New York
