barely a taste, she’d bet he was tiramisu all the way. Since Wicked Chicks didn’t admit failure, Audra gave her friend a wink and her naughtiest grin.
“Let’s just say it would be my pleasure to try another taste of him,” she drawled.
“It’s probably just as well you won’t,” Isabel advised as she gathered her bag and opened the car door. “You need to focus on your career. This is no time to let some three-course dessert pull you off track.”
“Hey, when have I ever let a guy matter enough to distract me from anything?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Audra winced. While that would have worked with Suzi or Bea, Isabel knew Audra’s history as well as her own. Once upon a time, Audra had thought love might exist. She’d believed a guy was more important than she was and had gladly handed him her dreams on a silver platter. Too bad he hadn’t been interested enough to even lift the lid.
Luckily, her friend didn’t press her advantage. She just patted Audra’s hand where it rested on the gearshift knob and slid out of the car.
“Oh, hey, I almost forgot your souvenir.” Isabel grinned and pulled a long strip of tacky green fabric from her bag. The tie. Audra took it with a wince. Ugly.
Isabel’s grin faded as she shut the car door with a little wave. “You’re there, Audra. Staring success in the face. Don’t blow it.”
Audra rolled her eyes and, without a word, slammed the car in gear and shot away from the curb.
Tension flamed its way over her shoulders and down her neck. And no wonder. She’d been fighting to prove herself all freaking night. Sure, she’d convinced her friends to chill out.
The cost? Instead of celebrating the first step of achieving her dreams, she was now wrestling with a pack of doubts. To say nothing of feeling overwhelmed by what could only be described as an identity crisis.
At this rate, she’d soon be one of those boring goody-goodys who worked all week for someone else’s glory. Then spent Saturday night home alone. Maybe a pint of Chunky Monkey for company. Her friends would drop her a line now and then, a pity call for old times sake.
She was worried. Hell, she should be worried.
And yet all she could think about was whether or not she’d ever hear from Jesse again to finish what they’d started.
Maybe Isabel had a point?
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