away by my verbose and witty conversation.
He came around the desk slightly, eyes locked again on mine. Please don’t come closer. “You look...different.”
I felt as if I was in Crazy Town. Has he seen me before? “I’m wearing glasses.”
De Luca looked at me again, then something flipped in his eyes, a moment of understanding. He turned away from me, continuing to dial a number, and I understood that our interchange was over.
That was freaking weird.
I walked back to the center desk and waited for Ms. Featherston to look up. She did, after a moment.
“Mr. De Luca asked me to reserve a car? For this weekend?” I sounded inept, even to my own ears.
Featherston looked confused, and then her expression cleared. Her mouth curved into something resembling a smile. “He thinks you’re Tiffany,” she said wryly.
“Who?”
“Tiffany. The girl downstairs who handles travel arrangements. You look like her...slightly. He must have gotten confused. I’ll make sure she gets the message.” She shot me an amused look and then refocused on her computer.
I turned on my heel and headed for the doors, wanting to get back to the normalcy of the West Wing. Wow, talk about an ego check. What a...jerk! So caught up in his own world he mistakes me for someone else—like all of us are bland, interchangeable slaves waiting around to jump to his ridiculous travel needs? I could feel my irritation building. I pulled my shoulders back and straightened my head, enjoying the anger coursing through my body. It felt good having some of my backbone again.
Back at my desk, I pulled out my cell and sent a quick text to Olivia. Dinner and drinks tonight?
Her response was quick, and affirmative. We agreed, through a series of texts, to meet at 8:00 p.m. at Café Salsa, a downtown tapas bar known for their great bands. I locked my phone and put it back in my purse. I planned on enjoying this Broward-free week, and damned if I’d let that asshole De Luca affect it. I attacked my pile of files with new gusto.
* * *
A few moments after the double doors closed behind that delicious ass, Brad dialed a second number, watching the stately secretary outside his office answer her phone.
“Yes, Mr. De Luca?”
“Who was that?”
A soft chuckle sounded in his ear, and she spun in her chair, meeting his eyes through the thick glass. “That was one of the interns. Kent Broward’s.” She looked at him with a glare that would melt a lesser man’s skin. “I trust this will be the last I see of her?”
He met her glare and smiled, turning away and walking to his desk. “I’ll think about it.”
* * *
That night, I dressed to kill, picking out a red minidress and sky-high nude stilettos. I straightened my hair and carefully applied my makeup. Putting on my sexiest lace bra and a matching thong, I shimmied into my dress and then dusted bronzer over my legs, chest and arms. A small black purse in hand, I stood in front of the mirror and gave myself the once-over. Hot damn, woman. You are looking good.
At five minutes before eight, Olivia pulled up outside my apartment in her old gray Ford Explorer, blaring Katy Perry. I skittered out on my heels, navigating the overgrown path with care. Entering Olivia’s SUV was like crawling into a bubblegum bubble. It smelled yummy and completely feminine, and said girl as loud as the feather boa hanging from the rearview mirror could scream.
We sang and car-danced the ten minutes to Café, my spirits rising with every chorus. At the restaurant, we got a great corner table with a view of the dance floor and bar.
“So, give me the goods,” she demanded as soon as we sat down.
“What goods?”
“You know! On your new job, life, everything! I haven’t seen you in over two weeks, and last weekend didn’t count! Becca was there, and that prevents any real conversation from occurring.” She giggled to soften her point, but we both knew she meant it. Becca was wonderful, but Becca was all about Becca, twenty-four hours a day. “Any word from Luke?”
I rolled my eyes at her reference to my ex. “No, thank God. He doesn’t know about my internship, and I don’t think anyone has told him where I live. Has he called you anymore?”
She shook her head in response. “Just that one time. I think I made it pretty clear to him then that he wasn’t going to get any information from me.”
I brought my martini up to signal a toast. She followed suit.
“To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” she parroted. We clinked glasses and both took generous sips.
“So, tell me about the new job.” Her eyes glimmered. “Anything going on with you and that gorgeous hunk we saw at Amigos?”
“Todd?” I grimaced and shook my head. “No, he’s too...I don’t know...immature. Besides, I don’t want to get involved with anyone at work. It’s too complicated.” I thought of De Luca and my face flushed.
Olivia caught the tell. “What? What is it?”
I told her about De Luca, Broward’s warning and today’s interchange. She started to giggle and then clamped a hand over her mouth at my glare.
“It’s not funny,” I hissed.
“Oh, come on! It is funny! You trotted in there thinking that he would bend over backward to woo you, like every other guy you come across. Instead he gave you a menial task and sent you on your way!” She smiled affectionately at me, and patted my arm. “It’s okay, Jules. Not everyone is susceptible to your charms.”
I shrugged and was on the verge of a witty comeback when a server materialized at our table with two martini glasses filled with blue, glowing liquid. “Ladies, these drinks are from the table by the stage.” He deposited the drinks in front of us and disappeared before we had time to formulate a response. I drew my blue martini close and tried to glance discreetly over my shoulder. Three suits by the stage nodded and raised their drinks. I gave them a quick smile and turned back to Olivia.
“What do you think?”
Olivia leaned to the side and spoke over the sugary rim of her new drink.
“Fairly cute. They look successful, a little old.”
“How old?”
“Umm...late twenties? Maybe even thirty.” She said thirty as if it was ancient. Which, for us, it was.
“Any wedding rings?”
She tried discreetly to squint and instead came off looking as if she had discreetly farted.
“Stop that,” I snapped. “We can look up close.” What the hell, I put on this dress for a reason, right? I turned in my chair, flashed my best smile and gestured for the guys to come over. Time to have some fun.
Two
