I stood there in shock, watching him leave when a pair of giggling women about my age came sliding up to me.
“Oh my gosh,” the little blonde one gushed, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did Thomas Larchwood just ask you out on a date?”
I glanced at her, then stared out the door where he’d just left.
“I honestly have no idea...”
* * *
Rosalie helped me get ready that night. I’d gotten home from the gym just as she was waking up, looking a bit like I’d been lost in the sewers for a few days.
“Oh no, Jen,” she said when she saw me, “was the cycling class that bad?”
I shook my head numbly. “Treadmills. I was racing.”
“Racing? Again?” She shook her head disapprovingly. “You know you’re not supposed to do that anymore. Do you remember when that eighty-year-old man beat you? I thought your ego would never recover.”
“He was definitely on steroids,” I mumbled. “And I was racing Tom Larchwood.”
She froze in her tracks. “Tom Larchwood?”
“And he asked me out to dinner.”
She literally dropped her mug of coffee. Good thing it was empty. “A business dinner? Because that can feel like a date...without the flirting. It will be just as stressful. And I think it’s best not to drink. Just stay focused on the project. Don’t complain about your food. And if the waiter dumps a glass of water on you, do not react. Say something funny, like, this is my lucky day. Use humor to diffuse the situation. Oh, and don’t have your phone out. Set it on mute. Let the boss guide the conversation. Don’t discuss office gossip. Let him pay. He makes more money and will write it off as an expense anyway.”
“All great tips. But he told me to wear something nice.”
“That doesn’t sound like work. I think it’s like a real date. Wow. A real date with Mr. Larchwood, your boss.”
“He said it was business. But I’m not sure. I thought it was about work. But the way he looked at me. I don’t know. Should I go? Am I breaking all the rules?”
“Well, yeah! You know you can’t hook up with him. He’s off-limits.”
“It’s not my intention to bang the boss.”
“The line between boss and friend can become blurry very quickly.” She winked. “Especially after a bottle of fine wine.”
“I know mixing pleasure with business is tricky.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because there’s an electricity between us I can’t deny. I know it’s work. But part of me wants it to be more.”
“All the more reason to stay away.”
***
Two hours later, I was showered, dressed, and dry, and she was helping me put the finishing touches on my makeup.
“There,” she leaned back with satisfaction, “if that isn’t a panty-dropper, I don’t know what is. You look fantastic!”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I keep telling you—that’s a male thing to say. Guys don’t wear panties. We can’t say it.”
She shrugged teasingly. “You don’t know what kind of stuff he wears.” She winked. “But with any luck—you’ll find out tonight.”
“It’s a work dinner—I keep telling you.”
“Oh, if I know Tom Larchwood—he’ll make you work for it.”
I smacked her on the shoulder and stood up to get my buzzing phone. “He’s here,” I said, looking down at the text. “How do I look?”
I was wearing a brand new black cocktail dress—something that cost an insane amount of money considering how little fabric there was. The bottom fell just below my thighs, and the top was a series of intricately woven straps that looped once around my neck to hold itself together. My makeup was simple on the face, but I’d gone with a smoky eye to match the dress.
That, a bracelet, and some lip gloss were my only accessories. But I was bringing my laptop as well. To be honest, I didn’t really want to—but he’d said this was a work dinner, and work dinner meant computer.
“You look incredible.” She grinned excitedly. “Now go and make both our business dreams come true by sleeping with a Larchwood. Just don’t end up on TMZ, that celebrity gossip show.”