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“A bit. Nic got our invitation to the Sizzle HQ ball in a few weeks. I’m expected to dress appropriately.”
Moira squeals. She’s a sucker for makeovers, has been since middle school. I know it; she knows I know it. What she doesn’t know is that expanding my wardrobe has been on my to-do list for a while. But being the fantastic best friend I am, I let her think this one is her idea.
“You’re not worried about running into Captain Dickhead?” Moira asks.
“Jeff will be there,” I say, rolling my eyes at Moira’s nickname for my ex-boyfriend, “Since he still works for Sizzle.”
“Even better,” she says, sitting up straighter, mischief in her eyes. “Time to show that asshole what he’s missing. You deserve more.”
I’ve been pretty lucky not to run into him, honestly. I took the job as Nic Pendergrass’s personal assistant-slash-office manager—I’m his secretary, let’s be real—because he was ready to hire me on the spot so I could leave my position at Sizzle with no notice. I was worried at first because Nic’s office is in the same building, only two floors down from Sizzle HQ, where I used to work. But so far, I haven’t been forced to share an elevator with Jeff Markum or his svelte new girlfriend.
I clear my throat. “When are you free to shop?”
“For this? I vote we get started now. We’re going to need all the time we can get.”
My current clothes are really not that bad. I have enough clothes for work, and my workout gear still gets the job done. But I let her walk me down Market Street through the cold toward the string of retail shops the next block over. Moira frog-marches me into a tastefully decorated, high-end lingerie store straight away.
“We’re starting from the ground up,” she tells the saleswoman, who looks me up and down. The gleam in her eye suggests my credit card is going to take a beating today.
Trying on smaller sizes is gratifying, even if I have to cut Moira off after the basics are taken care of.
“I’m not buying actual lingerie,” I protest. Regular underwear is enough for today, even if that black garter belt and thigh-high stockings were calling to me.
“But—”
“No. Not today.”
Moira pouts, but she marches gamely on when I remind her I have to get back to the office.
“Just you wait,” says Moira. “When I’m done with you, Nic won’t stand a chance.”
“Knock it off. He’s my boss.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“Well, stop.” I cut her off, stopping to look at the display in a suit store window. I wonder if this is where Nic gets those suspenders he’s so fond of. The thought makes my mouth go dry.
Prior to working at Pendergrass Law, I’d have called them old-fashioned, but the way he wears them…
“He’s my boss, Moira,” I say.
“So you are forever reminding me. And? He’s also smoking hot.”
“And even if he were interested in me that way,” which he most certainly is not, “do you really think I’d go there again? Because dating a coworker has worked out so well for me in the past.”
That’s how I met Jeff, of course. We met over coffee in the break room. Could I be a bigger walking cliché? That relationship had been doomed to fail from day one, even excluding the fact that he’s a jerk.
Moira purses her lips. “I’d really like to have a word with that prick.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Moira. But you can’t afford to go back to jail.”
“It was one time. One time!”
Setting my best friend loose on my ex-boyfriend would be entertaining, not to mention satisfying, but I keep telling myself the high road is the way to go. I don’t know what he’s told our colleagues—former colleagues—but whatever it is, I don’t want to make it worse.
As bad as it was leaving Sizzle after our breakup, I got unbelievably lucky with my current job. While my new boss might possibly be slightly good-looking, I’m not about to go down that road again. Nic has never once looked at me in any way but professionally. Not a comment, no uncontrolled expression on his face, or wandering eye at any point during the last year. The man is absolutely not interested in me. And that’s fine. I’m not exactly a catch.
I mean, I’m okay. My face is more or less symmetrical, if heart-shaped and a little too sweet-looking. Given the choice, I could do without the smattering of freckles. My eyes are nice enough, if boring brown, like my hair.
