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“Like I worked a twelve-hour day? Of course I am.”
“‘That’s a bold strategy, Cotton’.”
The unexpected Dodgeball reference made Paige chuckle and she felt some of her tension ease. “Obviously I’m going to do some repairs. Jeez.”
Andrea glanced at the small clock on Paige’s desk. “You should probably get started, then, because you don’t want to be late for your drink with Hale. He’s probably a stickler for punctuality.”
“Good night,” Paige told Andrea pointedly, really wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “See you Monday.”
Andrea didn’t move. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“The Adler contract.”
It took Paige a second to realize she still held it in her hand. With a stifled groan, she handed it to Andrea, who quickly double-checked to verify that it was, indeed, the Adler file and then turned to exit Paige’s office.
“‘Stay gold, Ponyboy’,” Andrea threw over her shoulder, her weird version of a farewell at the end of the day.
“‘Focker, out’,” Paige threw back, which had become her go-to response.
When she was alone again, Paige grabbed the make-up bag she kept in a desk drawer and went to her coat closet, where a long mirror hung on the door. After lightly dusting her face with powder, she moved on to her eyes, applying smoky eye shadow, liner and a fresh coat of mascara. A little bit of blush to her cheeks and then her favorite shade of pink lipstick named Get Lucky (oh, the irony) to emphasize her wide, full lips and she was done with her face.
She moved on to her hair, which she had let dry naturally that morning in loose waves, mainly because it was easy, but also because it helped her bangs to blend in. She was beginning to think growing them out wasn’t such a good idea after all, because the ugly phase seemed to be lasting a really long time; she didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say most houses were built in less time than it was taking to grow out her bangs.
Finally, she took a quick inventory of her clothes, relieved to see that she hardly looked wrinkled, even though her work day had begun at the ass-crack of dawn with a catered breakfast. When dressing that morning, she’d chosen an outfit that could easily transition from work to going out for a drink and she thought she’d succeeded. Her slightly flared, cropped black pants made her legs look really long (and her ass look amazing) and the deep blue, button-down shirt with French-cuffed sleeves was both form fitting and flattering.
It went without saying that her boots were the pièce de résistance.
She looked pretty amazing, if she did say so herself. And she didn’t give two craps if that sounded vain, because liking how she looked was a relatively new development for her and she was embracing this new vanity with enthusiasm. It was one of several goals Paige had made for herself that she’d worked hard to achieve. And while dressing to reveal—rather than to conceal—might be a small thing to some, it was a milestone for her.
“Hale could do worse,” she told her reflection in the mirror. Then, grabbing her purse, Paige quickly locked up and left.
Chapter 2
Paige was meeting Hale at Bender’s, a relatively new restaurant she’d heard good things about and as she pulled into the crowded parking lot, she was surprised to feel her earlier anxiety mostly gone. Telling herself ‘It’s just a freaking drink’ all day long had apparently paid off; she wondered if it could work for other things, too, like getting a raise from her bitch of a boss.
It wouldn’t hurt to try it.
After parking, she chewed on a couple of peppermint Altoids—they were strong as hell and almost made her eyes water but they did their job—and then headed toward the ornate front doors, along with several other patrons. Inside the large vestibule, Paige spotted Hale standing near the hostess station, easily recognizing him from his profile picture and as she approached him, she became increasingly delighted with his real-life appearance. He was several inches taller than she was, and his dark hair and eyes gave off an even more pronounced Robert Downey, Jr. vibe than they did in his picture. He was also dressed in an actual suit (minus the tie) and the charcoal color, combined with his white shirt, was nicely stylish.
In short … she was a fan.
Alerted by the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor, Hale looked over, smiling when he saw her. He appeared to be genuinely happy to see her and Paige felt the stirrings of some low grade tingles—they weren’t on the level of fireworks, but she wasn’t going to shake a stick at tingles.
“Hi, Paige,” he greeted her, his voice pleasingly deep and masculine. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He politely held out his hand and she shook it, liking his firm grip. She shook a lot of hands in her line of work and it always skeeved her out when a person had a limp handshake. Or worse, cold, clammy skin.
“Hi, Hale,” she returned his greeting, smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He let go of her hand. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m really glad you showed up.”
Paige tilted her head, surprised. “Were you thinking I wouldn’t?”
“Well, my last two dates were no-shows, so I was a little paranoid, I guess.”
“Your last two dates stood you up?”
