Page 68 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“I’m glad I didn’t screw it up, but that annoys the heck out of me. Our reputations should speak for themselves.” As I say it, I look across the room at the roses and the sketch of me and Clay in Paris beside them, thinking about how badly I had misjudged him based solely on his reputation. “Actually, I take that back. Reputations can be manipulated. But ours isn’t. Over time our products will speak for themselves, and they’ll regret their decision.”

“Exactly. We’ll find the right investors.” A corner of his mouth quirks up. “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“You’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs.”

We both laugh at the advice we’ve been given over the years at which we have privately rolled our eyes.

“Who do you think came up with those ridiculous sayings?” Ravi asks.

“A fisherman and a very smart woman.” I push to my feet, and he follows. “We gave a great pitch.”

“Yes, we did, despite Mr. Perfect making you remember you’re a sexy babe with needs right before the call.”

I narrow my eyes. “Have you been hit on the head recently? Because I don’t recall you having a death wish.”

He laughs.

I lower my voice, eyeing my closed office door. “It’s six forty-five. Do you think he’s still out there?”

“Do you want him to be?”

I look at the man who has been my best friend since we were kids, who has seen me at my best and my worst and knows all of my secrets, and I’m thankful I can share this one with him. “I think so,” I whisper.

He whispers, “Why are we whispering?”

“Because I know it’s not the smart thing to do, and I’m afraid if I say it too loud, I’ll overthink it.”

He hugs me against his side. “For a smart girl, you can be really dumb.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“What can I say? Sometimes the truth hurts. Are you ready to do this?”

I’m not, but I nod, and my nerves flare as we head for the lobby. Laughter floats down the hall that leads to the lab. It’s such a rare sound, Ravi and I stop walking and exchange confused glances. Clay’s voice rises above the laughter.

My stomach knots up as we make a beeline for the lab. I don’t talk about my personal life with Min or Chris, and I hope Clay hasn’t said anything to them about us.

When we get to the lab, I stand by the entrance trying to get my bearings and listening for any hint of what’s been said. Clay is sitting on the edge of a worktable talking with Chris and Min. I only have a side view of them, but I can tell that Chris and Min, a petite brunette with straight shoulder-length hair and glasses, have stars in their eyes.

“Let me ask you a serious question,” Clay says. “How far and fast do I have to throw the ball for you to scientifically prove that I’m a superhero?”

Chris and Min laugh, and they all turn to look at us as we walk into the room.

“There they are,” Clay says, pushing from the table to his feet.

“I see you met the rest of my team.” I search their faces for clues of what’s been revealed, but I can’t read them.

“I was looking for the men’s room and ran into Chris.” He claps a hand on Chris’s shoulder like they’re old buddies, and Chris beams. “He was kind enough to show me where to go, and then we got to talking.”

“You’ve been holding out on us, Pepper,” Chris says, and I hold my breath. “You didn’t tell us you knew one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL.”

Relief washes over me.

“That’s because she’s got better things to talk about, like the important work you do here,” Clay says, saving me. “How did your meeting go?”

“It wasn’t a good match,” I say, as upbeat as I can. “But we’ll find the right funding source.”

“Bummer,” Chris says.