Page 35 of Never To Be Mine

But I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to wear in front of him.

It was less than forty-eight hours in New York. Fly in the night before, sleep, meet the following day, and then fly right back. Two outfits. Maybe three just in case there was a wardrobe disaster.

I laid out the gray suit first. The one I’d worn to a dozen negotiations. I’d got it on clearance but it was technically designer. It was well made, perfectly tailored, and about as exciting as a spreadsheet. Which was the point. Nobody looked at me in that suit and thought anything except she probably knows what the profit margins are.

Because I did.

So, why was I hesitating? Put it in the garment bag. Simple.

“No,” I said out loud, to nobody. “It’s fine. It’s professional.”

But it made me look like the shrew in that first viral video. The latest video’s outfit was chill. Professional but it didn’t look like I was going to whack anyone’s knuckles with a ruler.

Hollis was going to walk in there looking like a magazine spread come to life. He’d wear something that cost more than my rent and make it look like he’d just pulled it from the back of his closet.

I couldn’t stand next to that in a gray suit that made me look like I was there to take notes.

So it wasn’t vanity. It was strategy.

I went to my closet and pulled out the sage green sheath dress with the cinched waist. I’d bought it at the end of last season when it was on sale. I’d worn it exactly once. It was gorgeous and it looked damn good on me. It hit just above the knee, hugged my hips, nipped in at the waist, and the neckline was high enough to be respectable but low enough to remind everyone I was a woman. The color did something ridiculous to my eyes.

I held it up against myself in the mirror.

Yes. That was a dress that could stand next to Hollis and not completely fade into the background.

I laid it carefully on the bed.

Then I paused.

Did I want to dress for him?

“No, it’s for PriceCo,” I said, sliding it into the garment bag. I put some nude heels into the suitcase along with panties and bras. Yes, I chose the good ones that matched. Not that I expected anyone except me and the bathroom mirror to see them.

I looked at the dress and then the basic bitch nude heels.

“Nope. If you’re going to do it, go all in.”

I packed the black stilettos with the red soles instead. I looked at them sitting there. Four inches of pure, calculated aggression with a sexy twist.

“They make me feel confident,” I told the suitcase. “Confidence closes deals.”

Next came the plane outfit. Nobody cared what you wore on a plane. Planes were about being comfy. The outfit had to look good when I got on and off. There would be no leggings. I had to look professional.

I rifled through the hangers until I found the black blouse with the wrinkle-free fabric. It paired perfectly with the dark wash jeans that hugged my hips and made my legs look longer than they had any right to. Both were soft enough for a cross-country flight but polished enough that I wouldn’t look like I’d just rolled out of bed when we landed. Black loafers would finish off the ensemble.

I zipped the garment bag and stared at it, already rethinking my choices. This wasn’t about impressing Hollis.

Still, my stomach fluttered at the thought of him seeing me in that green dress. I shoved the feeling down and focused on packing the rest.

By the time I crawled into bed, my mind wouldn’t quiet down. All I could picture was the way Hollis’s eyes had lingered on me during the interview. The comments about our so-called chemistry played on repeat.

I told myself it didn’t matter. I just had to survive two days in New York without letting him get under my skin. I refused to wonder what his mouth would feel like if he ever stopped smirking long enough to kiss me.

12

HOLLIS

Toby practically vibrated in his seat as Micah told some story about a disastrous location shoot in Australia. The kid’s eyes were huge, like Micah was handing down wisdom from Mount Olympus instead of just talking about how they’d almost lost a camera to a croc. I ate my salmon, letting my brother take the spotlight at our corner table.