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I’m actually glad when she begins to walk. I can feel my phone buzzing as I give Enzo his second heart attack of the day. But this time, I really am on my way.
“Is that so? And why exactly should I be leery of you?”
“Lots of reasons. Let me tell you over dinner.”
I honestly can’t get a read on her. From that look she gave me in the hall, I’d thought she was a sure bet, but my beautiful, blonde stranger is clearly having second thoughts.
“You don’t even know my name.”
When she walks toward the same door I’m about to enter, I give another silent thanks to the matchmaking gods that have given me a couple of minutes with her.
Smiling for the first time since we met, she gestures toward the sign.
CDER.
Center for Drug Evaluation and Research. The FDA really loves their acronyms.
“You’re going in here?”
I push the door open before she can get to it.
“I am,” I say as she moves past me. I breathe in, decide whatever she’s wearing is my new favorite women’s perfume, and then follow her through the door.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asks.
I’m about to say I’m here for a meeting when Enzo comes out of nowhere.
“Hayden, over here.”
I wave and look back at Lauren, who hasn’t moved yet.
“Do you work in here? I’ll find you when I’m done,” I whisper.
She’s not exactly smiling anymore. This is definitely a smirk, and I don’t like it. Something’s off.
“Yes, I do.”
She doesn’t respond to that second part, but Enzo’s on top of me now.
“Looks like you found my partner,” he says, but not to me.
Looking back and forth between them, it doesn’t take me long to realize Lauren Conrad is on our review team.
Shit.
So much for that. Is she a scientist? The medical officer?
“I did,” she responds to Enzo. “Shall we restart the meeting?”
The way she says it clearly communicates how she feels about my tardiness. Join the club. Enzo isn’t super pleased either.
“And you’ve met?” Enzo asks as all three of us begin to walk down the hall.
“Actually,” Lauren says, stopping. “We haven’t. Not formally.”
She sticks out the perfectly manicured hand I put a bracelet on a few minutes ago.
“Ada Flemming,” she says, taking great pleasure in my discomfort. Because we both know I recognize the name. Not a scientist, or a statistician, or a medical officer.
