Page 72 of Tempt Me

“Good luck,” Hannah said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night.” I pretended to look at my screen.

A minute after Hannah walked out the door, I caught a flash of lavender. Jamila was on the move, striding down the hall. I scurried to the office door and caught her as she passed.

“Hey, Jamila.” I jogged to keep up with her long strides.

“Natalie.” There was no softness in the way she said it.

“Development going okay?”

“Actually, no. We hit another snag. I need to stay to help, but we’ve got this goddamn meeting tonight.” She shoved through the security door into the main hallway.

I sped up to catch her. “With the…partner?” I said it low since we were outside the secure space.

“Yeah, and it’s going to be a shitshow. I can’t tell if he’s more pissed about the photos or about the potential schedule delay.” She muttered the last two words as she shoved through the restroom door. She went to the mirror to check her lipstick.

“Can I help?”

“Not unless you’ve got a magic wand that makes the bugs in my code go away.”

“Sorry, I can’t help with that. But I can help with the PR angle. I can tell him about theBuzz Bizzarticle and our other PR efforts.”

She frowned at me in the mirror. “You’re free tonight?” Glancing back at the stalls, she added, “To meet with him?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Anything you need.” My stomach fizzed like champagne. Maybe she’d let me stay over too. We’d reconnect. I wouldn’t feel so abandoned and needy.

“Okay, then.” She recapped the lipstick tube. “Let’s go.”

On the driveto the city, Winslow sat in the front seat of her SUV and briefed her on who would cover his various activities while he visited his hospitalized grandmother. When I found out about her heart attack, I felt a little bad about criticizing him for leaving.

Meanwhile, I sat silently in the back. They talked about important-sounding things like supply chains and marketing campaigns. My job with its social media posts, likes, and photo shoots sounded frivolous in comparison.

When she pulled up at the valet stand in front of La Colombe Bleue, I finally felt in my element. I’d been to the elegant restaurant dozens of times with my parents and a few times with dates. The valet opened the door, and I stepped out and brushed the wrinkles from my pencil skirt. I stood straight and tall and led the way to the door, not bothering to pause because I trusted the doorman to open it in time.

At the host’s stand, Frankie greeted me. “Miss Natalie. I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Will Mr. and Mrs. Hayes be joining you?”

“No, I’m dining with Ms. Jallow tonight. You’ll find us a good table, right? Something private? We have an important meeting that requires discretion.”

“Of course, of course.” Frankie noted something on the seating diagram.

Jamila rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“You wouldn’t want to entertain our guest next to the kitchen,” I said. “Plus, I don’t think your partnership is public knowledge. We wouldn’t want to sit in the front window and give people a cause to speculate.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Winslow said.

“Actually?” I said. “I have tons of good ideas.”

Now he rolled his eyes.

Frankie led us to a table in a private alcove where we wouldn’t be observed.

“This is perfect,” I said as Frankie laid my napkin across my lap and handed me a menu. “Thank you, Frankie.”

Jamila didn’t wait for Frankie. She spread her napkin in her lap and held out her hand for the wine list. “What I wouldn’t give for a whiskey.”

Frankie asked, “Can I bring you something from the bar?”

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