Page 22 of Edge of Secrets

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “He’s my boss now, and I’m meeting with him after my shift here to discuss the?—”

“My goodness, you mean he hired you? Mercy! Things move so quickly in this world for an old lady. And just this morning Kendra told me that she has an auto-immune disease. I already forgot which one. But alas, all’s fair in love and war.”

“Norma, you don’t understand.” I wiggled as Monica wielded her mascara wand “Monica, that tickles!”

“Hold still, chica. You’re making me smear. Lemme put some lipstick on you, and you can look at yourself.”

I headed to the bathroom afterward, and my reflection made me gasp. My eyes looked big and shadowy and luminous. The lipstick was a deep, sexy red. All turned out and made up, with my hair fluffed into that luxurious mane of black ringlets, I looked ...

Exactly like my mother. I stared at Elena Pisani in the mirror and gulped.

“What do you say, chica? Are you stunning, or are you stunning?”

I put on a big smile for my co-worker. “Yes. You’re an artist, Monica. Thank you.”

I pulled my glasses out of her apron and perched them on my nose. Then I dragged out a hair clip to twist my hair into an updo. It was so much easier to do now. My hair was lighter, the twist higher, the curls on top were higher, and the bits that dangled around my chin now looked sexily tousled, rather than the frazzled scullery maid look I had sported before.

“Do you have to wear the glasses?” Monica complained. “It ruins the effect!”

“I’m afraid so,” I said regretfully. “I’m blind without them, and the hair absolutely has to go up. No one wants my hair in their lunch, no matter how cute it looks.”

“Oh well. You still look way better than before. Strip Steak’s going to have a stroke when he gets a look at you.”

“His name is Duncan Burke, and it’s not going to happen. Ever,” I said, resolute. “He’s my boss now. I would not compromise a paying job.”

“Taboo!” Norma said, sticking her head in the bathroom door. “The tantalizing lure of the forbidden! Just look at you, honey. Good enough to eat. Strip Steak’s jaw will hit the floor. Have you thought about contacts, Nelly?”

I swept past them, chin high, and the two of them giggled like idiots.

But three-fifteen came and went with no Burke, and the afternoon fell as flat as a failed soufflé. I still had the meeting after work to look forward to, though, and hanging in my garment bag was the oatmeal-cream sweater dress I’d bought for Nancy’s engagement party, by far the prettiest thing in my closet. I pictured myself walking into Burke’s office in that subtly clinging dress, imagined his eyes on me, and shivered.

Yikes. Stop it. He was my boss. He was rude, arrogant, bossy, presumptuous, and handsy. Plus, he suffered from a profound lack of imagination, judging from his lunch habits. And he seemed to have a weird, fetishistic thing for my chubby knees. Weird.

Ergo, nothing doing. I was not going to complicate my life like that.

So why had I spent money I could ill afford on my hair? Why was my face all painted up? Why had I brought my tightest dress? I’d tricked myself out for what?

The afternoon passed slowly. At the end of my shift, I slipped unobtrusively into the back to change, but I needn’t have bothered sneaking. Both Monica and Norma were lying in wait for me outside the door. Monica grabbed my chin and freshened my lipstick by brute force. “Good luck, chica,” she said. “Seize the day. Be bold.”

“And be careful, honey,” Norma said, her eyes misty.

“Oh! Speaking of careful! Don’t you dare forget.” Monica held up a three-pack of condoms, and stuffed them into my purse. “Safety is key!”

“You guys! For God’s sake! This is a professional project meeting, not an orgy!”

I had time to walk uptown, but I took a cab anyway, just to honor the promises my sisters and I had made to each other about safety. I dithered for just a few minutes outside the building before I had the nerve to take myself and my swirling flock of internal butterflies inside.

I took the elevator to the sixteenth floor and approached the door to Duncan Burke Solutions, Inc., gathering my nerve. As I reached for the handle, the door flew open.

I looked straight up into Duncan’s startled eyes. My throat clenched. So did my toes—and various other intimate parts of my anatomy.

His eyes flashed down over my body, taking it all in. “It’s you,” he said blankly.

“Yes,” I said, bemused. Did I get the appointment time wrong? Isn’t it tonight that we were supposed to meet to talk about the project with your brother?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he muttered. “Come on in.”

I was already regretting the dress. It didn’t cling provocatively, but the way he looked at me made me feel as if I was reclining naked, draped in silk, like Bathsheba in an old Renaissance painting. Come and get me. At your peril.

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