Page 49 of Whatever Lola Wants

Lola laughed, relieved to be back on normal footing, and prepared to entertain. And if there was a little lingering sadness, well, she’d survive it.

She always did.

CHAPTER EIGHT

She barely had time to be sad over the next several days. Work was heating up, unexpectedly turning her lie about a heavy work load into truth. She worked late nearly every evening, getting home sometimes as late as nine-thirty or ten. By then she was so tired she would nuke some dinner—Anna had taken to stocking her fridge with leftovers—and fall into bed.

When she wasn’t working or sleeping, she spent most of her free time wedding dress shopping. She and Anna had managed to have lunch twice, poring over photos and websites, and she felt like she had a good handle on what Anna’s dream dress entailed. Traditional, but not too traditional. Sexy, but not too sexy. Unusual, but not too unusual.

Impossible, but not too impossible.

There were a few designers Anna really liked, but there wasn’t nearly enough time to order a gown and get it in before the wedding at the end of June. Most designers needed a lead time of at least five months, many of them longer. The only way they were going to get a gown would be to look for a previously worn one.

Which was bridal gown industry speak for used.

Thankfully, Anna didn’t care. She just wanted to look and feel beautiful. If a previously worn gown could make that happen, then she was all for it.

On Thursday afternoon, Lola was sitting at her desk slogging her way through a contract one of the junior associates had put together, this one even worse than the previous one. “Who the fuck is teaching these kids how to write a non-disclosure clause?” she muttered and slashed her red pen through another paragraph.

The buzzing of her intercom made her frown. She’d been trying to get through this for most of the afternoon, and at this rate, it’d be ten o’clock before she got home again. She hit the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Lola, I’ve got Jennifer from accounts on the line,” her assistant Bridget said. “She says she needs to talk to you about a wedding dress?”

Lola frowned. Did she know Jennifer from accounts? She didn’t think so. But then, she’d asked a few of the women she was friendly with in the firm to spread the word that she was hunting for a dress, so maybe Jennifer had a lead. “I’ll take it,” she told Bridget and picked up the receiver when the call rang through.

Five minutes later, she was running out the door.

Grant opened the door with a smile. “Lola. Long time no see.”

She nodded. “Hi. Good to see you. Leave.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Leave,” she repeated, shifting the enormous garment bag over her arm. The thing weighed a ton.

“It’s my house,” Grant reminded her.

“Yes, and it’s your fiancé who’s an anxious mess trying to find a dress for your ‘I-ain’t-waiting-six-months-babe’ wedding.”

He eyed the garment bag, his face lighting with interest and no small amount of relief. “You found a dress?”

“I might have found a goddamn miracle,” she corrected. “Anna hasn’t seen it yet, so I don’t know if it’ll work. Leave so we can find out.”

Now his eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I don’t get to see it?”

She gave him the look she normally reserved for brain dead judges and junior associates. “No, jackass, you do not get to see it.”

His lips twitched at jackass, but his expression didn’t change. He folded his arms over his chest. “I think I should get a vote on this.”

“Well, too bad. If Anna wants to show you before the wedding, that’s her business, but right now, finding her a dress that won’t make her cry is mine, and you can’t be here.”

He winced, guilt erasing the frown. “Shit. She cried?”

“More than once,” she said ruthlessly. “She’s afraid she’ll have to walk down the aisle in a department store suit.”

“Shit,” he repeated, and dragged his hands through his hair. “Okay, we’ll make ourselves scarce.”

“Good.” She strode past him into the hall, then paused. “We?”

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