Across from me, Tiffany picked up her nearly empty wine glass and drained the rest of her zinfandel. She returned the glass to the table and said, "Did I mention I'm seeing him tonight?"
My stomach gave another lurch.
Damn it.
Still, I tried to shrug it off. "Oh, really? You mean like on a date?"
"I wouldn’t call it a date-date." She grinned. "But Iammeeting him at the hotel later on."
"Oh." In my stomach, that sick feeling grew and twisted. Why? I had no idea. Breadstick overload? That had to be it. Hoping to steer the conversation away from Zane's privates, I made myself ask, "Which hotel?"
She gave me a look. "His. Of course."
"Oh." Yeah, that was probably a stupid question. After all, the guy owned the most luxurious hotel and conference center in the whole city. Why on Earth would he slum it anywhere else?
Across from me, Tiffany pulled out her cell phone and frowned. "Oh, shoot. I've got a manicure at two." She reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills. She tossed them onto the table and said, "Sorry to run, but can you settle up here?"
Before I could even think to answer, she was already on her feet, blowing me an air kiss and scampering off to wherever. I looked down at the bills and did a quick calculation. If nothing else, she'd made good on her deal.
The cash was enough to cover both of our lunches, plus a nice tip for the waitress. Still, looking at the bills, scattered among the dirty dishes, I couldn’t help but feel at least a little weird about it. After all, I'd just let someone I didn't particularly like treat me to lunch, just because I was hungry.
There was only one cure for that, I decided – to find a job of my own, like now. With that in mind, I spent the next couple of hours, going from business to business in hopes that somebody was hiring.
Finally, thanks to a chance meeting with a former neighbor, I had my first solid lead. There was only one problem.
I hated the thought of pursuing it – and all because of you-know-who.