Page 30 of Savage Suit
Perhaps Paul wasn’t so bad, after all. Maybe he was…a little too blunt.
“I’m positive we’ll find you a similar position atSauncier. Let me give you my business card. Come to the office at 2 p.m. next Monday. I promise we won’t keep you waiting.”
My heart soared as he pulled a cream-colored suede business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. It readPaul Galloand proclaimed him a marketing executive, with his contact info below his name and position. I slipped it into the tiny cardholder wallet.
I’d forgotten my business cards and a pen, though I found a scrap of paper in one of the wallet slots. “Do you have a pen so I can give you my number and email?”
I grabbed the pen he found and inspected it, noting the brand to feed my weird fondness for nice-looking pens. My younger self had a bad habit of accidentally stealing appealing ones.
Scribbling my contact info down, I gave him the paper and pen, despite my urge to keep the black rollerball. He wouldn’t appreciate that, though.
He looked at the slip of paper, his eyebrows shooting up. “You have lovely handwriting.”
“Thank you.” I returned my wallet to my pocket.
Quinn bounded toward us, a troubled look on her face.
Paul didn’t see her stalking toward the booth. It took him a moment to note her arrival, so he missed her down-turned lips, angry eyes, and indecision about where to sit.
Her bleakness raised my alarm, and I stared at her, awaiting her next move.
Paul registered her presence. “Quinn!”
Quinn masked her genuine emotions with a blinding and phony smile. She slid next to him. “Hey, babe.”
He pecked her on the lips.
“Did you two bond in my absence?”
“I offered your sister a marketing position at our company,” Paul answered.
Squealing, she clapped, and I grinned, shoving aside my concern.
She smirked at me. “I told you tonight would be worth it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I joked, waving her off. “You were right for once. So what?”
Her laughter erased the last of her distress. “I’m always right, Ry. You should know this by now.”
Paul grabbed her hand. “Youarealways right, babe. It’s one thing I love about you.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “Aww.”
Did she find his cheesy comment cute?
“That’s so sweet,” she muttered, kissing his lips.
The innocent gesture intensified. At their display, bile rose in the back of my throat. My sister’s happiness pleased me, but I didn’t appreciate seeing her sucking face. We were close, but not that close.
The happy couple slipped into their own world, their lips attached and showing no signs they’d come up for air. Tired of their PDA and needing another Coke, I slid out of the booth and headed for the bar.
Sighing, I sat on the worn-out red barstool, admiring the stained-glass lamps on the bar, placed strategically apart. Since our arrival, the crowd had grown. Chatter and bursts of laughter peppered the air. Beats of a song, lyrics unintelligible, pulsed over me. The bartender hadn’t noticed me, but a break from the face suckers relieved me.
“Ms. Hagen?”
My breath caught and my senses awakened at the deep, sexy voice booming behind me.
It couldn’t be! My imagination played tricks. But no. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.
