Page 8 of One Night Only
In my defense, I wasn’t even working here at the time. Nor did I ask him what he did for a job. I assumed he worked in finance. And he didn’t tell me the jersey he gave me to wear when I refused to let him see me naked was in fact his actual jersey. And I have no clue about hockey or sports in general, so how was I to know?
Balancing on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, I forcemyself to breathe. Eyeing my phone, I pick it up and dial my sister—because obviously this is all her fault.
She answers after the first ring. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey, yourself!” I snap back.
“Whoa, slow your roll, girlfriend,” Tess sasses. “What’s up your vagina?”
I narrow my eyes, anger bubbling in my veins. “Remember my one-night stand?”
“You mean, the quote-unquote best sex you’ve ever had?”
I roll my eyes, teeth gritted with a muttered, “Yes.”
She gasps. “Oh, my God, he called?”
“No, he didn’t call. I didn’t give him my number.” At least I don’t think I did. God, I hope I didn’t because that means it’s been four weeks and he never called me. And, let’s face it, I’m already fragile enough; I really don’t need that kind of humiliation hanging over my head
“Okay, I give up,” Tess says.
“I just had to deliver something to my boss at his lunch meeting at Smith & Wollensky, and?—”
“Oh, yum. I would kill for some creamed spinach right now!” Tess interrupts with a moan. “I wonder if they’re on Postmates…”
“Tessa, focus!”
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Continue.”
“Guess who my boss was having lunch with?”
“Please tell me it was Aaron Judge. Ilovehim.”
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head because seriously, what the hell? “No, Tess. It wasn’t Aaron Judge. It was”—I lower my voice to a stage whisper—“the guy!”
“What guy?”
Stunned by my sister’s cluelessness, frustration gets the better of me and I throw my head back with a heavy sigh. “Dallas Shaw!” I almost yell. “My one-night stand.”
It’s only when I right myself that I look up in time to see that I’m no longer alone. The head of HMC’s real estate division,Fran Keller, stands in the doorway, hand poised in the air like she was just about to knock. And, judging by the look in her eyes, she heard everything I just said.Shit.
“Tess, I have to go,” I mutter, quickly ending the call.
Taking a moment to steel myself, I’m fully aware Fran is still there, still frozen in the doorway. I rise, smoothing down my dress, and force a sickeningly sweet smile as I look up, meeting her incredulous stare.
“Hi, Fran.”
She licks her lips in an obvious attempt to stifle the smirk threatening her composure as she steps over the threshold and into my office. She doesn’t say anything, her gaze flicking from me to Andy’s closed door. Her eyes meet mine again, and I notice one of her perfect eyebrows arch slowly, that Cheshire cat smirk finally winning its battle.
I pretend not to notice, maintaining the utmost professionalism. “Andy had to fly up to Boston,” I say, hands wringing together behind my back. “Is there something I can help you with?”
She offers an exasperated scoff. “You know I totally just heard all of that, right?”
I swallow around the lump that’s wedged itself in the back of my throat, and I choose to play dumb because it’s really all I’ve got right now. “Heard all of what?”
She looks pointedly at me before practically shouting, “Dallas Shaw!”
“Shhh!” I hiss, looking around for what, I don’t even know. Who knows what kind of surveillance is in this place. For all I know Andy could have cameras hidden in every corner of this office.
