Page 79 of Love Is an Art
She grins. “Picnic Express. PicnicExpresso. Your own personal picnic?”
“Are you stealing my client’s idea?” I ask.
“Since we’re trying to steal their clients, it fits the bill.”
“Let’s not go there. I’m still hoping to save this investment, per your persuasive pitch that this might increase revenue,” I say. “Food for thought?”
“I want to eat my food, not think about it,” she says. “How aboutVámonos?”
“Let’s Go. I like that. Let’s go with that.” I lift my eyebrow at her.
“That’s such a lame joke,” she says. “I can go by myself if you’re not comfortable pretending to be another company.”
“No. I’m coming with you. I’m not about to let you do some undercover operation on your own that involves my investment.” Not because I’m worried about her alone on the streets of Mexico City. It seemed safe enough when I was there, but everyone I talked to said to be careful.
“I think we’re ready.” She stands and packs up her laptop and notebook. I throw out our used cups and hold the door open for her as she exits.
We stare at each other for a moment in the hallway. Being work colleagues doesn’t feel quite right.
She clears her throat. “I’ll be off, then.”
I watch her walk down the hallway to the elevator bank. I take the stairs back to my desk.
That was fun. Her PowerPoint was straight to the point—no slides with complicated legal concepts to impress me. Maybe because this is an investigation. But still. Tessa is very comfortable with herself. I was right to be surprised she was such a bad artist.
I had wanted to spend more time at Comidas en Canasta to ensure it succeeded, so this is an opportunity to get back down there and learn as much as I can—after we figure out if there is any fraudulent behavior. That’s the focus of this trip. I take a deep breath. It’s doable. And okay, I kept straying into personal territory, but I survived. There’s no more personal stuff to discuss.
First meeting together as work colleagues done. A week to go.Together.In Mexico City.
Chapter twenty-five
Zeke
Unfortunately,ourcorporatepolicythat precludes certain senior executives from traveling together in case the airplane crashes doesnotprohibit my traveling with Tessa on the same Monday morning flight down to Mexico City. And not only that, but my assistant booked our seats together. I tried to suggest wenotsit together: “She probably doesn’t want to sit next to her client for the whole flight, as that’s not very relaxing,” but my assistant laughed and said, “Give yourself some credit.”
I find Tessa immediately at the gate. She’s staring at her phone, wearing a tailored, black, skirt suit, a worn, orange backpack resting on a small carry-on, wheeled suitcase. It’s hard for me to square this crisp and professional image of her with the paint-splattered, lip-biting, frustrated artist. Which one is the real Tessa?
The lawyer one is the real Tessa, but maybe she’s right and she’s just her—not to be defined by her career.
Her hair is up in a bun, but a few tendrils have escaped and rest against the nape of her neck. I say her name as I approach her. She looks up.
“All right, let’s get this done as quickly as possible,” I say.
She tilts her head, and a slight smile teases at her lips. “From a career perspective, of course, that’s my goal. Especially since I suspect that’s why Brooke supported my pitch. But personally …” She glances at the ticket agent, who just announced that people on standby can now come up to be assigned a seat. “But personally, I’m hoping that the added time together will make you want to give me a second chance.”
She’s not dating anyone else.
Not that that matters.
“Normally, I do think honesty is the best policy.” She smiles, that mischievous glint back in her eyes. “Although that’s also not the policy we’re employing in this case. So don’t count that against me.” She gestures toward some empty seats in the nearby gate area that doesn’t have a flight listed. “Do you want to sit over there and discuss any last thoughts on the case? Do you have any edits on the fake pitch?”
I blink at the change in subjects. If she’s trying to keep me off balance, she’s succeeding.
It’s fine. I’m not going to change my mind. I’ve learned my lesson. We’re going to stay professional.
“We’re working together,” I say. “And I’m definitely not disclosing that I’m dating a coworker to the powers that be—again.” I don’t wait to see her reaction but set out for the empty row of seats, wheeling my luggage behind me.
She sits down next to me, opens up her laptop, and pulls up the fake pitch document she created. Her apple hair shampoo scent wafts over. Triggering memories.Kissing her, her body pressed against mine, her soft chest …The balance sheet liquidity was good, earnings growth on the income statement, return on assets, and operating cash flow is adequate. I’m back in control.
