Page 17 of Love Out Loud

Below, a street vendor passed a hot dog to a customer as people purposefully bustled past. Everyone was heading to and from someplace as if they had a goal or mission. As he watched, Jake realized that this perception was all due to his perspective. From up here, he couldn’t see the worry on their faces or the hesitance in their steps. Just like how if someone looked at him, they’d see a driven, successful man, not a guy worried over whether or not a woman he’d just met was ghosting him.

Not a woman, aclient, he reminded himself. He had lots of clients, but for some reason, he was hyper-focused on this one. Why? Because of the challenge. She presented an enticing professional challenge. That’s all.

“Hey.” It was Elaine sticking her head in this time. “I’m headed to the deli. Want anything?”

He looked at his watch. Twelve thirty-two. It had been twenty-two minutes since he texted Fiona. “No. I’m good. I’m meeting a friend for lunch. Thanks for asking.”

“A friend?” She waggled her eyebrows. Always on the hunt for gossip.

“Marcus.” Only, Marcus didn’t know it yet.

“Oooh. Tell him hi. If he’s still single, tell him hi and give him my number.” She winked.

Bringing Marcus here for the office Christmas party last year had been a mistake, probably, but he’d just broken up with Charise and had wanted to have someone to hang out with that wouldn’t inspire a scene in front of the clients. Though, in fairness, Charise wasn’t likely to cause a scene, but still, it was safer to not bring a date or come alone, since everyone that worked there was aware of their less-than-tidy breakup.

“I’ll tell him hi for you,” he said, packing his computer in its case. “I’ll be back before my three-o’clock appointment.”

“Long lunch,” she said, voice full of innuendo.

“Errands,” he answered as he brushed by her.

He grimaced as he waited for the elevator, realizing Fiona had used the same “errands” excuse on him this morning. He straightened his tie. Maybe it hadn’t been an excuse. Perhaps she’d really had errands to run. He checked his texts again as the elevator door opened, then shoved the phone into his inner jacket pocket and turned to face the closing doors. His reflection in the shiny surface stared back, well-dressed and self-assured. Again, all a matter of perspective, he mused.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what fueled his intense interest in Fiona Nichol—his changed perspective. He’d never met anyone who’d smashed his first impression to bits like she had. Ordinarily, he was great at reading people in minutes. Part of his business was to sum a person up accurately so he could help them perform better. Well, he’d sure as hell fallen short in his assessment of Fiona. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized he’d totally underestimated her. She wasn’t the odd, shy woman loitering in his lobby he wanted nothing to do with.

The elevator slowed and stopped.

She was… He took in a deep breath. Damn, it was hard to even put it into words. He patted his jacket over his phone. Still there. And still no text from her, dammit.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out and made his way to the street. Why hadn’t she replied? He slowed his pace, and a woman pushing a stroller passed. More importantly, why did it matter so much?

And then it hit him. He’d been right. It was totally a perspective problem. He stepped aside next to a covered bus stop to get out of people’s way. He wasn’t stressed because a client hadn’t responded regarding an appointment. He was stressed because he was interested in her as farmorethan a client.

Well, shit.

He shook his head to clear it and then took off down the sidewalk in large strides. This couldn’t happen. She was a client. Only a client. Over and out.

He pulled out his phone to text Marcus. A burger with his friend would put it all back in perspective—a professional, responsible perspective, he told himself, resisting the urge to check his phone again.

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