Page 20 of Love Out Loud

Chapter Nine

This time, when Fiona entered the Upward Media offices, she was early, and her hair was dry. She’d even put on some mascara and lip gloss. She wore a silky pink blouse with a pair of black pants she’d bought for a blind date last month that, of course, had been a disaster.

The beautiful redhead, Elaine, who had greeted her last time, was not behind the reception desk when she stepped into the lobby. It was almost seven o’clock. Maybe she’d left for the day.

“Hello?” she said in a light voice after she’d waited for a brief time. From the hallway to the right of the desk, a woman poked her head out of an office. She was tall, with curly dark hair, huge earrings, and a great smile.

“Hi,” the woman said, striding toward her—well, she didn’t really stride; it was more like a runway walk. She wore a form-fitting business suit and high pumps that would land Fiona on her butt if she took one step in them. Looking down at her own sensible flats, Fiona suddenly felt underdressed despite her best efforts.

“You must be Fiona Nichol,” the woman said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand in greeting. “I’m Charise Webb.” She gave her a quick, firm handshake. “Follow me.”

Fiona followed her down the opposite hallway from where she’d been before, but this time, they stopped at a door immediately on the right. Charise tapped on the door with her fingernails in a rhythmic pattern that seemed like a familiar code or secret knock.

“Come in, Charise,” Jacob’s voice called from the other side of the door in a flat tone.

She smiled at Fiona and opened the door, gesturing for her to lead in. Fiona paused, her heart hammering out a quick rhythm, much like Charise’s fingernails on the door. Jacob had sounded so off earlier, and she had no idea what to expect. Having supermodel Charise standing as witness made her want to dissolve into the carpet.

“Fiona,” Jake said, rising to his feet, eyes scanning her from head to toe and then back up again. “Come on in.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk, expression unreadable.

Okay, well that wasn’t too bad. She switched the open-topped canvas tote bag to her other shoulder and shuffled into the room, sitting in the chair he’d indicated.

Charise stood behind the chair next to Fiona. “I’d love to sit in, if you want a second opinion—and if that’s okay with you, Ms. Nichol.”

No, no, no, no.Jake had promised it would just be the two of them for today’s appointment.

“DoctorNichol,” she said, as if the title would counteract the ugly-duckling effect of Fiona being in the same room as the swan in high heels. Fiona was comfortable with her appearance, but she was also a realist—and right now, her reality was a fascination with the guy across the desk, who was the male equivalent of the swan waiting patiently next to her.

“Thanks, Charise, but not this time,” he said. “I’ll let you know if a consult is needed. We’re just getting started.”

Fiona let out her breath and consciously relaxed her shoulders.

“I saw on the board that you were still in the prep stage.” Charise sauntered to the door, and Fiona couldn’t help but watch. Her balance in those shoes was like a Cirque du Soleil act. “I’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you Dr. Nichol.”

Dazzled by her comfort and poise, Fiona managed a feeble wave and even more feeble smile. She’d never really minded being shy, but every now and then, she experienced a pang of longing to be extroverted and social…like now.

For what felt like forever after Charise had left, they sat in silence. She studied the photos behind him while he studied her.

“You look nice,” he said.

She never knew how to react to compliments…well, sheknew. It had been drilled into her from the time she could talk, but it was never natural. “Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t have to rush this time.” Though her time at home had been frantic, thanks to the blasted outline and a playful puppy. As if Fiona’s thoughts had conjured her, the pup whined and wiggled. The bag fell over, and the formula bottle and puppy rolled out.Crap.

She dropped to her knees and gathered up the bottle and puppy, juggling them until she had a good hold. Then, she dug through the bag and switched out the bottle for her outline, which, of course, had been crushed, mangled, and—she fingered the tattered corner—yeah, chewed on. Still managing the squirming puppy, she dropped the outline on his desk. True to luck, it slid across the slick surface, and several of the papers fluttered off on the floor at his feet.

“Sorry,” she said, pulling a blanket out of the bag, wrapping the puppy, and cuddling her to her chest.

His voice was flat. “You brought a dog.”

“Not really a dog. It’s a four-week-old puppy some jerk threw away in a trash can near Times Square.”

He stared at the bundle, his expression grim but certainly not scared. Good. She’d noticed it was the big dogs that really got to him. This little girl appeared to be part Pomeranian, so it was tiny and would stay small.

“I’m sorry I had to bring her. She can’t stay by herself yet,” she said, focusing on the puppy. “She isn’t weaned and has to be fed and cared for all the time. Ordinarily, Addison takes care of our fosters and adoptees, but she won’t be back until tomorrow.” She realized she was talking really fast, which was one of her nervous tics.

“So, it’s not yours.”

“Only for tonight.” She rocked the cute little puppy, who was, again, fast asleep.

Jacob leaned over to pick up the papers that had skated off his desk. He stared down at one of them. “Your speech is for the New York City Humanitarian League.”

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