Karen arches a slim brow at me, and I notice her brown eyes perfectly match her long brown hair. She only seems a day older than when I last saw her, even though it was more than six years ago.
“I want to hear all about Paris and what you’ve been doing. Why don’t we meet for brunch tomorrow at the Palm Court?”
I am not prepared for the Inquisition, but I can’t find a way out of it. “Of course. That would be lovely. What time?”
“Eleven thirty?”
“Sure.” I give her a practical smile. I grew up in this world. No use pretending it doesn’t function the way it does.
Karen’s grin resembles Maleficent. “We’ll have you caught up in no time.”
She’ll have the information she seeks, more like it. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
Marcus
Friday night, and Evan and I are celebrating. Opposing counsel on a merger case attempted an end run at the regulatory board, and I managed to put my morning shake-up with Amy out of my head and block that maneuver.
I have no way to prove it, but I feel sure Cocksucker Cox was behind it. An urgent call from me to the official in charge was enough to get things back on track before the full board took action. We were even able to convince the administrative judge to postpone the final hearing date without setting a new one.
Sorry for
the shop talk.
Trust me. It was sweet.
“To cool-handed diplomacy.” Evan passes me a tall, slim flute of Cristal.
“And regulatory secretaries who are great in bed.” I can’t resist teasing my young associate. His liaison with Cindy Hanson, who handles the paperwork downtown, alerted us of the move before the ink was even dry.
“By way of being an old friend.”
“Right. Small-town USA pays off again.”
Evan is from Bradley and has unexpected links to several state government employees. He’s a very useful fellow. Glancing around Studio Orleans, I see several of our crowd is already present.
“Speaking of old friends,” Evan’s voice is low as he turns back to the bar.
I catch the tilt of his head and look toward the direction. Paige Goldfarb stands across the small club with a dark-haired beauty I don’t recognize.
“Will you ask her out?” Evan looks down at his whiskey.
My encounter with Amy in my office this morning still lurks in the back of my mind, but I’m not letting that ruin our celebratory night.
Blinking back to my young associate, I crack a smile. “Planning to live vicariously?”
“A guy can dream.”
The vodka I ordered is nearly empty. I lean forward and catch the bartender’s attention. “Refill for me, and send a Prosecco to the blonde over there. In the back corner?”
The man glances over my shoulder and his eyebrows rise. When he nods, he gives me an appreciative smile, and I turn to the side to consider the prospect of an evening with Miss Goldfarb.
A long skirt that starts out light blue and ends in navy—ombre, I believe is the term—covers her bottom half, which I already know is fantastic. Her bare midriff displays a lined torso, and her long-sleeved top is navy lace. Blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and when she smiles, blue eyes sparkle under heavy black lashes.
“She’s a pretty girl,” I say, thinking.
“She’s more than that.” Evan’s in full-on lust-mode, and I almost feel guilty.