After they’d toasted each other and taken a sip or two, Keely cocked her head, looking concerned.
“How are you feeling about being back in Boston?”
Beah knew what Keely was really asking—how did she feel about seeing Finn again, on a daily basis? She wanted to lie, to Keely and to herself, but couldn’t. “It’s not ideal but I have no choice. They want me here, so here is where I am.”
“And what’s happening with your job offer from that Winters guy?”
“Summers, Michael Summers,” Beah corrected her. “He wants an answer and is pushing me for one. I’m trying to delay making a decision until after your sale.”
“Why?”
Beah sipped her champagne. “It’s a chaotic time, Keels. The Murphys are under immense pressure. Your sale is highly anticipated. I don’t think you and Joa actually understand how important it is. PR is ramping up. We are in constant contact with our biggest clients and all the agents of clients we don’t represent directly. If the art world heard I am jumping ship, even that I am considering moving on, it would cause ripples and give rise to questions neither the Murphys, nor I, have the time to answer right now. Speculation and gossip would run rampant and it would dilute the massive PR campaign. I can’t let that happen.”
“You’re that important?”
Beah didn’t take offense at Keely’s skeptical question.
But yeah, she was a powerful person in the organization, and her leaving would be discussed. And gossiped about. Stories would be swapped, embellished, made up. She didn’t want any of it touching the spring and summer sales, the busiest time in the world of high-end art. “I am.”
Keely nodded, understanding. “Well, nobody will hear a word of your plans from me.”
Beah knew that; she trusted Keely implicitly.
“And you and Finn?” Keely asked.
There was no her and Finn. They’d had sex; it wouldn’t happen again. She couldn’t afford for it to happen again. She had too much to do and couldn’t be distracted. Besides, she was more than a little annoyed with her ex.
A week ago, she’d sent Finn a detailed list of what needed to be done about Ben and Piper’s wedding but when she asked for a progress report—yeah, she was checking up on him—she’d found out he’d accomplished next to nothing.
High up on her to-do list was to light a fire under Murphy’s admittedly delectable ass.
Keely grinned. “I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t be able to keep your hands off his—” she grinned “—admittedly delectable ass.”
Beah groaned. “Did I say that out loud?”
“You did. We’ll get back to Finn and his ass but—” Keely reached across the island counter for her phone “—give me a second to cancel my plans for tonight.”
Beah placed her hand on her wrist. “What plans? Do you have a date?”
Keely frowned. “Yes. No... Sort of.”
Keely threw half the contents of her glass down her throat and Beah lifted her eyebrows. “What’s going on, Keels?”
Keely rubbed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “That damned lawyer Wilfred—Dare—Seymour.”
Beah topped up her glass, intrigued by the frustration on Keely’s face. Her friend was incredibly confident, amazingly self-assured, and a lawyer had her in a froth? Interesting...
“You’re going on a date with him?”
“Not by choice,” Keely muttered. When Beah frowned, she waved her words away. “God, no, he’s not forcing me to date him, as if he could! He just challenged me to spend a couple of hours with him. And we’re not allowed to discuss anything to do with work. Or Isabel. Or art. Or this house.”
Beah was now intrigued. “And why did he issue this...dare?”
Keely glared at her for her deliberate choice of the word. “Because he says the only reason I keep snapping and snarling at him is that I’m scared that if I don’t, I might jump him.”
Beah nearly snorted champagne out through her nose. When she felt she could talk, she schooled her features—damn, it was nearly impossible not to smile—and asked the obvious question. “And can you resist him?”
Keely sent her a red-hot, I’ll-slay-you-where-you-stand look. It lasted only three seconds and then her shoulders slumped and her face crumbled. “No. Probably not.”