"Could someone please unlock this door?"
"Coming," she trilled, then hurried that way, with his hand tight in hers.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, but she didn't answer. Just unlocked the door and tugged it open.
"Was it stuck?" she asked innocently, her eyes on the petite elderly woman clutching her purse.
"It was locked."
"No ma'am. I just pulled really hard." She smiled brilliantly. "Glad I was here to help. Oh, and sir," she added, turning to him with an even bigger smile. "Thank you so, so much."
She met the lady's eyes again as Easton's head spun. "This nice gentleman helped me get my ring back." She pointed to a small pinkie ring he hadn't noticed. "I'd dropped it down the sink. It was my grandmother's. I couldn't bear to lose it."
"What a nice young man," the lady said to Easton, who could only nod silently and think that ever since he'd met Selma again, he'd been living in a world gone mad.
Chapter Nine
On Friday, Selma arrived at Easton's office by eight and they were settled into a conference room by eight-fifteen, fortified with a huge pot of coffee, a tray of bagels with various spreads, and two huge bowls of fresh fruit.
By ten, their private buffet looked like a troop of hungry Boy Scouts had been at it, and the formerly pristine conference table was littered with printouts, marked up pages, yellow legal pads, and coffee cups. She'd kicked off her shoes and had tossed her button-down aside, so that she was wearing only jeans and a tank top. Easton, however, still looked perfectly put together in his gray suit.
"I still think the up-front payment should be higher," he said, tapping his pen as he frowned at the contract. "But if they're going to lowball you, then the royalty needs to go way up."
"Either way, it's a lot of money." She climbed onto the credenza and swung her bare feet, then smiled at one of the attorneys walking by, who was peering in the window at her.
"Yes, but it's your money. You've earned it by putting value into your business. If they want to buy the business, they need to pay you for that value."
"I get it. I do. But it's still more money than I ever thought I'd be able to sell my tiny little distillery for."
"Your tiny little place has developed a big reputation. And that's because of your hard work. Don't sell yourself short."
She was about to tell him that she wouldn't when the door opened and a woman stepped in looking as if she'd just walked off a magazine ad for Corporate Woman, assuming there even was such a magazine.
"Sorry for interrupting. I have to leave early and just wanted to make sure we're driving together to the ranch tomorrow."
Selma sat up straighter, feeling suddenly inadequate and left out. Which was ridiculous. She had no claim on Easton. And, honestly, she didn't want one. Why would she when she was leaving for Scotland soon?
"Honestly, I hadn't thought about it," Easton said, barely looking up from the papers. He lifted his head, considering her the same way that she'd noticed he considered the validity of a point on the contract. "Sure. Of co
urse. I'll pick you up around one, okay?"
Her smile blossomed. "Perfect." She glanced toward Selma. "I'm sorry. We didn't meet. I'm Marianne, one of the senior associates in the firm."
"Selma. One of the clients in the firm."
Marianne's laugh sounded genuinely amused. "You're in good hands with Easton. Sorry again for interrupting."
"Not a problem," Selma said, unnerved by the relief that had washed over her from knowing that she was a co-worker and not a personal, intimate friend.
Ridiculous. What did she have to be jealous of?
But then the receptionist buzzed to tell him that a woman named Hannah Donovan had stopped by to see if he wanted to join her for lunch, and Selma knew that, rational or not, she was jealous.
Absurd.
Of course it wasn't really about him. Not directly. On the contrary, she was jealously protecting their plan to fuck each other out of their systems as he worked on her deal to sell the distillery. It really wasn't personal.
"Selma?"