“What? No! Whatever gave you that idea?”
All he does is wink and walk onto the elevator as Shannon drags me off it, the door closing on the grey fox as he whistles to himself.
Panic blooms in my chest like a field of sunflowers all turning toward the light in synchronicity too perfect to be coincidence.
“What did he mean? Is Andrew talking about me? Does he talk about me with his father? Did Declan say something to James about the kiss last night? Is there more going on than I thought?”
“Amanda—”
“Does Andrew like perverts? Because I can be a pervert if that’s more his speed. Vanilla is boring. I don’t have to be boring. I can be kinky like the best of them.”
“AMANDA!”
A firm yank on my wrist and Shannon has me down the hall, inside her office, sitting on a small loveseat, head between my knees, a lavender-filled eye pillow shoved under my nose. She’s holding a spritz bottle of water and I’m a little scared.
“What is wrong with you?” she demands. “Who stole my level-headed best friend and replaced her with, with...this?” Shannon’s wrists flick my way like twin whips.
See? I’m not so vanilla.
“I don’t know!” I wail, looking up. “Andrew McCormick has taken every rational brain cell in my head and shaken me like I’m a snow globe.”
“With his mouth?” Shannon asks skeptically. “Because so far, all he’s done is kiss you and not ask you out.”
“Three times! He kissed me in his office the day I tried to fix the mess between you and Declan. He kissed me in the on-call room at the hospital when you swallowed the engagement ring. And then last night, after my anal date, he—”
Tap tap tap.
I look up to find Declan’s assistant, Grace, standing in the open doorway.
“Your what?” she asks. If my grandmother were alive she’d be Grace’s age. Grandma would probably have the same look of untempered disgust and extraordinary curiosity on her face as well.
“Anal gland date,” Shannon adds. “She forgot a word.”
“That really does not clarify,” Grace replies. If she frowns any harder she’ll be a Shar-Pei.
Why does everything remind me of dogs?
“I went out with a guy last night who likes to express—oh, never mind.” I give up. My phone buzzes. I check it.
Reminder: DoggieDate #2 noon
“Oh, shoot!” I snap, standing. “I completely forgot that I have another date today. A lunch date. We’re meeting at the Esplanade.”
“What’s up, Grace?” Shannon asks, trying to change topics.
Grace gives me a look as I check my calendar to see what else I’m forgetting. “Declan wanted me to invite Amanda to your lunch date today at The Fort, but I see she has anal lunch date...er, I mean, another lunch date.” Grace rushes off like she’s retching.
It’s hard to rattle that woman.
I’m that big a mess, aren’t I?
“Look,” I say with a long sigh. “This isn’t me. This really isn’t me. Look at me!”
“You look like Amanda. Brown hair, big eyes, overpainted red lips, and ex-cheerleader body.”
“I know, right? I—wait. Overpainted? I’m not overpainted!”
Shannon’s mouth tightens like she’s been caught making an error. “Er, no. Of course not.”
Tap tap tap.
We look toward the door. Declan walks in, his cologne following him by microseconds, a blend of cloves and cotton. He reaches for Shannon and gives her a gentle kiss right under her ear.
What is it like to be known so well by a man? I’ve had short-term boyfriends. Friends with benefits. A one night stand here or there. I’m no prude, but I’m not the town barfly. Nothing wrong with being somewhere in between, but what Shannon and Declan share feels so out of my league. I can’t imagine living in concert with someone where the invisible boundary that makes me me and him him dissolves at will.
At the power of something greater than simple consent.
Green eyes the color of money look at me. Declan’s wearing a suit that costs more than my first year of college. He’s holding Shannon against him, arm wrapped across her back, hand cupping one hip like it’s a mug handle.
“Amanda,” he says pleasantly. “What a surprise to see you here.”
“How can it be a surprise when Grace just asked if I’m having lunch with you and Shannon after my meetings?”
Confusion fills his face. “Grace asked that?”
Shannon laughs and turns to me. “Grace runs his entire life. Declan’s just a passenger.”
“See?” I taunt. “Just like the sugar cane farm for Andrew’s sweetener.”
Declan’s bemusement deepens. “His what?”
Before I can answer, Andrew’s executive assistant appears. “Ms. Warrick? Mr. McCormick will see you now.”
Chapter Eight
The last time I was in Andrew’s office he was wearing bike shorts. Tight ones. Nice, snug Lycra shorts so fine I really should have shoved a dollar bill in his waistband as a tip for the show. Not that he needed the money.
As his admin guides me to his office, I try to center myself. In an hour I’m meeting Mr. Teacup Chihuahua, a guy matched to me mostly based on my description of Spritzy in the DoggieDate database. We’re going to the esplanade so I can meet Muffin, his little teacup sweetie. In our brief email exchanges, my date insisted he needs to make sure Muffin likes me before taking the next step and having her meet Spritzy, lest his dog become too attached to him.