life,â Lizbeth cried.
Nina sighed, then sat down across the desk from her and began to recount the events of the night before. She made a special point of telling Lizbeth how she refused his invitation to dinner. âThat was good, right? I mean, I didnât want to seem too enthusiastic, or too easy.â
âYou did very well.â
She smiled proudly. âI did. And oh, he just makes me feel so good. I get all warm inside and my knees go a little soft and my brain doesnât seem to work right, andâand I can barely breathe. Do you know that feeling?â
Lizbeth raised an eyebrow. âHoney, I invented that feeling. Now, when is he coming to take you to lunch?â
âIn about fifteen minutes,â Nina said.
She gave Nina the once-over. âThat gives us just enough time.â
âFor what?â
âTo fix you up.â
Nina glanced down at the outfit sheâd so carefully chosen that morning. The little sweater dress was from the sixties, pale melon pink with bugle bead starbursts on the cuffs, collar and hem. She considered it a conservative choice paired with knee-high black boots. Nina had taken special care with her hair, wearing it loose and unbound in soft waves, pushed away from her face by a black headband. âWhatâs wrong?â
âHe was wearing a handmade French shirt and a designer suit, Hugo Boss if Iâm not mistaken. The guy knows fashion.â Lizbeth jumped to her feet and began snatching clothes from around the roomâa long, pencil-thin skirt, a body-hugging sweater, both in black. âThe boots are good, the rest has to go.â
âWhy?â
âHoney, youâve got that whole groovy sixties thing going. Or maybe itâs seventies, Iâm not sure. If he dressed in Nehru jackets or leisure suits, then Iâd say go for it but weâre not playing Austin Powers today.â
Nina reluctantly changed into the clothes Lizbeth had chosen, secretly pleased that she was able to fit into the sample sizes. Though the calf-length skirt nearly reached her ankles, Lizbeth pronounced that length equally fashionable. When she was dressed, her friend pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail and tied it with an expensive black silk scarf.
Nina stood in front of the mirror that Lizbeth had cleared and looked at herself. The clothes did show her figure to its best advantage. And the black made her look even thinner and more sophisticated. But the outfit didnât have any character or color. It said nothing about the person she was. âNow I look like everyone else that lives in this city. This is like the uniform for young, professional women.â
âWhich is exactly what heâll like.â Lizbethâs phone rang and she picked it up, then smiled at Nina. âYup, sheâs here, and sheâll be right out.â She put the phone down. âHeâs in reception. Would you like me to walk out with you? Never mind, Iâm going to walk out with you. But I wonât act like Iâm going down to see him, Iâll just run across the street and get a cup of coffee.â
They both headed for the reception area on the ground floor of the building. When they stepped out of the elevator, Nina saw him, sitting in an overstuffed leather chair near the window. He was focussed on the most recent issue of Attitudes, his brow furrowed, his expression dubious. Instead of a suit, he was wearing faded jeans that hugged his long legs and a canvas jacket that hid a T-shirt. âSee,â Nina said. âHeâs not wearing a suit.â
âYum,â Lizbeth breathed. âWhat a hottie!â She turned and straightened Ninaâs collar. âRide âem, cowgirl.â
Her friend kept walking, right out the door, and Nina stopped in front of Jack. âHi,â she said, unable to stop a smile from curling the corners of her lips.
He looked up. Surprise colored his expression as he rose to his feet, taking in her appearance. He reached out and took her hand, a gesture that seemed so natural but sent her heart racing. And when he bent and brushed a kiss on her cheek, she truly thought she might swoon. âHi. For a minute there I didnât recognize you.â His gaze slowly raked her body. âYou look a little different.â
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