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“You can talk to me if you want to. If you need to vent.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I just need to focus. If I play my cards right, I’ll soon be their boss. Or at least a step up from them in the food chain.” She was drawing with her finger on my bare chest, a little habit she had when she was anxious or frustrated. She’d “draw” on the tabletop, on my arm, on her knee, whatever was handy, little boxes and whorls. I watched her draw a triangle, then a fish, then a heart.
“You coming this Thursday? I mean, to my game?”
“I hope so,” she said. “Depends on work. It’s a big week for us, so I might be stuck there till late.”
I caught her fingers and kissed them to ease my own tension. Izzy missing a game was no big deal, but it’d be the first one she’d missed since my losing streak broke. In my head, I knew I’d been playing better — hell, we all had, the team pulling together. But a deep, worried part of me still believed it was Izzy. She was my rabbit’s foot. My luck in a bottle. If she wasn’t there watching?—
“I’ll still watch,” she said. “If I’m stuck at work. I can still stream it when nobody’s looking.”
I leaned down and kissed her and pulled her in closer. Her hand wandered, teasing, over my hip. She’d had me twice already since Leon stepped out, but the way her breath quickened, she still wanted more. I rose to the challenge, cock standing proud.
“I could do this all night.”
“Gonna hold you to that.” Her hand wandered lower. I shivered, delighted, as her nails scored my thigh. All night sounded fine to me. All night sounded perfect.
CHAPTER 6
IZZY
Isat at my table outside the Bel Café, staring into my coffee, too nervous to drink it. Today was my day to pitch to the partners, and shit, shit, shit. Was I prepared, truly? I’d thought so last night, looking over my concept, but in the cold light of day, I had to wonder. I’d been distracted these last few weeks, caught up in Spencer. Taking nights off from work to dive into his bed. Had I brought my A-game, or could I have pushed harder?
Chill out, I told myself. You got this, you hear?
I stirred my cold coffee and licked the end of the stir stick. It tasted mostly of sugar and hazelnut cream. A shadow fell over me, and I looked up.
“Hey, there,” said Lola, and plopped down at my table. “Today’s the big day, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” My throat tightened.
“Don’t stress. Are you stressing? Okay, breathe. Breathe.”
“I’m not stressing,” I said, but Lola waved me off.
“You’re totally stressing. You’ve got to try yoga. It’s not just stretching or a lot of woo-woo stuff. They teach you these exercises, ways to stay calm. Like, you breathe in, then you hold it five seconds, and when you breathe out again, you magically feel better.”
“Magically, huh?”
“Abracadabra.” Lola sipped her own coffee and tipped me a wink. “Seriously, you’ve got this. You’re going to do great.”
I glanced down at my hands, at my fresh-painted nails. “Yeah, you think so?”
“I know so.” Lola had on her mom face, stern but sweet. “No one works as hard as you do. No one wants this more. You’re going to go up there and knock the socks off the partners, and they won’t just let you head up that new condo project. They’ll put you on, like, the next Guggenheim.”
I rolled my eyes at that last part, but I felt better. “Thank you,” I said. “I needed to hear that.”
“I know you did.” Lola unwrapped a biscotti and took a bite. “I haven’t seen you much lately. Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” I hedged. “At home. At work.”
Lola wagged her biscotti. “At home, maybe. At work, not so much. You left early last Friday.”
“I left on time.”
“That’s early for you.” She sipped some more coffee. “I came by your desk some time around seven, and Jim said you ran out at five on the dot. You seeing someone?”
I choked on air. “What?”
