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“Well, she’s known for having an impressive figure.”
I spot the woman he’s described across the room, perusing the artfully arranged display of cans and boxes donated for the event.
My jaw drops. “Oh, you mean she’s got an ass.”
Logan laughs adorably. “Yes, and if you could refrain from actually saying that to her, that’d be great.”
I jab him with an elbow before drinking the rest of my bubbles. “All right. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna go charm the hell out of this chick, get her nice and loosened up, and then you’ll swagger on over, hop into the convo, flash a couple smiles… hook, line, and sinker.”
Logan sips his water, mulling this over. “I like it. But you should know, Mays can be a bit of a hardass. And she doesn’t exactly get along with my dad.”
“Great, we’ve already got one thing in common.” I set my empty glass on the table behind us and pick up two champagne flutes. “Give me ten. You know where to find me.”
“Pen,” he says, stopping me as if he’d grabbed my hand. When I glance back, he gives a curt nod. “Thank you.”
I’m going to remember this moment for as long as I live. Not because I feel prettier than I have in years, or that part of me is actually enjoying this. But because I’ve been holding on to who we used to be for so long that I haven’t accepted the truth of who we are now.
I offer him a soft smile. “Guess we do make a pretty great team.”
With that, I make my way across the floor, filling my lungs with a deep, cleansing breath.
Ellen’s stunning in a fitted crimson dress. Her jet-black hair is expertly tucked in a chignon bun, accented with rhinestones, which match the cascading diamond necklace, plunging toward her breasts.
God, it’s been so long since I’ve had to feign interest in the lives of the wealthy. My nerves try to get the best of me, but as I approach her, I reach inside my old bag of tricks, scouring her outfit and every patch of exposed skin for tattoos, scars, for anything that could make for a potential talking point.
“Ellen, hi!” I say a touch too excitedly before clearing my throat. “How are you?”
The woman turns, eyeing me suspiciously, and I’m hit with a wave of intimidation. “Hello.”
I gesture to her dress with both hands occupied by the flutes. “I mean, wow. Ten out of ten, girl.”
She cocks a stenciled brow, sizing me up. “Thank you.”
Jeez. Guess Logan wasn’t joking.
“Here you go.” Her bright red lips thin when I shove one of the flutes at her. “I got this for you if you’d like me—it. I meant it, not me, of course.”
Blood rushes to my face so quickly, I’m afraid I’ll pass out right at this woman’s feet.
“I don’t drink,” she says apathetically. “And I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Oh, gosh. Where are my manners? Name’s Penelope. I’m Logan Anderson’s assistant.” My rambling mouth drops my real name before I can recover and sweat builds under my arms and across my forehead. “We’re so glad you could make it tonight. I hope you’ll stay for the show. We’ve got this whole belly dancing performance lined up that’s going to be ah-ma-zing.”
“I won’t be staying long,” she says dismissively.
“Why not?” I ask, jumping in front of her when she attempts to move around me.
Champagne sloshes to the floor between us, and I freeze before laughing nervously. I smear the drops around with the tip of my shoe. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that cleaned up.”
My stomach somersaults when she steps around the puddle of bubbles. “I’m here to make my donation and scope out my competitors. There’s no reason to dawdle.”
If Carrie were here, she’d shove my shoulder and encourage me to go after her. She’d remind me that businesswomen are direct and confident, and if I don’t nail this opportunity to make a connection, then someone else will.
I ditch the glasses on a nearby table and take off after her.
“Wait.” My voice holds as much authority as I can muster, and I’m shocked when she halts. Though she doesn’t fully turn around until I add, “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
After folding her arms, Ellen juts out a hip. “I’m listening.”
