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“I saw Liv Dotson last night,” I say, glancing up and finding him studying me carefully.
He blinks. “All right.”
“You didn’t tell me she’d called off her divorce.”
He blinks again. “To be fair, I didn’t technically tell you she was getting a divorce in the first place.”
“Well, I figured that part out,” I say. “I mean, why else would you have been with her at lunch?”
“Because I’m a ladies’ man?” he says with the slightest of smiles.
“Really? Of all days, today you decide you have a sense of humor?” I reach out and take his mug, taking a sip even though it’s terrible.
“Look, Georgiana.” He takes my hand. “There will always be things about my job I can’t tell you. Do you understand?”
His gaze is strangely intense, as though my answer means everything, and I slowly nod. “I get that. I mean, it was a little embarrassing, because she acted like I knew, but yeah…I get it. Except…”
“Except?”
“She said you’d invited us to dinner. Surely you could have passed that part on? And now I keep wondering over and over why you didn’t.”
Andrew’s gaze goes just the slightest bit impatient. “It’s not a big deal, Georgiana. I just…dinner parties aren’t always where I need to focus my attention.”
I let out a little laugh. “Right. The fluffy nonsense is for people like me, right?”
He blows out a breath. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d talk to me more often. Tell me what’s going on up there.” I tap his temple.
He slips his hand behind my neck. “What’s gotten into you? What’s going on?”
I avoid his eyes. “I’m just suddenly hyperaware that our worlds are so different. I mean, take the very fact that we’re meeting at five A.M., but you’re just up from bed and I’m just going to bed. And I hardly ever know what you’re thinking. And you like order and control, and you probably iron your underwear. And you’re drinking that terrible health sludge, and I’m eating a donut, and what are your thoughts on Beyoncé? Do you hate her? I worry you do, and then—”
“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my lip. “And besides, we don’t have nothing in common. We both like the color red, remember?”
I laugh. “So true. We must be soul mates, then.”
“There she is,” he says with a slight smile. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back here by five-thirty. We can have a drink at my place before heading out to the party.”
“Perfect,” I say, meaning it. Not only is my mood lifted by his warm, unexpected affection, but he’s just given me an idea of the perfect outfit to wear tonight.
Andrew
THURSDAY EVENING
“Damn, Mulroney. It’s not enough that you command some of the highest rates in the city, you’ve also got to show us up by hitting a home run in your personal life?”
Andrew turned away from where he’d been watching Georgiana coax smile after smile out of his normally stodgy senior partner and his shrew of a wife.
Katherine Hopkins was watching him with a knowing look. “She’s the one, huh?”
He took a sip of his gin martini and dodged the question, turning to face her. “Where did Jim run off to?”
She plucked a glass of red off a passing tray, trading it for her empty one. “He’s talking hockey with Marlene’s husband. But who cares? How’d you and Georgie meet? And don’t think I’ve forgotten that just a
couple of weeks ago you were telling me how true love was for losers and all that.”
Andrew’s gaze flicked back to Georgiana. She seemed to sense him watching her and turned his way, giving him a subtle little wave without ever stopping whatever story she was telling, which involved plenty of facial animation and hand movements.
