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She’s on her feet as if she thinks I’ll blink my eyes and change my mind. “Maybe I’ll see if Mr. Sufford is up for a visit.”
It’s a testament to how fond she is of her boss. I saw the picture of Kurt, Thelma, Mrs. Burton, and a man I assume is Mr. Burton on her desk.
I push myself up from my chair, straightening the skirt of my red dress as I rise. “Thank you for all your help today.”
Her brows draw together. “There’s no need to thank me, dear. It’s my job.”
I smile.
Dear. It’s what my dad always called me. I miss it.
“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, Ms. Conrad.”
“Eden,” I say, even though I know she won’t call me that.
I’ve suggested it at least a dozen times since I got to Manhattan. She’s always called me Ms. Conrad.
“Thank you for the afternoon off, Eden.” A soft smile plays on her lips.
I nod.
Mission accomplished.
***
“If you wear that dress to court next week, I’ll lose the case.”
I laugh. I want to take a step closer and kiss him, but we’re in the lobby of Dylan’s office building. People are watching us as they pass us by. I assume some of them work for him.
“All it takes is a red dress to defeat you?”
“It’s what’s in the dress that I’m worried about.” He flashes me a smile. “I heard you hammered out a deal for shared custody of the Townsend poodles. That was a steep mountain to climb.”
“Good news travels fast in this town.” I tilt my head. “Who told you that? I just signed off on the agreement thirty minutes ago.”
“Betsy broke the good news to me.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Betsy?”
“I saw her at Palla on Fifth.” He holds up a large coffee cup. “She seemed extra chipper today.”
I stop him before he goes on. “Who is Betsy?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shrug both shoulders. I’m completely and utterly lost. “I’m serious.”
He leans forward until he’s so close that his breath slides over my ear. “I’ll give you a clue, counselor.”
I pull back just a touch so I can look into his eyes. “What’s the clue?”
“It comes at a price.”
Of course, it does. “Is the price open for negotiation?”
The corners of his lips curve up. “Isn’t it always?”
I’m tempted to suggest that we take our negotiation to his bedroom, but I like the game we’re playing.
