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Gwen closed the distance between them and lowered her voice to a purr. “The extremely tall, deliciously dark, and oh-so-handsome one.”
Oh. That one.
The younger Noah Whitlow, a delectable captain of industry, was the reason the “tall, dark, and handsome” cliché existed. He was a philanthropist, too. The man hosted a charity event just about every other weekend. At David’s prompting, she’d attended the last one. He’d planned to introduce her to the billionaire playboy, but he’d disappeared halfway through the event. He’d probably flitted off to find some place private to be with his date, BridgetFreakingMontague.
The supermodel.
Bridget had graced the last cover ofVogue. Or was itCosmopolitan? Emma couldn’t remember which magazine exactly, but she vividly remembered Bridget’s black and red bikini. What little there was of it anyway. Emma didn’t quite have the body for that kind of, well, anything. Hell, the left cup of her bra had more material than Bridget’s entire bikini!
Emma tap, tap, tapped her index finger on her desk. “If Mr. Whitlow came here personally, then I definitely owe him an in-person visit.” After all, going the extra mile for the client was the Reynolds, Clark & Morgan way, but before she made a trip to floor fifty, she needed to change. “I’m sorry to ask this, Gwen, but I need you to swing by my place and grab me a suit.” Emma motioned at her outfit. “This isn’t exactly work-appropriate.”
“But you look great! And I’m sure everyone would understand. Besides, I’ve worn less to work many times, and no one has said anything.”
“Youarewearing less, Gwen, right now, in fact.”
“Which only proves my point.”
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret…” Emma leaned toward her secretary and stage-whispered, “I’m not you.”
“Of course, you’re not. No one is.”
Which was for the best. The world couldn’t withstandtwoGwen Gregorys. “I’m simply not comfortable wearing this at the office, so please swing by my house and grab something you would never wear.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Gwen crossed her arms. “But I do it under extreme objection because youareboiling.”
“Boiling?”
“As in seriously hot!”
“Ah. Your protests, while appreciated, are overruled.”
“Boo!”
Shaking her head, Emma handed Gwen her house key. “You remember the security code for my alarm?”
“Yup. Got it right here.” Gwen pointed at her temple.
“And while you’re out, grab me all the lattes Starbucks has. I have a feeling I’ll need the fuel.”
Movement across the room drew her attention, and Brad stepped through the door. He wore one of his standard gray suits, this one with a purple tie and pocket square that matched. He’d styled his brown hair with enough product that wind from a Category 5 hurricane wouldn’t budge a single strand.
“You wanted to see me, Emma?” He adopted a smile capable of disarming opposing counsel at fifty paces. Too bad for him she wasn’t the average lawyer.
“Yes, I did. Just give me one more moment.” Emma turned back to Gwen. “Remember, something you wouldneverwear.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a wink, Gwen strolled from the room.
Emma motioned Brad to the chair opposite her. “Please close the door and have a seat.” But before he could comply, her cell chimed. Catching the name on the screen, she held her index finger out to him. “Sorry, Brad, but I need to take this.” She slid a finger across the bottom of the screen to answer. “Mary, hi.”
“Emma, thank God you’re still here. I was literally dialing your number as I rushed out of the office earlier, but as I hit the elevator, David’s mother was calling me. By the time I remembered again, I figured you were already in the air, but I should have known you’d stay. Your commitment is just one more sign David was right to promote you.”
The avalanche of words caught Emma off guard. Mary Clark was one of the coolest, most collected women Emma had ever met. If she was rambling, David’s condition must be worse than Emma feared.
“Of course, I’m here, Mary. I caught a news piece just before I boarded.” Emma glanced at Brad for the briefest second before continuing. “How’s David?”
“Too soon to know anything. The doctors are trying to stabilize him. Their words are hopeful, but their expressions say something entirely different.”
“I’m so sorry, Mary. What can I do?”
