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Nora stood in the doorway, fist about to knock.
The first thing Alex noticed was how tiny she was. Not April in the goth gear from the office party, tiny. But in running shoes, not heels, in leggings and a puffer jacket rather than formal dress, and with her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head? Tiny and still traffic-stopping cute.
The second thing he noticed was the pungent aroma coming from the bag in her other hand.
“How – ?”
“How did I find you? I channeled my inner narcissistic asshole and asked myself: Where would I hang my three-thousand-dollar suits? Naturally, a thousand-dollar-a-night five-star hotel on the east side,” she snarked. “Plus your driver took pity on me.”
Tiny, but certainly not diminished. Her New York accent sounded stronger, too.
“I was going to ask how you slept. Andsuit. Singular.” He held up the laundry bag, still in his hand. “Plus that dress of yours hardly looked thrift store.”
“Rented. Not owned. And poorly.”
Her face now scrubbed free of makeup, Alex noticed slight olive-toned circles under her eyes. He wondered if they were hereditary or from lack of quality sleep.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked.
“I’m assuming you’ve never tried an authentic New York City bagel.” She passed it over the threshold. “Hand-rolled and kettle-boiled. There’s an everything with whitefish, and a poppy with dill and lox spread.”
“So essentially the smelliest combination you could think of.”
“Yep.” If a smile could be both sweet and sarcastic, she flashed it. “No chance of kissing someone with garlic, onion and smoked fish breath. And poppy seeds in their teeth.”
“Well, there’s also no mistletoe hanging in my doorway, so you’re safe to stand under it all day. Or you could come in for a cup of coffee.”
He moved aside and let her make her choice.
* * *
Boxers, bedhead…thank God I brought reinforcements.
Nora had sifted through every scenario, and every stage of emotion as she unsuccessfully tried for sleep in the few hours she had been home. She’d shifted blame and anger and guilt and shame between the both of them. He should’ve told her who he was. She should’ve let him. He’d tried to bring up work – but he had also tried to get into her pants. Were either a genuine desire or just a ploy? A power play?
“I shouldn’t have called you – or anyone from Iowa – a hayseed.” She was truly sorry about that.
“That’s not why I left you last night.”
Ouch. She deserved that.
He massaged the back of his neck slowly, staring at her as he did so. She couldn’t help notice how his triceps strained against the thin white sleeve of his T. Definitely not something she’d noticed about “nice suit guy” yesterday.
She realized how little she knew about him. She’d made him into what she had wanted him to be last night. And now she was realizing her mistake.
“Why don’t you brew us some coffee while I hop in the shower.” He gestured toward the Nespresso machine on the counter near the wet bar before padding out of sight.
A moment later, she heard the hiss of water. She wondered if he, like she, did some of his best thinking in the shower.
And what he was currently thinking of her.
As Nora had washed away the confusion and humiliation this morning, a new resolve had set in. She had professionally entertained countless prospective clients, investors, and out-of-town colleagues while employed by Britesmith. Midtown was practically built for the perfect forty-five-minute business lunch, and she knew all the best places.
She’d also onboarded and oriented new employees, as well as conducted exit interviews under every situation with the utmost tact.
In the hospitality industry, she was a superstar. She could certainly be hospitable over the next forty-eight hours to Team…Iowa. And Monday? Come what may.
It was probably why Hedstrom had introduced them in the first place. Not because they were the only Jews in the room. No, her boss – as insufferable as he could be at times – knew her strong points. Her ability to handle just about every situation professionally.
