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Jamie absorbed the semi-embarrassing advice. She really must have turned into a cartoon character earlier. “Very funny.”
“Kiss your mom and tell your dad that the puzzle in theTimesis harder than usual.”
Jamie knew her dad would have devoted at least ninety minutes to the puzzle, and if it was extra difficult, he might have just tossed it right into the trash with ato hell with yaadded in. She smiled at Lisa. “He will appreciate the empathy.” Everyone loved her parents. They were warm to everyone they encountered and best friends to each other.
The rest of Jamie’s day was certainly mundane compared to the four minutes of excitement she’d experienced when the pretty blonde had breezed through. Maybe this was a sign that she needed to get out there more. A string of bad dates over the past few years had turned her off the idea that she was a candidate for real romance. She gravitated instead to comfy clothes and a thoughtful movie on the old couch each night after work. Indies were her favorite, the lesser-known gems that the masses hadn’t yet discovered. She briefly imagined the impeccableblonde sitting next to her in her apartment and nearly laughed out loud. The two simply didn’t fit.
“At least I know I’m still alive,” she told her cozy little apartment later that night. She popped a bowl of buttery popcorn on the stove and grabbed a blanket, remote in hand. “And it’s kinda nice.”
She looked skyward, remembering her conversation with Clarissa that morning.
“Don’t mess this up for me, Venus.”
Chapter One
Leighton Morrow arrived at her desk on the fourteenth floor of Carrington’s corporate office in Midtown just before eight a.m. She had a cup of coffee in hand, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the latte she’d enjoyed from Bordeauxnuts in Chelsea, which definitely stood out from the coffee pack. She’d be back there soon enough. For now, she’d have to just remember it fondly and deal with the less than perfect latte she had instead.
“Little something for you on your desk,” her assistant, Mindy, told her in an overly sweet voice when she arrived. Leighton set Mindy’s toffee nut mocha on her desk and frowned. “And I’m sorry.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Sitting smack in the middle of her desk was an oversized bouquet of red roses in a box the shape of a giant L. The thing took up most of her desk. “Please tell me theLis for Leighton.”
Mindy stood behind her in the doorway. “Oh, sweetie. I don’t think so.”
With trepidation, she read the card. She really hated rejecting anyone, but she and Harris Gilman from accounting were not meant to be. He just wasn’t getting the message, no matter how politely she dodged his texts, visits, and detailed emails about his day. Their lone date was over a month ago.Love is in the air this week, and I wanted to beat everyone to the punch. Want to go on a date with me? How ’bout we go to a Valentine’s lunch? Love, Harris.She turned slowly to Mindy and stared. Hard.
“It rhymes,” Mindy said conservatively. “We can say that for him. Bless the second grade and Harris Gilman. He doesn’t give up, does he?”
“What am I going to do?”
“We’ve been through this. You have to be straightforward. He usually swings by midmorning to see if you’re in. You tell him that there can’t be anything romantic between you and that you’ll see him in the break room on the fourth floor.”
Leighton was confident in every aspect of her life, except when it came to hurting people’s feelings. That part, she simply couldn’t face.
After she’d agreed to go out with him, Harris had pursued her with a vigor she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. The fact of the matter was, there was no chemistry. Harris was enthusiastic about, well, everything, which made telling him this was never going to work out feel like stepping on a happy little butterfly.
“Incoming,” Mindy said, glancing behind her.
Leighton straightened, preparing for the honesty battle she was determined to win against herself.
“Well, hello, hello,” Harris said, stepping past Mindy and into her office, beaming. He wore a lot of brown, which was standard for him. Today, it was in the form of a dark beige suit jacket, white and brown tie, and pointy brown shoes. Even the tufts of hair on his head were brown. “What do we have here?” he asked in an overexaggerated tone reminiscent of a surprised kindergarten teacher. There was no way she could make out with a person who spoke that way half the time, even if he was incredibly nice.
“Well, someone sent me flowers,” Leighton said, holding up the card. “It was sweet of you, but you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
“I thought a pre-Valentine’s surprise would be even more of a shocker.”
She tapped the card against her hand. “And it was.” A pause. “I’m going to decline lunch, though, because as much as I like you, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“Well, we both have to eat,” he said, clearly dodging the implication.
“Harris. You’re great. So is your poetry. But I don’t think we have a romantic connection.” There. She’d done it. Honest and up-front.
He seemed to take this in. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I like you very much, but our connection is friendship based.”
