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He stared at her for a long moment, then grabbed the spatula again and removed the pancakes from the griddle. “I thought maybe you could use some comfort food this morning. I also made eggs and sausages.” He nodded toward a covered plate already on the table.
Ali felt as if she needed to apologize. She wasn’t sure why, but she’d obviously upset him when she’d run off. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have left like that.”
“It’s all right. I was close to my grandmother, too.”
He thought she’d left because they were talking about her grandmother. She wished that were true, but she also wasn’t going to correct him.
He carried a plate full of pancakes to the table, and she followed.
Taking her seat, she didn’t say any more and tucked into her pancakes.
Three hours later, Ali was sitting at her desk, going through an email her boss had sent her the night before. Twenty items. All numbered.
She’d managed to get through the first six before he called her into his office. “You wanted to see me?”
“Did you get the list I sent you last night?” Grant Jacobson asked.
“Yes. I’ve been working on it.” Why he asked, she had no idea. Every morning when she came into the office, she had an email from him waiting for her.
He nodded but didn’t look up from whatever he was working on. “What are you doing Thursday night?”
His question was unexpected. “Um...”
Her boss didn’t give her time to formulate any more of a response. He handed her an envelope, then went back to what he was doing. “One of the hospital’s largest donors is holding a fundraiser. Normally, I take my wife.”
She stared at the envelope in her hand. Was he asking her to go with him? “Um...” She sounded like a broken record. Why couldn’t she say something?
“Since I’m unable to go this year, you’ll need to go in my place.”
Ali breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t asking her to be his date. Thank heavens. She wasn’t sure if she could stand next to him for hours and pretend she liked him.
He went on. “It’s black tie. Do you have a dress you can wear?”
“Yes. I—”
“Good.” He paused. “And you’ll need a date.” Finally glancing up from his papers, he looked her in the eye for the first time. “Surely that won’t be a problem. You have a boyfriend or...something?”
The way his gaze raked over her made her skin crawl. “Um. I’m sure I can find someone to go with me.”
Lowering his gaze, he began scribbling something on the paper in front of him. She had no idea how long she stood there, but apparently it was too long. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked.
“Yes.” Ali turned on her heels and scrambled out of his office.
Her heart was pounding by the time she returned to her desk. She turned the envelope over and lifted the flap. Removing the invitation, she read over the details.
The fundraiser was being held at one of the posh hotels downtown. She’d never been there herself, but she’d heard they had a huge crystal chandelier in the lobby. The dinner started at seven o’clock, which meant she would have to get home, change, and make it back downtown in two hours. While not impossible, it was going to be tight.
And then there was the issue of a date. Ali chewed on her bottom lip. Maybe Justin could go with her.
As soon as the idea came to her, she knew it wouldn’t work. Mr. Jacobson said it was black tie. Justin wasn’t a formal type of guy. She doubted he had a tux hanging in his closet and there wasn’t time for him to rent one and have it fitted.
Peeking in her boss’s office, he had his back to the door, his phone to his ear. That meant he would be on the call for a while. She grabbed a stack of papers that needed to be shredded and stuffed the invitation in her purse before slinging it over her shoulder.
As soon as she stepped into the elevator, she pulled out her phone. Kim answered on the second ring. “What’s wrong?”
Kim and Ali texted back and forth throughout the day, but it was rare either of them called the other. Between Kim’s meetings and Ali’s boss, texting was easier...and safer. “Can you meet me for lunch today?”
“Are you okay?” The concern in Kim’s voice was impossible to miss.
