Casey was jealous as hell when she’d read those reviews.
She tried to picture a man like Grant wanting to use this toy with her, but the image didn’t compute, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe because she was putting the cart before the horse to think of him that way. She didn’t know if they were physically compatible, or emotionally compatible, for that matter. She didn’t even know how he kissed. And here she was, trying to change her ways for him.
Was she crazy? Foolish? Or just plain stupid?
But, she reasoned, even if Grant Abbot was a bust, she needed to try a different approach with the opposite sex in general. Her romantic life had been sorely in need of a shake-up. And that’s what she was giving it. These lessons with Nate would be useful whether she and Grant were a match, or she and the next guy.
Right? Right.
Funny how giving up control with Nate wasn’t as hard as she’d expected, but maybe that was because he knew her inside and out. She trusted him completely. Grant was a step up from a stranger. And that was all the more reason to keep up the lessons. She needed to be thoroughly schooled in how to let go.
A hand waved broadly in her face. “Earth to Casey.”
She snapped her attention back to Nelle, with her piercing dark eyes and straight black hair. “Sorry,” she said.
“You went in space cadet mode there,” Nelle said with a smirk. “Worn out from New Orleans?”
Worn out from great . . . almost sex. “Yes. Sorry. It was just such a quick trip. One night-turnaround and all,” she said, even though that was no excuse. She’d been back in New York for two full days now. She wasn’t known for zoning out during a one-on-one meeting with her right-hand woman. She pushed all men from her mind.
When they finished the meeting, Nelle headed out, stopping briefly in the doorway. She rapped her knuckles on the wood. “Knock, knock.”
Casey rolled her eyes, but happily replied with “Who’s there?” This was the side of Nelle that wasn’t no-nonsense. Her knock-knock side.
“Ben Hur,” Nelle replied, deadpan style.
“Ben Hur who?” Casey asked as she sank down into her desk chair.
“Ben Hur over the table,” Nelle said, then doffed an imaginary top hat and bowed deeply before leaving on a trail of Casey’s amusement.
Later that afternoon, Casey plowed through her emails, pleased to find a note from Grant.
“Glad to see everything is moving along smoothly with our deal. I’m taking off for Asia this evening, so let me simply say I hope the next month flies by.”
She grinned and the teeniest spark tried to light up in her chest at the thought of Grant. She concentrated on that small flame, tried to will it to flare, but it quickly died out. There’d be time for flames though, for roaring fires and burning heat. These were the first tentative steps. Clicking through her inbox, she stopped at a message from her brother that had arrived a few minutes ago, which was after midnight, his time. He’d always been a night owl, but he and Michelle had taken to the Paris lifestyle, dining out at 10 p.m. on most nights. They’d probably just returned from dinner.
Michelle is calling you about your dress. Whatever she says, YOU LIKE IT.
Casey tapped out a quick reply. But I DO like it!
Moments later, her phone rang from the France country code.
“Hi Michelle,” Casey said, as she swiveled around in her chair, giving herself a better view of her favorite office scenery—a replica of a Roy Lichtenstein painting, a comic book style rendering of a couple kissing. She had another one from the series at her home.
“How did you know it was me, and not Jack?” Michelle asked curiously.
“He just emailed and told me you were calling. He also told me to tell you no matter what that I like the dress. But I LOVE the bridesmaid dress, so I don’t have to fake it. And you should tell him he doesn’t have to say those things.”
“Jack,” Michelle shouted. “You’re in so much trouble.”
She heard him respond with, “The good kind of trouble?”
Michelle laughed, then returned to the call. “Anyway, does it fit? I’m sorry it took so long to get it to you, but I wanted to find a perfect dress for an island wedding.”
Casey scoffed. Loudly. Pointedly. “Island wedding? That’s what you call a wedding in Hawaii. Or the Caribbean. Your wedding is a paradise wedding. That’s what you call a wedding in the Maldives.”
She swore she could hear Michelle smiling through the phone. “Well, can’t wait to see you in paradise then, in three weeks.”
“Me too. Can you put Jack on?”
There was a rustling sound from Michelle handing the phone to Jack, then his voice. “Thanks for getting me in trouble.”
“You do it to yourself, Jack Sullivan. Whenever are you going to learn that the women in your life can see straight through you?”
“Never. Probably never.”
They chatted more, and she caught him up to speed on the latest news with Joy Delivered, then he told her about some projects he was working on. He’d become a strategy consultant for many European companies, advising them on the U.S. market. He’d started in related businesses to Joy Delivered, but had now expanded, and even had begun working with some investors who specialized in high-end goods, from diamonds to vintage cars to art.
“You’re so fancy now,” she teased.
“That’s me.”