follow him, but Amanda and Greg appear.
“He can’t do that!” I sputter to Greg. Back me up, dude, I think.
James McCormick comes out, a bemused look on his face as he stares at me. “Ms. Jacoby, I assume you can give a good show for Declan tonight?”
Show? What am I now? Who cares about this stupid account? I’ve been turned into a boy toy in seconds by Mr. Asshole in a Suit, and I’m about to give the McCormicks a piece of my mind.
Greg pipes up, finally. Good. Here we go, boss. Defend me.
“Shannon would be delighted. I’m sure Declan will love whatever she shows him tonight.”
And with that, James McCormick leaves us, disappearing back into the football-field office.
I spin in outrage to Greg. “Thanks for pimping me!”
He shrugs. “The guy said business meeting. If that’s what it takes to land this account, you can talk about process flow and customer satisfaction over candlelight, right?”
“You ever been told by a VP of marketing to ‘wear something nice’ and had a limo sent to your home for a business meeting?”
Silence.
“Look at it this way,” Amanda says, slinging her laptop over her shoulder and shooting me a sympathetic look. “It has to be better than the way you met for the first time.”
“And you!” I hiss. “‘Hot Guy’? Seriously? You just…I don’t even know you people. It’s like you’ve become my mother!”
They both shudder. “That’s kind of low, Shannon,” Amanda mutters as we walk to the elevator. Greg scurries over to Stacia the receptionist and I hear him giving her my address. My God. It’s like my mother has been tutoring him.
“And whoring me out to the VP of Anterdec Industries isn’t?”
“I’m sure he won’t do anything inappropriate,” Greg says as he catches up to us.
“Bummer,” Amanda says.
Greg’s turn to look outraged. He’s old enough—barely—to be our father, and while most of the time he acts like a peer, this isn’t one of those moments. A paternalistic air fills the space between the three of us. It’s more what I’d expected back in that meeting, and I would have appreciated it then, but I’ll take what I can get.
“You absolutely do not need to go to this business dinner tonight,” he says, resolute. Amanda’s neck snaps back with surprise at the firmness of his words. “I’ll go instead.”
“Wear something nice,” Amanda chirps.
He scowls. My stomach sinks. I want him to say that, but I don’t want him to follow through. Being alone with Declan on a date—er, business dinner—sounds like heaven. This is my big chance to prove I am more than Toilet Girl. More pragmatically, if we can mix business and pleasure, why not snag a multimillion-dollar account, too, while I am at it?
The entire conversation taking place in my head makes me need a shower to wash off how dirty I feel and to need a shower with Declan. Mmmm , Declan in the shower, soaping me up, and—
“See how distraught she is!” Greg whispers to Amanda. “Look at that blank stare.”
Amanda snorts. “I think she’s drooling, Greg. That’s the look of a woman dreaming about Hot Guy.”
He looks offended. “Why would anyone be…you women are so…I don’t understand…” We climb on the elevator and he pushes the Close Doors button. He’s still sputtering when we hit the parking garage level where his car is parked. “And besides, what do you think your mother would say if she knew?”
“She’d offer me up just like you did, Greg. And go home and cut an extra foot up the slit of any dress I have. She’s a better pimp than you when it comes to dating a billionaire.”
“He’s not a billionaire,” is all Greg can come back with.
“He will be when he inherits his share of Anterdec.” Amanda speaks with the authority of someone who has snooped through every nook and cranny of a man’s Google results.
A dizzy wave of overwhelm makes me cling to the iron-pipe bannister of the concrete steps near Greg’s car. “A
“He can’t do that!” I sputter to Greg. Back me up, dude, I think.
James McCormick comes out, a bemused look on his face as he stares at me. “Ms. Jacoby, I assume you can give a good show for Declan tonight?”
Show? What am I now? Who cares about this stupid account? I’ve been turned into a boy toy in seconds by Mr. Asshole in a Suit, and I’m about to give the McCormicks a piece of my mind.
Greg pipes up, finally. Good. Here we go, boss. Defend me.
“Shannon would be delighted. I’m sure Declan will love whatever she shows him tonight.”
And with that, James McCormick leaves us, disappearing back into the football-field office.
I spin in outrage to Greg. “Thanks for pimping me!”
He shrugs. “The guy said business meeting. If that’s what it takes to land this account, you can talk about process flow and customer satisfaction over candlelight, right?”
“You ever been told by a VP of marketing to ‘wear something nice’ and had a limo sent to your home for a business meeting?”
Silence.
“Look at it this way,” Amanda says, slinging her laptop over her shoulder and shooting me a sympathetic look. “It has to be better than the way you met for the first time.”
“And you!” I hiss. “‘Hot Guy’? Seriously? You just…I don’t even know you people. It’s like you’ve become my mother!”
They both shudder. “That’s kind of low, Shannon,” Amanda mutters as we walk to the elevator. Greg scurries over to Stacia the receptionist and I hear him giving her my address. My God. It’s like my mother has been tutoring him.
“And whoring me out to the VP of Anterdec Industries isn’t?”
“I’m sure he won’t do anything inappropriate,” Greg says as he catches up to us.
“Bummer,” Amanda says.
Greg’s turn to look outraged. He’s old enough—barely—to be our father, and while most of the time he acts like a peer, this isn’t one of those moments. A paternalistic air fills the space between the three of us. It’s more what I’d expected back in that meeting, and I would have appreciated it then, but I’ll take what I can get.
“You absolutely do not need to go to this business dinner tonight,” he says, resolute. Amanda’s neck snaps back with surprise at the firmness of his words. “I’ll go instead.”
“Wear something nice,” Amanda chirps.
He scowls. My stomach sinks. I want him to say that, but I don’t want him to follow through. Being alone with Declan on a date—er, business dinner—sounds like heaven. This is my big chance to prove I am more than Toilet Girl. More pragmatically, if we can mix business and pleasure, why not snag a multimillion-dollar account, too, while I am at it?
The entire conversation taking place in my head makes me need a shower to wash off how dirty I feel and to need a shower with Declan. Mmmm , Declan in the shower, soaping me up, and—
“See how distraught she is!” Greg whispers to Amanda. “Look at that blank stare.”
Amanda snorts. “I think she’s drooling, Greg. That’s the look of a woman dreaming about Hot Guy.”
He looks offended. “Why would anyone be…you women are so…I don’t understand…” We climb on the elevator and he pushes the Close Doors button. He’s still sputtering when we hit the parking garage level where his car is parked. “And besides, what do you think your mother would say if she knew?”
“She’d offer me up just like you did, Greg. And go home and cut an extra foot up the slit of any dress I have. She’s a better pimp than you when it comes to dating a billionaire.”
“He’s not a billionaire,” is all Greg can come back with.
“He will be when he inherits his share of Anterdec.” Amanda speaks with the authority of someone who has snooped through every nook and cranny of a man’s Google results.
A dizzy wave of overwhelm makes me cling to the iron-pipe bannister of the concrete steps near Greg’s car. “A
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