“What’s up?”
“A couple of calls that I thought you’d want to handle personally.” She handed Mia a slip of the company’s teal-colored message paper.
They walked toward the small circular table in the far corner of the office and sat down.
Mia squinted at the words on the page until they came into focus. “Sahara Club?” she asked.
Ashley read from a sheet in her hand detailing all the particulars about the Sahara Club, which catered to married couples who wanted to plan quick romantic getaways. The club management wanted to put together an event to promote their business, inviting previous guests to give testimonials about their experience.
Mia’s brows rose as she listened.
“I did an Internet search on them,” Ashley offered in response to the question that hovered on Mia’s lips. She handed over her research material. “I also have a short list of some of their clients. I can have them checked, if you want.”
Mia took the notes and briefly scanned them, the words blurry around the edges.
“This one is for the grand opening of a boutique in Tribeca,” she went on reading her second set of notes. “They want something really upscale. They’d like to come in and talk with you. Should I schedule it?”
“Why don’t you take that one?” Mia said absently. “I’ll sit in on the initial meeting if you need me, but I think you can handle it.”
“No problem.” She paused a moment. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”
In the six months that Ashley had worked for Mia, they’d grown rather close, sharing stories and giving each other advice on things like clothes, cars, best deals, politics, religion. Mia had even invited Ashley to join her, Savannah and Danielle for their weekly girls’ brunch at their favorite hangout, The Shop. Over time Mia had grown to respect Ashley’s judgment and clearheaded opinions, which she often sought out. But her current dilemma she could not share.
“I’m fine. Just a little headache.”
Ashley leaned forward. “Maybe if you wore your glasses to read and move around in the world, your head would stop hurting. It’s probably eyestrain.”
Mia made a face. It was her personal pet peeve. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it.”
Ashley huffed. “Suit yourself.” She pushed up from the desk. “I’ll give these ladies from the boutique a call and get that set up.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
Alone now, Mia’s thoughts reluctantly turned to her most pressing situation: in order to complete her assignment, she was going to have to see Michael again. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle that.
What she needed was some advice. Savannah was totally out of the question. She was a devout believer in the sanctity of marriage. She’d had her own scare with her husband, Blake, and she didn’t look favorably on the “other woman,” which is what Mia had been.
Danielle, though much more open-minded, had mellowed since she’d settled down with Nick. And although she might be more understanding, Dani’s quick, sharp tongue was not something she wanted to deal with, either.
Those were the reasons why she’d never told her two best friends about what had gone on between her and Michael. It went against everything they believed in. She’d cringe every time the topic of adultery and cheating came up during their chats. She never wanted to disappoint them or see that appalled look in their eyes. She knew they’d demand an explanation as to why, and she wouldn’t be able to provide one, because she didn’t know why.
Sounds of Ashley singing a very bad rendition of a Mary J. Blige tune drifted to her ears. Mia smiled. Oh, to be carefree, she mused.
Her phone rang.
“MT Management, Mia speaking.”
“Hey, baby. Caught you at your desk.”
“Hi, sweetie. This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have a couple of hours and I thought I’d swing by and take my favorite girl to a late lunch. If you haven’t eaten already.”
“I’d love to.”
“Great. See you in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay.” Mia hung up the phone. Spending some time with Steven was just what she needed.
* * *
As promised, twenty minutes later, Steven came walking through the door.
Mia’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She stood and came from behind her desk, her body warming with every step.
“Hi,” she whispered as she came to a stop in front of him.
Steven Long was, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. His complexion was the color of polished mahogany, he had a hard square jaw and chocolate-brown eyes with silky brows and lashes to die for.
Two years in a row Jet magazine had listed him as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. That was before he’d hooked up with Mia. Now he was off the market—permanently, if Mia had any say in the matter.
His gunmetal gray suit fit every inch of his six-foot frame, and damn if she didn’t love a man in a good-looking suit. His pearl-gray shirt and burgundy-and-gray-striped tie set off the suit and his skin to perfection.
Steven snaked his arm around Mia’s waist and swept her into a deep, lingering kiss that took her breath away. When he released her, she felt shaken and hot with desire.
“You’re going to have to stop by more often,” she said, stroking his cheek with the tip of her finger.
He grinned. “If only I could, gorgeous. How’s your day been so far?”
Reality slammed into her. Her heart thumped. “Uh, not bad. We may have two more clients.”
“That’s great. Congrats.”
“Good for business, but not great for relationships. It means that I’ll be even busier,” she said, knowing that in the coming weeks she would need time away from Steven.
He took her hand and massaged the center of her palm in sensuous circular motions that sent shivers running through her.
“If anyone can multitask and make it look like child’s play, it’s you, babe.” He pecked her softly on the lips. “I ain’t worried,” he said with a grin. “Come on, let’s go before we spend all our free time talking about what time we won’t have.”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
“How did you manage to get time away from the office?” Mia asked as they were seated in a back booth at Brothers Bistro, a great health-food eatery within walking distance of her office.
“Blake is in the field taking some sketches of the renovation project in Brooklyn. This morning I put the finishing touches on the blueprints for the town houses in D.C. and realized I actually had some breathing room for a change.”
It was amazing how far Steven and Blake had come in just over a decade. They’d built their business from a two-man company, working out of a storefront, to one of the major players with a staff of ten, an office in midtown and contracts that were expanding their business from its Manhattan locale to the capital.
“If business keeps growing this way, any midday getaway would be wishful thinking,” Steven said.
“Are you and Blake planning to hire more people?”
“We may have to, just to handle the volume. But my fear is, as I’ve explained to Blake, at some point the bottom is going to drop out. Builders are going to stop building