Pink Slipper

by Gina Robinson

  "No help needed. I have more gigs than I can handle," Street Guy said.

  Sean raised his glass. "She already got me a job."

  "And I have a sugar daddy, so I can take my time." Jean gave Dan a peck on the cheek. I had to say that Dan was a nice looking man, for a fortysomething guy. Graying in a distinguished pattern and not too much of the forty guy gut.

  I looked at Barn and Bud. "I guess that means you two are our next victims." I raised my glass again. "Here’s to you all! Oh, and one last thing—since I just now got to meet Dan, I’d like to say thanks in person. And who was your contact? I’d like to send him a thank-you note." I used this tactic on purpose because Jean kept taking evasive action every time I’d asked her who I had to thank for my EA interview. So maybe being put on the spot . . .

  "Sorry, kid, but I promised not to reveal my source," Dan said.

  Shoot.

  "Never mind. I’ll get it from you later." I sat down.

  We chatted and laughed as we finished our meal.

  I even ribbed Roger, leaning in and whispering to him, "I suppose your picture is at the top of the wall of fame now?"

  "As high as she goes." He gave me a wink.

  When everyone had pushed their plates away, I asked, "Dessert anyone?"

  Head shakes all around.

  "Remember, it’s on me."

  Nothing, but a lot of funny looks being exchanged and a lot of clock watching. Hmmm . . . something was fishy here and it wasn’t just the chowder.

  Jean, who sat opposite me facing the entrance, had been glancing at her watch every few minutes. I was about to call her on it when she held her wrist out in front of her, pointedly examining her watch. "Oh, look at the time. We should be getting home."

  "It’s nine o’clock. Even old married people should be able to stay out later than that," I argued. Call it selfish, but I simply wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

  "Um, Dan’s flying out of town on business tomorrow. Early. And you know with the security precautions at the airport . . ."

  For the flash of an instant, Dan looked about to deny it, but Jean shot him an elbow and he prudently shut up. I frowned. What was going on here? Whatever it was, Jean had started a chain reaction.

  Julie and Sean began making excuses. Candy and Roger chimed in, saying they had to take Hank and Bud home and Roger had a ton of studying to do.

  Street Guy gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Always wanted to do that, Legs. Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got a gig. Friday night’s my work night."

  Cara and Barn wanted to catch a late movie.

  And so there I sat. "Oh come on, people! Stay awhile longer. Have dessert, please! At least wait for me to take care of the check."

  "I’m game for dessert."

  I knew that voice.

  I swiveled around in my chair. Ryne Garrett was right behind me, grinning and looking more delicious than chocolate in a crisp white cotton shirt and khakis. Belatedly, I smelled a setup and realized the reason for the clock watching.

  Jean grabbed her sweater and purse and came round to lean in and give me a hug, whispering in my ear, "Give him a chance, Lees. You wanted Dan’s contact. You got it. It’s him. He called me and made the offer of the EA contact all on his own. Dan was just a ruse. I’ll give you the details later." Then she gave me a firm squeeze around my shoulders, took Dan’s arm, and made a quick exit as the rest of my group began fading away.

  Sean leaned down on his way out to whisper, "I gifted him a certain drawing I made of you. Take advantage of it, babe."

  "What drawing?" Rattled by Ryne’s presence, I couldn’t think.

  Sean grinned and raised an eyebrow.

  Then I remembered a particular picture that Sean had dubbed "Leesa in Ecstasy."

  "Wait a minute! When did you do this gifting? How? By mail?"

  "Ciao." Sean laughed and walked off with my sister on his arm.

  I stared at Ryne, stunned by all the last-minute revelations. Not to mention his reappearance in my life.

  "May I?" He pointed toward a chair.

  "Suit yourself." Despite what he’d apparently done for me, I still hurt. And I wasn’t convinced he wasn’t a jerk.

  He sat.

  I played with crumbs on the table, and stared out the window at Puget Sound and a ferry making the crossing, anywhere but at Ryne, trying not to think how good he looked. Trying not to get my hopes up. Trying not to imagine what his crashing my party, with my so-called friends’ help, might mean. Silence followed. What was happening here?

  A busboy began clearing the table. When he left, Ryne spoke. "I owe you an apology."

  He tipped my chin up to stare me straight in the eye, which I have to admit made my heart beat off kilter. "You were right. I acted like a hypocrite when you came to me for help. But I’ve mended my selfish ways. Truce?"

  I frowned. My head was spinning. "What ways, specifically, are we talking about?"

  His selfish two-timing ways, or his selfish refusal-to-help-big-phony ways? I had to be clear.

  "All ways, I hope." He gave me a small, apologetic smile. "I was wrong to lead you on. It’s just . . . once I met you . . . Portia." He shook his head. "Once I met you, I knew Portia wasn’t right for me. I just didn’t have the guts to act on my knowledge."

  Not real clarifying. My turn to be gracious. "Jean tells me you’re my Engineering Associates contact. Thanks for referring me."

  "My pleasure."

  I frowned, puzzled. Completely unsure where this whole thing was headed. This time, I refused to make a stupid flirty fool out of myself. I played it straight and businesslike. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But I thought you had a policy about not using your business contacts to help others? And what in the world were you thinking saying I wanted out of engineering and recommending me for marketing?"

  He laughed. "One question at a time. First, I knew from the moment I met you in Starbucks that you aren’t an engineer, no matter what your degree’s in. You may be on the logical side of right-brained, but you’re a creative personality, not a logical."

  I wondered for a brief second if he’d conned my personality test results out of Jean. If not, he was sharp.

  "Secondly, there are exceptions to every rule. People to make exceptions for." He shot me a serious look and his voice went soft. "Sometimes it’s not just about helping enough people, but the right people. And then there was the little fact that you could blackmail me, threaten to expose my hypocrisy to the press." He flashed me a grin. He looked so sexy when he—

  Stop it, Lees. I reminded myself that he was taken, by Portia no less. Still, I smiled, just a little. I couldn’t help myself. "Thank you. You got me the job."

  He shook his head. "I got you the interview. You took it from there. All the praise in the world from me wouldn’t have persuaded Parker to hire you if he didn’t think you were the right person for the job."

  "That’s nice of you to say."

  "It’s the truth."

  I felt myself thaw toward him. I’d been wrong on this point before, but was he flirting? Or was this just business now? Just him showing me that the head of the Northwest Institute was a good guy after all so I wouldn’t go around bad-mouthing it? And what about Portia?

  "Parker said you really impressed him with your insights," Ryne said. He sounded genuine, like he really meant to flatter me, but . . .

  I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. It came out an unattractive snort. "Insightful," I managed. "Yes, very insightful." And then the dam broke, and I started laughing outright.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. It’s just . . . Oh, I shouldn’t tell you this, but they were his insights. All I did was parrot them back."

  "You did what?" He sounded astounded, but in an amused way.

  "And imitate his body posture. There. We’re even. But I warn you, if you tell Parker, I’ll blab about the hypocrisy bit and take your institute down."

  He laughed. "My lips are sealed. Using your NLP skills, were y
ou?" He grinned and pulled Mr. Smiley from his pocket, holding it out to me. "Recognize this?"

  I felt my face heat up with a blush as I reached for it. I thought I’d lost Mr. Smiley in Target. I tried to remain cool and teasing. "Treasuring a bandage I wore? Most people would have thrown this in the garbage."

  He grinned again. "Yeah, well, most people wouldn’t have recognized it for a cheat sheet, either." He paused. "I’ve never met a girl who was so interested in my work that she actually studied up on it and tried to use it back on me." His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. "Not even in grad school."

  I tried not to sink into my chair, or let my face give away the fact that it hadn’t been his work I was interested in. Still wasn’t, really. "Logic and reason may not be the only things in the world that make sense," I said. "Maybe there’s a place for intuition and other things."

  "Quite an admission," he said.

  I shrugged. "Well, thanks again for everything. It was good of you to come and sneaky of all my friends to set me up like this."

  "You wouldn’t have seen me otherwise."

  "You’re right." I smiled at him and, much as I hated to, said, "It’s Friday night, date night, and everyone else has dashed off. Time for you to head out and hook up with your girl, too." I looked down at the table and toyed with the water ring my glass had made.

  "Great. Then how about that dessert? I’m game if you are."

  I looked up at him. "What about—"

  "Portia? I thought everybody knew. Especially after Jake announced it on both Northwest PM and his morning radio show. I broke up with her."

  "Oh." Big pause where I finally realized what I was supposed to say, even if I wasn’t sincere and my heart was doing flip-flops of joy. "I’m sorry."

  He shrugged. "It was for the best. It’d been coming for a long time. I take it that you’re not a regular Northwest PM viewer, then?"

  "Not usually, no. Only if there’s something of interest on."

  He nodded and leaned in to whisper to me, so close I could smell his aftershave.

  "You look beautiful tonight, Leesa. Pink suits you. Don’t ever wear purple again. And those shoes . . ." His gaze slid down my legs.

  Oh, did I forget to mention it? For the occasion, I’d bought myself a skintight pink dress and a pair of killer pink heels. Little backless, strappy sandals with rhinestones, the next-best thing to the glamour girl pink slipper. A little overdressed for Coho’s? Maybe. But I had my vavavoom back! And a good thing, too!

  "Now, about dessert—here or at my place?" His voice was deep and sexy and full of implications.

  A dart of electric excitement flashed right through me. The pleasant kind, not the zapped-on-your-butt-by-a-short-circuit variety. But just as powerful. Was he asking what I thought he was? Just to be sure. "They have a seasonal blackberry cobbler here—"

  "But do they have ice wine and privacy?"

  I cocked my head and hesitated. I didn’t want her wine.

  "A brand-new bottle," he said as if reading my mind. "Purchased just this morning and currently cooling in a bucket on my deck, which has a great view of the Sound and the Olympic Mountains."

  I looked up at him from underneath lashes heavy with mascara. "Wine is all very good, but you can’t really dig into it with a fork, can you? Or sink your teeth into it." I shot him my sultry look. "What else are you offering?"

  He put one arm around my shoulder. He covered my hand with his hand and stroked it with his thumb, sitting so close to me I heard the cotton of his shirt rustle and felt his thigh touch mine.

  "I have the very finest vanilla ice cream available in Seattle, a jar of Dilettante hot fudge, and a can of whipped cream. I’d really like to talk things out and get to know you."

  "Let me just grab the check," I said.

  "It’s taken care of."

  Chapter 26

  Jobless days: 111

  September Unemployment Log

  Jobless days: 111 and coming to a screeching halt on Monday.

  Goals:

  1. Land a most excellent job. Met.

  2. Start a new relationship with a great guy. Check, met.

  3. Spend an hour each day exercising in pursuit of the perfect body and health. Done.

  4. Eat at least one ounce of chocolate per day.

  Chocolate sauce may be substituted given the right circumstances. After all, an ounce is an ounce is an ounce.

  Thoughts for the day:

  I’m a big enough person to admit it when I’m wrong. Dream sex is overrated, at least when compared to the caring company of a really great guy. One who’s creative and reads body language and emotions as well as Ryne does. And listens and is funny and warm. Not to mention hot!

  Ice wine is not overrated. It’s lovely and sweet just like Ryne. And it goes particularly well with ice cream.

  The drawing "Leesa in Ecstasy"? I felt like I had to explain about its creation. But Ryne, being a guy, found the situation amusing.

  The rest of our evening?

  Just like salaries, some things are personal.

  * * *

  I woke happy, to the smell of coffee perking, wearing a smile to rival Mr. Smiley’s. What a great evening I’d had with Ryne!

  I sat up. Stretched. Put on my robe, tried to minimize my euphoric look to avoid ribbing and inquisition, and wandered down to the kitchen. "Jules, pop a slice of toast in for me—"

  I started as the woman at the kitchen counter turned around. "Alice? What are you doing here?"

  She wore Dad’s robe and her hair was all tousled. So it was a fair bet she hadn’t been setting a good example for Julie and me. And she probably wasn’t swearing off men anymore, either.

  "Leesa!" She came over and gave me a hug. "I came over last night to keep Jack company and watch some old movies while you and Julie were out cavorting."

  Not a great choice of words, there.

  "Then it got late. You know how much I hate to drive in the dark, so I stayed over. Coffee?"

  "Sure." I recognized evasive action when I saw it. She wasn’t fooling me.

  She poured me a cup. "So how did your big dinner party go?"

  Oh, that’s right. How could she know about the Ryne part? Whew!

  "Great! Lots of fun."

  "Now that you have a job, are they kicking you out of the job group?"

  I laughed. "Roger’s letting me stay on as an alumni member. But everyone’s envious because I’ll have money, money, money coming in again!"

  "Speaking of money, I think you got a statement from the Employment Security Department in the mail. Jack stopped by the post office and picked it up for you yesterday. There’s an envelope from the Employment Security Department with your name on it by the phone."

  I frowned as I picked the envelope up and slit it open. My statements usually came on Wednesday. Huh. Well, if they wanted to pay me twice in a week . . .

  * * *

  Dear Leesa Winsome:

  We are conducting a random audit of applicants’ job search logs. Please submit yours, along with all supporting documentation to—

  * * *

  Uh-oh!

  What’s Next and Free Offer

  Thank you for reading

  Pink Slipper!

  I hope you enjoyed it.

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  If you enjoyed Pink Slipper, you’ll want to get A Wedding to Remember, the first installment of my new romantic comedy serial Switched at Marriage, right away! It’s FREE! What do you have to lose?

  Get it Here Now!


  Switched at Marriage—A Wedding to Remember

  First Installment of a new Romantic Comedy Serial

  * * *

  Welcome to the exciting and romantic world of

  the Jet City Billionaires…

  She always dreamed of a lavish wedding with a handsome groom. So how did she end up a married to a billionaire without a wedding at all?

  SWITCHED AFTER THE ALTAR…

  Kayla Lucas can't believe she's being divorced by a man she never married. That's some new kind of low. And certainly not by Justin Green, Seattle's youngest billionaire and the city’s most eligible nerd. Sure, Jus had a crush on her in college, but someone has to be pranking her—she hasn’t seen him in years. She's ready to play along until she walks into a meeting with Justin and his lawyer. Justin is much hotter than she remembers. And has proof he’s legally married to her. He has a proposal—stay his wife for a year and he's willing to pay. But how are they married? And just what will it cost her to accept?

  The Switched at Marriage Series

  Part 1—A Wedding to Remember

  Part 2—The Virgin Billionaire

  Part 3—To Have and To Hold

  Part 4—From This Day Forward

  Part 5—For Richer, For Richest

  Part 6—In Sickness and In Wealth

  Part 7—To Love and To Cherish

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Kayla

  I had a bad day. No, scrap that. I had a hideous weekend in Reno on business, followed by the crappiest rainy day Monday in the history of Seattle rainy day Mondays. Ever. And given our annual total of rainy days, that was saying something. A sad, sob in my double-shot espresso, drag myself to work after a weekend of trying to get over a bad breakup with Eric Monday. The kind of Monday that made me miss the comfort and stresses of college life. The ready availability of friends. And, most of all, easy access to rebound guys.