“Why?” I asked gently. “Is it because you don’t know him very well, or are you not sure how you feel about him?”
“No, I know him pretty well, and I’ve liked him for a while now.” Paige bit her lip.
A man’s face popped instantly into my head. I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s not ‘Poop Boy’, is it?”
Marissa laughed. “‘‘Poop Boy’? You crack me up.”
Without taking my eyes from Paige, I replied, “Yes. Will Jordan.”
I noticed Paige clasp her cup tightly. Bingo. I put my hand on her arm. “It is, isn’t it?”
Paige nodded. Marissa and I shared a look. We both knew about Paige’s crush on Will—hell, it was so well known it could be a recurring item in the company newsletter—but we’d never thought she’d act on it. Or that she would consider Will for her One Last First Date.
“Are you thinking of asking him out?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Her eyes darted between us. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Marissa shot me a concerned look. “He has that supermodel girlfriend, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but that won’t last forever.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She’s never here. She’s always off on some modeling job in a glamorous city. I mean, have either of you actually met her?”
We shook our heads.
“Well, no,” Marissa replied truthfully. She put her hand on Paige’s arm. “This is big. I mean, if you ask him out and he says yes, this is your One Last First Date.”
Paige swallowed. “I know.” She loaded her fork up with carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and took a bite. And then another. She looked lost in thought.
I raised my eyebrows. “He’ll need to dump Supermodel Chick before you go anywhere near him. And then there’s the fact we don’t know how he feels about you. Plus, he’s a bit of a jerk, always boasting about himself and things. Frankly, what you see in him is beyond me.”
Paige arced an eyebrow. “Finished with all the reasons why he can’t be my One Last First Date?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, realizing I’d taken things too far. “He’s very good-looking. You know, in that obvious, ‘look-at-me’ kind of manly way.” I hoped my offering would placate her.
Marissa laughed. “Us women hate those obviously good-looking guys, don’t we?”
Paige managed a smile. “Yeah, we prefer their good looks to be well hidden.”
“Look. All those things aside, if you like him and you’ve really thought this through, then ask him out. Right, Cassie?” Marissa looked at me.
I shrugged. “Sure. Of course.” I scooped some of my flourless raspberry chocolate cake into my mouth. Poor Paige, this can only end in tears—for her. “If he breaks up with the model.”
Paige beamed. “Thanks, guys.”
* * *
Back in the office, I sat at my desk, preparing for my next meeting with Nettco when my phone rang. It was Rottweiler slash Spoodle Brian, Laura’s apple-turnover-loving executive assistant.
“Laura would like to know if you could meet with her on the twelfth at ten.”
A rush of butterflies flapped around in my belly. “Yes, of course.” I tried to sound business-like and professional. With the excitement of what a meeting with Laura meant, I suspect I sounded more like I’d just taken a large breath of helium.
“It’s to interview for the position of Regional Manager, Sales,” Brian continued needlessly.
“Sure. Great. Thanks, Brian.” Gulp.
He hung up, and I sat for a moment, staring at the screen. This was really happening. I was about to interview for Regional Manager. Perhaps even get the job. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves.
My phone rang again, making me jump out of my seat.
“There’s something for you at reception,” Debbie, our receptionist, said.
“That’s weird. I’m not expecting anything.”
“You’ll want this,” Debbie replied elusively.
Intrigued, I walked through the office and out into reception. Will was leaning against the desk, chatting to Debbie. I ignored him. “Hi, Debbie. What have you got for me?”
She greeted me with a smile. “It looks like you have an admirer.” She leaned down to get whatever she had for me from behind her oversized desk. I tapped my fingers as I waited, staring at the picture behind the desk.
“Having a good day?” Will enquired.
“Yes, thank you.” I shot him a terse smile. He might be my temporary boss, but I didn’t have to like the guy.
Debbie resurfaced with a large gift basket, covered in cellophane, a pink bow tied at the top.
“What is that?” Will asked, quirking his eyebrows and smirking.
I took the basket eagerly and surveyed its contents. Sitting in the basket, holding a saxophone, a red heart-shaped balloon, and a bunch of flowers, was a smiling fluffy ginger cat stuffed toy with pretty green-blue eyes and long whiskers. My heart melted at the sight.
“So? Put us out of our suspense. Who’s it from?” Debbie asked eagerly.
“I bet I know,” Will responded.
I placed the cat on the desk, located the card, and opened it. A smile spread across my face as my heart contracted. For my Cassie. No longer a jazz “cat” virgin xx
I let out a contented sigh as I held the card to my chest, relishing Parker’s words. My Cassie. My Cassie.
Debbie was watching me. “Oh, it looks like someone’s got it bad. Right, Will?”
Will shook his head. “Date number two must have gone well.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t help but grin. Maybe my foot. Despite my embarrassing jazz faux pas—which, judging by the gift I’d just received, Parker found endearing—I was now “Parker’s Cassie.” Things couldn’t possibly be any better.
Debbie turned the gift basket around. Looking it over, she asked, “Why a cat? I mean, don’t most guys give teddy bears?”
I blushed. “No, that would be too generic. Something happened on our last date, that’s all.” I admired the cat, holding the saxophone. “This is perfect.”
Will gave me a sideways glance. “Something happened involving a cat?”
“Kind of.” There was no way I was going to let Will Jordan know how I had mixed up “scat” with “cat” at the club. Parker may have liked it, but I had my dignity to consider.
Not letting up, he said, “That sounds like a story. Doesn’t it, Deb?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “It sure does.”
They both looked at me with expectation.
Not wanting to go anywhere near what had actually happened, I collected my basket in my arms. “And not one I’m going to be sharing. Thank you, Debbie.”
I turned on my heel to leave, but that pesky Will followed me. “Come on, Dunny. Spill the beans.”
I bristled at the nickname. “It’s personal.” I picked up the pace.
He kept up with ease. “You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I stopped and turned to face him. He nearly ran into me, stopping in his tracks just in time.
“Look, Will. It’s between Parker and me, okay?” Now shut up!
He shrugged. “Sure.” His voice changed. “Are you serious about this guy?”
I stiffened. Why was Will Jordan asking me such a thing? Like my love life was any concern of his. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
He fingered the gift in my hands. “You might want to reconsider. I mean, any guy who gives you a stuffed toy has to be—” He trailed off.
I looked at him in expectation, my anger peaked. “What? A nice guy? Sweet, kind, thoughtful?”
“I was going to say about twelve years old.”
I pursed my lips. “Sure. Whatever. You can deride him all you like, but he’s wonderful.” And you’re not.
I turned and walked toward my desk.
“Hey, Dunny?”
My face tightened. I let out a puff of air before turning to
face him. The haven of my desk was only five feet away, damn him! I pasted on a smile. “What is it, Will?” I should have called him “Poop Boy”.
“How’s the Nettco contract coming?”
“It’s looking good, thank you. I’m hoping to present it to them within the week.”
“That’s great. Let me know if you need any more help.”
I took a long inhalation of breath. He was going to ride this I’m-the-one-to-get-Nettco-across-the-line wave for all it was worth. “Will do.”
He nodded at me. “Good. Well, I’ll let you settle your cat into its new home. Did he get you a litter box for it?” He laughed at his own joke.
“’Bye.” I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop to show I meant business.
Thankfully, he got the cue and sauntered back off toward his office. I pretended to type something until I saw him disappear behind his door. Once he was safely tucked away, I pulled the card out to read what Parker had written again. My Cassie. I ran my fingers over the handwriting. Was it his or the florist’s? It was neat, so probably not his—you know, the whole illegible doctor’s scrawl.
Within about two point three seconds, Marissa was at my desk. She patted the cat’s head. “From Parker, I assume?”
I grinned. “Yes. Look at what he wrote.” I handed her the card and studied her pretty face, waiting for her reaction.
“Aww!” She grinned at me. “Oh, Cassie. He’s the best. Making your mistake into something so cute?”
I nodded, my heart giving a squeeze. “I know. I’m so lucky.”
She shook her head. “You’re going to marry this guy.”
I bit my lip. My tummy did a flip-flop. “I am, aren’t I?”
And in that moment, I knew I was.
Chapter 8
I SAT IN MY car a few days later, clutching a contract firmly in my hand. I let out an excited squeal. They had signed! After all this time, after all the legal to-ing and fro-ing, I had managed to get Nettco to sign on the dotted line, giving us their business for the next three wonderful years. I stomped my feet on the floor as my heart pumped in my chest. Yes!
With this account won, I had now officially met my annual sales target. No, scratch that: I’d exceeded my annual sales target! I let out a deep long breath as the adrenaline rushed around my body. I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. I was in serious bonus territory now and had positioned myself very nicely indeed for my interview with Laura for the Regional Manager’s position.
I liked Cloud Nine. I was Parker’s Cassie, I’d signed the deal, and I’d made my targets. This had been a good week, a very, very good week.
I picked up my phone and pressed Parker’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up. I might be his Cassie, but this sort of news deserved more than to be told in a voicemail. I turned the car over and pulled out of the Nettco Head Office car park, happier than a kid at Christmas.
Once back in the office, I burst into Will’s office and slapped the contract down on his desk in front of him. He looked up at me, startled. Good.
He furrowed his brow. “What did that poor paper ever do to you, Dunny?”
“Nettco signed with us. For three years.” I beamed at him, triumphant. Even Will Jordan’s stupid nickname for me couldn’t put a dent in my euphoria today.
His face broke into a grin, his eyes dancing. “Really?”
I could barely contain my excitement. “Yes, really! They’ve agreed to all the terms and want us to roll ‘The Sheldon’ out as soon as possible.”
“That’s amazing!” He bolted out of his chair and around his desk. With his long legs, he was at my side in two seconds flat. He reached out to me. For a moment, I thought he was going to collect me up in a hug. Instead, he stopped short and patted me on the arm awkwardly. “Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. What, no “You couldn’t have done it without me”? Was Will Jordan’s famous arrogance slipping? I couldn’t help but beam at him. “Thanks.”
He brushed past me toward his door.
I watched him, puzzled. “Where are you going?”
“We need to ring the bell.”
Most sales organizations like to recognize a new big deal when it’s signed. For AGD that recognition came in the form of a large brass bell on the wall outside the Regional Manager’s office. Will grabbed a hold of the rope and gave the bell a loud ring, grabbing everyone’s attention.
When all eyes in the room were on him, Will announced in a loud voice, “Dunny . . . I mean, Cassie, just signed the Nettco Electricity deal!”
Everyone clapped, some even cheered. I grinned at the sea of faces, even giving them a little bow. I thoroughly enjoyed the moment.
Marissa came over to me and gave me a hug. “Awesome work, Cassie.”
I breathed in her perfume. “Thanks.” I grinned at her, my pride surging. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop smiling today.
After pats on the back and congratulations from my fellow salespeople, I sat back down at my desk. I picked up my phone and pressed Parker’s number again. This time, he picked up after a handful of rings.
“Hi, you.”
A smile spread across my face at the sound of his voice. “Hi.”
“How’s your day going?”
“Well.” I paused for dramatic effect. “I just signed—”
“Hold on a sec, will you, Cassie?”
I could make out a voice as he muffled the phone. I waited patiently. I knew he was a doctor. I knew he was busy. My news could wait.
“Sorry, Cassie. Look, I have to go. Call you later?”
Despite my rational brain telling me it wasn’t personal, I deflated like a punctured balloon. “Sure. That would be nice.” I hung up and sat stock still at my desk. I would get the chance to tell him later when he called back. And he would be thrilled for me. After all, I was his Cassie.
“Dunny.” I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice Will until he arrived at my desk. “We need to celebrate this win.” He turned to face the team. “Drinks are on me!”
The sales team erupted in cheers.
“Five o’clock at O’Dowd’s.” He looked back at me. “See you then,” he added with one of his cheeky winks
“Sure,” I replied, my balloon inflating once more. “And . . . err, thanks.”
Five o’clock rolled around, and the sales team arrived en masse at O’Dowd’s, the lively local Irish bar a stone’s throw away from the office. Even though technically Paige isn’t part of the team, it wouldn’t feel right not to have her there, so Paige, Marissa, and I stood with the assembled masses in the bar as Will made sure we all had a drink in hand.
“Attention, everyone!” Will raised his bottle of beer as heads turned his way. “I’d like to make a toast. To closing a big deal and showing us all how it’s done. Cassie Dunhill, known as Dunny to her closest friends.” There was a ripple of laughter among the team. “To Dunny!”
“To Dunny!” everyone echoed, raising their glasses and grinning in my direction.
I smiled and nodded back at them, all the while devising how I was going to murder Will Jordan for sharing that repulsive name with the team. “Thanks, everyone. You’re awesome!” I ensured my tone was bright and positive. “It’s always great to get a big win. And thanks to . . . err, Will for his help with it, too.” I knew I had to thank him, even if it riled me to do so. “Cheers back atcha!” I raised my glass of white wine to toast them all. My short-but-sweet speech over, the crowd returned to their conversations and I turned to Paige and Marissa. “I’ve got some other news.”
My phone vibrated in my suit jacket pocket. “Hold on.” I pulled it out and noticed it was Parker calling.
“You can’t do that to us!” Marissa complained.
“It’s Parker. Be right back.” I rushed out of the bar to the relative quiet of the city street outside.
“Where are you? It sounds rowdy.”
“I’m outside a bar. We’re celebrating m
y big win.”
“What did you win?”
“A big deal. I signed a contract with a customer today. It’s kind of a big deal.” I swelled with pride.
“That’s amazing. Well done.”
“Thanks.” My future husband, Mr. Supportive-Of-My-Career. I remembered what Paige had said about having Parker on my stomping ground, to show him I was more than a jazz virgin and girl who got barstools caught on my dress. “Hey, do you want to go to a Pilates class with me?”
“Pilates? Is that where you lie down on the ground and do lots of breathing?”
I laughed. His ignorance was both endearing and encouraging: I could totally shine in front of him at a class. “Sort of. It’s a bit harder than just that. I go quite often. There’s a class on Saturday morning at my studio in Herne Bay. We could go to it, and then grab some brunch afterward?”
“I’d love to but I have golf that day.”
My heart sank. I remembered he’d told me he played golf every Saturday morning and that he was a little obsessed with beating his friends. “Oh. No matter.”
“Actually, do you know what? I can skip golf this week. I can lie down and breathe in Herne Bay. Let’s do Pilates.”
My happiness threatened to brim over. “It’s a date.”
Back in the bar, I found Marissa and Paige in the same spot.
“So?” Paige asked, her face expectant.
“So, we’re going to my Pilates class on Saturday.”
“Perfect,” Paige proclaimed.
“And what was your other big news?” Marissa asked. “You really left us hanging there.”
I shrugged. “My future husband was calling.” There should be no need to explain further.
Marissa smiled, shaking her head.
Paige stomped her foot. “Tell us!”
With a surge of excitement, I shared the news of my pending interview for Regional Sales Manager with them. I’d played it close to my chest up until now, not wanting to jinx it in any way. But, with the way things were going in both my love life and work life, the Regional Manager’s job seemed totally within my reach.
One Last First Date Page 7
