Out of Her Comfort Zone(5)

Had she left the coffee brewing last night? Impossible with the new pod machines. The lights on? No, she coded in the dark, to help her concentrate.

Had she crashed the system again? No, she could hear the clickity-clack of keyboards. But she also caught surreptitious glances as she passed. Nobody seemed able to focus this morning.

When she reached Josh leaning in his chair in the back corner, dark with black bookshelves behind him and his desk light off, she didn’t even say good morning.

“What’s up?”

“The ten o’clock scholar.”

“That’s not it. Spill. Is it the patent suit?”

“No news there, sad to say.” Her business partner rolled to his large feet, a grin nearly splitting his dark beard. How his Ginny even kissed that thicket of face-curls Emily couldn’t fathom.

“Found something in the paper, though.” He stepped past her to a large white poster board, the brightest thing in his corner. He flipped it around and Emily had to take a step back.

It was a blow-up of a photo of her, with Elliot, at the NoMa cafe. It must have been taken through the window. Her head was as big as life. Panic shot through her sinews – Elliot was going to freak. But almost as soon as she felt it, it was gone, replaced by the joy she saw in her paper image.

Elliot was kissing her hand. Her eyes were closed, her lips soft as if she were melting a perfect piece of chocolate in her mouth. It was a beautiful moment, even if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world.

There was no way Elliot could object to this. Sure, it was a gross invasion of privacy, but she’d seen many, many photos of lovers, and weddings, and all. And this, this was beautiful.

“You had this done this morning?”

“Ordered it last night, when the tabloid put it online. Ginny saw it first. And happened to notice something odd, though.” Josh pointed at her hand in the photo. “A new piece of jewelry? On the hand you write with?”

“Yes, it’s an engagement ring, whatever.” She couldn’t help the grin, and apparently Josh couldn’t help matching it.

The sounds of whoops and cheers rolled over her. She turned around to see all her people, her team, clapping and smiling. Josh punched her shoulder lightly. “Give them the Queen’s wave. You need the practice. You’re going to be royalty now.”

“I’m not.”

“The richest guy in the city last year.”

“Actually, Elliot told me I made more than him last year, because our app sale was recorded in December.”

“But he still has that diva of a mom.”

And wasn’t she a stickler. “Right. Make sure I stop working at four today, wouldja?”

“You’re only going to give yourself a half-hour to get ready for the biggest social event of the season? You should go home at two and primp it right.”

“Can’t. Gotta fix that scroll bug we found. Beta’s coming.”

“So’s Christmas. Yeah, don’t take my advice. I’m only the marketing and social guru, whatever.” But his pat on the back was friendly.

Emily couldn’t believe he’d done this all. “Thanks, Josh.”

“Least I could do. Elliot brought us together, didn’t he? And once the poor guy fell for you, he couldn’t even profit from it.” Because he’d wanted to date Emily, Elliot had had to recuse his firm from doing financial deals with hers. She’d tripled the investment of another VC firm instead.

He squeezed her shoulder. “But then, he got the better of the deal, after all, didn’t he now.”

****

In a stroke of luck, Emily’s gown for the opera gala was ruby red velvet. Elliott liked shoulders bare, but Em couldn’t bear the idea of nip-slip, so the bustier was as secure as she could stand. She’d dusted her shoulders with a little sparkle and carried the sheer wrap Elliott bought her when they were in Hong Kong. Such a beautiful safety blanket.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she saw the Elliott-mobile, black and sleek, already waiting at the curb. The War Memorial Opera House wasn’t even a mile away, but they had to make an entrance. He pushed the door open from the inside and stepped out to let her in. He’d need to be the first one out on the sidewalk when they arrived. The press photographers usually ate him up quickly, and by the time Emily was out and on her way the media horde was on its way to the next victim.

But it would be different now, he’d told her on the phone this afternoon. They had to show as a team, whether they liked it or not.

“Shooting us at the coffee shop? Invasive bastards,” he’d said. “They’re forcing our hand.”

“I’ll always remember how you proposed, and how I felt. But I only saw it from inside. Now I see how beautiful it looked outside, too. I’m glad they took it.”