He didn’t take his attention off Em. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”
“This ‘conversation’ is ended,” she yelled after him. Then she pointed at the assistant. “Not a word.”
Rushing out of the ladies room, she paced behind her desk, too wound up to sit down. Her nipples poked out from her shirt, and underneath her skirt she was on fire.
But Joe could do that to any woman. Like his old chum.
She felt a new stab of jealousy followed immediately by a feeling of inadequacy. She could never measure up to a woman like that.
Ben would never be with a woman like that. He’d be with someone like Em.
Ben didn’t make her feel like a goddess.
But Ben was safe.
Avoiding the urge to pluck the crumpled cutout of pseudo Joe from the trash, she picked up the phone and dialed the Greenhouse Café. “Ben,” she said when he answered the phone, “when did you want to go out?”
Chapter Twenty-three
“You’re glowing,” Sara said as Rosalind sat down to tea.
“Am I?” She smiled brilliantly, unwinding her scarf from her neck.
“You look deliriously happy.”
“Maybe.” She smiled at their waitress, who just brought them their usual order of Earl Grey and scones. “We should have champagne today, too.”
The waitress grinned at her. “Of course. I’ll bring it right out.”
“Champagne.” Sara uttered it as though it was a foreign concept. “Are we celebrating?”
“My best friend Bijou says champagne is a state of mind, not a special affair.” She shrugged. “I’ve never really understood what that meant, but it seems to fit the moment.”
The waitress set two flutes in front of them, next to their teacups. She raised hers and clinked it with Sara’s.
Sara closed her eyes at the first sip. “This is lovely, doubly so because today was horrid.”
“Tell me.”
“I had an unreasonable client who wanted the world, and wasn’t happy when I only offered him half of it. My friend, who works at the firm, is having a meltdown because of a man she refuses to admit she’s in love with, who also works at our firm.”
“And?”
Sara exhaled, wilting in her seat. “It’s my mum’s birthday today.”
“I’m sorry.” Rosalind reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
Her new friend shook her head, as though she were trying to shake off the tears. “It’s just fresh. I miss her so much. She was my best friend.”
“You’re so lucky you were close to your mother, even if it was for a short period of time.” Although, lately, she’d forged some sort of tentative relationship with her mother. It was strange, but lovely. It made her hope.
“I’m not going to be morose though.” Sara made an effort to smile. “I’m setting today behind me.”
“Good.” She patted her new friend’s hand. “Then you’ll be happy to know that I’m almost done designing your dress. You’re going to love it.”
“Oh.” Sara blinked.
Rosalind grinned. “You look like you forgot about it.”
“I—” The woman shook her head. “I just didn’t think it’d be so fast.”
“I got inspired.” Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and said, “Can I tell you something?”
Sara nodded, her eyes wide.
“Nick and I have been seeing each other.”
“I guess it’s been going well,” Sara said, sounding hesitant.
“Even better recently.” She thought about the way he fit. Not just sexually, although that was fairly fabulous. He simply understood her—was in sync with her. “It’s all so unexpected.”
Sara took a sip of her drink. “You aren’t rushing things, I hope.”
She laughed. After all the time she waited to have him, rushing was hardly a worry.
Then something else occurred to her. Frowning, she studied her new friend. The woman looked uncomfortable. Concerned. Maybe disapproving even, or was she imagining that? “You’re okay with me seeing Nick, right? I don’t want to step on your—”
“Oh, no.” Sara gaped. Then she shuddered. “Ew. Nick is like my brother. I’d never—ew!”
Rosalind laughed. “That’s a relief. I’d have hated it if I poached.”
“Take him with my blessings.” Sara made a shooing gesture with her hands. “I love him, but he’s impossible.”
Impossibly lovely. She smiled into her champagne, feeling a glow that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with love.