“Clearly,” I bit off.
“Evangeline, this is my business partner, Kate Jameson. Kate, this is Evangeline. These days she’s making waves in fashion journalism over at Blossom magazine. She’s going to write about our launch.”
The finer points of that information sailed right over my head as I bared my teeth in the closest approximation of a smile I could come to. It probably looked like that of a baboon going into threat mode. “Sounds great!”
“Now, Ash,” Evangeline said warningly, “I haven’t promised to write a thing yet.”
“Oh, like you could ever say no to me, Evie,” Asher teased, reaching out to stroke her hand.
Evangeline giggled like a starstruck fourteen-year-old. “Ash, you shouldn’t! That was our—” she lowered her voice like she thought I was a hard-of-hearing grandma or something—“couple name, remember?”
“How could I ever forget?” he murmured, meeting her eyes and seeming to lose himself there.
Pull it together, Kate, pull it together. It’s weird seeing Asher in full-flirt mode, yeah, but you knew he was like this. You just finished telling Lacey how he was exactly like this. Pull it together.
“Besides, looking at you takes me right back to those days,” Asher said, his thumb stroking over her wrist. “I’d swear you haven’t aged a minute since I bumped into you at Storkman’s Bar.”
I wanted to barf. I settled for sitting down at the table, since neither of them seemed about to invite me to do so. Neither of them noticed.
“Remember our first date there?” ‘Evie’ asked.
Asher smoldered like a forest fire. “I remember that night like it was yesterday.”
Gag me.
Evie’s lashes flutter. “I remember that night, too. And that morning.” She gave an elegant, cultured laugh. I could hate her all I wanted, but I had to admit that for all her hobo chic, Evangline was a polished professional. I looked down at my chipped nail polish and half-off-at-Macy’s business suit, and felt positively plebian by comparison.
A waiter came by to refresh their drinks, and asked me if I would like anything. I didn’t feel like I could order a Scotch in front of Evie at noon, even though I really needed one. I ordered a sparkling grapefruit juice instead, and contemplated the pros and cons of accidentally spilling it all over her dress.
It was a plan that became only more appealing as Asher scooted his chair closer to hers and began to compliment her on her leggings—a blatant excuse to stroke her thighs.
Just when I thought the top of my head would blow off like a volcano, he turned to me—though he didn’t stop touching Evie for a minute, and he was still talking to her: “I think Ms. Jameson’s designs will really tickle your fancy.”
Evangeline gave a fully, throaty laugh. “Well, you certainly do know the kinds of things that tickle me.”
Asher grinned. “Do I ever. Can you pass those over, Ms. Jameson?”
I was in hell. I had died, and gone straight to hell. I pasted a smile on my face like bad clip art and handed over my designs for her perusal.
As soon as she opened the file, she sat up straighter, seeming to forget Asher’s tone. Her amused smirk was replaced by a look of intense concentration as she flipped back and forth between pictures, mouthing words to herself that I couldn’t quite hear. I forced myself not to stare at her too much, forced myself not to grip the arms of my chair too tightly.
Why hadn’t Asher warned me that she’d be here? What if she didn’t like them? What if she told all the readers of her magazine that they were terrible? What if—
“Do you have any samples?” Evangeline asked, interrupting my train of nervous thought.
Shit, I didn’t. “Sorry, I don’t—”
“I have some right here,” Asher said, pulling out his briefcase and opening it on the table. He must have just visited the storefront—I could see the hand-embroidered black teddy and the blood orange merry widow I’d been working on that morning.
Despite everything I was feeling, I couldn’t help but feel a moment of pure appreciation for the fact that Asher had chosen the best of my current work, the ones I would have chosen myself to represent my business. He does understand you after all! a tiny traitorous part of my mind whispered.
After what seemed like at least a millennium if not more, Evangeline looked up, giving me a tight smile and her verdict: “This work is…it’s exceptional. These are utterly brilliant, and my bosses will definitely be interested. I can give you three paragraphs in Blossom’s “Designers to Watch” blog, maybe four or five if the shoemaker guy doesn’t get pictures of his samples to me by Wednesday.”