I had no doubt about that.
Now I just had to prove it to her.
THREE
Juliette
The hours following the moment Bryce Gallagher, prime minister of one of the greatest nations on the planet, pressed his lips to mine ticked by at a torturous pace. I couldn't get him off my mind, and waiting until our “date” the following night felt like another form of hell. My stomach twisted, my knees were constantly weak just thinking of making conversation with him, and what the hell was I supposed to wear?
Would we be surrounded by security? Hounded by the press? I had no idea what to expect, and truth be told, the nerves got the better of me so many times I almost called to cancel. A rare strain of typhoid had knocked me out…but then, if I said that, I’d have to quit my job and start my entire life over. Just for the sake of avoiding one little date. And then I realized it would probably be short anyway because no way could I entertain Bryce Gallagher for more than five minutes, much less through an entire dinner.
So later the following afternoon, I dodged out of work early after not having seen Bryce once in all the hours since our kiss, and I headed home to plan what to wear. After angsting for an hour, I’d given up and texted Jordan half a dozen pictures of different dresses I was thinking of wearing.
She shot back instantly, asking about the occasion.
I gnawed on my bottom lip, knowing that even though she was my closest friend, it was too soon to spill the beans about this little tryst. So instead, I went with a generic, “Got a date.”
The phone rang immediately.
“Why didn’t you tell me you bailed early to get ready for a date? I would have come with you!”
I ran a finger along the deep V of one little black dress. “It’s no big deal. I don’t even think he likes me. More like a working dinner, I think.”
“So he works at Langevin Block?” She grew more excited.
I sighed. “No. Yes? Sort of.”
“What does ‘sort of’ mean? Don’t tell me you’re going out with that grungy elevator guy that was here the other day.”
I nearly choked on my tongue. “Nope, definitely not him.”
She giggled. “Well, I’ve never heard you talk about going on a date, and a girl can never be too cautious.”
“I’m fine. This guy is trustworthy.”
“Good. Now, I say go with the short white one. It will really get his attention,” Jordan piped up.
“Do you think that’s a bit slutty, though? More club, less fine dining?”
“Oh, this is a fine dining date tonight? Okay, well, in that case, go with the classic little black dress. Slimming in all the right places, and that deep V-neck will make your tits look great.”
I groaned again. “I’m not sure ‘Look at my tits!’ is really the message I want to send…”
“Don’t be such a prude. Those high necklines you wear are for the office only. Lighten up a little, Juliette.”
I slipped a finger across the lace-edged fabric. “Okay. I’ve worn it once since I got it three years ago.”
A date with the prime minister felt like as good a reason as ever to wear my fanciest dress.
“Good, now do you need me to come over and do your hair and makeup? You really should have told me. I could have planned and brought my case. But the cheap stuff you have will probably work too.”
“No, I’m okay. I’m not going too wild, just a little more eyeliner.”
“And a red lip! Don’t forget the red lips. It makes men want to kiss it off your lips.”
I laughed. “What if I don’t want him kissing me?”
“Seriously, it’s not the elevator guy, is it?”
“No!” I nearly snorted laughing. “I’m hanging up. I’ve got to meet him in an hour.”
“Only an hour? Oh my God, you’d better hurry. And take a picture! I want to see the finished product.”
“Jordan, I’m not a product—”
“Tonight, you are. Have fun, sweets.” The phone line was dead a moment later.
I tossed my phone down, shrugging out of the demure dress I’d worn to the office and slipping the short black one over my shoulders. I posed in front of the mirror, taking in my curvy form. My boobs did look amazing, Jordan wasn’t wrong about that, even if they were a little more exposed than I was used to. Still tasteful, though, I thought. I made a mental note to shove a scarf in my purse in case I got too uncomfortable or chilly.
My eyes traveled the length of the mirror down to the tips of my bare toes. I pulled a pair of the highest heels I owned from the shelf, over four inches and black glitter, and slipped them on. With the extra height and the curve of my leg, my ass stuck out a little more, but in a surprisingly good way. In a way that exaggerated my curves and gave me an extra boost of confidence.