“Yeah, I called around to her place this morning to see her. Anyway, there she was in her bathrobe, with two sets of breakfast dishes still on the counter and a definite just-been-had look about her.”
“Jesus,” mutters Josh.
In all my years practicing law, I have never seen anyone look guiltier. Interesting. Seems like Will hooking Josh up with Lulu won’t be happening. What I do anticipate happening is Will getting quite a shock in the not-too-distant future. I tune out the rest of their conversation, instead trying to identify the feeling knowing Josh won’t be interested in Lulu has caused. It feels almost like relief, which can’t be right. Unless it’s relief someone I consider a friend won’t be getting tangled up with such an annoying piece of work as Lulu MacLeod. That must be it.
Chapter Six
Lulu
Themirrorsinthislift are a godsend. I’m winging my way to the CPM offices on the fifteenth floor, this time weighed down with copies of my proposal document, ready to present my ideas to the partners. I put the folders on the floor and try to wrangle my hair into some semblance of tidy—business like is never going to happen—to no avail. This time I opted for a dress. Which had nothing to do with the prospect of seeing Nick the Tardy. Or perhaps today he will be Nick the Cranky. Or even Nick the Disapproving. You never quite know what you’re going to get with Nick Pierce.
But back to the dress. It’s a very sensible and corporate navy, which is not my usual style. Yes, it shows off my legs, which I work hard for—well, sort of; making time for exercise is a bit of a hit-and-miss affair for me—and my breasts which, luckily for me, I came by naturally, thanks to my gorgeous mother.
Gorgeous. Which brings me, again, to Nick the Tardy. Whether he is crisp and fresh in the early morning or slightly rumpled and shadowed in the late afternoon, he’s the sort of man who turns heads wherever he goes. I wish I had a free hand to slap my own wrist. Bad Lulu. Mustn’t think like that. However attractive he might be—and however many sex dreams I may or may not have had about him—it is abundantly clear he thinks of me as an irritation at best and a menace at worst.
All the partners are in the conference room except for Nick the (as it turns out) Absent.
“Nick, unfortunately, sends his apologies, Lulu. He was disappointed not to be here, but he had a client emergency.” Harry looks uncomfortable with the lie. He may even be blushing, but it’s hard to tell, what with his already ruddy complexion. I manage to hold in my snort of disbelief, but for some reason, my chest hollows out. Honestly, it’s a good thing Nick’s not here. He would only criticise. At least this gives me the opportunity to sell my ideas to the other partners without having to deal with his bluster. I’m glad he’s not here. So why do I feel so … deflated?
“What a shame, but I’m sure you’ll be able to catch him up.” I pin on a smile. “Shall we get started?”
The presentation goes brilliantly. All the partners are on board—even the oldest and stuffiest of them. I’ve managed to create a look that’s contemporary while at the same time being classic and giving a nod to the history of the firm. Kind of mid-century modern with a twist and a healthy dose of understated luxury. And as the cherry on top, I was able to incorporate a whole host of sustainability and recycling features so their office not only looks good but will help reduce their footprint, and, ultimately, save them money. Not to brag, but I think even Nick the Disapproving would like it. Maybe. Well, as much as he likes anything.
“That was brilliant.” Harry jumps from his seat, no small feat for a man of his size, clapping his hands, his face definitely more pink than usual and beaming with delight. “What do we think?” His gaze sweeps the partners. For a largely jovial man, he sure can bust out the evil eye when he wants to, but it doesn’t appear to be necessary. It looks like everyone is impressed.
“I love it.” Will is grinning from ear to ear.
For a few minutes, I get swept up in the general hubbub of congratulations until Harry calls everyone to order.
“Well, thank you so much again, Lulu. We’ll all take a look at this over the weekend. William will collate all the comments, and we’ll be back to you early next week with some feedback. How does that sound?”
The meeting breaks up, and Harry walks me to the lift.
While we wait, he takes a surreptitious look around as though he’s checking we won’t be overheard. “While I have you, I wanted to tell you how disappointed I am that Nick wasn’t here today.” Despite his jovial mood in the meeting, I can see Harry is royally pissed. “This is an important project for us, and I want to get it moving. Is there any chance you could get the proposal sent over to his apartment over the weekend so he can take a look at it?” Puppy-dog eyes are an endearing look on him.
“I don’t know, Harry. I’d rather talk him through it …” And the thought of spending alone time with Nick Pierce is simultaneously appealing and horrifying.
“It’s a big ask, I know, but perhaps you could call in to his place and run him through it real quick? Maybe this evening?” The pleading look he gives me is more than I can take.
“Fine. I have plans this evening, but I guess I could call in on my way out.”
“Marvellous. See my assistant, and she’ll give you Nick’s address. I do appreciate this, Lulu, and splendid work.” He takes off down the hall before I have time to change my mind.
If I had half a brain, I’d drop the presentation in an Uber and send it on its way. Being alone with Nick the Delicious seems like asking for trouble.
Armed with the address for Nick the Absent, I head home to get ready for my night out. Normally, I don’t go to too much trouble—I’m not one for hair, makeup and fancy clothes. But since I will be calling on Nick the Disapproving, I feel like I need to up my game and put on some armour, so to speak. And who knows, maybe he’ll do me a favour and not be home?
As I open my front door, my phone erupts with a familiar Face Time ringtone, and I scramble to fish it out of my bag.
“Da. You’re up early.” I got my mad hair from my dad, except mine is blonde like Mum’s and his is a dark gingery red. Right now, it’s sticking up at all angles from under a worn woolly hat, stubble now more silver than ginger covering his cheeks.
“Hello, my wee princess. I wanted to see how your big meeting went. How are ye? Ye look bonnie.”
“Oh, Da. It’s so good to hear from you. The meeting was a big success—they all loved it. I’m so excited to get started.” I drop my bag and the heavy portfolio I’ve been carrying on the coffee table and fall onto the plump cushions of my enormous sofa.
“Of course they loved it. You’re brilliant, hen. They’d be soft in theheidnot to love your work.” Whenever Dad spends more than a week or two in Scotland, his accent, usually nothing more than a gentle burr, comes roaring back, along with a liberal peppering of Scottish words.
This time he’s been in Scotland for almost two years, ever since my grandfather died. He’s now responsible for the house and estate he inherited, along with an eye-watering level of debt. He takes his responsibility for the estate very seriously, and although the National Trust has offered to take it off his hands many times, he refuses. Our family have been the lairds for hundreds of years, and he doesn’t want to be the one to walk away, which is odd considering he spent so many years in Australia. But then he was the younger son. When his older brother died unexpectedly, his attitude shifted. Now that I know he won’t be coming back to Australia any time soon—and that he will never live here again—I miss him like crazy.
