“That’s right. Although, it wasn’t so much an interview as a preliminary chat with a recruitment agency. I’ve just finished my master’s.” Greer runs her finger down the side of her tall glass, collecting the gathering condensation. Fuck. I gulp my beer to clear my throat. “My last semester was an internship, which I was lucky enough to do in New York. I’m looking for a job now and thinking about starting my PhD.”
“PhD, huh?” I always knew she was smart. All the Carters are, with the possible exception of Benedict, and that’s a long story.
“I think I’ll have the chicken caesar salad, please,” she responds to the barman’s enquiry.
“Medium rare burger, thanks,” I haven’t even looked at the menu, but a guy down the bar is tucking into a burger, and it looks great.
“I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on your new job.” Greer smiles with genuine warmth. “Everyone is so proud of you. Especially Will. He’s been telling everyone his friend is creative director of the hottest agency in town.”
I feel a thump of pride. There was a time when nobody, including me, thought I’d ever amount to anything, yet here I am.
“Well, hopefully, we will be. That’s what they brought me in for. The London and New York experience got me the job. Now I have to prove myself.”
“We all have complete faith in you. I’m guessing you’ve got the whole five-year plan mapped out?”
I laugh at how right she is. I do have a five-year plan.
“Of course. It’s great to be creative director, but ultimately, I want my own agency. All I need to do is get a little local experience and exposure under my belt, make some connections, and find a suit I can work with.”
“A suit?”
“Yeah. Ahh, a suit is an account handler—someone who manages the business side of things. In an ideal world, you need good suits and good creative for a successful agency. I need to find one I can work well with, who sees things the way I do, and hopefully, we can set up an agency of our own.”
“Here’s to world domination, then.” Greer holds up her glass in a toast and laughs. And it’s husky and sexy and all kinds of right. I mean, wrong. It’s wrong.
“How are you liking the apartment they put you up in?” She takes a sip of her drink, and I have trouble taking my eyes off the plump lips on the side of her glass.
“It’s fine for the moment. Finding a place is on the to-do list. The problem is, I haven’t quite decided whether to rent or buy—or even where I want to live yet.” Thinking about it gives me a headache. Right now, there’s too much on my plate. Once the pitches we’re working on are done, I plan on making it a priority. “So, you’ve moved out on your own. That must have broken Harry’s heart.”
“He’ll get over it. Eventually. Although he and Mum use every opportunity to suggest I move home.”
That makes me laugh.
“I can imagine.”
“I used the money Granny left me to buy this great flat in a really old building in Kirribilli. It was in a pretty bad way, but I’ve been able to do it up how I want it, and it has a great feel—big rooms, high ceilings. Took a bit of convincing when Dad first saw it, and he wouldn’t let me move in until all the renovating was done. His excuse was it would be inconvenient, but I think he wanted to keep me at home as long as possible.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t chain you up in the basement.”
Greer laughs out loud. “If we had one, he would’ve tried.” She takes another sip of her drink and unwraps the serviette from her cutlery as her salad is put in front of her. “But I can match him for stubbornness. And I fell in love with the place. The ad saidharbour glimpses, and if you stand in the kitchen sink, you do actually get a glimpse of the harbour.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what you were doing standing in the kitchen sink.”
My burger is dropped in front of me with a definite thunk by the bartender, who only has eyes for Greer, and the conversation moves on to less personal topics. Travel. Skiing. Music. After a while, I lose track of the fact that this is Greer. My best friend’s little sister. A girl I’ve known since she was six years old. And by the time we’re leaving, I realise I’ve really enjoyed myself.
Lunch has felt like a combination between a date and a meal with a good friend. Which is weird in itself. Apart from at work, or the partners of friends, I don’t have many female friends. It’s not as if I don’t like women. I do. Typically, though, sex gets in the way pretty early, and it’s all downhill from there. And that can’t happen here. Under no circumstances can I give even a passing thought to hooking up with Greer Carter. I ignore those hits of electricity from earlier and focus on the feelings of friendship we managed to create. I can do this. I can be her friend. And nothing more.
“You look happy, Josh.” The comment from a senior copywriter interrupts my thoughts as I stroll back into the office. “I guess I would too if I’d just spent an hour with a woman who looked like that. Are you considering her for the haircare campaign?”
“What? No. No, she’s an old friend.” And maybe it comes out as a snap. It’s not okay to be caught daydreaming. Especially about Greer. Even if they can’t read my thoughts.
“Huh, wish I could find a friend like her,” one of the art directors pipes up.
“If she’sjusta friend, you’re doing something wrong, boss,” someone else calls out. I glare at the lot of them, who have apparently spent most of the preceding hour gossiping and speculating on who Greer is and exactly what we were doing.
“Okay, guys. My private life is off limits—got it?” And that was definitely a bark.
“Fifty says she’s more than afriendby the end of the month,” I hear seconds before I snap my office door shut behind me.
