“Like I told you the first time you tried that pair onhalf an hour ago,yes, your legs look good,” he had groaned, lifting his head from his hands.
“You are such a drama queen, Ryan; it was not half an hour ago. It was, like, twenty minutes ago. And are yousurethese look good? You’re not just saying that?” I checked, pointing my toes at him. “Because if you think a chunkier heel might be more flattering—”
“Harper, you’re killing me,” he said, scrunching up his eyes, before opening them and letting out a long sigh. “Okay, if my honest opinion will help move this along faster, then here you go: those shoes look sexy. You have great legs. Okay? I mean it. Can we go now? Please?”
I grinned at him. “I’ll take them. But to be sure, I might try on—”
“Harper!”
“I’mkidding!” I laughed, before quickly paying for them at the till.
When we pull up to the grand entrance of The Langham hotel, there is the usual horde of paparazzi waiting for any celebrities to make an appearance. They look at us with interest as we step out of the car, but then quickly go back to chatting among themselves.
“Are you going to wait for your boyfriend?” Ryan asks as we pass through the magnificent columns of the hotel entrance and head through the door into reception.
“He’s already inside,” I reply. “He messaged me earlier.”
Ryan nods, gesturing for me to go first into the ballroom after we’ve had our names checked off the list. The room looks spectacular, twinkling pink and white lights all over the black drapes hanging across the ceiling and stunning displays of pink roses. The event is raising money for breast cancer research, and there are stands dotted around the room, filled with items that are being sold off at auction. A waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses approaches as we step into the room, and we both take one gratefully.
“A lot of glamorous people here,” Ryan observes, scanningthe sea of people mingling as a jazz band plays at the other end of the space.
“Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by this situation,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “The guy who has covered political scandals and given pep talks to Olympians with stage fright right before their record-breaking race.”
He looks pleased. “You read that piece.”
“Everyoneread that piece,” I point out. “It got picked up by every national paper. I’m surprised you didn’t get a book deal out of it.”
“Actually, I was offered a deal off the back of it,” he says, “but I turned it down.”
I look at him in surprise. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure how I’d write an entire book about a five-minute conversation. Also, I’m not even a sports journalist, so I’d have nothing interesting to say to that audience—I was really just in the right place at the right time. I was actually covering for someone. Pure luck.”
“But you obviously said the right things to him. That wasn’t luck, was it? That was… you.”
He gives me a strange look. “I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m still annoyed that you’re here.”
“How can you say that when I’ve just willingly accompanied you through a torturous shopping excursion?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m annoyed that Cosmo implied your presence here was more important than mine. He completely ignored me! What do you think he’s up to?”
He takes a sip of his champagne. “You think he’s up to something?”
“You don’t?”
“Not really. I think he can be clueless and ignorant, especially when it comes to your people skills. But he was right thatit’s handy having us both here to do some networking,” he says, gesturing to the room. “Not that we’ve spoken to one other person yet.”
“I just think it’s offensive that he doesn’t trust me to get the stories, despite me continuing to land them. He only trusts you, his best pal.”
“Please stop implying that Cosmo and I are in any way friends,” he pleads, wincing. “We really are not. He has similar journalistic interests to mine, so that’s probably why he’s a bit warmer to my ideas.”
“That, and you have a penis, which helps,” I mutter, just as he takes another drink. He splutters at my comment, so I give him a pat on the back as he coughs and collects himself.
“So, can you see your boyfriend anywhere?” Ryan asks, his eyes still watering.
I crane my neck over the crowd to check. “Nope, but he’s in here somewhere. Eager to meet him, are you?”
