loudly, and I almost cried as I lifted my limp arm and reached for the receiver.
“Go away.”
“Well, I like that. I called to say I heard about the Zumba thing. I told you that stuff was ridiculous. You need something fun, sexy, and private. Not a room full of shaking, wobbling, and sweating bodies.”
Attempting to raise my head from the cushion, I groaned.
“You don’t say. And I suppose you have the answer, Ness.”
I could almost hear her smug and satisfied smile through the line.
“Abso -freaking-lutely, I do! Be ready on Tuesday at five. Wear shorts.”
Fearing what she had in store for me, but deciding it was best not to argue, I agreed. After all, I’d lived through Zumba, so what could she possibly throw at me that was any worse than this? I may live to regret that question. Well, provided I make it through the next twenty-four hours without needing resuscitation.
Rolling over, I pulled the throw that was strewn across the back of the couch, over me and wrapped myself tightly in it before falling asleep. Maybe I’d be an inch smaller when I woke. Now I really was dreaming!
Chapter 8
Walking from the train station to the office on Monday, I groaned. I hadn’t even reached the main door yet, and my stomach was in knots. My brow was damp with sweat and my hands were clammy. I was going to have to face everyone some time, but the endless questions and glances over the shoulder were going to be torture. When getting dressed that morning, I’d been tempted to wear my running shoes just in case I needed to make a dash for freedom. It would be the most activity they had seen in a long time. Sitting in the back of my wardrobe, they were practically new.
As I approached the large double glass doors of R.J. Littman’s Record Company, I could feel my breakfast trying desperately to remain in my stomach. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, I pushed my way inside and prepared myself for the day. The main reception area was clean, quiet and painted a crisp white. A black and chrome desk was situated in the middle and sitting behind it was Jenny. Jenny had been the receptionist there for almost a year and was the epitome of cute. Her long, dark hair, brown eyes and perfect tan, made her the most attractive part of the team. No wonder she had been put in place as the welcome committee. She was only twenty-one, but Jenny had met and dazzled many of our biggest clients. Her perky personality and equally perky breasts were vital assets to the company.
Whipping off her headset and hurrying around from behind the desk, she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly.
“Oh, Charlene,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. My heart broke for you. I couldn’t sleep or eat knowing how awful you must have been feeling! You poor thing.”
Rolling my eyes, I mentally shook my head at her. I was the girl who’d been jilted by a cheating arsehole, and here she was, blubbering all over my neck!
“I’m fine. Honest,” I reassured her.
Her grip tightened. “What a jerk. I cannot believe he did that to you. You deserve so much better. Honestly, I don’t know anyone who deserves to be happy more than you do.”
Finally releasing me, she gave me a sympathetic look. There it was—that, ‘you poor, broken, and shelved old maid’ look. I should probably become accustomed to it, considering I would be seeing it a lot today.
“Thanks, Jenny. His loss right? Better I know about it all now, rather than once we were married.”
She nodded and offered me a small smile. I needed to get away from this. As tears began welling in her eyes, I looked around for an escape. Glancing at the clock, I gasped in feigned horror.
“Gosh! Is that the time? I better get upstairs. I’ve probably got a mountain of paperwork to sort through, and I’m sure Regina will want to get me up to speed on everything I’ve missed.”
Nodding, Jenny wiped at her heavily mascaraed eyes.
“Sure. We’ll do lunch? My
“Go away.”
“Well, I like that. I called to say I heard about the Zumba thing. I told you that stuff was ridiculous. You need something fun, sexy, and private. Not a room full of shaking, wobbling, and sweating bodies.”
Attempting to raise my head from the cushion, I groaned.
“You don’t say. And I suppose you have the answer, Ness.”
I could almost hear her smug and satisfied smile through the line.
“Abso -freaking-lutely, I do! Be ready on Tuesday at five. Wear shorts.”
Fearing what she had in store for me, but deciding it was best not to argue, I agreed. After all, I’d lived through Zumba, so what could she possibly throw at me that was any worse than this? I may live to regret that question. Well, provided I make it through the next twenty-four hours without needing resuscitation.
Rolling over, I pulled the throw that was strewn across the back of the couch, over me and wrapped myself tightly in it before falling asleep. Maybe I’d be an inch smaller when I woke. Now I really was dreaming!
Chapter 8
Walking from the train station to the office on Monday, I groaned. I hadn’t even reached the main door yet, and my stomach was in knots. My brow was damp with sweat and my hands were clammy. I was going to have to face everyone some time, but the endless questions and glances over the shoulder were going to be torture. When getting dressed that morning, I’d been tempted to wear my running shoes just in case I needed to make a dash for freedom. It would be the most activity they had seen in a long time. Sitting in the back of my wardrobe, they were practically new.
As I approached the large double glass doors of R.J. Littman’s Record Company, I could feel my breakfast trying desperately to remain in my stomach. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, I pushed my way inside and prepared myself for the day. The main reception area was clean, quiet and painted a crisp white. A black and chrome desk was situated in the middle and sitting behind it was Jenny. Jenny had been the receptionist there for almost a year and was the epitome of cute. Her long, dark hair, brown eyes and perfect tan, made her the most attractive part of the team. No wonder she had been put in place as the welcome committee. She was only twenty-one, but Jenny had met and dazzled many of our biggest clients. Her perky personality and equally perky breasts were vital assets to the company.
Whipping off her headset and hurrying around from behind the desk, she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly.
“Oh, Charlene,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. My heart broke for you. I couldn’t sleep or eat knowing how awful you must have been feeling! You poor thing.”
Rolling my eyes, I mentally shook my head at her. I was the girl who’d been jilted by a cheating arsehole, and here she was, blubbering all over my neck!
“I’m fine. Honest,” I reassured her.
Her grip tightened. “What a jerk. I cannot believe he did that to you. You deserve so much better. Honestly, I don’t know anyone who deserves to be happy more than you do.”
Finally releasing me, she gave me a sympathetic look. There it was—that, ‘you poor, broken, and shelved old maid’ look. I should probably become accustomed to it, considering I would be seeing it a lot today.
“Thanks, Jenny. His loss right? Better I know about it all now, rather than once we were married.”
She nodded and offered me a small smile. I needed to get away from this. As tears began welling in her eyes, I looked around for an escape. Glancing at the clock, I gasped in feigned horror.
“Gosh! Is that the time? I better get upstairs. I’ve probably got a mountain of paperwork to sort through, and I’m sure Regina will want to get me up to speed on everything I’ve missed.”
Nodding, Jenny wiped at her heavily mascaraed eyes.
“Sure. We’ll do lunch? My
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