The Best Part of Me by Jamie Hollins Page B

those pleated khakis.”
    â€œJesus, you have no shame,” Darcy said.
    â€œWhat? I appreciate men is all.”
    Darcy rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that Quinn couldn’t hear.
    â€œBut seriously, you guys, does this dress make my ass look big?” Lisbeth asked as she tried to look over her shoulder at her own butt. Quinn had to stop herself from scoffing at how self-absorbed Lisbeth was.
    â€œGood God, Lisbeth. That dress barely covers your ass.”
    Darcy and Lisbeth bickered back and forth as they all waited for Rory’s band to start. The sun was hovering over the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow into the amazing lobby space. Quinn squinted out the windows and watched amber and yellow play on the ripples of the water not more than two blocks away. She wasn’t sure if it was the Charles River or the Boston Harbor, but it was pretty, whatever it was.
    â€œThis building is super-fab and the view is killer, but whoever positioned this lobby should be drawn and quartered,” Darcy complained. “The sun is going to blind people for most of the year right at dusk. I know they wanted to take advantage of the view, but they could have positioned it slightly more to the south and avoided the eye-searing treatment.”
    Darcy raised her hand to block the glare as she surveyed the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quinn had learned earlier in the day that Darcy was an interior design student at Rhode Island School of Design in Providence.
    Quinn liked the curvy brunette a lot. Darcy was a great buffer between the overly enthusiastic Erin and the pampered and pretentious Lisbeth. She also cussed like a sailor and drank whiskey like it ran through her veins. How the three of these women had become friends was anyone’s guess.
    Their weekend had started off with shopping in Boston, and it’d given new meaning to “shop till you drop.” Quinn had never been big on shopping, especially for dresses. She much preferred pants and definitely would pick a pair of old cutoffs over a flowery skirt any day.
    After they’d all checked into their hotel that morning, the day of torturous shopping had begun and hadn’t stopped until Erin had pulled Quinn into every dressing room in downtown Boston, flinging dresses at her left and right.
    After much pleading from Erin and the help of a very insistent boutique owner, Quinn had finally agreed to a pair of black skinny pants that were formfitting and sat low on her hips paired with a sheer top that made Quinn break out in hives. It was all black and fit Quinn’s torso and chest like a second skin. From waist to breast, she was covered (barely) in a solid spandex material. A sheer black fabric extended up into a crew neck and short capped sleeves.
    It looked like a figure-skating outfit, for Christ’s sake.
    Quinn didn’t think she had the body for it, but when her breasts were smashed into the tight top, they were pushed into soft swells just above the solid spandex. Feeling practically naked, she’d insisted on getting a sweater to cover her shoulders. She was now giving serious thought to ditching the sweater because the temperature inside the sunny, people-packed foyer was way too hot to be comfortable.
    To finish the ensemble off, she wore a pair of four-inch heels that were bound to make her turn an ankle at some point during the evening. They were all black with a closed toe. In her wildest dreams, Quinn never would have imagined herself wearing such shoes. Maybe after she was done wearing them she could give them to a thrift shop that catered to strippers.
    After a thousand assurances from the rest of the girls that she didn’t look like a hooker, Quinn had agreed to leave their hotel room and go to the grand opening. The two glasses of red wine that she’d had while getting ready certainly hadn’t hurt.
    It was funny what a little makeup and sexy clothes could do for a girl’s