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I approach her and her large hazel eyes pop.

Her eyes scan me with unabashed humor. “Aerie Daniels, you said you were working today.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t look like you are.”

I roll my eyes.

“Next,” the girl calls from behind the counter.

We approach the register together. “Two salmon apple Fiji salads please,” Dahlia says.

“Oh, I think I’ll have the chicken Asian flatbread today,” I tell her.

She looks at me puzzled. “Sorry make that one salmon apple Fiji salad and one chicken Asian flatbread,” she tells the girl. We select our drinks and the clerk slides us a number.

Dahlia puts her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

I purse my lips together and scrunch my brows. “Yes, I feel fine. Why are you asking?”

She slings her arm around my shoulder. “Oh my friend, we have so much to talk about.”

She finds a table near a window and I point to the outdoor patio. “Let’s sit there today.”

“Okay now you’re worrying me. You’ve ordered the same salad for lunch since you started working at Sound Music and you never, I repeat never, want to eat outside. So spill it, now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to spill.”

We make our way outside and sit under the bright yellow sun. She sets the number stand on the table. “Don’t sit down yet,” she waves her finger at me as she takes a seat.

I look at her and try not to laugh. I already knew this was coming.

“Since when do you wear the clothes from the wrong side of your closet to work? If you’ve told me once, you’ve told me a million times,” and she air quotes, “‘My work clothes are on the left and my play clothes are on the right.’ And, Aerie, I know that purple suede dress is from the right side.”

I laugh. “I told you I’m meeting the woman who is going to share the managerial title of the magazine with me today.”

A cute boy brings our food and I sit down with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and push her bottle of water her way.

“I’m not done.” She grins, tucking her hair behind her ears.

I unroll my silverware. “Please continue. This is very entertaining.”

“Oh, I plan to. You’re wearing snakeskin sandals to work and not pumps, you have on your grandmother’s jewelry that you only ever wear on the weekends, and did I mention—you’re wearing snakeskin sandals to work?”

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” I push my foot to the side to admire my shoes again. She’s right. I have two sides to my closet and honestly I hardly ever wear anything from the play side to work.

“Might your clothing choices have anything to do with a certain guy who happens to be living at my house?”

“Oh, Dahlia, I wouldn’t pull out the violet card for River,” I say pointing to my dress. Then with a shrug I add, “It just might.”

Since Jagger is coming over tonight and I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to change before he arrives—I decided to select my clothes for tonight this morning.

“I want to hear all about it,” she says stabbing her fork into the salmon lying on top of a bed of fresh greens.

We eat our food as I fill her in on what’s been going on with Jagger and me.

“I like him. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever gone out with.”

“Like how?” she asks fondly.

“Not like Zane,” I joke.

She almost spits her water out and her eyes dance with hysteria. “God, I hope so. I mean, Aerie, the fact that you could tell me you liked his ceiling fans told me he wasn’t the one for you.”

“To his defense, they were really funky. Twin fans turned sideways and connected by an industrial sized rod.”

We clear our area and deposit our trash in the can near the door. She pulls me in for a hug. “Just have fun with him.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Aerie, you forget how well I know you. You look for a guy’s flaws before he even asks you out and find them before you finish your date.”

“I’ll have you know, we’ve gone out on one date and I’m seeing him again tonight and still haven’t found a reason not to date him.”

She smiles. “Well, that’s progress. And I’m proud of you that the ex-girlfriend thing didn’t bother you.”

I look at her and there must be confusion and jealousy written all across my face.

“Jules, his ex . . .”

“Oh, Dahlia, you know how much I despise talking about other women,” I say before she has a chance to say any more.

As we walk back to my office, Dahlia talks about a new band she and River are signing, but my mind is trying to recreate the conversation Jagger and I had about his ex. He never mentioned her name. Should I have asked him more questions about her? We arrive at my office building quickly and I realize it’s late. I have to get back to my office—and besides, jealousy is never a becoming quality.

“So what do you think? You’ll interview them?” Dahlia asks.

“Yes, sure. Of course. What was their name again?”

She laughs and puts her hands on her hips. “Aerie Daniels, you weren’t even listening to me. It’s Look Again.”

“Look Again. Yes. Okay, I’ll get in touch with them and see what we can work out.”

We part ways with a giant hug, and when I enter my office, I find a note on my desk. It reads, “I stopped by to introduce you to Ms. Hudson but you were out to lunch. We are out of the office the rest of the day. I arranged a meeting with your secretary for eight a.m. tomorrow morning. Please plan to be there. ~Damon.”

I stare at the note. The penmanship is exquisite, but the man rubs me the wrong way. Something about him irks me, but I can’t pinpoint it. I feel bad that I missed meeting Kimberly though and look forward to meeting her in the morning. I twirl around in my chair and stare at my sandals again before I settle at my desk to read through the copy for this month’s columns. I manage to get through half of them when my phone beeps. I pull it out and see a text from Jagger.

Just making sure we’re still on? Should I bring Indian or Mexican?

I’m actually going to be able to leave work early. So I was wondering if you’d like to pick me up and go out instead?

Time seems to stand still as I wait for his reply. Staring at the screen, I smile when my phone rings.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hi, Alice.” His voice is low, but deep and I feel that now familiar flip in my stomach. “I had to call to make sure I was reading my screen correctly. I can pick you up? Like a real date? You know that means you have to ride in my car?”

“Yes, you can pick me up and yes, I know I’ll be riding in your car,” I say. Then I add, “Do I have to wear a crash helmet?”

He chuckles. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I like his laugh. “See you then,” I say, glancing at my watch thinking three hours seems like forever away.

* * *

When the doorbell rings, my heart practically storms out of my chest. I stop in front of the antique hall table to glance in the mirror one last time. I smile when I see the bottle of bourbon I brought back for him. I quickly flatten any flyaway pieces of hair, which I have fastened loosely behind my neck, and take a deep breath. I had left work shortly after my phone conversation with Jagger and headed home. Even though I had selected what I thought was the perfect outfit for this evening, I began to rethink my choice. I thought about Dahlia’s natural style and how I think she always looks sexy without even trying. And on a whim, I decided I wanted to look sexy as well, not professional, not uppity, but simply sexy.

So I called Dahlia as I pulled into the mall and asked for her help. I walked through the store describing the clothes and sent her a few photos. Within twenty minutes she had helped me select a pair of tight, ankle-length black skinny jeans and a slightly oversized shimmery gold blouse with a deep neckline. I know that if I bend down my red lace bra will be on full display. I added my own leather jacket and red studded high-heeled pumps to finish off the look.