Love the One You're With (9 page)

She couldn't bring herself to answer, but simply raised her eyes to his, hoping like hell he didn't read the neediness there. Saw from the way his own eyes softened that he did.

Grace wasn't aware that he'd moved, and wasn't prepared for the light touch of his knuckle against her cheek. The gesture was as sweet as it was unexpected.

“This wasn't like other first dates,” he said, breaking the silence.

Her heart sank. “Oh,” she said, ignoring the stab of disappointment. Hating that he had to pity her.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “It was a hell of a lot better.”

A week later, Grace thought she was doing an admirable job of avoidance. So far she'd used a bobby pin to clean crumbs from her keyboard, organized her hard drive, and emailed her mother.

By ten o'clock she was almost done cleaning out her desk, and had only thought about Jake Malone twice.

Okay, maybe three times.

Ten at the absolute max.

But only for
Stiletto
purposes. Definitely.

“Why is there a bag of Skittles in my drawer?” Grace asked, staring down at the bright red bag of candy that she'd definitely never seen before.

Riley scooped the rest of her yogurt out of its carton before shooting the empty container across the room and missing the garbage can like she always did. Julie picked it up and placed it in the garbage can just like
she
always did.

Neither answered her question.

“Hello?”

“Must be Emma's,” Julie said, pretending fascination with the wristband of her watch.

“Emma Sinclair?”

Riley shook her head. “No, not the Emma that works here. Some other random Emma
must
have wandered in off the street and left this bag here.”

Grace waited patiently for Julie to stop hiding behind fake ignorance and for Riley to stop covering with lame sarcasm.

Julie caved first. “Emma um … kind of used your desk while you were out. Camille thought it would be easier for her to ramp on the vibe of our section if she hung out with Riley and me.”

“Oh, cool!”

Grace hated that she was jealous. For God's sake, it wasn't like it had been
personal
. It was a rational decision. But the thought of the never-ruffled Emma laughing and joking with her best friends while Grace had been in Florida licking her wounds and eating hot fudge straight
from the jar … 
eeesh
.

“When did she move out?” Grace asked.

“Cleaned out the day before you returned,” Riley said, turning back to her computer. “She must have forgotten the Skittles. They were sort of her comfort food. She ate them by the handful when she was editing.”

“Cool! That's awesome.”
Whoops
. She'd used
cool
twice in under thirty seconds. Which, since this wasn't 1995, meant that she was definitely
not
cool.

“Grace …,” Julie said slowly. “Do you not like Emma?”

Yup. They were on to her, all right.

“She seems nice,” she replied. “She's just sort of a constant reminder that I completely fell apart because of a boy. It's so … high school.”

Riley helped herself to the bag of Skittles in Grace's hand. “True. My senior year, I ended up with a C in trig because I was too busy mooning after Sam Compton.”

“Okay, two things,” Julie said. “First, you're terrible at math, so you would have gotten that C anyway. And second, you're
always
mooning after Sam Compton.”

Riley threw a yellow candy at Julie. “I'll grant you the first one; I hate numbers. But I am
not
mooning after Sam. Right, Grace?”

Grace fiddled with her earring. “Um …”

The truth was, nobody ever knew what was going on with Riley and Sam. The official version was that he was her older brother's best friend.

The unofficial version read more like the dictionary definition of “unfulfilled sexual tension.”

“Can we bring this back to me?” Grace asked, hoping to dodge a Riley tantrum. “Do you guys think I'm being unreasonable? About Emma, I mean?”

“Yes,” Julie said. “But I get it. None of us likes the thought of being usurped at
Stiletto
. I mean, let's not forget me and Kelli Kearns.”

Well.
That
put things in perspective. Kelli Kearns was a former intern who'd rather famously stolen Julie's story idea, slept with her boyfriend, and tried to ruin things with her and Mitchell.

She made Emma look like a saint.

“Good riddance to that one,” Riley muttered. “But Julie's right. Your wounds are just a
little fresh. Emma knows it's not personal.”

“I don't dislike her,” Grace grumbled. “She's just so … perfect.”

She didn't voice the thought that came immediately after. That no guy would have cheated on a woman like Emma Sinclair.

“Please. That's what people say about you,” Julie said, exasperated. “You and Emma are practically the same person. Cool, calm, classy …”

“Sarcastic … judgmental … a little prissy,” Riley added.

Grace's conscience pricked at her as she imagined Emma sitting out there alone in cubicle land. She ignored the guilt, but it only pricked harder.
Crap
. Finally, she stood, snatching the Skittles bag out of Riley's hand. “I'll be right back,” she grumbled.

She found Emma almost immediately, and her guilt doubled when she realized the poor woman was being treated to one of Oliver's slideshows.

The fashion editor fancied himself an up-and-coming photographer with a “riveting” knack for the everyday. The trouble was, there was rarely
anything
riveting about Oliver's day-to-day, which meant that getting a “first look” at his latest shoot involved blurry shots of taxis and “poignant” close-ups of skyscrapers.

Pretty much every New Yorker's Monday.

“Hey, Emma, you got a sec?”

Emma turned around, her eyes registering surprise for a split second before she gave a polite smile. “Sure, what's up?”

Oliver gave an annoyed huff before flouncing back to his desk.

“I believe this is yours?” Grace said, plopping the candy bag awkwardly onto Emma's desk.

“Ha, yeah. Sorry about that. I have so many of these, I don't even know when one's missing.”

“Yeah, I do the same with Hershey's Kisses. Or at least I used to before all of this set up residence.” She patted her increasingly pear-shaped hips.

Emma gave a polite smile. One that Grace recognized, because she had the same
May I help you?
expression in her own repertoire.

“Look,” Grace said nervously. “I saw the lineup for the next articles, and it looks like you're doing one on the resurgence of singles events?”

“Yup. Camille's idea, but I think it's a good one.”

Grace gave her friendliest smile, which felt a little bit stiff, but hey … she was trying. “Well, seems to me that fits under the Love and Relationships section.”

“Yeah …”

“So? Why aren't you sitting with us?”

“Sorry?”

“There are four desks in our office,” Grace forged on. “It'll be a little crowded, but if you don't mind the fact that Riley is always eating, and Julie reads through her articles out loud when she's writing her first draft … but of course, you know all that from when I was gone … Which is cool. I mean, thanks for covering for me …”

Uh-oh. Wimpy 1.0 was doing the talking.

Grace 2.0 stomped on babbling Grace 1.0's toe.
Shut up
.

“I'd like that,” Emma said, putting an end to Grace's rambling. “If you're sure you don't mind. I know you three have a pretty tight dynamic.”

It was true. The three of them had been, well … just the three of them forever. But she supposed even the best things could use a change once in a while.

“Of course I don't mind.”
Much
.

“Well … great. I'll start moving my stuff over later,” Emma said.

Loud, irritated clacking noises resumed from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Emma and Grace made eye contact as they both carefully avoided laughing. As usual, Oliver was showing his irritation in the most passive-aggressive way possible.

There was a reason nobody sat by him for long.

Grace was almost back to her office, feeling rather self-congratulatory about her maturity, when Camille's assistant flagged her down.

“Ms. Bishop wants to see you.”

Ugh.

Grace had a pretty good idea what Camille wanted to talk to her about—the very topic that Grace was trying so hard not to think about.

Stifling a sigh, she followed Mandy to her boss's office, fixing a smile on her face when Camille enthusiastically waved her in.

“Grace, how are things?”

“Good,” she said cautiously.

Camille was a good boss when she wasn't acting all crazy, but Grace and Camille had never had the easy rapport that Julie and Camille had, or even the butting-heads familiarity of Riley and Camille. Then again, Grace had never really given Camille a reason to seek her out. Grace's articles had always been the most tame of the Love and Relationships department, and she'd always turned them in on time.

Until now.

Because Grace's story was late.

“So, I know I owe you a draft,” Grace said, lowering herself into the chair across from Camille's messy desk.

Her boss ignored this. “Jake Malone's a doll, isn't he?”

A doll? No. He was more like … sex. Jake Malone was sex.

“He was nice,” Grace said casually.

Camille studied her closely before letting out a little groan. “Oh no.”

“Oh no what?”

Camille held up a small pile of papers. “Cassidy sent down Jake's first article for your joint series.”

Grace was pretty sure she deserved a gold medal just then, because somehow she managed not to lunge across the table and make a grab for the papers.

“He's written it already? Our first date was a week ago.” And why wasn't he struggling to write it the way she was?

“Perhaps you made an impression on him,” Camille said.

“Oh?”

Camille waggled a finger. “Uh-uh. No hints. Not until you write your own article. The purpose of all this is to see how good a read you have on this guy. And how good a read he has on you. A sneak peek would give you an unfair advantage.”

Grace leaned back in her chair and resisted the urge to beg.

“Okay … so you brought me in here to …?”

Her boss leaned forward, shaking Jake's article a little. “This guy is
good
, Grace. I wasn't on the date, obviously, but … it's like he knows you.” Camille lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. “He thinks you have a thing for him. Says he played you perfectly.”

Grace's eyes narrowed.
Did he now?
“I thought you weren't going to tell me what the article said.”

Camille hedged. “Well, I just thought you deserved fair warning. Just in case he's … that you
do
have a thing for him.”

“I don't,” Grace said.

She was pretty sure about that.

Then she remembered the way he'd held her wrist at the end. The way that their date had been better than other dates.

Right before she
thought
he was going to kiss her.

She'd been preparing for the feel of his lips on hers …

Instead she'd felt his lips against her ear, with one whispered word.
Gotcha
.

The last thing she'd seen was his very fine ass waltzing out of the bar door.

No, she most certainly did not have a
thing
for a player like Jake Malone.

“Okay, then,” Camille said cautiously. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that while this competition is meant to be all in good fun, losing would be—”

“We won't lose,” Grace interrupted.

Relief flashed across Camille's face. “So you have a plan?”

Grace stood, giving her boss a confident smile. “Of course I have a plan.”

Or at least she would.

Just as soon as she thought of one.

In the end, it was Emma who came up with the plan. A brilliant one.

Convincing Camille to go along with it had taken some work. And then of course, there'd been that necessary little chat with
Stiletto
's legal department …

But all the extra effort and equipment would be worth it when Grace saw the look on Jake's face.

Or even better, when Jake saw the expression on his
own
face.

“And you're sure the restaurant understands we need to be seated in the same section, and that Emma will need to have a clear shot of our table?”

“For the hundredth time, yes,” Riley said, rummaging through the papers on the work table Grace had commandeered from the art department. “What the hell are all these diagrams?”

“Just making sure everything's in order,” Grace said, protectively pulling the papers toward her.

“Just be glad I talked her out of a whistle,” Emma said from her perch at the head of the table. “She's about half a power trip away from insisting we call her Coach.”

Okay, so maybe Grace had gone a
tiny
bit overboard with the plans. But this was the most complicated thing she'd ever done for a story. They were talking about
videotaping
a date, for God's sake.

And then, of course, they'd had to buy the domain for a custom website, and figure out the polling situation …

But all of the logistics were finally in place. Except for the primary one.

“Have you called Jake yet?” Julie asked.

“Not yet,” Grace said, keeping her eyes on the paper. “I've been dodging his calls. Making him wait.”