Ready or Not (16 page)

Mallory’s thoughts lingered on that last part, as the anticipation of more alone time with Hope washed over her. She was behaving recklessly. She knew that much, but maybe it was time for her to let her hair down a little. Take a walk on the fun side of the street for a change. She’d put in years of being the together, responsible one in any given circumstance, and for once, she was planning to do something just because she wanted to.

“So I was thinking I might go dress shopping later this week,” Brooklyn said. “And I thought I’d see if any of you wanted to come. I mean, you don’t have to, by any means.”

Samantha raised her hand. “Um, have you met me? There’s a dress out there that says Brooklyn, and it’s my mission in life to find it.”

“I
have
met you,” Brooklyn said, smiling. “Which is why I’d hoped you’d want to come.”

“I’m in too,” Hunter said as she strolled to the kitchen for more coffee. “I can’t have you picking the wrong dress. Would be lame.”

“Of course we’re coming,” Mallory said. “This is important.”

Brooklyn nodded a happy smile, full from the sentiment. “You guys are the best.”

“Objectively,” Mallory said. “Now before you get wrapped up in Savvy-land, I have two photographers I want you to take a look at. They both seem right up your alley, style-wise. Once you make the call, I’ll book one. Are you sure Jessica doesn’t want to weigh in?”

“She wants to weigh in on any and all music. Apparently, ‘Funkytown’ is not to be played.”

Mallory laughed. “I’ll make her my official music consultant then. And we should probably start talking colors tomorrow. So maybe have a discussion tonight.”

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Brooklyn asked.

“It really is,” Samantha said, matching her smile. “I keep getting little goose bumps just thinking about it. Have you told your family?” Brooklyn had been in contact with her birth parents for only the past year, and including them in such a major life event would be a big step.

Brooklyn nodded. “I told them last night. Aaron…” She held up one finger. “Sorry.
My dad
is going to walk me down the aisle.” Her eyes filled with tears then. “Now that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

Mallory’s heart clenched at the sentiment. “But how awesome that you can now.”

Brooklyn wiped the tears from her cheeks and laughed in spite of them. “I’ve been very lucky this past year. It’s true.”

“Who’s lucky?” Ashton, their teenaged intern, asked from the doorway.

“That would be you,” Samantha said brightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Because I have a huge stack of things to be filed, and I know how much you adore filing.”

“It’s my favorite in all of life,” Ashton said extra cheerfully and pulled the remaining headphone from her ear. “It’s right up there with Justin Bieber and watching haircuts. But I do happen to rock at it. Filing wizard should be my new title.” When they’d taken on Jessica’s sixteen-year-old neighbor as an intern, Mallory wasn’t sure how the new presence would affect their vibe. But Ashton had turned out to be just as smart and witty as Brooklyn had promised and made an excellent contribution to the Savvy team. She came from money, much like Mallory herself, and didn’t have to work. She
chose
to, and that earned her major points with Mallory. This kid would go far.

“Hey, don’t you have a volleyball game tonight?” Sam asked.

“Seven thirty,” Ashton said. “We’re playing the reigning champs from last season, who we totally hate, so I obviously plan to slaughter them.”

“We’ll be there,” Brooklyn said, referencing Jessica and herself. “You guys want to come?”

Once Samantha and Hunter eagerly accepted the invitation, all eyes were on her. “Actually,” Mallory said cautiously, “I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight.”

“You work more than anyone on the planet,” Hunter pointed out. “Do you want to be a workaholic? You need some downtime. You’re coming.”

“Yep,” Samantha said, turning back to her desk. “We’ll be at your door at six forty-five.”

“Listen, you guys, I’d love to. I would. And I plan to catch one of your games really soon, Ashton, but it can’t be tonight.”

“Why? You have a hot date?” Brooklyn asked in teasing mode, then went super serious as she regarded Mallory. “Oh my God, you
do.
”

“She does?” Sam asked, whirling back around.

Mallory held up a hand to stop the calamity. “I told you guys we’re going to do some work for Showplace, and I’m simply meeting with Hope to talk over some details.”

“You mean the details of her clothes and how you plan to get them off?” Hunter asked slyly with a twinkle in her eyes.

Mallory’s mouth fell open. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

Hunter held her hands palms up. “Hey, I just call them as I see them. A rare nighttime client meeting with a woman you have a habit of locking lips with is highly suspect.”

Brooklyn nodded. “It is. It paints quite a picture.”

“Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt, you guys,” Sam said. “Mallory, where are you guys meeting?”

“My apartment.” Mallory sighed. She totally deserved the instant laughter that followed.

*

In the elevator to Mallory’s apartment that night, Hope did what she could to put herself in some kind of order. She’d taken the night off but had already worked a good eight hours at Showplace to make sure everything ran smoothly in her absence—which hadn’t exactly left time to prep for…what was this exactly? Another non-date under the guise of a business meeting with the undertones of possible sex playing prominently beneath the surface? She shook her head at the combination. One thing was for sure; no one could ever accuse Mallory Spencer of simplicity.

She took a deep breath before knocking, gave her hair the smallest tousle for good measure, and then shook her head at herself for the effort. In just a few seconds, the door opened and Mallory smiled at her in greeting.

Only it wasn’t the Mallory she was used to.

At all.

This Mallory had on what looked to be soft, worn-in jeans, a baby-blue T-shirt, and no shoes, as in barefoot. Hope had seen Mallory in high-powered business attire with the heels and the suit. She liked that look a lot. She’d also seen her out with her friends for the night in a flashy-casual ensemble, which was another favorite. But this Mallory, the at-home version, was a sight she wasn’t at all prepared for, and it had a definite effect on her.

“Hey, you,” Mallory said, stepping back and holding the door open. “Come in.” Except Hope didn’t move because her brain hadn’t yet transitioned from the unexpected and kinda hot visual. Mallory inclined her head to the side. “You all right?”

Hope gave herself an internal shake. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Completely. Why do you ask?”

Mallory paused and studied her. “Because you’re still in my hallway.”

Oh, right.
That
. “Coming in now,” Hope said and made her way into Mallory’s apartment, which turned out to be just as put together as she was. The high ceilings with industrial beams across the top made the open living room / kitchen combination appear much larger than it already was. On top of that, the loft looked like it had stepped out of one of those design shows on television. Long, straight lavender curtains that seemed to go on for days hung from the two picture windows at the back of the loft. A wall-mounted television surrounded by soft, gray furniture held court in the center of the room. She took in the couch with its high, sculpted back.

“What?” Mallory asked, as Hope walked around it.

“This sofa is very…
you
,” she said, settling on a word.

The description seemed to intrigue Mallory, who slid onto one of the barstools along the kitchen counter, one bare foot on its footrest. “You think so, huh? In what way?”

“The sculpted back and arms communicate a regal quality. You do that too.”

“Okay. I can accept that.”

“And the gray is conservative, also like you.”

“You think I’m conservative?” Mallory asked, dubious.

“I
know
you’re conservative,” Hope countered with a grin. Mallory shrugged in halfhearted acceptance. “That bothers you?”

“It doesn’t bother me. I am conservative and should probably own that. I’m just not sure it’s something I love about myself.” Mallory rounded the island and opened the oven door. While Hope wanted to continue that line of conversation because her interest was piqued, Mallory’s actions had just sent the most wonderful aroma wafting through the apartment. “I didn’t know if you’d be hungry,” Mallory said over her shoulder. “But I made nachos just in case.”

“I’m sorry. You made
nachos
?” Hope asked, slipping onto a barstool across the island from Mallory. “You realize that’s completely contrary to what I would imagine you’d cook for a client.”

Mallory straightened and eyed her, enjoying the exchange. “And what would you imagine I’d make?”

“Chateaubriand?”

Mallory tossed the pot holder at her, pulling a laugh from Hope. “I’m beginning to think I’m some sort of cartoon character to you. Straitlaced and uptight.”

“You’re saying you don’t sleep with your briefcase on the pillow next to you?” The innocent look Hope passed Mallory only earned her the second pot holder.

“Surprisingly, I do not,” Mallory said proudly. “And I happen to love nachos with lots and lots of cheese. Which means apparently you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“I want to though.” At the comment, the smile faded from Mallory’s face and their eyes locked for a moment.

“I should rescue the nachos,” she said absently and pulled her eyes away. For whatever reason, the exchange sent Mallory into action as she busied herself securing plates, napkins, and forks for them. Hope watched her, entranced by the way Mallory’s thick, dark hair swished across her back as she moved, how those jeans seemed to hug her subtle curves, and the fact that the V of her neckline showed a touch of olive skin, but not nearly enough. While Hope wasn’t someone who’d bedded a million women, she had been around the block in her younger days. But God, this woman got to her with an intensity she wasn’t at all used to.

“For our dining pleasure,” Mallory said and placed a tray on the island full of hot tortilla chips covered in gooey cheese, diced tomatoes, and topped with a touch of sour cream.

Hope stared at the plate of amazing food and her stomach growled on cue. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d like to thank the universe and dairy farmers everywhere.”

Mallory’s mouth fell open. “You can start by thanking me, the big-hearted person who made them for you. My friends call them Nacho-Porn.”

“Because they’re sinful?”

“Something like that.”

“Mallory,” Hope said sincerely.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for my Nacho-Porn,” Hope said, smiling.

Mallory laughed and shook her head. “You’re welcome.” She poured two glasses of white wine and then paused. “Wait. You do like wine, don’t you? I should have checked.”

“It would be kind of criminal not to.”

Mallory nodded. “I’m glad you get that, but I also suspect it’s not your drink of choice. You don’t strike me as a wine girl.”

“You’re analyzing me right now, aren’t you?”

“A little bit,” Mallory said, setting a glass of wine in front of Hope and taking a sip of the one in her hand. “Now answer the question.”

“Wine is sexy and relaxing, and I love it on that level. But for me, it’s hard to beat a good Scotch. However, if we’re talking frequency of consumption, I like to mix it up, pardon the pun. Try different drinks each night. Lately, I’ve been on a bit of a sidecar kick. If you can get the syrup just right, those things are like candy. I have to be careful, especially when I’m working.”

Mallory grabbed a stool and pulled it around the island so she sat across from Hope, who snagged a nacho. “You’re really knowledgeable about drinks, you know that?”

Hope lifted a shoulder, seemingly amused. “I do know that. But it happens to be my job.”

“It’s still impressive.”

“You know what’s impressive? This cheese. It’s amazing,” she managed, sinking into its wonder. They served nachos at Showplace, but they were nothing like this. Really, no nachos were.

“It’s because of the secret mixture.”

Oh, now Hope was intrigued. “You have a secret mixture of nacho cheese?”

“I do,” Mallory said proudly. “It’s one of my bigger accomplishments in life.”

Hope sipped her wine and studied Mallory over her glass. “And are you willing to share this secret?”

Mallory shrugged. “Depends on what you’re willing to give me in return.” Hope raised an eyebrow and Mallory laughed. “I meant a
cocktail recipe
.”

“If you say so. And of course. I’ll make you the best drink of your life and then show you how. Now, put out.”

Mallory nodded. “You have a deal. It’s a mixture of sharp cheddar, Monterey jack, and here’s the kicker. Are you ready? It’s kind of major that I’m sharing this. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Hit me.”

“Fontina. Boom.” Mallory made a firework gesture with her hand and sat back as if her work there was done.

Hope laughed because it was adorable. “I should write that down. And you should do that firework thing again sometime. It could be your signature move.”

“Pshhhh. I have better moves than that.”

Hope raised a playful eyebrow and Mallory held her gaze knowingly, sending a series of hard-core flip-flops to Hope’s stomach. Mallory seemed different tonight, more open to her somehow, to her flirtation. It was energizing, and the banter was fun. Easy. Hope stole a chip, deciding to just enjoy whatever it was that was growing between them.

In the snack department, Mallory was right there with her, pulling her own chip from the pile as the cheese clung and pulled apart in lavish strands. Hope watched her closely, as the play-out was too good to look away from. The delicate way she tried to make sure the cheese made it into her mouth, coupled with the look of sheer enjoyment once it did, was an awesome combination. “You and your nachos are cute,” Hope said.

Mallory paused, chip in midair. “We are?”