Chloe made a rude noise in the back of her throat and scrunched up her nose. “God knows it’s not like the old toad to skip his Monday morning squash game. He’s definitely up to something.”
Olivia shot her friend a disapproving look. Pritchard wasn’t that bad. Sure, he was a little temperamental, but he had a good heart and had always treated her fairly. He’d given her a shot five years ago and she’d stand by him as long as he did the same for her. Even so, with the meeting weighing on her mind, Olivia didn’t know how she was going to get through the weekend. “Can we please talk about something else? I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”
For good reason. Thrust into beauty pageants from the time she could walk, Olivia had been crowned a Dairy Princess, an Apple Blossom Princess, and a hundred other ridiculous things she didn’t care to remember. But it made her parents happy and earned money for college. Win-win, right? Problem was, the more pageants she won, the less people actually saw her. Olivia became known as a pageant princess, nothing more, nothing less.
It didn’t matter she’d had the highest GPA in her class or that she was the editor of the high school newspaper. No one cared that she’d started the civic club or volunteered at the food bank. It didn’t even matter that she’d been accepted to Cornell. Any hope of being seen as more than a pretty face evaporated.
Back home, everyone assumed she would become some rich businessman’s trophy wife and live in a stupid house in the Hamptons. Well, screw that. She was writing her own plan and she’d done pretty damn well for herself so far. She was successful, self-reliant, and happy. Mostly. All she needed was this promotion.
And for people not to assume she’d slept her way to the top.
“Well, he’d be stupid not to promote you,” Chloe continued, unfazed. “You’ve been busting your ass for the last five years.” She paused as the waitress dropped off their drinks: a dry martini for Olivia and a cosmopolitan for Chloe. “You deserve that promotion,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “and a night of hot, dirty sex.”
Choking on her drink, Olivia fixed her friend with a death glare she hoped would end the depressing conversation about her sex life, or notable lack thereof. She certainly didn’t need a reminder that the only orgasms she’d had this year had come from a purple beaver vibrator.
“Seriously, Liv. You deserve, like, a whole weekend of raunchy sex,” Chloe assured her, head bobbing up and down. “The dirtier the better.”
“Charming.” Olivia rolled her eyes and opened the top button on her blouse. Spring was in the air and at the front of the open air restaurant the glass windows had been rolled up, admitting a light breeze which kissed her skin as it floated across the bar. It was her favorite time of year, and she relished walking through the city’s parks as they came to life at the end of a cold, slush-filled winter.
Of course, she could enjoy the changing season a lot more if Chloe would get off her back.
Guilt seized her at the thought. Chloe meant well and she was a good friend to put up with Olivia’s ridiculous work schedule. Hell, without Chloe, she’d probably never leave the office. Their friendship was basically the only thing that could challenge her reputation as the office “Ice Queen”—not interested in making friends, definitely not interested in dating.
“Answer me this.” Chloe’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief and Olivia worked to suppress a groan. No need to guess where this line of questioning was headed. As if she’d read Olivia’s mind, Chloe asked playfully, “When was the last time you got laid or even went on a date, Ice Queen?”
“Umm,” she stalled. She knew the answer to the first question, but no way was she admitting that. As for the last date she’d been on? She really couldn’t remember. Maybe Chad? He’d taken her to see the latest Hollywood thriller, which had totally sucked. It was their first and only date. “Last date? I went to the movies with Chad, that guy from the gym, last summer.”
“Liv, that was two summers ago,” Chloe returned quietly, a look of pity clouding her face.
“Oh, hell.” Leaning back on her stool, she crossed her arms over her chest. Had it really been that long? Did it even matter? She was so close to reaching her goal. Dating could wait. She was only twenty-eight, after all, and she wasn’t looking to get tied down any time soon. Not that it looked like she was in any danger of that anyway.
“You know what I think?” Chloe asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. “You need to adjust your expectations.”
“And you’re going to help me with that?”
“Take it from me,” Chloe grumbled. “I’ve got a long list of one-night stands to prove that a night of great sex doesn’t equal ‘I do’. Why deny your carnal urges? Look around.” She gestured to the crowd. “Are you really that oblivious to all this sexy man candy?”