“You’re back!” Her smile is so white that I swear it brightens the entire room. I look over my shoulder to see who came into the bar, but nobody seems to talk to her. When I turn back around, she’s standing in front of me with a menu in hand. “I’m so glad you decided to stay and grab a drink. That conversation looked like one was needed.”

“Um . . .” My eyes shift from side to side. I’m still unsure that she’s actually talking to me. “Me?”

Her eyes twinkle as her laugh fills the room, and suddenly I realize why HERS is so wildly successful. One second around its owner and I already feel like she’s my best friend.

“Yes, you!” She places the menu in front of me and a glass that she starts to fill up with water. “Elliot, right? Gemma, Mr. Mahler’s secretary, told me I should be expecting you.”

“Yeah, well, people usually call me Elle.” I take the menu, grateful to have something to do with my hands.

“Is it okay if I call you Elliot? I’ve always liked that name, but it’s just so kick-ass for a woman.”

“An opinion I’m sure you’d reconsider if you had an encounter like the one I just had.”

Lovely. I haven’t even ordered a drink yet and I already have loose lips.

Oh yeah, Brynn is a freaking master at what she does.

“Really?” She props her elbows on the bar and leans in closer, as if she wants to both protect my privacy and expose all my secrets at once. “It did look really intense, but I figured that was just because of the subject matter at hand.”

“Actually, when we were talking about that, things were fine.” I hold the menu tighter, the memory of total humiliation making me tense. “It was his initial reaction to seeing me and letting me know that, in no uncertain terms, I’m not his type and he’s definitely not interested that wasn’t so pleasant.”

The smile she’d been rocking falls off her face almost as fast as the color rises in her cheeks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she damn near shrieks. “What an idiot! First of all, not like you’re probably not already aware, but you’re drop-dead gorgeous. And second, even if you weren’t, who says that?!”

I know I’m thirty-one and being self-conscious is supposed to end in high school, but loving the way I look has never been something that comes naturally to me. So having a stranger—a beautiful and successful one on top of that—tell me I’m gorgeous actually means a lot to me. Probably too much, if I’m being honest with myself.