Free Scandal in Seattle by Nicole Williams Page B

me, Henry had lifted a brow and waited. I stared at him for another minute, trying not to be fazed by his handsome face or the fact that Henry Callahan appealed to me in so many ways I’d almost become a believer in soul mates. And I was looking at him.
    Finally, I was able to give him an answer.
    It was no.
    Henry walked away that day with his shoulders an inch lower, and him walking away that way broke a tiny piece of my heart. That’s what I used to remind myself why I needed to say no to the Henry Callahans of the world. We hadn’t even been involved yet, and my heart was already breaking. I averted one major heartbreak that day.
    Henry didn’t stop asking though and, as we all know the tragic end to the story, I eventually said yes. Falling in love with Henry Callahan was the single most easy and natural thing I’d ever done. In true ying-yang fashion, falling out of love with him was the utter and total opposite.
     
     
    AFTER WAKING UP from my latest Henry nightmare, I was done with sleeping on planes. I wasn’t sure if it was the planes, or having him thrust back into my life, or what, but I’d rather run on caffeine and no sleep than dream about Henry.
    By the time I’d practically crawled off of the plane, stumbled around the parking garage until I found the Mustang, and made it back to the condo without wrapping the car around a street lamp, it was almost two in the morning. I fought sleep off for as long as I could, but I lost the battle thirty seconds later and fell asleep face down and fully clothed.
    When the alarm on my phone blasted me awake a few short hours later, I was relieved I hadn’t dreamed about Henry again. That relief was short-lived when I realized I had to get up and ready to go see the real one. He was supposed to be back sometime that day, and given the urgency of beating some other girl to the philandering-punch, G wanted me outside his office door thirty seconds before the start of business.
    G didn’t believe in leaving anything to chance. If Mrs. Callahan really had contacted other agencies like ours, G wouldn’t be satisfied until we’d shouldered, shoved, and squashed them out of the way. It was our Ten. That wasn’t an Errand to lose to a competitor.
    After hopping out of the shower, I pulled a form-hugging pencil skirt and a wrap silk blouse from the closet. That Errand wasn’t all about cocktail dresses and cleavage. At least not during business hours. Henry believed I was contracting for an IT company. He’d expect to see me in business professional during the day. In Eve language, business professional meant feminine clothing that showed off those feminine curves. Less skin, but not less sexy. It was a fine line, like so much in the business, but one I’d learned to walk.
    When the rest of me was ready, I gave myself the standard once-over before heading out. Sultry, not slutty. Just what I’d been going for. Henry was one of the few men I’d ever come in contact with who actually liked a woman dressed in leave-something-to-the-imagination clothes. Most guys didn’t want to use their imaginations; they wanted to see, feel, and do the real thing. That’s what had sent their wives in search of us in the first place. But Henry . . . he was different.
    I gave my head a swift shake as I slid into the Mustang. Let me rephrase: but Henry . . . he had been different.
    It turned out he wasn’t so different after all.
    Callahan Concepts was a short drive from the condo. Of course, G had selected the condo based on its proximity to Henry’s office and his house. Nothing was random. Nothing was a coincidence. Not in our business.
    From what I’d read in Henry’s file, Callahan Concepts had started out in the one thousand square foot apartment he and I had lived in during college—started after I’d moved out. He’d expanded into renting an office in an old building, then into renting an entire floor of one of the newer buildings, and finally to a private mini-campus.