Free Her Best Match: A Romantic Comedy (The Best Girls Book 1) by Tamie Dearen

band.”
    “I knew it!”
    “Don’t look so smug. We’re not engaged. We’re just listening to music together. And anyway, last week you were trying to set me up with—”
    “Shhhh!” warned Anne, glancing toward the conference room. “I admit I messed up on that one, but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
    “Okay, I won’t tell anyone you tried to set us up. They wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
    “But if things work out with Tanner, I want full credit.”
     
    Anne waited until five forty-five for the meeting to end, hoping to have a chance to see Henri. The door opened and Gherring peered out. When he spotted Anne at her desk, he looked decidedly irritated. “You’re still here?”
    “Yes, I thought you might need me for something before you go home.”
    “Well, I don’t. Wait, I do need something.” He closed the conference room door and stepped toward his office. “I need for you to check something on my calendar.” She followed him into his office, and he motioned for her to sit behind his desk. “Would you mind pulling up my calendar for the week? I’ll be right back.”
    He stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Anne pulled up his calendar, puzzling over what his problem might be. They’d been working on the week’s schedule, squeezing in meetings at every possible moment with little wasted time. Gherring didn’t believe in frivolity and only engaged in social functions when absolutely necessary. Hence, the single formal gala at the end of an exhausting week of meeting, planning, and negotiating. Gherring returned, looking happier and relaxed.
    “What did you want me to check on your calendar? Do you need to change something? I hope you don’t need to add another appointment. Y’all will have to meet at midnight.”
    “No, I just want to make sure our calendars match.”
    Anne stared at him in confusion. “Of course they match—they’re synced automatically.”
    “Oh yes, that’s right. Well, that’s great—you can go now.”
    Anne walked out of Gherring’s office, giving him a wide berth. She noticed the conference room door was open, but as she approached she saw the room was dark and empty. Realizing he’d purposely hidden her until Henri was gone, she fumed inwardly.
    She turned to find Gherring smiling from his office door. “Goodnight, Ms. Best. I’ll see you in the morning. Uhmm… It’s getting rather late. Would you like a lift home?”
    “No, but thank you, sir .” He was treating her like a child, so she would address him like a father.
    “I think sir is a bit much—I’m not that much older than you.” At Anne’s silence, he retorted, “That man’s not safe; he’s not to be trusted.”
    “Who?” asked Anne, deliberately obtuse, as she tied on her running shoes, pulling a little too vigorously on the strings.
    “ Henri . You can’t trust him—he’s a scoundrel. He flits from one woman to another. He’s a… he’s a…”
    “Player?” Anne offered the term the media often used to describe Gherring.
    “Yes, he’s a player.” He followed her toward the elevator, and she stopped, returning his glare.
    “Well, I think that a player is simply a man who hasn’t found the right woman .” She turned and stepped into the elevator without looking back.
     
     
    *****
     
    Tuesday morning found Anne at her desk by seven fifteen. Gherring arrived at nine thirty with fifteen international account executives, fresh from a breakfast meeting. Anne scanned the crew as they filed into the conference room, but Henri wasn’t among the crowd. Gherring stopped by Anne’s desk
    “How was your evening, Ms. Best?”
    “It was fine, sir. And yours?”
    Although her tone was without rancor, Gherring winced at her verbiage. “So I must assume you’re still angry with me?”
    “I have no idea what you’re referring to. Why would you think I was angry? Did you do something I should be angry about?”
    “You know very well what I’m