Dangerous Curves: The Good Girl

Rules (3)

Rules

I had no earthly idea what kind of "proposition" Nicholas Colby could have for me, but I spent the entire next day anxious waiting to find out.

I was only scheduled to work a half day - Mariah's "reward" for me coming in on my day off - so I had plenty of time to get ready. I'd been planning to duck out early and get a manicure, pedicure and blow-out. But things at Brown-Eyed Girl ended up being busier than expected and I wasn't able to slip away from the office until it was almost time for our meeting.

Ah, well. I'd have to go "as is" - wavy hair, self-painted nails and a dress I'd picked up from the plus-size section of Target a few days before. It was hardly haute couture - I was pretty sure I was the only girl to ever venture to Mr. Colby's office without wearing an outfit that came straight off the runway. Never the less, you had to work with what got, as they always say.

Nick had sent an e-mail earlier in the day to confirm our meeting that night. In it, he'd mentioned casual attire, so I figured something off the racks of Target should suffice.

When I arrived at his office - an enormous building on Madison Avenue, I immediately felt underdressed and outclassed. I was reminded of one of the first rules I learned when I moved to New York: no matter how hard you try, you never seem to be wearing the right outfit. Tonight was no exception - although, to be honest, I hadn't even tried that hard. Sure, the dress was super cute and it really accentuated all of my curves, but what was I thinking showing up in such a casual outfit? So what if Nick's e-mail had instructed me to do so? This was likely a business meeting, and even his assistant was wearing at three-piece suit.

Right off the bat, I was informed that Nicholas was running late. His assistant was apologetic - something about a last-minute conference call - as he showed me to an enormous boardroom on the 45th floor. He told me to make myself comfortable until Mr. Colby arrived, then proceeded to ask what I'd like to drink. I told him I was fine, and he left, only to return a minute later to double check that I'd really wanted nothing.

Finally, after I sensed he wasn't going to leave me alone until I said yes, I agreed to a mineral water.

"Nothing stronger, Ms. Lewis?"

"No, water will be fine."

I was dying for a glass of wine, even a vodka tonic, but the last thing I wanted to do was get drunk while I waited for Nicholas. I figured it was best to have all of my faculties when we discussed this "proposition."

I had no idea what he was going to propose. A job, maybe? He certainly had the power to do that.

Perhaps this was the big break I'd been waiting for? I was thrilled at the prospect, but it seemed a little odd that he'd called me all the way down here to discuss a simple promotion. Nicholas Colby was a busy man. If he wanted Mariah to promote me, to allow me to become a writer for the magazine, why not send over an e-mail instructing her to do just that? Why take the time out of your schedule to meet with me in person? And, come to think of it, if this was about work, why wasn't Mariah here?

I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe I did need that drink after all. I looked around for Mr. Colby's assistant, but he'd seemingly vanished into thin air.

Never matter. A minute later Mr. Colby finally arrived.

"Violet," he said, walking into the room. I struggled to keep from gasping out loud. He was even more handsome than I remembered. Well over six feet tall, with a full head of dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes. I was relieved to see that, true to his e-mail, he'd dressed casually - in a pair of khakis and a light blue polo shirt. I could see his bronzed, muscular body poking out from underneath the short sleeves.