11. James #2
“If we’re all set, I’d better sleep. I barely slept last night, and I need some rest before our outing tomorrow.”
“Sleep well,” James told her. He noticed she hadn’t said “date.”
“You, too.” She stood again, stretched, and deposited her empty mug in the dishwasher before heading off down the hallway.
James sat for a while longer in the empty kitchen, listening to the hum of the fridge.
It had been nice to get to know Lauren as more than a business rival.
The more he got to know her, the more he appreciated her.
Hopefully it would be enough, and tomorrow, they could pull off acting like a couple well enough to not raise suspicion.
After a while, James stood and went to bed.
He was tired, but sleep was elusive. He kept thinking about Lauren, about their disastrous encounter with Kelly and their outing tomorrow.
He thought about her smile and the way her eyes shuttered when she spoke about her parents.
There was still so much he didn’t know about Lauren — and so much he wanted to find out, even if he’d never admit that aloud to anyone.
The next morning, James rose early, went for a run, and drank a protein shake. He managed to sneak in a little work, too, before Lauren knocked on his office door. She wore a casual sundress and had her hair back in a ponytail. She looked lovely and beachy and summery.
“Ready to go?” She leaned in the doorway.
“Yes, just a second.” James closed his laptop and stood. Lauren’s eyebrows raised.
“Is that your beach outfit?”
James looked down at his slacks and button-up shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Don’t you even own shorts?”
James didn’t deign to answer that. “If you’re finished commenting on my attire, let’s go. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”
“I’m not finished commenting on your attire.” Lauren followed him out of the office and toward the elevator. “For one, you’ll overheat. For two, what happens when you get all sandy? You don’t want your nice clothes to be covered in wet sand, do you?”
“What’s going to happen to make me covered in sand?” James asked. “We’re going to a beachside restaurant, not a sandcastle building competition.” They stepped into the elevator, and James pressed the button for the garage.
“Sure, but just walking on the beach will get your shoes and pants all sandy,” Lauren pointed out. James didn’t say anything, and she stared at him. “Wait. Are you planning to go to the beach and not even walk on the sand?”
“That’s exactly what I was planning.”
“No way.” Lauren shook her head. “I can’t take this. I thought I was too busy for fun, but you’re way worse than me. We’re going to walk after lunch. We have to! We can’t drive all the way to the beach and not even go for a walk.”
The elevator arrived on the ground floor, and the two of them stepped out and into the parking garage.
This time, James led them to his car, and they both got in.
Within a few minutes, they were on the road.
James turned the radio to his favorite classic rock station, Lauren rolled the windows down, and the palm trees and residential homes rolled by outside.
It was like summer vacation and Sunday morning all at once.
James hadn’t felt this free in years.
By the time they arrived at the beachside restaurant he’d planned to visit, he was smiling and drumming on the steering wheel in rhythm with the song. Lauren was even singing along in a surprisingly perfect voice.
When they parked, Lauren shut off the music, and they sat in silence for a moment. Then James got out of the car and led the way to the restaurant entryway, which was bracketed by a driftwood archway strung with fairy lights.
“Table for two?” the ma?tre d’ asked.
“Yes, outside, please,” Lauren replied.
“Of course.” She led them back to a terrace overlooking the rolling cerulean waves and bright sky. A fresh, salty breeze blew across James’s face. Their table was at the edge of the railing, and they sat across from each other so they could both see the view.
“So, seafood?” Lauren asked.
“I recommend the shrimp and scampi pasta,” James said. “Or the seared mahi mahi.”
“Perfect.”
They placed their orders with the waiter, then both sat back.
“It’s a really nice day,” Lauren said. She scanned the tables with her bright blue eyes, the same color as the sky above. “I just hope someone we know will see us.”
“I’m sure they will.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Before their entrees had even arrived, Cameron Proctor, CEO of Omial, approached their table. James glanced across at Lauren, who looked a little pale. Hopefully, reliving her failed pitch wouldn’t be too difficult for her.
“James!” Cameron said brightly. “My new PR rep.”
“Nice to see you,” James said, standing to shake the man’s hand. “I think you’ve met my wife, Lauren.”
“Your wife?” Cameron’s brows raised. “I had no idea the two of you were married. Nice to see you again, Lauren.”
“You, too,” Lauren said. She managed a bright, professional smile that James found quite impressive given the circumstances. “What brings you here?”