Page 76 of What I'm Looking For

“It’s me, Kate.”

“Where are you? You sound weird.”

“I’m in Steve’s car. This is his car phone!”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to try it out.”

Steve pokes my shoulder. “You’re yelling. You don’t need to.”

After mouthing “sorry” to him, I say to Will, “Also, I wanted to ask if you could put aside a ticket for me for the show tomorrow night.”

“You want to come?”

“Yeah. I do. I want to see the whole thing.”

“Okay, sure. Do you want one or two?”

“Just one. Alice is out of town this weekend.” I look over at Steve and think about asking if he wants to go, but I spend enough time with him. “Maybe I can sit with Deb and Pam?”

“Sure, that’ll work.”

“Okay, thanks. I should go. They charge an arm and a leg for these calls.” I lower my voice and turn toward the window. “I’ll see you tonight after the show?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“Bye.”

After I click the phone back into its box, Steve laughs at me. “Getting lucky with the actor on a regular basis, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “None of your business, Steve.” And then I grin. “But, yes. Yes. I. am.”

* * *

On my wayto the copy room at the end of the day, Kendra, the firm’s executive receptionist stops me with a gasp. “Kate, wow, you look… sexy.”

There’s no disguising the surprise in her voice. I never wear revealing attire here, but the air conditioning in our building has been on the fritz. When I perused my closet this morning, I realized I couldn’t face another day of sweaty armpits. I’m wearing a sleeveless sheath and left my jacket on the back of my office door as soon as Steve and I got back from our trip.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate, do you?”

Kendra is always professional and put together, but she’s not hiding her light under a bushel, either. Her platinum hair is tucked away in a conservative chignon, but it poufs high in front to frame her heavily made-up eyes. Her dress has a high collar, but the way it wraps around her bust and cinches in at the waist, as well as the siren-red of the shimmery fabric, means that she likely catches every male eye that passes.

She fans herself with a company brochure. “I’d wear a bikini to work this week if I could get away with it. The repair guy is here again, but I don’t have high hopes. I think we’re due for a whole new system. Anyway, let me see your outfit.”

Kendra twirls a finger, and I obey the command, turning in a circle. She chuckles. “Honestly, I figured you were hidingsomethingunder those oversized jackets you wear, but I didn’t think you were hiding an amazing body! What do you do that makes your arms look so good?”

I shrug. “Oh nothing, really. I run, and I do push-ups every once in a while.”

“Well, you are one lucky girl. I say show off those perky boobs and those biceps more often. Even when it’s not hotter than Hades in here.”

Okay, then.Kendra’s glowing assessment makes me almost as uncomfortable as the jeers I suffered through the last time I’d worn a formfitting shirt without a jacket to the office.

As I stand over the Xerox machine, it hits me. What I wear really has nothing to do with my work. If the guys can’t control themselves around an attractive woman, that’s their problem, not mine. My reports and analyses are top-notch. If my boobs truly rate over my recommendations, well, the guys can just stepoff.

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