Page 45 of Fashionista's Playbook

I stepped to the side to make introductions. “Travis Madera, Bianca Duncan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bianca’s bright smile was almost blinding. “Mr. Madera, your inclination to raise money for the benefit of an already strapped foster care system spoke directly to my heart.”

There was a slight flicker of jealousy in my chest when Travis’ features softened and his smile warmed.

“Me too, Miss Duncan. And call me Travis.”

“Sure thing. Were you a foster kid as well?”

“I was, for a few years. Sounds like you’re the perfect fit for Travis’ kids.” Travis deflected his from his personal life with ease, turning to me. “You’ve got everything ready for Jones’ event?”

What little jealousy I’d felt towards Bianca slipped away. Travis hadn’t offered her any personal information in the way that he usually did for me.

“I do.” I moved behind his desk to grab the emails Michael Jones’ wife had sent me. “I printed these off for you, Bianca.” Then I snatched the folder with all the things I’d started to do before realizing I was in over my head. “And here are all the non-profit forms and account information. There’s a money bag as well, with checks that we’ve already been given.”

Bianca edged over, took both from me, and started thumbing through the folder. “You’ve got a great head start. I’ll get everything sorted. All I’ll need from you, is a speech written for Travis for the event, make sure he’s got a date and a nice tux—the rest is on me.”

“And… I think I’m going to leave you two to it.” Travis rocked back on his heels with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Such a man,” Bianca chuckled. “Shoo, Moriah. You go on too. I’ll let you know when I need either of you.”

He leaned down as he passed me. “I’ve got a date. She just needs a dress.” He whispered, then tugged a strand of my hair. “I’ll be back later.”

****

My phone rang three times during my lunch with Rumer.

“Boss man keeping tabs on you this tightly?” The small woman teased, pushing a piece of grilled chicken through a curry sauce.

“No.” I scowled. “It’s my mom. She left a message, something about another Elise crisis.”

My sister's dramatics and their effect on my mother had defined my relationship with my parents since I’d gone away to college. Sure, they’d sent me money and helped out where they could, but they were my sister’s emotional safety net. Just as my grandfather had been mine.

Of my entire family, he was the one I missed the most. And he was the one that I couldn’t get phone calls from.

And I was still angry at Elise all these years later. Not even Grandpa could have fixed that.

“I’d avoid that call too.” Rumer pulled the bite off her fork without getting a single drop of sauce on her perfectly painted, bright red lips.

With her dark hair and complexion, the pop of color was sexy. For me, I’d look like a walking marshmallow bleeding from the mouth. Or chubby Gwen Stefani. Neither look was my thing.

“Speaking of evading”—she made a circle with her fork in the air in front of my face—“What’s up with you and the smoking hot tight end you practically live with?”

“He’s out of town this week, but he calls every day to check on things.” The heat of a blush tingled at my cheeks. However, I was thankful for Rumer’s distraction. I may not have confided everything that happened, but she knew my sister was an especially sore spot for me.

Rumer caught my blush and latched on with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I suspect there are juicy details you’re not telling me.”

“Maybe.” I popped a piece of sushi into my mouth and pretended to ignore her merriment. Then I groaned. “This isn’ta good thing, I mean… sex with Travis is amazing. But, a relationship? I work for him. This is going to get messy.”

“Yet, here you are.”

“I am.” I scrunched my nose.

“Sex between two healthy, intelligent, consenting adults isn’t a mistake, Moriah.”

“No, but he’s myboss.”

“Stop hunting for reasons to make yourself feel guilty.” She went for another piece of chicken, avoiding her rice entirely.

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