“So what are you wearing tonight?” Mindy asks once the laughs have subsided. I look down.
“This, what else?” I say. “It’s perfectly suitable.”
Mindy glances at me from the corner of her eye.
“Really Jess? I mean, not that you don’t look good, but the dress … well, it’s boring.”
I stare at her.
“Really? Why, what are you wearing?”
My friend starts burbling on about a cream number she bought especially for this party, and a pang of self-doubt hits me. Am I going to be horrifically staid if I show up in this navy blue sheath? Do I even have time to go home and change? I brought my make-up bag so that I could freshen up a bit in the bathroom, but I don’t have another outfit on hand. Come to think of it, I don’t even have a dress at home that I could wear, so I guess I’m out of options anyways.
But Mindy reads the look on my face.
“Girl, you’re in luck because I brought three dresses. You can wear one of my spares,” she announces.
I shake my head.
“No, the one I have on is just fine,” I say. But Mindy won’t take no for an answer.
“You can’t wear that, Jess. It’s just too fuddy-duddy and makes you look like you’re sixty or something. Everyone else is going to be dolled up to the nines, so if anything, you’ll stand out because of your funerary wear.”
I frown.
“This isn’t for a funeral!”
Mindy’s eyebrows go up. “Are you sure? No, seriously. I brought my extra dresses with me, so let’s go take a look at those babies after we finish with these chair bows,” she says, tying an emphatic knot on the back of a slip covering. “Who knew that we’d spend so much time creating bows on the backs of furniture, right?” she muses in a droll tone.
With that, I laugh and agree. After all, maybe Mindy’s right. My current outfit is very practical, but I don’t want to look out of place. Maybe a new dress is just the thing, so long as Mindy brought something reasonable. Even better, maybe I’ll catch Mr. Carhart’s eye in a way that’s flirty, appealing, and irresistible. After all, who wouldn’t want Burke Carhart? In my heart of hearts, I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but he’s every woman’s dream, and just once, I want to pretend that he’s mine.
2
Jessica
* * *
So far, the party’s gone off without a hitch. Elegantly dressed guests mill about with champagne in their hands while chatting and snacking on hors d’oeuvres. I giggle to myself because although this is a fancy party, everyone likes mini cheeseburgers and pigs in a blanket, and they’ve been flying off the platters. Meanwhile, only a few people are eating the shrimp cocktail, mini quiches, and stuffed mushrooms.
Even better, there’s an open bar which means that people are imbibing and beginning to relax and enjoy themselves. Plus, I love that we have a signature cocktail for the party, which is tequila with strawberry puree. It’s a nice combination because the drink’s a fruity, dreamy pink color, but it packs a punch when you least expect it. Hell, given the way people are knocking those cocktails back, maybe I should have stayed with bartending instead of going corporate.
I smile ruefully to myself and then take a deep breath before stepping out of the shadows. Does anyone notice me? Silently, I curse Mindy because this dress is soooo not me, but she basically strong-armed me into wearing it.
“Black?” Mindy gasped when I picked up one of her spare dresses. “But I thought we agreed that this is a party and not a funeral.”
I shake my head.
“Well I can’t wear that one,” I say, indicating the other dress she brought. “It’s bright cherry red!”
“But it’s a gorgeous cherry red,” Mindy said in a convincing tone. “Just try it on and see!”
I did, and now I’m clothed in a sexy velvet cocktail dress that hugs my curves. The neckline is modest, but my cleavage is lush and inviting. The hem only comes halfway down my thigh, revealing acres of creamy skin. Even more, Mindy forced me to put on matching cherry-red stilettos, so I’m seriously afraid that I resemble a hooker.
This is so out of character. At work, I normally wear sensible slacks and a button-up, or maybe the proverbial sheath dress, so right now, I feel totally out of place. I never should have let Mindy talk me into putting on this sexy outfit.
Nervously, I take a sip of my drink (just water since I’m on call in case of disaster) and snag a mini cheeseburger from a passing tray. It’s one of my worst traits. Whenever I’m anxious or have something on my mind, my appetite grows and I start eating like a fiend. To be honest, this isn’t even my first mini cheeseburger. It’s my fifth because I haven’t eaten since breakfast.