He smiled. “I’m a contractor, mainly houses and renovations, but I specialize in historic preservation.”
She cocked her head, speculation in her gaze, and Brigid went on alert. “You mean like museums?”
“No, I take old houses and renovate them to historical accuracy.” Grady took a sip of his beer casually, not picking up on the subtle put-down.
“I see. Is there a lot of business in that?” Peterman asked, skepticism in his voice, along with a note of judgment.
Brigid tensed and opened her mouth to step in, but Grady replied smoothly. “There can be, especially in the midtown area. But it’s a small market, which is why I do other work. Building houses, doing renovations.”
“Really? Houses? Do you do additions and formal living rooms?” With a slightly predatory expression, she drew him away, linking her arm with his. “I have a few people to introduce you to, plus a potential business opportunity. You don’t mind, do you, Brigid?”
Their voices faded as she led him toward a group of people at the other side of the room, Brigid watching in bemused silence and concern. Grady could handle himself with any crowd, but this group was more predatory than he might be used to, and she’d hate to see him insulted or treated poorly because he didn’t work in a lofty office like they did.
“Well, it looks like Louise may have found her contractor and I’ll have a few checks to write. Brigid, will we see you tomorrow in the office, or are you leaving early?”
Terrence smirked at her. “I’ll be there.”
Grady looked across the room at her, a hint of panic in his eyes, realizing the crowd was less interested in his business than he’d thought. She grinned and picked up the not-so-subtle challenge from Terrence, even though she almost always worked on Saturdays. “Of course, I’ll be there. I have a few small loose ends to wrap up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll rescue Grady. Gentleman.”
She walked across the room and, as promised, she rescued Grady from a group of women, feigning a need to greet her boyfriend appropriately. She drew him into an alcove in the hall. He reached for her and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. She slapped a hand to his chest and pushed him away.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Kissing my girlfriend?” He pulled back and frowned at her.
“We’re not dating. This is just a favor, since Mike couldn’t make it.”
“Mike?” He growled, brows furrowing. “Who the hell is Mike?”
“A guy I went to law school with. He works in the DA’s office. He usually goes to these events with me, but he had a case or something tonight.”
“On a Friday night? Oh, wait, he’s like you. All work and no play.” Grady scowled. “When are you going to lighten up and learn there’s more to life than work?”
She glared at him. “Look, all I need is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend and not make any other business connections, especially no jobs, okay? I can’t afford for you to be working for one of them and they find out this is all fake.”
“Don’t worry. Have you heard about Louise Peterman’s kitchen she had done last year? I mean, she asked her contractor to tear down a load-bearing wall because it impeded her Feng Shui or something bizarre like that.” He shuddered. “The woman has high maintenance written all over her. No thanks.”
“Well, see that it stays that way,” Brigid grumbled.
She started to slip by him, but he slapped a hand on the wall, holding her in place. He lowered his head and forced her to look at him. “Now, about this Mike guy. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not seeing him. He’s a friend, and it’s a business arrangement. Neither of us has time to date so we go to business functions together. It’s no big deal. Now, can I go?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.
He dropped his arm and stepped back. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”
“It is for me.”
* * *
As soon as they reentered the party, Matthew called for Grady to introduce him to some of the partners, leaving Brigid alone to navigate the room, just the event she had been trying to avoid. A date was the perfect foil for her social anxiety, but she couldn’t get in the way of brothers, especially when one of them was the reason for the evening. A low rumble in her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since the small salad at lunch. And scotch on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster, in more ways than one. She made her way to the buffet, where several appetizers and finger foods were laid out, stopping dead at the sight of one of the partners all alone, filling a plate.
Elizabeth Wardwell was an older woman, in her fifties, attractive in a stern schoolmarm way. Her hair had once been black but was now liberally streaked with white in the classic salt and pepper coloring. It was cut in a blunt bob at her shoulders and straight bangs across the forehead, adding to her no-nonsense attitude. She was a tough partner on the interns and junior lawyers, but fair, and acted as a mentor to some of the women lawyers, including Brigid. But Ol’ Barracuda Betty, as the juniors all called her, was a ball-buster, and no one wanted to be on her bad side. Peterman was bad enough, but Barracuda? No thanks.
Before she could turn and be swallowed up by the crowd, the other woman saw her. She arched an eyebrow, her version of a summons. Brigid froze, then pasted a polite but deferential smile on her face and approached the woman.
“Ms. Anderson. I hear good things about you from Bill Peterman, despite his investment in the old boys’ network. Well done.”
The note of approval tinged with disdain confused Brigid, so she settled for a very neutral response. “Thank you, Ms. Wardwell. I’m gaining valuable experience with Mr. Peterman.”