Chapter Twenty-Five: How Do You Sleep at Night?

I almost choked on the deliciously creamy linguine noodles in my mouth. I coughed a few times and grabbed a napkin to prevent sauce from flying out my mouth.

“Excuse me!” I sipped some water.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asked.

“I’m fine. (cough) Just give me a sec.” I pushed back a little from the table.

I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Was she flirting with me? Or just being really nice? After all that protestation about Paulson and Bailey, flirting between us would seem pretty inappropriate.

The coughing subsided after a moment, and I sat up again at the table.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“No worries. I hate when that happens.” Vanessa smiled broadly. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this. I think I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, of course. Part of the reason for this dinner was to see how well we get along. Your work record speaks for itself, but I find you’re easy to just hang out with. We’re going to be working pretty hard in Colorado, in close quarters. I’d hate to get that far with someone I can’t laugh with.”

“Good point,” I said, silently sighing with relief. She wasn’t going to make things complicated with flirting, she just wanted to know we could work together. That made life easier.

No matter how “foxy” she might be. I didn’t have to think about it. Or, not much.

We got through the rest of the meal without any further upsets. Vanessa and I talked about our college days, and a bit about family. It was surprisingly comfortable, she was right. We fit together fairly smoothly. The fact that she was fantastically sexy didn’t detract from it either, it added a little spice to the meal, an undercurrent.

She paid the bill with a credit card.

“So, bright and early tomorrow? I’ll organize the interviews and you can talk to Fayter.”

“See you then. Thanks for dinner, Vanessa.”

“Next time it’s your treat,” she said, winking.

“Deal.”

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I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. Too many thoughts were crowding for room in my head. I wondered if Vanessa was just being nice to get special treatment at work, or if she genuinely liked me. Or, if she was actually attracted and trying to cover it.

Then, I worried about Calla. She affected me on levels “Foxy” couldn’t. She was sexy, yes, but Calla’s kiss had real passion behind it. Vanessa was closer to Matt’s ideal, tall and leggy and sexy. She wasn’t a young airhead like his usual Barbie, but she still fit the “Stick Figure Doll” mould. Calla was curvy, and sensual. They were both intelligent women. But Calla had an air of mystery, I couldn’t figure her out.

I wanted to look forward to our coffee “date” in the morning. Yet there was the distinct possibility that Calla had some sort of mental illness, one she might even be entirely unaware of. I had to find out more about that. At the same time, part of me wanted to run the opposite direction. If Vanessa turned out to be genuinely attracted to me, perhaps that would be a more appealing option.

After the Colorado deal was finished, of course. Before or during, it would look like she was trying to ingratiate herself for career advancement. After we got back and returned to our usual duties, it would be easier to tell that she liked me, instead of seeing me as an opportunity.

I hit my pillow. If Matt could hear my thoughts now, he’d accuse me of taking estrogen pills. He would never lie awake at night worrying about what a girl thought. Or about what I thought, for that matter. Why did I bother to worry about his opinion?

I groaned, staring at the ceiling. I worried way too much about things like that. My mother’s possible opinion of Calla on Friday. My father’s approval. Matt. Vanessa. Calla. Calla, Calla, Calla…

I woke up to the blaring alarm and smacked it. I missed the snooze and hurt my hand on the table.

“OW!”

This did not bode well for the rest of my morning.

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