Page 59 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

“Should I know her?”

Connor shot an exasperated look my way. “You need to keep up, Lo. Pop culture savvy is one of the first things to go in old age. Don’t let that happen to you.”

“I’m very pop culturally savvy…young man. I’m sure I’ve heard of…” I circled my wrist and shrugged. “Whatever her name is, but—”

“Daphne McAdams,” he supplied with a laugh, joining me in the doorway to surreptitiously point out the beautiful woman fingering the fringe on a throw pillow. “Supposedly, she’s Pierce Allen’s new girlfriend. Can you even? Some people have all the damn luck.”

My jaw dropped on cue.

I snapped it shut and pasted on a smile I hoped hid my shock or dismay or…whatever I was feeling.

Oddly, not anger or hurt. I knew it wasn’t true. He was with me most nights and when we weren’t together, we were in constant contact. There weren’t enough hours in the day for Pierce to “date” anyone else.

But he wasn’t my boyfriend any more than he was Daphne’s. Pierce belonged to the world of public perception.

I cleared my throat and managed a squeaky, “Really?”

“Yes, and she’d like a word with you.”

I pointed at my chest. “Why?”

Connor gave me the WTF look I probably deserved. “Bran isn’t in, and you’re the manager, sweet cheeks. I think she’s pondering purchasing linen in bulk. And since you’re going out there anyway…maybe you could tell Tammy the chandelier is a no go?”

I swallowed hard, wiping my suddenly clammy palms on my houndstooth trousers. “Sure. Okay.”

I took one more fortifying breath before greeting the two stunning blonds milling around the living room vignette in the showroom.

Tammy was the much younger fifth wife of a successful producer and a regular customer at BGoods. She was also kind of full of herself in her haute couture ensemble and perfectly coiffed golden locks. In comparison, Daphne McAdams looked sweet and approachable. And naturally beautiful.

“Air kisses, darling Lo.” Tammy blew me a kiss and pointed at the chandelier she desired. “Pretty please. I want it.”

“It is fabulous, isn’t it? I’ll order it for you stat and have it delivered to your house by next week.”

She sighed theatrically. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Afraid so.”

“Fine. You have my card on file. Let’s do it.” She gestured to Daphne. “I was just telling my friend about those new French linens. Sell, sell, sell while I shop, shop, shop!”

I made sure my smile was locked in place as I faced Daphne. “You have fabulous taste. Let me show you the samples.”

Daphne followed me to the far wall, patiently nodding through my thread-count spiel. I finally paused for air and asked if she had any questions.

“Yes, but not about linen.” She cocked her head curiously, pursing her red lips as if posing for a fashion shoot. “Are you Pierce’s new assistant?”

“Uh…no. I—no. I’m not. I work here. I’m the manager and I manage things…here,” I stumbled.

Daphne raised a brow and glanced away. “Good to know. I remember you from the firemen post last month and my hairdresser, who happens to be a huge Baxter fan, thought she spotted you in the background at the beach recently.”

“Hmm. I don’t do sand, so…probably not,” I chirped.

“But possibly…yes?” She waved a beautifully manicured hand dismissively and laughed. “It’s not my business. I know that, but…Pierce and I are…together…if you know what I mean.”

Her pointed stare spoke volumes. I held her gaze and nodded. “You make a lovely couple.”

She cast a Cheshire cat grin my way. “Thank you. I’ll take two sets of the ivory bedsheets, please. King-sized, please. Good talk, Lorenzo.”

Was it?