A Heart to Trust by A.L. Brooks (romantic books to read txt) 📗

“Sorry, did you say something?” Olivia asked.

Jenny looked up; she hadn’t realized she’d spoken so loudly. “No, nothing. Sorry, just talking to myself.”

Olivia eyes narrowed, but not in a hard way. She flicked a glance around; they were alone. Both Chrissy and Maxwell were off with other tasks out of the office and wouldn’t be in all day. Olivia cleared her throat. “Did you see the latest file from Derek?”

Why was Olivia asking? Jenny waited a couple moments before answering. “Looking at it right now.”

Olivia leaned across her desk; she sat at a diagonal from Jenny, with the way the four desks were configured. “Is that what prompted the comment about the sexism?”

Her expression was so inscrutable Jenny had no idea what the correct answer should be. If she said yes, would Olivia run off to Derek to tell him how Jenny had criticized the look the models presented? If she said no, Olivia might think she had problems, randomly talking to herself. Probably better that than her having more ammo to make me look bad in front of Derek.

“No, that was something else.” She held Olivia’s gaze for a moment before forcing herself to look away from those hazel eyes and back at her screen.

Half an hour later, Jenny was ready for her second coffee of the morning. She wandered over to the coffee station, munching a few M&Ms as she walked. Her mug was almost full when she jumped at the voice beside her.

“I’d like to talk to you,” Olivia said.

“Jesus!” Jenny clutched the wall for balance. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Olivia looked sheepish. “Sorry. I thought you heard me approach.”

Jenny breathed deeply for a couple moments to quiet her heart rate. “Okay, what do you need to talk about? If it’s about the updates for the limo service, I’m nearly—”

“No, it’s not that.” Olivia’s voice was quiet, and her close proximity sent an involuntary shiver down Jenny’s back. “Can we meet? Maybe over lunch?”

Jenny’s heart rate picked up once more. “Us? Lunch?”

Olivia’s smile was wry. “A working lunch. There’s something I would like to discuss with you, away from the office.”

Her automatic reaction was to say no, of course. Whatever Olivia’s scheme was, she wanted no part of it. But Olivia didn’t look like she had some evil plan up her sleeve. In fact, she looked nervous.

“Okay, yeah, I guess we can do that.” Jenny didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.

The relief on Olivia’s face was unmistakable.

They agreed to meet at a sandwich shop Olivia knew of, about three blocks from the office, at around one.

Olivia didn’t need to explain that they’d leave the office separately.

Jenny felt like a spy in some crappy nineties movie as she grabbed her purse five minutes after Olivia had headed out and strolled casually toward the elevators. Nothing to see here, folks. Just going for some lunch with a woman I don’t trust but whose eyes make me forget my own name. Ugh.

Jenny ordered a turkey sandwich and joined Olivia at a small table toward the back of the shop. The place was nothing special; she’d expected fancier, given what she knew of Olivia’s home life.

“Thank you for meeting me.” Olivia had a small salad in front of her, but it didn’t look as if she’d taken a single bite yet.

“What’s going on?” Jenny had decided on the walk over she would just get straight to the point. She didn’t want to drag out this awkwardness any more than it had to be.

Olivia quirked an eyebrow. “You think I’m scheming something, don’t you?”

There was a sadness in her voice Jenny didn’t want to respond to, even as her body involuntarily leaned an inch or so closer across the table.

Olivia sighed. “I’m not even going to get started on why you might think that. We can save that for another day.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on the tabletop. “I just wanted to talk to you about Catwalk. About the concept in general. I know you said your comment on sexism was about something else, but it wasn’t, was it? You saw the pictures of the models.” She snorted. “Or rather, the pictures of all the models’ skin and breasts.”

Jenny blinked. “You don’t think that’s a good look?”

“No! And nor do you.” Olivia leaned in. “Please, be honest with me. You’re as disgusted by this as I am, aren’t you?”

The earnestness and honesty in her expression took Jenny’s breath away. “Yes,” she blurted out before she could overthink it. “Every feminist bone in my body is raging against this crap we have to work on.”

Olivia grimaced. “Same for me. I nearly vomited looking at those pictures earlier. What the hell is the company doing, buying into that narrative? Haven’t they learned anything from #MeToo and other crap perpetuated on women?”

Jenny leaned in farther, relieved to be having this conversation with someone. Even Olivia. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it? There’s so many different ways they could have played this instead of churning out the same old crap.” Jenny hesitated. She’d fantasized about just how different the show would be if she’d been in charge, but if she told Olivia, would she risk her scorn? Or worse, risk her telling Derek and potentially losing her job?

“What?” Olivia tilted her head. “You’re thinking about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your left eye narrows when you’re deep in thought.” Olivia’s cheeks pinked a little.

“It does?”

Olivia’s smile was shy, and tingles shot all over Jenny’s body. “It does. Just the left one, for some reason.”

Jenny’s mouth took leave of her brain. “I’d flip it around. The show. Have the sportsmen as the models and have them parading the runway. They’d wear over-the-top designs—no skin and not just regular suits. And they’d be on their own up there, no arm candy. Then the public would vote on who looks best or whatever. It would pull in way more money.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant. Oh my God, that would be such