Skye had always enjoyed dressing up. As a little girl, she’d begged her mom for all of the princess dresses in the store. For Halloween, she’d always been a fairy princess, Cinderella, Tinker Bell, Sleeping Beauty, Anastasia, the list went on and on. There was something about putting on a beautiful dress, impractical shoes, and jewelry that always lifted her spirits, and she’d never outgrown that love.
In her chosen profession, she had numerous events every year that allowed her to wear formal attire, but the children’s hospital gala was her absolute favorite. It was a great cause, they hired great bands, and some of the top movers and shakers in the city were always in attendance, so the networking was outstanding.
Skye had spent weeks searching for the perfect gown and knew she’d nailed it again this year. She’d found a gorgeous, deep-red, one-shoulder gown that cascaded down her body. The dress was floor-length and flowed around her legs, but it was asymmetrical, and on the left, it opened to mid-thigh, depending on how she sat or walked. She could drape the fabric over her leg while sitting so no one could see how high it was cut, but when she walked, it would draw attention to her favorite attribute: her legs.
She was confident she would turn at least a few heads this evening with her wardrobe choice. She just hoped it was the right heads and that she could avoid the lecherous old-school brokers. The few who remained were all seventy-plus and had been in the business since it was acceptable to smoke in the office and still acted as if they thought sexually harassing women was a reward for doing a good job. She couldn’t quell her shudder. Most of them had retired at this point, but she really couldn’t wait for the rest of them to.
She turned her head in the mirror to ensure that the knotted updo she had paid a small fortune for that afternoon was still perfect and that her infinity teardrop diamond earrings were still securely fastened before walking out the door to the town car she had ordered for the evening. She certainly couldn’t drive in her heels.
The ballroom at the end of Navy Pier was marvelous for so many reasons, but since it was literally at the tip of the pier—which was more than a half mile from end to end—it could be a very long walk. Skye had made that mistake the first year she’d attended this event and had sworn to never repeat it. It was bad enough standing in impractical heels all night but quite another to walk half a mile, then stand for hours, and then walk another half a mile back to the car on blistered feet. She could have looked at that as a lesson in shoe selection, but she’d chosen to take it as a lesson in situational awareness and ordered a town car every year instead.
Walking into the grand ballroom always took her breath away. The gorgeous domed ceiling covered in fairy lights was resplendent and never ceased to make her feel like she’d stepped back in time to an era of elegance. She imagined it was similar to how attending a ball at the Chicago World’s Fair in the thirties or an event out of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby would have been. If only she was in a flapper dress.
Skye made a beeline to the bar before she went to find people she knew. It was always easier to work a room with a glass. It gave her something to do with her hands and was also an excuse to get out of any uncomfortable groups. She found the “I just finished my glass and need to get another” excuse basic but effective; the “this wine has gotten too warm, and I need to exchange it for another” excuse was a bit prima donna-ish but still worked; and in desperate times, there was the accidentally bumping into someone and dropping her glass excuse. That last one was quite embarrassing and only for dire situations. It also required drinking something that wouldn’t stain anyone’s clothing if there was an unintended splash and was the reason Skye normally stuck to white wine at these events, despite her preference for reds. She’d only had to use it once, but she always left her options open.
As she neared the front of the bar line, she felt a hand on her elbow. “Please get two of whatever you’re going to order,” Ellie whispered.
She smiled. “Anything for you, dear. How long have you been here with no drink?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Forty minutes of pain. First one of our attorneys got to me. Then, Alderman Brooker, who oversees the ward for a property we’re looking to redevelop, wanted to talk about the rezoning and what type of building signage we wanted to put up. Then an old friend from college. I’ve been trying to sidestep to the bar since I walked in the door.”
“That’s your problem. You can’t sidestep. You’ve got to make a beeline and make no eye contact. If you look at anyone, they’re going to stop you. I’m pretty sure you taught me that trick, though, so why weren’t you using it?” She nudged Ellie in the ribs and wondered why she had let herself get hijacked.
“I tried, but our attorney, Barry, practically yelled to me from halfway across the room, and I couldn’t ignore it. It was embarrassing, really. That guy has no social skills. And I’ve been trying to be less conspicuous, but it is what it is. It can be hard to get across a room.” She shook her head in frustration, but her face lit up when Skye handed her a glass of wine. “Oh, you do know the way to my heart.” She sighed.
“If only,” Skye said as she winked. It was true that she’d had a major crush on Ellie in high school, but she’d thankfully gotten over it as she’d matured. Ellie had been larger than life to a young and underprivileged Skye, and she’d seemed to have everything Skye wanted for herself. A good education, stability, fashion sense, and a comfort with her sexuality that Skye could only envy at that point. She’d also taken Skye under her wing and had helped her with her college essays and interview prep. It was really no surprise that Skye had had a little hero worship for years.
Skye was pulled out of her internal monologue when Ellie breathed contentedly as she sipped her wine. “I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been parched for an hour or if this wine is actually decent, but this is delectable.”
Ellie’s penchant toward exaggeration when they weren’t around anyone she was trying to impress always struck Skye as humorous. “I don’t know if I’d say delectable, but it’s good. It’s very good. I’m happy it’s an oaky chardonnay rather than a buttery one.”
“Me too. Speaking of very good,” Ellie said, “I’m in love with your design for our spec suite at the Maxwell. I don’t want to spend the extra money, but it is going to be worth it. I’m so happy you pushed for the kitchen on the perimeter.”
“Thank you, Ellie. I’m glad you like it.” Her chest swelled. She knew the space was going to be perfect, and she was elated that Ellie was fully on board and wasn’t having second thoughts.
“What do you think our chances are with your attorneys?” Ellie asked.
“Very good. They seem to love everything about the building, and if the off-the-cuff pricing Bailey gave us is accurate, we’re going to have some room to move on the rate if needed and still meet your investment objectives.” She’d felt good about the lawyers from their first tour on that fateful—or was it unfortunate—day she’d met Bailey. Whether fateful or unfortunate, she was starting to trust Bailey in a professional capacity, even if she was new to CBC, and even if they couldn’t find footing on a personal level.
“Now that’s what I want to hear,” Ellie said. “Speaking of Bailey, are things okay between you? I noticed some tension.”
Shit. Skye was certain they’d done a better job of hiding their animosity. She didn’t want a friend but also a colleague and client like Ellie to think she couldn’t play well with others. “Nothing to worry about. We’ve had a professional difference of opinion or two, but I think we’re through it. Nothing to worry about at all.” Even if they hadn’t fully resolved their issues, Skye was pretty sure she was being truthful regarding their professional conflicts.
“Good. Her firm does amazing work, which you obviously know. You’ve seen the roof-deck and the lobby.”
“Those were Greg’s jobs, weren’t they? Isn’t Bailey new?” She had never seen Bailey before their meeting a few weeks prior.
“Skye, you really don’t know who owns City Beautiful? I’m a little surprised.”
“What do you mean?” She felt a sinking feeling that her very uncharitable thoughts about Bailey might have been unwarranted.
“For a woman in commercial real estate, Skye, I’m really surprised at you. Bailey owns CBC. She’s owned it for about five years. So their work in the building is ultimately her work. Honestly, she’s only working on the Maxwell as a favor to me. When Greg retired, she knew I was nervous about an untested estimator and superintendent coming on board because it’s such a high-profile building, and she stepped right in.”
Skye was embarrassed. Thankfully, she’d never called Bailey a newbie to her face, but still. It was mortifying that she hadn’t realized one of the best interiors construction companies in the city was woman-owned. And by a woman she knew. “Oh wow. No, I’m ashamed to say I had no idea.”
“You need to be a little less self-absorbed, my friend.” Ellie said it playfully, but Skye acknowledged there was an underlying truth to the words. “She does some of the best work in the city. You should’ve known who she was.”
“You’re right.” Skye stared into her glass and felt rightfully chastened, embarrassed at her obliviousness.
“Also, she’s not too hard on the eyes, is she? Entirely too young for me and not my type, but I can appreciate her aesthetics.” Ellie smirked.
Skye’s eyes snapped up to Ellie’s, trying to close her mouth fast enough that Ellie wouldn’t see the shock plastered across her face. “I, uh, hadn’t noticed,” she stammered unconvincingly.
Ellie, her lips pursed, head tilted in incredulity, said nothing.
“Okay, fine I noticed,” Skye admitted. “But, God, is she infuriating.”
“Infuriating? How?”
“I…” Skye trailed off, no longer certain why she’d found Bailey so infuriating. “She just is,” she finished weakly.
“She just is, huh?” Ellie said as she nodded knowingly. “Have you seen her tonight?”
“She’s here?” Skye inhaled sharply. She feared this evening was going to take an unexpected turn, and Skye hated—hated—the unexpected.
“Yes, and looking dazzling. Though, I haven’t had a chance to say hello yet. Why don’t we go find her?”
Of course, at that moment, Bailey walked up. “Find who?” She looked at Ellie without even acknowledging Skye’s presence.
Skye wondered if Bailey really hadn’t recognized her or if she was blatantly ignoring her. She was hoping it was the first, though it might be a little sexy if she was so pissed that it was the latter. Wait, why did her mind go there? It must be Ellie planting ideas. And why would that be sexy? Anyone ignoring her intentionally was not sexy. Not at all.
What was sexy was the expanse of Bailey’s chest that was visible above her gown. Her black dress was strapless and deceptively simple. It enhanced her broad shoulders and perfect collarbones, and Skye could just imagine grazing her teeth across that flawless—
“Skye?” At the sound of Ellie’s voice, she pulled her eyes from those collarbones and prayed no one had seen where she’d been staring.
“Sorry, what? I was thinking about the attorneys we’re wooing.” A total lie, but no one had to know. Only Ellie’s knowing expression said she wasn’t getting away with anything. Shit. She hoped Bailey, at least, hadn’t noticed.
“I asked if you needed another drink, as I have found the bottom of my glass.” Ellie said.
“Oh no, thank you. I’m fine.” Skye still had a half of a glass but wished she’d finished it so she could have an excuse to go to the bar. Hell.
Before Skye could say anything else, Ellie had glided away.
“That was abrupt,” Bailey said, finally acknowledging her presence as Ellie walked away. “Hi, by the way.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips. Even that was a little sexy. She was utterly screwed.
“Hi back. And well, she is pretty thirsty.” Skye laughed. “She’d been here for forty minutes before she could break away to the bar. She had an almost feral look in her eyes when she came up behind me in line earlier.”
“Feral?” Bailey’s hint of a smile growing into a nearly full one sent Skye’s pulse stuttering.
“Even you would look a little feral if an alderman grabbed you and wouldn’t stop talking for half an hour.” Skye winced as she imagined it.
Bailey rolled her lips in, shook her head. “Good point. I won’t judge. I mean, I wouldn’t judge anyway, but if I was her, I’d have probably taken the whole bottle from the bar rather than a glass. Wait, which alderman?”
“Brooker. Ellie has a redevelopment she’s working on in his ward, and he wanted to ‘talk about the rezoning.’” She used air quotes. It was almost certain that Brooker just wanted to stare at her chest. He was smarmy, and Skye didn’t understand why he kept getting elected, but Ellie didn’t have a choice but to humor him since aldermen had a ridiculous amount of power in those types of decisions within their wards.
Bailey gagged. “Shit, I wouldn’t have tried to take one bottle, I’d have swiped two to deal with the PTSD of his leery eyes molesting me for a half hour. Ugh.”
“So you’ve worked with him, then?” Skye said.
Bailey laughed silently and shook her head. “Unfortunately. The perv even ogles my chest, which isn’t particularly impressive and is generally not on display.”
They’d have to agree to disagree about the impressiveness of Bailey’s chest. In her current gown, Skye was having a hard time focusing elsewhere. “You really are funnier than I’d given you credit for.”
Bailey’s eyes went wide at Skye’s words. She hoped she hadn’t offended her again. At least, not too much.
Bailey smirked and said, “Right back at ya. I thought you were a dry snob when we met the first time.”
Skye laughed. “A snob? Maybe on occasion but never dry.” She lifted her glass and grinned.
“You said it, not me.” Bailey wiggled her eyebrows playfully as she clinked her glass against Skye’s. However, when they stopped laughing, neither of them looked away. Even as Bailey lifted her glass and took another sip, her eyes remained locked on Skye’s. Skye’s breath caught. She took a sip of her own wine and swallowed with more force than was necessary.
What was this moment? Why couldn’t she stop it? Someone finally bumped Bailey from behind, severing their uncomfortably intense connection. Skye looked into her glass in an attempt to recenter herself and ended up obsessing about how she’d upset Bailey the other night.
She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong, but there was something about Bailey that made Skye care about what she thought. And hate that she’d upset her. Why did she feel the need to apologize for a crime that she didn’t even understand that she’d committed? But she did and needed to address it. “Look, I’m not sure what I said the other night at the wine bar that offended you, but I’m really sorry. I don’t look down on people who aren’t white-collar. At all. My mother and grandmother couldn’t have been more blue-collar, and I love them more than anyone on this planet.”
Bailey’s eyes went a little cloudy before she said, “It’s okay, and I’m sorry. It probably didn’t make much sense how angry I got, but that’s a sore spot for me. I had a cousin who was a few years younger than me and he…” She trailed off without finishing her thought.
It wasn’t lost on Skye that Bailey used the words “had” and “was” when she talked about him, and she didn’t want Bailey to feel like she had to get into a painful topic in the middle of a gala. She squeezed Bailey’s free hand. “We don’t have to talk about this now. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know, but I want you to be able to understand my overreaction a little. My cousin…traditional school wasn’t his forte other than classes where he got to work with his hands, like shop. Unfortunately, he felt like everyone had to go to college in order to succeed, but he didn’t do well in his classes, took out a ton of debt trying to impress his horrible girlfriend who still broke up with him when she saw he wasn’t going to be an ace stockbroker. Anyway, he didn’t see any way out…and…” Bailey shrugged and waved her hand.
“Oh my God, Bailey, I’m so sorry for what you and your family must have gone through.” She squeezed her forearm. “It’s unfathomable.” Her heart broke for all of them, and Bailey’s outsized reaction the other evening made so much more sense.
“I know this really isn’t the time or place, but I just…feel like I probably seemed crazy. Regardless, I’m sorry about the other day, and I hope we’re good? Can we try another one of those new beginnings?” Her forehead wrinkled.
“Sounds good to me.” Skye smiled, and when Bailey returned it, her face glowing, Skye’s heart fluttered, and warmth spread through her center.
She was grateful when Bailey changed the subject to a safer topic, away from revelations that were far too personal to share. She hoped that the heat in her belly would begin to cool.
“I’m surprised to see you drinking white wine. I would have expected you to be a loyalist to the bold reds through and through,” Bailey stated.
Skye tilted her head, curious. “That’s an interesting statement. Why would you assume that?”
Bailey nervously chuckled. “Oh God. This is probably going to come out wrong, so I’m going to need you to promise to take it lightly.” She took a sip, as if fortifying herself for whatever she was going to say next.
Skye laughed. “Well, that’s ominous, but sure. Whatever you say will be taken lightly.” She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Okay, then. I envision red wine drinkers to be serious, dedicated. But white wine drinkers are a little more lighthearted. Leaving work early in the afternoon to go enjoy happy hour on a patio. Free-spirited, even. And you are definitely not free-spirited. I don’t think.” She flashed a half-playful smile that was also half a grimace.
“You don’t think I’m playful? What about my new business cards: Skye Kohl, woman of impeccable taste?”
After taking a sip, Bailey flicked her tongue along her top lip, and in an instant, the feel in the air changed. Rather than cooling, the heat growing between Skye’s legs flared as wetness surged, and her heart was starting to feel like she’d just done an all-out sprint in SoulCycle. She took a half step forward, her feet moving of their own accord before she realized. She certainly hadn’t authorized them to do that. She wanted to chastise them but feared giving anything away. And she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to.
Bailey’s gaze flicked toward her mouth and back up, and Skye noticed the little pulse in Bailey’s temple again. She’d seen it the first time they’d met, but standing this close, she couldn’t resist lifting her hand, even knowing it was a bad idea. “You have a little tell in your temple.” She grazed two unsteady fingers along Bailey’s hairline, barely touching her skin, but she still watched Bailey’s breath hitch, felt her own catch in response. “I can always tell when you’re irritated by this little twitch. You probably don’t even realize it. Tell me,” she whispered, “what have I done to irritate you now? I can’t think of anything.” She paused. “Nothing at all.” Her pulse was hammering so hard, she could actually hear it.
Bailey leaned into Skye’s touch, her pupils contracting. Skye lingered along her temple, turning into a caress. Bailey’s lids became heavy. Was that desire? Skye shivered as she tried to resist this pull but struggled to find any willpower.
“I…” Bailey began, but a clatter came from the bar on the other side of the room, breaking them from their trance.
Skye realized just how close she’d been to kissing Bailey. Someone she didn’t even like and someone who, as a colleague, she absolutely couldn’t get involved with. And especially not right there in the middle of one of the biggest events of the year. Surrounded by colleagues. She stepped back and shook her head.
With a little distance, she took a long deep breath and was able to recenter herself. She cleared her throat once. Twice. “Well, to be honest, I’d rather have a red, but at a packed event like this, with people jostling everywhere, I’m too afraid to spill. Also, you have to watch out for purple lips and teeth while drinking red, and that is too hard to do here.”
Bailey blinked rapidly, her pupils dilating back to their normal size. “Very logical.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t be playful.” She tried to smile but no longer felt playful as she struggled to process the kiss they’d almost shared.
“You’re right. I’m sure you can be very playful,” Bailey said, the pulse in her temple throbbing again.
“Exactly.”
“I also don’t generally drink red wine at events. Mostly for the same reasons that you outlined,” Bailey said, her voice wavering even though her back was suddenly rod straight.
God, when had they gotten so formal again? Skye knew it was better to have some distance between them, but it still made her sad, almost longing for something that would never—could never—be. She gestured to Bailey’s glass, which was still three-quarters full with a clear liquid and a lime trapped in the ice. “Gin and tonic?”
“Vodka tonic, actually. With a lime, clearly.” Bailey swirled her glass and took another sip.
“Solid choice.” The awkwardness had become too much for Skye, so she took one last long sip of wine so she could invoke one of her go-to excuses. “Well, on that note, it would appear that I need another drink. Perhaps I’ll catch up with you later?” Not that she really meant that. She’d try to stay away from Bailey if she could, since her willpower apparently couldn’t be trusted that evening.
“Sounds good.”
As Skye turned, Bailey reached out and lightly touched her arm, causing goose bumps to break out along her skin.
“And Skye? I’m glad we cleared the air. I enjoy talking to you.”
“Likewise,” Skye said with a smile she was sure looked brittle and headed to the bar before she could do anything else she would regret. Because she also enjoyed talking to Bailey, but she liked it a bit too much and as such, needed to steer clear.