Party Crashers Read Free

teasing her—his good deed for the day. Upon closer scrutiny, his face was even more interesting—his eyes a deep brown, bracketed by untanned lines created from squinting in the sun. Late thirties, she guessed. His skin was ruddy, his strong nose peeling from a recent burn. Despite the pale streaks in his hair, he was about as far from a beach boy as a man could be. When he leaned over to slip on the shoes, she caught a glimpse of his powerful torso beneath the sport coat.
    She averted her gaze and concentrated on the stitched design on the vamp of the shoe he was trying on, handing him a shoe horn to protect the heel counter. (This morning Michael had given her an “anatomy of a shoe” lesson, complete with metal pointer and pop quiz.)
    The man stood and hefted his weight from foot to foot, then took a couple of steps in one direction and came back. “I’ll take them.”
    A salesperson’s favorite words. She smiled. “That was fast.”
    He laughed. “Men don’t have a complicated relationship with shoes.”
    She liked his easy laugh, it was a happy noise that drew attention—including Sammy’s, Jolie noticed. Her former boss came over, her pale brows knit in frustration. “Jolie, were you able to find the shoe I wanted?”
    Jolie glanced in Beck’s direction. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
    “Give me just a minute,” Jolie murmured, then manufactured a smile for Sammy. “A size seven, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes. And please hurry—I have a big closing in thirty minutes.”
    Embarrassment flooded Jolie, setting her skin on fire. For the thousandth time, Jolie thought how attractive Sammy would be without her permanent smugness. “Yes, ma’am.” She returned to the stockroom, her ego smarting.
    Despite the fact that she’d worked for the Sanders Agency for over a decade, it had been inevitable that she and Sammy would part on bad terms. Edgar Sanders had hired her as a receptionist right out of high school, and from the beginning she had clashed with the man’s daughter. Sammy was a few years older than Jolie and on the fast track to realty royalty. She’d hated Jolie at first sight. Mr. Sanders, on the other hand, had rewarded Jolie’s hard work by moving her up through the company. The two women had developed an uneasy relationship based on avoidance. Jolie had managed to put herself through night school, to become an experienced agent, and three months ago, to obtain her broker’s license with an eye toward commercial real estate. Unfortunately, it had coincided with Mr. Sanders’ retirement, and suddenly, Jolie had found herself working for Sammy.
    Remarkably, the woman’s personality seemed to change overnight. She’d been downright helpful to Jolie…and two weeks ago, Jolie had discovered why. In order to close a big deal, Sammy wanted Jolie to pass information to the buyer that would breach the company’s confidentiality agreement with the seller. Gary had been missing for a few days, and Jolie was already stressed. In fact, she had a feeling that Sammy had purposefully targeted her during a vulnerable time, thinking she would cave. Jolie didn’t, and Sammy threatened to fire her. Instead, Jolie had quit.Sammy said Jolie’d lost her mind—no one left the Sanders Agency voluntarily.
    And now Jolie was selling shoes. Boy, she had really shown her .
    She sighed and scanned for the pair that cost more than her week’s salary selling shoes, then removed two boxes from the shelf. She carried them out to Sammy, who apparently had taken advantage of the opportunity to introduce herself to Beck Underwood. The oversize Barbie doll had extended her business card in his direction and he was accepting it, although somewhat reluctantly, Jolie noted.
    “We only have a size six and a half and a size seven and a half,” Jolie said to Sammy, holding up the boxes. “Would you like to try them?”
    Sammy made a face and waved her hand. “No, that’s okay. I really was only killing time until