The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men by Jessica Brody Page B

and get a manicure.
    With a sigh, I pulled myself off the couch and began to clean up the living room. I ran the empty pizza box out into the hallway and threw it down the trash chute. Then I crumpled up all the newspaper that was lining the coffee table and tossed it into the recycle bin. Finally, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, shut off all the lights in the house, and climbed into bed. For some reason, I half expected these everyday, mundane little chores to feel different, maybe even novel. Because now I was doing them as an engaged person. As a soon-to-be married person. But they felt exactly the same. Brushing my teeth was still just brushing my teeth. Even with the massive diamond that flashed brilliantly in the mirror with every stroke.
    Despite everything that had happened in the past day, it all kind of felt like a dream somehow. As if I were living someone else's life. Someone who was, apparently, engaged to a beautiful man, with a beautiful ring on her finger. I figured I just needed more time to let the whole thing sink in. It was a big adjustment. I'd spent the last few years of my life convinced that marriage wasn't for me. That's not something you can just flip a switch and change. You have to ease into it.
    That's why I didn't really blame my friends for not believing me. If someone had told me a year ago that right now I would be engaged, I probably would have laughed, too.
    I guess a lot can change in a year.

7
two-timing
    I tapped the next stack of crimson folders against the conference room table to kick off the Tuesday staff meeting. "Good morning, everyone. We have a busy week this week. So let's get started."
    I had been engaged for exactly seven days now, and it still didn't feel any more real. I had spent the past week playing hide the engagement ring. I'd wear it around the house and out to dinner when I was with Jamie, and then in the mornings, as soon as I got within a block of the office, I'd slide it off my finger and hide it in the interior compartment of my purse or briefcase. I'd keep it off all day when I was at work and then slide it back on again as soon as I returned home.
    Yes, it was something of a hassle pretending to be one person during the day and someone else entirely at night. But what could I do? I wasn't about to let the five people in this room know that I was engaged to be married.
    "Lauren?" I turned toward my technical guru. "How'd it go last weekend with the recently engaged software developer in Minneapolis?"
    Lauren pulled her attention away from a small PDA device that sat in front of her, half-dismantled, and replied, "Fine. The assignment went smoothly. I approached him at the cocktail party after the sales conference ended and just commended him on his speech. He seemed apprehensive of my attention at first, but he continued to lead the conversation, and the more beers he consumed, the less apprehensive he became. He asked me to join him for dinner, and afterward he asked if I wanted to see a beta version of his new Web project. I said yes and followed him up to his suite. He wasn't extremely bold or assertive. I think he was waiting to make sure I would reciprocate an advance before he made any. He took me through the basic foundation of the software on his laptop, and the more I reacted to the programming, the more aroused he seemed to become. And then he eventually asked to kiss me."
    I noted this down on my legal pad. "Interesting that he asked. What time did you finally leave the room?"
    With lightning speed, she reassembled the device in front of her and tapped on the screen a few times. "One oh-two A.M. I met him in the conference center at six-thirty, so it was a fairly long night."
    "All right, then," I said, continuing to scribble on the page. "I'm sure his fiancée will find this information useful, since she was about to put down a hefty deposit on the venue rental for the wedding."
    I picked up the folder on the top of the stack and flipped it open.