His text back to me was loving and revealing, especially since he knew how Lisa and I were whenever we got together: “Too many martinis? I hope so. You deserve them. There’s much to discuss, which will probably end with a back rub if you’re feeling up to it. When I tell you what’s in front of us tomorrow night, you might also need one, and I’ll deliver. I love you, Jen—Alex.” It was almost seven o’clock when Alex finally walked through the door, his face showing a conflict of emotions that I’d never seen before—exhaustion, anger, and what appeared to be a trace of concern, which was likely due to the fact that Wenn’s stock had closed at its lowest point in nearly three years. It was now down another forty-eight points, thus erasing the gains Ann and I had seen earlier. Before he arrived, I’d showered, done my face and hair, and changed into a sexy red top that did nothing to hide my cleavage and an exquisite pair of Versace skinny jeans that barely fit my ass, though I’d heroically thrown myself down on the bed and squeezed myself into them. On my feet were my favorite Manolo Blahnik Audi ankle-strap pumps, which were especially hot when paired with jeans. I looked fresh and ready to greet my man when he walked into the foyer.
