A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

was heavily promoted, yet didn’t bring in the visitors. Mick even heard rumors that her job was likely the next to go. So when he accepted the temporary BMCS gig as a way to get home to Boston, he thought maybe she’d appreciate a friendly face—the face of a man who only wished the best for her.
    “Dr. Malloy?”
    LaPaglia was asking Mick to say something. He stood, told everyone a little about what he had in mind, and made a point of pausing to meet the eye of each staff member at the conference table.
    Except for Piper, of course, whose eyes were cast down onto her notepad, her left hand orchestrating white-knuckled flourishes of pen against paper. Her collection of doodles featured arrows shooting off in all directions and rockets blasting into space. Mick was no fan of Freud, but he couldn’t help but note that all Piper’s sketches were …
    Basically, they were phallic as fuck.

 
    Three
    Piper ignored the pounding on her door and pressed the couch pillow to the side of her head, hoping whoever it was would go away. She was finally enjoying a moment of peace, the diaries safely and intentionally miscatalogued into obscurity in the museum. Then she heard Brenna’s unhappy voice.
    “I saw your car parked on the street. I know you’re home, Piper. Open up or I’m calling your mother.”
    Ugh. Piper shuffled to the door and opened it a crack.
    Brenna’s eyes went wide. She quickly scanned Piper from head to toe, then glanced beyond to the large Konica digital copier that occupied half her living room.
    She narrowed one eye at Piper. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you better let me in.”
    She sighed, gesturing for her friend to cross the threshold into the apartment’s small foyer. Miss Meade toddled over to greet Brenna, and Piper’s friend picked up the cat and gave her an affectionate scratch behind the ears, even as she frowned at Piper.
    “It’s Monday. We were going to celebrate your birthday tonight. You haven’t returned my calls or texts. You look like Lindsay Lohan after a bender. And your lips—did you finally bite a pen in half? After all these years?”
    Piper rubbed her face to try to wake up. She must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. Clearly, she’d forgotten all about their weekly girls’ night out, and her big birthday blowout.
    When Brenna’s hand landed softly on her shoulder, Piper looked up. The sympathy she saw in her friend’s expression caused tears to well in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry any-more. All she’d been doing from the second she got home from work to the moment she fell asleep was cry, read, and then cry some more.
    “Oh God, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” Brenna dumped Miss Meade to the floor, a rude dismissal the cat didn’t appreciate, and led Piper to the couch. She cleared a spot for both of them to sit by gathering up all the copied diary pages and dumping the stack on the coffee table. In the process she noticed the duct-taped glasses, picked them up, gave them a quick inspection, then tossed them back to the table.
    “Were you in a car accident? When did this happen? Did you get medical attention?” Brenna’s pretty face began to twist in concern. “Piper, why didn’t you tell me? I swear to God I just don’t get you sometimes! You go around thinking you can handle everything by yourself! Why didn’t you let me help you? I’ve been worried sick !”
    Piper shook her head. “There was no car accident. I’m fine. A couple things happened that left me a little shaken up, that’s all.”
    Brenna slowly exhaled, and began rubbing Piper’s back. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re about as fine as your glasses are. What’s going on?”
    “It’s kind of a long story—”
    “And what are you doing with the ginormous copier?”
    Before Piper could answer, Brenna’s gaze wandered to the papers she’d just cleared aside. She grabbed the top pile, held together with a large paper clip and riddled with penciled-in notes. Piper