daytime. She looked at her watch. “It’s—I can’t leave now.”
“You can if I say so.” He stuck his hands in his pocket. “Aren’t you the least bit curious what we’re doing?”
“I’m more than curious.” But she was also scared, because this was Quinn—her boss—and taking such a huge step with him was …
Tempting.
He held his hand out. “Come, Meredith.”
God help her, she wanted to. She put her hand in his and let him help her to her feet.
Meredith looked down at her feet. The Pradas she’d worn to work that morning were replaced with a pair of oversized, green sneakers that matched the clown clothing she’d been given to put on.
“Head up,” the makeup artist said.
She lifted her head and held still. “Sorry.”
The woman applied the last finishing touches on her. “When your man called me to ask if I did clown makeup, I thought he was joking.”
Quinn wasn’t her man, but she had to keep her mouth shut as the woman filled in the red around her lips.
“This city is full of odd blokes. But as long as I get paid, I don’t judge. There.” The woman leaned back and smiled. “Perfect.”
“Almost perfect,” Quinn said, appearing out of nowhere. He walked up to her and lifted her face, careful not to smear her makeup. “You’re missing one thing.”
Because her heart was trapped in her throat, she struggled to say, “What?”
He took a red foam nose out of his pocket and put it on her. “Now you’re perfect. We need to go before we miss our window of opportunity.”
Paying the makeup artist, he hurried Meredith out of the shop as fast as her oversized clown shoes would let her walk to a waiting car. He helped her in and told the driver, “Hyde Park.”
“Hyde Park?” Meredith asked in a low voice. “It’s January.”
“Yes.”
“The middle of winter.”
“You’re good with the seasons,” he replied.
She shook her head. “What are we doing going there dressed like this?”
He took her hand. “You said you trusted me.”
“I do.”
His smile made her all hot and bothered under the layers of clown attire. He squeezed her hand and took an incoming call on his phone.
He ended the call when the driver pulled over and opened the door for them. She got out of the car clumsily, stumbling on the big shoes. No wonder clowns dressed like this—it made being one so natural.
“This way.” Quinn took her hand and led her into the park.
People stared at them, a man in a suit and a clown walking hand in hand. She felt grateful for the anonymity of the makeup. “We must be quite the sight.”
“It’s your shoes,” Quinn replied. “They’re marveling at your fashion sense.”
She laughed, feeling some of the worry and weight lift off her.
Down the path, there was a man waiting with a large bouquet of balloons in his hand.
Meredith glanced at Quinn as it all became clear.
“Well, you couldn’t hand out balloons dressed in Yves Saint Laurent,” he said mildly.
“I guess not,” she murmured, staring at him, unable to believe he’d arranged all this for one silly wish to hand out balloons to kids. She blinked her eyes, trying to hold back the sudden tears that popped into her eyes.
“Go on.” He pushed her toward the man waiting with the mass of balloons. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
She rushed toward the waiting man. He grinned at her and held them out. “I reckon these are for you, love.”
“Thanks.” She bobbed the bunch up and down, testing the buoyancy, before turning back to Quinn.
“Over there.” He pointed to a playground where children were running around. “Have at it.”
“Okay.” She walked over to them. It was crazy, but she felt a little scared. What if they ran screaming? What if they didn’t want her balloons?
This was a silly idea. What had she been thinking, wanting to do this? She should just turn around and go home.
But then she heard a child’s joyous yell. “Balloons!”
Taking one
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