Scandal Exposed (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #4) by Nova Raines, Mira Bailee Page B

own looks like it came from the twenty-first century. I need to look good—better than good.”
    Maddie stumbles out of bed and follows me back to my room. She takes one glance at the outfits laying on my bed—a faded, blue pantsuit and a dress that would better fit a twelve-year-old. Her burst of laughter confirms I need help, and I’m not even offended.
    “I told you.”
    “What’s it for? Is it a date? Oh, please tell me it’s a date. You so desperately need to get laid. You—”
    “It’s a job interview.”
    Maddie’s shoulders drop, losing some of her temporary excitement. Of course she would be more worried about me dating than working. My last boyfriend, Bryce, and I broke up over a year ago, and I haven’t bothered looking for anyone new. It’s too stressful. Dating, the expectations, the whole act of coming across like perfect girlfriend material. More often than not, it just makes me sick. Literally. Being single has its perks. Sure, I’m missing out on potentially decent sex—a momentary relief from my own neurotic nuances, quiet time for my constantly worrying mind. But along with the sex comes the overanalyzing and suspicions and the arguments caused by both. In the end, the guy gets sick of it fast, and I can’t blame him. It’s much easier to remain single.
    Maddie leaves the room only to return a minute later carrying a black dress. She holds it out for me, but I’m skeptical.
    “Does that really convey professional—”
    “You’ll be hot. But not slutty. Put it on.” She thrusts it out again, and I take it.
    I go to our shared bathroom to change, doing a double take when I see my reflection in the mirror.
    “Damn.” I can admit this dress gives the right impression. My dark hair frames my face before cascading over my shoulders, detracting from the obvious cleavage this dress gives me. It’s formfitting and low-cut but in a way that says ‘professional businesswoman’ and not ‘amateur stripper’. I may even be able to play off confidence if I can get control over the nervous ache in my stomach.
    In my room, Maddie is half asleep on my bed. My little square of home is much cleaner than hers but holds little personality. She lifts a hand to point at the side table that holds a simple, white lamp and my charging cell phone. “It was buzzing. I turned it off.”
    “That means it’s time to go.” I slip into black flats—no way do I want to deal with heels when I’m feeling all shaky. I’m reaching for my phone when I see Maddie glaring at me. “What?”
    “You set an alarm to tell you when to leave?”
    “And when to wake up. When to get ready. And a half dozen others to keep me on time today.” I grab my purse, unplug my phone, and pull up the map with the directions already routed out. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”
    “I just thought you were working on being less…obsessed with order. Didn’t Dr. Shannon—”
    “I’ve gotten better.” My therapist has been working on helping me let go of minor control issues in an effort to help me deal with some of the bigger ones. Lately, we’ve been working on time and my tendency to have everything planned out by the minute. My handy alarms keep me on track, but she says they make me too dependent on outside forces. Days when I’m not busy, I do okay leaving my comfort zone—turning off the alarms and ignoring the clocks—but anticipating today triggered the panic, so I had to give in. Just today. “I see her later. I’ll let her know I’ve been bad.”
    Maddie sighs, “You’re going to be great. Whatever the job is.”
    “Thank you.” I rush over to give her a hug, knowing I need to be in my car in the next thirty seconds. “And thank you for this.” I gesture at my dress. “Love you, best friend.”
    I leave the room as she rolls over in my bed, and I suspect she’s not going to bother going back to her own.
    Twenty minutes later, when I should be pulling up to the Platinum Planning office, I’m,