Читать книгу Expecting the Boss's Baby / Twins Under His Tree - Karen Rose Smith, Christine Rimmer - Страница 9

Zoe took that whole week to make up her mind.

Really, it was a wild idea. Not to mention a total lie. She didn’t want to get involved in an elaborate fiction if she could avoid it. It could be dangerous. There was always the possibility she would get caught, and not only by tripping herself up. What if Dax ran into her mother or father or someone in the family and happened to mention that Zoe had a fiancé?

That could be embarrassing.

But, then, as far as tripping up, she could make notes, create her own personal hero from the ground up, so that he became the next thing to real for her. Then she would be unlikely to contradict herself when she spoke of him.

And as far as her family, well, how much chance was there that they would blow the whistle on her? It wasn’t as though Dax knew her family well, or hung around with them or anything. Even if he ran into her mother somewhere, it would only be Hello, how are you? And have a nice day.

True, her mom might ask how Zoe was doing on the job. He would say how great she was—well, he’d better say how great she was, because she intended to be even better at the job than Lin had been—and that would be that.

No reason a fiancé even had to come up.

And she wouldn’t have to tell the lie forever. Eventually, when she was certain that Dax had stopped worrying she might try to seduce him, when everyone in the office quit waiting for her to drag him into the supply closet and ravish him, she could end it with her imaginary groom-to-be. Because, well, sadly, sometimes even the most perfect relationships don’t last.

Yeah. It was workable. Totally workable.

Still, she hesitated. Maybe if she just held tight, the issue would resolve itself. Dax and everyone else at the office would see she wasn’t the least interested in him and that would be that.

She wished.

Unfortunately, as that first week went by, it was becoming painfully clear that the issue was not resolving itself, that she had to do something.

Because Dax really was very attractive. He was so smart and funny. So yummy to look at. And he always smelled wonderful—fresh and clean, a little minty. And way too manly.

And now and then, she’d catch him watching her in a speculative way. As though he was attracted to her, too. As if he saw the inevitable approaching and wasn’t dreading it all that much, that she was bound to make a pass at him and he was bound to take her up on it.

And then he would have to tell her that she wasn’t working out. She’d be out of a job and her father would give her a hard time about it, once more making Sunday dinner at the ranch an experience she only wanted to avoid.

Thursday, as she was trying to make some headway organizing Dax’s bottomless pile of slush submissions, the elevator doors rolled wide and a tall brunette in four-inch cage heels and satin cargoes stepped off. She smoothed her Grecian-style chiffon top, which had a plunging neckline that lovingly revealed a lot of ripe, tanned cleavage.

“Dax, please.” She ordered him up like a cocktail, in a husky voice, batting her big Bambi eyes.

“Have a seat. I’ll just buzz him and see if he’s—”

“Oh, he’ll see me.” The woman breezed right on by.

“Wait. You can’t …”

But apparently, she could. She already had his door open and was lounging seductively against the door frame. “Dax.”

“Faye,” he said from within. “What a surprise.”

Zoe jumped up. “Uh, Faye, if you’ll only wait a minute, I’ll just—”

Dax cut her off. “It’s all right, Zoe.” Did he sound annoyed—with her, for not stopping the woman in time? Or with Faye, for popping up out of nowhere to lounge against his office door? Zoe couldn’t tell. And she couldn’t read his expression, as Faye was blocking her view. “Hold my calls,” he instructed.

“Uh. Sure.”

Faye sent a triumphant smile over her shoulder as she went in and shoved the door shut with the tall heel of her cage shoe.

When she came out twenty-eight minutes later, there was no mistaking the glow to her cheeks and the swollen, red, very-much-kissed look about her full lips. The dark brown hair was a bit mussed. And the Grecian-inspired top draped a little differently than when she’d gone in.

She blew a tender kiss in through the open doorway. “Tomorrow night?”

“I can’t wait,” came Dax’s deep, smooth voice from inside the office.

With one last knowing glance in Zoe’s general direction, Faye strutted into the elevator. The doors slowly closed. Zoe shifted her gaze back to her computer screen. She stared blindly at a proposal titled, “Pack It Lite: Never Check a Bag Again,” and tried to figure out exactly what she was feeling.

It couldn’t be jealousy, could it?

It couldn’t be that she could actually picture herself coming out of Dax’s office with her shirt on crooked and her hair all wild?

No. Absolutely not. She wanted this job. She liked this job. And nothing—especially not a burning desire to get down with the boss—was going to mess this up for her.

Friday, when she came in after lunch, Dax called her in for an afternoon huddle.

They had a lot to do and a short time to do it in. He would be gone from the office after next Wednesday. Thursday morning, he and a photographer and Lulu Grimes, one of the associate editors, were off to Melbourne for the December Spotlight, “Aussie Holiday.”

He would be gone a full week. He wanted to be sure she had his travel arrangements under control. Also, he needed to make the most of the time he had in the office next week. Scheduling had to be flawless. And he had to have everything that would need doing while he was in Australia effectively delegated.

Twice during that meeting, she caught him looking at her legs. This was not good—especially since she found she liked to have him looking at her legs.

Something definitely had to be done.

Saturday morning, she took action. She found a dingy little shop in a part of SA where she would never run into anyone she knew. The brawny, heavily tattooed guy behind the desk offered a nice range of cubic zirconia engagement and wedding rings. She chose a fat emerald-cut solitaire in a faux-platinum setting. It looked impressive—and real—on her finger, the price was right and the fake stone was really, really big and sparkly.

She took the ring home. Monday, before she went to the office, she slipped it onto her ring finger.

An hour and ten minutes later, when the elevator doors slid wide and Dax stepped off, the art assistant, two associate editors and Lin were gathered in an admiring circle around Zoe’s desk.

Dax wore dark glasses. And even though Zoe couldn’t see his eyes, he looked at least as tired and cranky as he had the Monday before. Had he been with Faye all weekend? If so, the woman must be insatiable. He looked drained of energy—and probably bodily fluids, as well.

“What’s going on?” he groused. “Why aren’t you people working? There’s a planning meeting at ten in the conference room downstairs.”

“Dax.” Lin answered for all of them. “We know. We actually do get your memos. And after we get them, we read them.”

He made a growly sort of sound low in his throat. “I’ll expect at least five solid ideas from each of you. And Zoe, where’s my coffee?”

Lin gave her a big smile. “Zoe, it’s so beautiful. Seriously, I’m beyond happy for you.” She winked so fast that only Zoe could have seen it and added archly, “On more than one level.” She turned to go. The others dispersed with her.

Zoe grabbed the coffee she’d picked up on the way in and held it out to him. “Venti, bold and black. Good morning, Dax.”

He took the coffee. “What’s beautiful? Why is Lin happy for you?”

She held up her other hand and wiggled her fingers. The fake diamond glittered in a satisfyingly blinding fashion. “Johnny proposed,” she announced on a happy sigh. “And I told him yes.”

He took the lid off his coffee and stared down into it. Even though the sunglasses obscured his eyes, she assumed he was checking to make sure she hadn’t slipped a little half and half in there or something. He sniffed at the contents and then demanded darkly, “Who’s Johnny?”

She arranged her expression into a thoughtful frown. “Didn’t I tell you about Johnny?”

“Not one word.”

“Oh, I can’t believe I never mentioned Johnny.” She released another gusty sigh. “What can I say about Johnny?” She waved the hand with the ring on it. Flashes of refracted light bounced off the acoustical tile ceiling. “I met him at Stanford. Years ago. He’s from a really old and important California family. He moved to San Antonio last fall. We’ve been dating— both seriously and exclusively. Saturday, he asked me to be his wife.”

Dax winced as he took off the sunglasses. “Well, give Johnny my congratulations. He’s a fortunate man.” He squinted at her. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that they weren’t ever having sex after all. Or if he just had a really bad hangover.

She beamed. “Yes, he’s a lucky man. And I’m a happy, happy woman.” She tried to look deeply in love as well as sexually sated.

His brow crinkled. “So does this mean you’ll be giving me notice?”

She blinked. “Notice? Of course not. I intend to work for you for years and years.”

He reminded her drily, “That is, if you pass your two-week review.”

She brushed a curl of red hair back over her shoulder. “You know I will. Already, after one week, you can’t function without me. And Johnny knows I love my new job. He would never ask me to quit.”

“Johnny sounds like a real prize,” he remarked with absolutely no inflection.

“Oh, he is, he is.”

“In fact, he almost sounds too good to be true.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “He does, doesn’t he? But he is very real. A man of flesh and blood, of—”

“Zoe?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t overplay it.” He gave her one of those looks, both patient and all-knowing. Was he on to her little deception—already, when she’d barely begun it?

Surely not.

She smiled at him, a sweet smile. Angelic, even.

“All right, Dax. I’ll do my best to keep my unbounded, ecstatic happiness to myself.”

“Excellent. We need to prep for the meeting.”

“The caterers from the bakery should be here by nine-thirty.”

“Good. Give me ten minutes to pull myself together. We’ll do a quick once-over of what has to be covered before we go down.”

“I’m ready.”

He shook his head. “Are you always so eager on a Monday morning?”

She beamed. “I’m young, I’m in love and I’ve got a great job.”

“Ugh.” He put his dark glasses back on. “That does it. I absolutely forbid you to smile again until at least 11 a.m.”

“I live to serve.” She mugged an exaggerated frown.

“There. That’s more like it.”

During the first three days of that week, Zoe made up a lot of stuff about Johnny—most of it on the spot when someone would ask her a question about him and she would have to produce an answer. Later, at home alone in the evening, she would open her “Johnny” file and add in whatever new information she’d fabricated about the new love of her life. It worked out well. She made up stuff and then she made sure she remembered what she’d said.

Johnny, as it turned out, was allergic to strawberries. His last name was Schofield—of the Mendocino Scho-fields. He traveled a lot, taking care of various “family interests.” He loved long walks on the beach and quiet nights at home and he was an accomplished horseman.

He had moss-green eyes and dark gold hair that Zoe loved to run her fingers through. He was tender and loving, a good listener. He truly was the perfect man.

Well, except for the fact that he didn’t exist.

Wednesday afternoon, as they were going over Dax’s travel checklist for the last time, Zoe caught him yet again looking at her legs. She went right on with her rundown of his itinerary. There was no law that said he couldn’t look.

She felt much more relaxed around him now. More confident in her ability to resist his considerable charm and powerful sex appeal. Johnny, as it turned out, had been just what she needed to help her keep her priorities in order.

Her big fake engagement diamond glittered at her, reminding her that she knew what she wanted and she would not be distracted from what mattered in her life. She smiled a soft, contented smile. She was keeping this job and she was going to be the best editorial assistant there was. Eventually, she might move on to become an editor in her own right.

Or, if Dax was willing to pay her enough to continue as his assistant, she would consider a new title of Executive Secretary to the Editor-in-Chief. And the fat paycheck that went with it.

She was going to go far at Great Escapes. But all in good time.

Thursday, with Dax on his way to Australia, she dug into the slush pile. She wanted to get caught up on the unagented submissions, get them logged and categorized by the time he returned.

She liked reading slush. She found she could pick out the stories with potential. Those she flagged so Dax would be sure to give them a more careful look.

Reading slush also helped her to get ideas of her own. It inspired her to think in terms of what kinds of stories and features she might contribute to Great Escapes. It never hurt to plan ahead, to start preparing for the day when coming up with a story might become part of her job.

Sunday, the Fourth of July, she went out to the ranch again. She got there at eleven in the morning and stayed for the fireworks after dark. She had a great time, enjoyed the meal and the family conversation, and didn’t once want to burst into tears because of some thoughtless remark her dad had made.

Monday at noon, she slipped off the fake diamond she’d put on that morning and met her sister Abilene for lunch at the Riverwalk. They split a turkey and mozzarella panini and Zoe talked about how much she loved her new job, while Abilene tried hard to stay upbeat.

Back in January, Abilene had won an important fellowship to co-design a children’s center in collaboration with a certain world-famous architect. Now, months later, the project was on hold for some reason that was unclear to Abilene.

At least she’d managed to get some temporary work, thanks to Javier Cabrera. Javier owned Cabrera Construction and had been kind enough to take Abilene under his wing, hiring her to do some drafting for him and also to help him out at the construction sites of a couple of houses he was building.

Javier’s relationship to the Bravo family was complicated, to say the least. But Abilene didn’t seem to care about the family issues. She really liked Javier and appreciated that he’d put her on his payroll until the fellowship came through.

“If it ever does,” Abilene said with a heavy sigh. “By now, I’m beginning to wonder. And I am beyond frustrated with the whole situation.”

They agreed it was pretty ironic, actually. Always in the past, Abilene was the one who knew what she wanted from life and stayed happy and focused, working toward her goals. Now, Zoe was the one doing work that she loved. And Abilene was feeling powerless, trying to decide what she ought to do now: start looking for fulltime work. Or keep waiting in hopes that the fellowship would finally come through.

Dax returned Thursday morning. He called Zoe in first thing and they had a two-hour huddle, catching up, organizing priorities for the next couple of days.

When she stood to return to her desk, he said, “It’s good to be back, Zoe. I missed you. Lulu doesn’t read my mind anywhere near as well as you do.”

It was a huge compliment. She clutched her laptop to her chest and tried not to look as dewy-eyed and thrilled as she felt. “Good. It was always my plan to become indispensable.”

“And I’m beginning to believe your plan is working.” They shared a long look—too long. He blinked first. “So, how’s it going with Johnny?”

She almost asked, Who? But by some minor miracle, she caught herself in time. “He’s … wonderful. In, uh, New York for a couple days. Left this morning, as a matter of fact. Some Wall Street deal, I think.”

“Ah.”

They looked at each other some more.

Get a grip, Zoe. Get it firm and get it now. “Well, okay, then. I’ll just … go on back to my desk.”

He nodded and reached for the phone. Twenty minutes later, he was on his way to a meeting. And another after that. The meetings went on until two.

At two-thirty, he went to work finishing the Spotlight on the Australian trip, locking himself in his office, only accepting calls if something absolutely couldn’t wait. He stayed until after seven, and she stayed, too, just in case he might need anything while he pushed through to his deadline.

When he left, he asked her to look over what he’d written, just for grammar and punctuation. She said she would be happy to and tried not to let him see how ridiculously pleased and honored she felt.

She took the piece home with her and read it eagerly over take-out pot stickers and fried rice, red pencil within reach. It was really good. But then, his Spotlights always were. He had a master’s in Journalism from Yale. More than that, though, he was a fine writer. He wrote with authority, but in an easy conversational style. He made you feel like you were there, with him, no matter how distant or exotic the locale.

In the morning, she emailed him back the manuscript. As she was leaving him after the usual huddle, she told him the Aussie holiday Spotlight was excellent.

He arched a brow. “No changes?”

She gave him a slow smile. They both knew the question was a test. He hadn’t asked her to do an edit. “Three or four typos. I corrected them.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Do you realize that it’s been over two weeks since you started and we’ve yet to get to that review?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a busy time.”

He agreed. “It’s always busy around here.”

She suggested, “Maybe … next week?”

“How about right now?”

Her stomach lurched, which was absurd. He was happy with her work. He’d made that abundantly clear. She had nothing to worry about.

“All right.” She settled back down into the club chair. Her palms were actually sweating. She had to resist the need to rub them on her skirt. What was her problem? They both knew he was going to offer her a permanent job.

Didn’t they?

He said, dark eyes knowing, “Zoe, are you nervous?”

She considered lying. She’d made up a fiancé, for heaven’s sake. To lie about being anxious should be nothing next to that. But then, in the end, she told the truth. “Yeah.” She let out a careful breath. “Whew. It’s crazy, because I know I’m doing a terrific job for you. But I am nervous.”

“Why?” He was looking at her so steadily. With real interest. Maybe more interest than he ought to have in his assistant—his engaged assistant. She wished he would stop looking at her that way.

But he didn’t.

And perversely, she loved that he didn’t.

Her nervousness turned to something else. Something a lot like excitement.

She told the truth again. “I love this job. I’ve finally found something that suits me. There’s never a dull moment. I can handle this job, but it doesn’t bore me.

There’s always something new, something to challenge me. I wake up in the morning and I look forward to going to work. Until Great Escapes, I never felt that way about anything—at least not for more than ten minutes or so.”

“You want to stay.”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“You did. And I’m glad you did.” He stared at her some more. Her cheeks felt warm. She had this … glowing sensation, kind of fizzy and happy and so very lovely. “Now is the time I should tell you where your work falls short.”

She wanted to be the best, which meant she had to be open to criticism, to ways she could improve. “Yes. Good idea.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“Uh.” Alarm jangled through her. What was he trying to say? “You are?”

“Because your work doesn’t fall short.”

Her alarm turned to satisfaction. Was she grinning like an idiot? Probably. But so what? She worked damned hard and it was good to hear how he appreciated that.

He said, “You’re a self-starter, but you have no problem asking for help when you need it. You take criticism well, and you make use of it. So far, I only have to tell you once when I want you to change something you’re doing.”

The fizzy, bright feeling was back. And getting stronger. He kept on looking at her. Admiringly. Almost hopefully. She stared at his mouth and wondered what his lips would feel like touching hers. She thought about how she really would like, someday, to find out.

And then the phone rang.

Dax didn’t answer it. In fact, he had the thoroughly unreasonable urge to pick the damn thing up, rip the cord free of the jack and throw it hard against the wall.

For a minute there, he’d almost thought Zoe was about to make a move on him. And being human and male, he’d wanted her to. A lot.

Which made him pretty damn stupid now, didn’t it? If the phone hadn’t rung, if she had made a move on him, he would very likely have taken her up on it.

And then, one way or another, he would have ended up losing the best assistant he’d ever had—even better than Lin.

The phone rang a second time. And a third.

When Zoe started to rise, he said low, “Don’t. The front desk can take a message.”

She sank back into the chair, a slightly stunned look on her face, those very kissable lips of hers parted, breathless. She knew exactly what had almost happened.

Did she regret that it hadn’t? He couldn’t help but hope so.

The phone jangled once more. And then it was quiet.

Neither of them said a word. He was aware that the tension between them was dissipating, that the dangerous moment had passed. They would not become lovers. And he would not have to try to find someone to replace her.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved.

Or furious.

Zoe started to lick her lips, caught herself doing it and made herself stop. Her heart was suddenly going a hundred miles an hour, just galloping away in her chest, like wild mustangs on steroids.

That had been close.

Too close. Lucky for her, the phone had rung. If not, she might have …

She cut that thought dead.

No. She wouldn’t have. She had her priorities in order. The job was what counted. Yes, she had a thing for the boss. A minor thing, a totally get-overable thing, just like every other woman on the planet.

She would get past it. Over time, the attraction would fade by itself. And when it did, she would still be working at Great Escapes.

Dax started discussing her salary.

She had the sense of having passed some important test, of having chosen the job she loved over the man everybody loved. She knew she had made the best choice.

And yet, she still couldn’t completely deny a certain sadness, a touch of tender melancholy. She caught her left hand with her right and turned the big, fake diamond idly back and forth as she and Dax discussed his expectations of her—and hers, of the job.

She knew what she wanted and she had it in her grasp: her dream career. And it—this, now—was only the beginning. She was going to go far. She knew it. She was absolutely certain of it. She could go to Sunday dinner at Bravo Ridge for the rest of her life and not care what thoughtless remarks her dad might toss off at her. The free spirit of the family was all grown up now, taking on a professional woman’s responsibilities and loving every minute of it.

Uh-uh. She was not sad. Not sad in the least. She would never know what it would feel like to kiss Dax Girard. And that was fine. It was right.

She had made her choice and she was at peace with it.