Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,28

then, it was time for Keats to head across town to speak with a scout who has been keeping tabs on two players on a high school basketball team.

As he was leaving, he stopped at my desk and promised that he’d be back early this afternoon.

It’s quarter after three now, and if he doesn’t stroll off that elevator soon, I’m going to send out a search party to find him. I’ve tried texting him twice and called once, but I’ve gotten no response from him.

I realize that he likely silenced his phone during his meeting, but part of me wonders if he’s ignoring it because he’s focused on something other than business.

I broke down mid-day and searched for my boss’s name online.

I did that after spending over an hour learning everything I could about the Newman family. My time working at Knott Public Relations taught me that there’s value in understanding the people you do business with.

There’s no way I can know the Newmans well just by studying their social media accounts, but I think I have more insight into who they are than I did last night.

I have more insight into Keats too.

My online treasure hunt resulted in learning a few new things about my boss. He’s been photographed at restaurants and clubs in Manhattan with some of his famous clients. In almost every picture, a different woman was hanging onto Keats.

In one of the images, a leggy brunette had her arms wrapped around his neck as they danced. In another, a blonde was straddled on his lap as he sat on a bench in a club. The image that caused me to close my computer’s browser was of Keats on top of a bar kissing a woman with black hair as people around them raised their fists in the air.

Earl Newman had a point when he questioned Keats’s reputation.

I turn to look when I hear the ding that signals the elevator’s arrival. Relief washes over me when I realize that Keats is finally back.

He’s dressed in the same dark blue suit and pink tie he had on when he left this morning. His clothing isn’t wrinkled. His hair is still in place.

“Maren!” he calls out my name. “The countdown is on.”

I stand as he approaches my desk. He stops mid-step as he takes in the pencil skirt and blouse I’m wearing.

Earlier, our brief exchange happened when I was seated, so he didn’t get the full impact of Arietta’s fashion advice and makeup magic.

“Can I get a minute?” he asks with a perch of one brow.

I nod.

He waits for me to lead the way. I wonder for half of a second, whether that’s because he wants to get a glimpse of my ass.

I shake my head trying to chase that away because we’ve already crossed so many lines that I’m dizzy with confusion.

Once he closes his office door, he rakes a hand through his hair. “The Newmans are set to arrive soon.”

I almost make a comment about stating the obvious, but instead, I concur. “We don’t have much time to get our stories straight. What are we going to tell them?”

His hand drops to his chin. “What do you mean?”

Did he completely forget what happened last night? The Newmans are under the impression that Keats and I share more than a boss and assistant connection. There has to be a way to explain that away without losing Fletcher as a potential client.

“Let’s tell them we broke up last night,” I spit out.

The corners of his lips curve up. “We’re not telling them that.”

I close my eyes briefly. “They think we’re in a relationship, Keats. We’re not.”

“I know,” he blurts out. “But you showed them another side of me.”

I didn’t. All I did was go along with the lie. If anything, that shows a side of me I don’t want to exist.

I drop my hands to my hips. “What do you suggest we do?”

Keats’s gaze follows my movements. He stares at my skirt. “We won’t confirm or deny it today. They’re coming to meet the team. We’ll bring them in here for a quick hello, you’ll say you have an important meeting to get to, and I’ll take the reins from there.”

Hypothetically, that could work, but the lie will still be in play. “When do you plan on telling them that I’m your assistant, and not your…”

“Lover?” Keats fills in the blank I left when my voice trails off. “I’ll sign Fletcher and then down the road, I’ll mention that

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