Charming Co-Worker - Jeannine Colette Page 0,18

to flirt with at the bar after work. You date, and I’ve seen you stroll out of the office with enough bouquets of flowers to keep the florist in business, yet your relationships never last more than a few weeks. You have the characteristics of someone who doesn’t want marriage or intimacy, which is usually someone who doesn’t have a good view of family.”

He turns his glass in thought but doesn’t take his attention from me.

“Well, you know what they say when you assume.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and I know he’s back to his playful mood.

“You make an ass out of you and me,” I say with a grin.

“Exactly. You’re right about one thing though. My relationships don’t last more than two weeks.”

I lean in, dying to know the answer to a question I’ve had for years. “Why is that?”

“I don’t believe in stringing someone along. If the feelings aren’t there, then it’s not worth it,” he states, and I nod in agreement. His eyes narrow. “What, no comment from the peanut gallery?”

I shake my head. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. This whole time, I thought you just didn’t want a commitment. I never considered you might not be dating the right girls.”

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he takes a sip of his drink.

I wait to see if he responds, but instead, he changes the subject completely. “Is there anything you don’t like about the holidays?” he asks.

“The pickup lines,” I say with a groan, which makes him smile, but he tilts his head in wonder. With an eye roll at myself at what I’m about to do, I lower my voice into a male octave, mimicking a guy. “Wanna see the North Pole? That’s what Mrs. Claus calls it,” I say.

He laughs out loud, like really laughs from his gut, and it sounds awesome, so I do another one.

“Your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas. Can I visit between the holidays?”

Hunter can’t help but lean back in his chair and laugh into his fist. “You’re fucking with me.”

I place my palm flat on the table and give him a deadpan expression. “Wish I was.”

We share a laugh, and it feels good.

Our first course comes—a mesclun salad over sautéed beans—and we fall into an easy conversation. While we’ve been friendly for two years, I realize I don’t know as much about Hunter as I thought. I know he was a college quarterback, he loves to travel on a whim, and he enjoys a good glass of whiskey, but I don’t know how he found himself in television.

“After I tore my knee, I was hired to be a sideline reporter for college football games. Eventually, I was producing my own pieces and found I liked being in charge behind the camera more than the guy in front of the lens. By the time I was twenty-nine, I was hired by Empire Media to executive-produce my own show.”

“An amazing feat, considering some people wait their whole careers to get that opportunity.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “You just have to know who to sleep with.”

My eyes widen as my jaw drops.

“I’m kidding.” He laughs. “I’ve worked way too fucking hard to get to where I am. No tricks or shortcuts. Just good old-fashioned hard work.”

“No tricks at all?” I ask teasingly.

“Well, I’ve found if you exude confidence and enthusiasm, it opens doors. I never say no to a job, which has led to me taking on more than I can handle but I’d never admit it.”

“You just did.”

He lifts his glass. “That’s because I trust you.” He winks and takes a sip. “I never worry though, which seems to bother others. Everyone stresses way too much. All I want is to do a great job and say I love what I do at the end of the day.”

I smile at the notion. It sounds so simple.

“What about you?” he asks. “What’s the endgame for you? You want to be a career assistant?”

“Hell no. I have my sights set on research and development. I want to be the brains who comes up with show ideas for people like you to produce.”

“The master behind the madness.” He steals a cucumber off my plate. I scowl at him for taking it even though it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. “And you think working for Branson is the ticket?”

“I know so,” I state smugly before popping a cherry tomato into my mouth. “He has put me in charge

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