Janice says my name like I’m a child, “you can’t say you’ve never fantasized about kissing one of them?”
I nearly keel over at her comment. My eyes are wide as I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.” I pull the paper to my chest and walk it over to the copy machine. As I load it into the drawer, I ask over my shoulder, “Do, um, either of you have experience with one of them?”
My eyes clench, as if I were waiting to be hit with a sharp object, because, as foolish as it is, the news that either of them hooked up with either man would be a blow to my system.
Janice laughs. “Iris has!”
“Hush!” she says. “I told you that in confidence, and that’s the second time you’ve brought it up in the last five minutes.”
“So, um … which one was it?” I ask casually.
Iris doesn’t answer right away. The silence has my shoulders tensing and my fingers tapping rather harshly as I select the amount of copies I need of the document I brought in here.
I don’t know why I’m nervous. Probably because if she says she hooked up with Branson, I’ll be crushed. He doesn’t pay attention to me, and yet he might have hooked up with Iris, who’s played tonsil hockey with half the staff.
And if she says she was with Hunter, I’d be devastated because … well, I’d be lying if I said our kisses didn’t have passion behind them that I wanted all for myself.
It’s selfish really.
I turn around and look at her. She’s shaking her shoulders and staring at the floor, as if she has the biggest secret.
“Come on, Iris. Just spill the beans!” Janice says.
Iris looks up at me and grins. “The hot one,” she says slowly.
Hunter.
His name pops into my head, and I’m surprised by that. All this time, I’ve found Branson to be the quintessentially handsome one, the first in my thoughts on a daily basis, yet here I am, and Hunter is the first one to come to mind.
Janice crumples up a piece of paper and throws it at Iris. “You are so biased!”
The two laugh, and I realize it’s best if I get out of here before I hear any more of their conversation. My thoughts are already scrambled about Branson and Hunter; I don’t need them manipulated by jealousy.
Down the hall, I walk into my office space and place my printouts on the desk. I’m stapling them together for Branson’s afternoon presentation when he walks out from his office and stops in the doorway.
His jacket is off, showcasing his lean form in a pair of trousers, a button-down, and suspenders. The portfolio in his hands is open as he stares down, reading it and walking at the same time.
“Katherine,” he says rather loudly.
“Yes, Branson,” I say in a normal voice.
He blinks up at me, not realizing I was standing so close. His gaze hits my face and then my long hair hanging over my shoulders.
“You wore your hair down again,” he says, a look of interest in his expression.
My cheeks redden at the fact that he noticed.
As I run my hand over my tresses, I point to the papers on the desk to hide my blush. “I printed out the metrics for you. They’re categorized by time slots and demographics.”
“Fantastic.” While his body is facing toward the door, he seems to be rethinking what he was going to do and then thumbs toward his office. “Do you have a moment to go over them? You have a massive presentation coming up, and I want to make sure you’re tip-top.”
A huge smile breaks out on my face. “That would be a godsend. I’ve been really nervous about the presentation, and I would love your input.”
I follow him into his office, where he puts down the portfolio and runs a thumb over his lips as he appears to be confused.
I go to sit in one of the seats, but he halts me. “Take my chair, please. Pretend you’re the one in charge and I’m here for your brilliance.”
With a playful shove, he moves me to his large leather chair and then pulls the guest seat to the side of the desk, so he’s closer to me. I clamp my lips together and feel my face redden as he looks over at me with a grin.
“Okay, well”—I sit up straight and speak to Branson as if he were someone I’d never met—“my name is Katie McGee, assistant