ask you to spend a holiday with me as my assistant? I’m not asking as your boss. I’m asking you as a man. A man asking a woman to spend Christmas Eve with him.”
My entire being freezes.
My heart stops.
My brain has ceased thinking of anything coherent to say.
My nerves are at a standstill.
The beautiful question I’ve dreamed of being asked by Branson Ford is right here on his lips. He’s just a man, asking a girl to spend Christmas Eve with him. God, it’s so Notting Hill that I might just melt on the carpet.
Yes. The word is at the tip of my tongue, and yet something holds me back.
“Like a date?” I ask.
“Sure, but not in a romantic way. Just more that we won’t be boss and assistant. Just people. Humans, celebrating a holiday. Together.”
While it’s not the grand proposal I’ve been dreaming of, it’s the closest Branson has ever come to seeing me as anything but the girl who types up his reports. If it were any other day, I’d say yes, but I’ve never been one to back away from an obligation.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t back out on volunteering.”
He nods his head as he slides his hands into his pockets. “No, that’s not like you.” He raises his finger in the air, as if he’s come up with a master plan. “You won’t be there all night. I’ll send a car for you when you’re done. Actually, you’ll have to book said car, as I have no idea how to physically do that. Meet us for the drinks and shenanigans portion. You won’t regret it.”
Branson Ford wants to have shenanigans with me on Christmas Eve. My heart is beating again, the blood rushing through my body and up into my head, making me dizzy.
“Yes,” I blurt out.
It’s such a surprising turn of events. Two nights ago, he was leaving a holiday party with another woman, and now, he’s here, asking me out for one of the most important days of the year.
I bite my lip and think of Hunter. This was all part of his master plan, wasn’t it? He knew Branson would look at me in a different light if he saw I was attractive to someone else.
Hunter Johnstone is a genius.
He’s also a sneak. Because while I should be deliriously happy about Branson’s invitation, Hunter has infiltrated my thoughts, and the only thing I can think of right now is the way his dimples appear when he smiles that very deviant smile.
His game worked, and I should be thankful. Except … why am I suddenly feeling like I’ve been chasing after the wrong man all this time?
Chapter Seven
Of my many traits, I’d say my work ethic is by far one of my most admirable. This opportunity Branson is presenting me with is once in a lifetime. An executive assistant hardly gets an audience with the shareholders to discuss her research, let alone have her boss campaign for her next position. Having Branson’s faith in me leaves me not only wanting to succeed for myself, but also not wanting to let him down.
I’ve been staying late in the office, working on my PowerPoint presentation, and I got up bright and early to be back in. I’m reading it for the hundredth time when there’s a knock on the office door.
“I heard a little worker was burning the midnight oil last night,” Hunter croons as he strolls into the room, with two to-go cups. He takes a seat at the chair near my desk and holds one of them up to me. “I thought you could use some caffeine.”
I swivel over to him and take the drink. “And who told you this bit of info?”
“A man never reveals his sources. But since you’re pressing me about the issue, I’ll tell you, it was Frank, down at Security.”
I grin over my drink as I take a sip. It’s mocha peppermint, my favorite. I’d make a comment about it, but as I’ve learned so well, Hunter pays attention to my likes, dislikes, and mannerisms. Heck, he seems to know me better than I know myself sometimes. I end up taking large guzzles of the drink, letting the espresso shots wake me up.
“Well, thanks a latte for the kind gesture. I am pretty beat today. Coffee is a poor substitute for sleep.” I take another sip and then add, “Good news is, I think I’m finished with my PowerPoint. For now. I’ll probably look at it tomorrow and need