The Romance Plan - Lila Monroe Page 0,12

upbeat. “This is a great company, with great employees. If we all just keep our heads down and do our jobs, hopefully he’ll see that.”

“Hopefully,” Rachel says darkly, then sets the Chex mix on my desk. “You keep that. I’ve started hoarding all the kitchen snacks before they disappear in the name of corporate downsizing. I’ve got fourteen bags of M&Ms, a case of Kind bars, and half a dozen Snickers in my bottom desk drawer.”

I smile. “I will be sure to remember that if the zombies come.”

“They’re already here,” Rachel says ominously, then tilts her head in the direction of Liam’s office before shuffling back to her desk.

Once she’s gone I check my email one more time, hoping for something from Verity’s people, but no matter how many times I hit refresh, my inbox remains stubbornly empty. I grimace. Liam might have believed my lie about an editorial call this morning, but I can only put him off for so long. I leave her another voicemail—“Just following up! Would really love to talk to you!”—and head out to meet Katie for lunch.

We meet at a sweet little outdoor café in Bryant Park, the grass crowded with sunbathers. The sun is pleasantly warm on the back of my neck, but I feel a shiver as I fill her in on the carnage at Sterling—although I’m careful to reassure her that her contract is safe. “You’re a star,” I remind her with a smile. “Even someone like Liam Sterling will be able to see that.”

“He sounds like a total jerk,” Katie scowls on my behalf.

“He is a total jerk,” I declare firmly. “I just wish I had known that when I kissed him.”

Katie gapes at me over the tops of her sunglasses,. “I’m sorry, when you what now?”

I take a long, teasing sip of my lemonade, then confess all the dirty details of our night outside the ice cream shop. “In any case, now he’s acting like it never happened and I’m just another anonymous, expendable corporate drone,” I finally finish, “which is fine. Well, not the expendable corporate drone part. But the acting like it never happened part. Because it shouldn’t have. Happened, I mean.” I shake my head, knowing I’m talking in circles. “It’s just…”

“It’s just…?” Katie prompts.

“It was a pretty good kiss.”

Katie raises her eyebrows. “How good are we talking, exactly?”

I nibble my salad, considering. “I mean, if we’re judging random makeouts outside a bar, then… the best ever.”

“And if we’re not?”

“It was still pretty damn good.” I sigh. “I’m not going to sit here and do a song and dance number about how I’m not attracted to him. I’m totally attracted to him. I want to climb him like a mighty oak! I just don’t know what to do about it when a) he’s my boss and b) turns out he has all the personality of a Swiffer Wet Jet.” I give her a pleading look. “That was me asking you how to fix my life, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear.”

Katie laughs. “I mean, that depends,” she says, rattling the ice in her tea. “Are you asking me as your friend, or are you asking me as The Breakup Artist?”

I think about that for a moment. “Both?”

“Gotcha.” Katie nods. “Well, on one hand, secret and forbidden boss/employee liaisons are sexy as all get out,” she muses, tapping her chin with one polished fingertip. “I mean, just ask Verity Lange.”

“I’d love to,” I deadpan, “if she would return any of my one thousand voicemails.”

“Point taken,” Katie says with a laugh. “On the other hand, it’s probably not the kind of relationship that’s actually going to last.”

“No, I know.” I think of Liam’s buttoned-up demeanor and his cavalier attitude when he was talking about layoffs, the dismissive way he sneered at my (impressive, thank you!) author list. A long-term relationship with someone like that? I’d sooner shack up with Dick Johnson, the chest-beating author of The Real Man’s Guide to Being a Real Man.

Never going to happen.

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Katie echoes. “But on the third hand, if you’re looking for a dirty, illicit fling…”

“You know,” I say with a grin, snapping the lid back onto my salad container, “the third hand has always been my favorite.”

I get back to the office a little while later to find Liam himself sitting in my desk chair, waiting for me. “Where have you been?” he asks, before hello or how are you doing or anything else remotely civil. It’s