by Jessica Wood
But it was too late. The saucepan of au jus dip was now a crisp, brown layer of residue stuck on the pan.
I removed the pan from the heat and turned off the stove. “Well, I don’t think we’ll have any au jus dip after all,” I said.
“You might be right. That doesn’t look like any dip I’ve ever seen,” Brandon said with a chuckle. “And here I thought you were good in the kitchen,” he teased.
I made a face at him. “Well I don’t usually have too many distractions in the kitchen,” I shot back. Definitely not one that’s as distracting as you, I thought as I met his gaze.
“Fine. If you need someone to blame, I’ll gladly be your punching bag and take one for the team. I suppose that’s what a team leader is supposed to be,” he said with a wink.
I smiled at him and wished that we hadn’t been interrupted moments earlier by the au jus dip.
“Okay, well I’m starving,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “We should start eating this feast you’ve prepared. My fat pants will fall down if I don’t eat soon, and you’ve caught me right before laundry day, so I’m wearing my embarrassing Batman boxers.” He chuckled. “So let’s eat so we can save me that embarrassment, okay?”
I laughed. “Okay.” Brandon possessed a power over me that I couldn’t resist. Just being in his presence made me insanely happy.
“I’ll move the prime rib, mashed potatoes, and string beans to the dining room table—here I am, doing all the heavy lifting,” he teased. “Can you set the table? The silverware’s in the top drawer next to the stove and the place settings are in the drawer below that.”
“Sure,” I said as I watched him move the prime rib into the dining room.
When I got to the dining room, I saw him standing there waiting for me. A boyish smile spread on his face as he met my gaze. Then he lifted his hand up in front of him and I saw that he was holding a small paper bag.
“Pièce de résistance,” he said in an animated French accent.
“You went to Miette!” I exclaimed. I did not need him to tell me what was in that cute pink bag. Miette was an adorable pastry shop in San Francisco that made colorful and almost too-cute-to-eat cakes, cupcakes, tarts, and confections. It was one of my favorite shops at the Ferry Building.
“I did.” He smiled at me proudly.
“How did you know I have a weakness for Miette?”
“I didn’t,” he began. “You mentioned at lunch that you love to bake and I had a feeling you’d love this place.”
I was touched, and a part of me wanted to run into his arms and kiss him. He was the man for me. Even if he seemed to have forgotten about Cancun, I knew that this Brandon, the one standing before me, could make me happier than I had ever thought was possible for me.
“I love…it. I love it.” I love you, I said silently. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said as he took the silverware from me and helped me set the table. “It’s the least I could do. You’re the one who slaved away in the kitchen.”
“And luckily I didn’t burn it down,” I joked.
He laughed, and a rush of warmth spread through me as I looked at him. I wanted desperately for him to be mine. I wanted to be this happy forever with him.
“Well, let’s eat,” he said as he eyed the food on the table.
The meal was perfect, and I smiled with pleasure when I saw Brandon going in for his third round of everything.
“Emma,” Brandon said between bites, “everything tastes phenomenal. I can’t believe you made this.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “I’m really happy that you’re enjoying it.”
After dinner, we sat down on the couch in his living room and went over some of the charts for the Imperial Hotel Project.
“So after my meeting with the CEO of Imperial Hotel this morning, it looks like they’ll want us to pitch them a new branding idea for their new line of hotels they plan to build in the next couple of years,” Brandon said.
“Oh. What do you think they’d want?”
“Well, these hotels will all be located in honeymoon locations, so I think they’ll want something that screams luxury and romance.”
We spent the next hour going over potential ideas and reviewing the materials the Imperial Hotel had provided us for the pitch.
“Oh, we almost forgot about the cupcakes,” Brandon said during our brainstorming session.
“I didn’t,” I said with laugh.
Brandon got up and went to get the Miette bag from the living room. “So I got several different ones because I didn’t know which ones you would like.”
“I pretty much like all of their stuff, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
He came over with the bag and pulled out two pretty boxes from the bag and a sheet of paper. “Help me open these. I think there are four cupcakes in each.”
“You got eight cupcakes?” I asked in astonishment.
“Well, I kind of got carried away,” Brandon said sheepishly.
I giggled. “Just a little. At least I know we won’t be fighting over the cupcakes. So what are our options?” I asked.
“Well, we’ve got a two gingerbread cupcakes, two chocolate vanilla cupcake, two old-fashioned cupcakes, one carrot cupcake, and one yellow strawberry cupcake,” he said as he read from the paper.
I smiled at him. “Did you write them down?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t think I could keep them straight if I didn’t.”
“That’s sweet.”
He smiled. “Oh, and coincidentally, I just remembered that the woman at the shop said that their gingerbread cupcakes are one of their most popular because they are made with Guinness beer. So we’ll have some Guinness after all.”
“Well that’s a relief.” We laughed at the irony.
“So what would you like to try?” Brandon asked as he held out one of the boxes towards me.
“The gingerbread cupcake, of course. To get my Guinness fix,” I joked as I pulled out a chocolate-colored cupcake topped with cream cheese frosting and a candied pink flower from the box.
“You talked me into it. I’ll have the same.” He grinned at me as he took the other gingerbread cupcake. “Cheers,” he added as he bumped his cupcake against mine.
I giggled as I peeled away the cupcake wrapper and bit into the cupcake. It was delicious—the moist, spiced cupcake worked perfectly with the sweet cream cheese frosting.
I looked over at Brandon. He had already devoured the entire cupcake. I saw some leftover frosting on his lips, and without thinking, I held my hand against his face and gently wiped off the frosting with my thumb. His hand reached up and held my hand against his face, and I felt his afternoon stubble under my palm.
He moved my hand toward his lips and licked the frosting off my thumb. I inhaled sharply at the unexpected rush of pleasure caused by his lips. Our eyes met, and I saw the need I felt for him reflected in his eyes. He leaned down toward me and I felt his lips envelop mine.
His lips were soft and sweet, leaving sparks of electricity at their wake. I kissed him back, moving my lips and tongue in unison with his.
Abruptly, he pulled me away, his eyes blinking as if he was coming out of a trance. “Sorry.” He slowly leaned away from me. “Sorry about that. I’m not sure what got into me.” He shook his head as if trying to shake off a thought.
I sat there, frozen in place. I was both excited from his unexpected kiss and devastated from his sudden change of heart.
“Do you not like me?” I heard myself blurt out. A part of me winced at my bold and hasty words, but yet, another part of me—tired of being toyed with—needed answers.
He looked at me. His eyes were gentle and his lips broke into a smile. “Emma,” he began softly, “how can you even ask that?”
I looked at him in surprise and felt a tinge of outrage by his statement. “Why shouldn’t I ask that? Brandon, you just kissed me and then pushed me away. You may be my boss, but you can’t push me aroun
d like that! You can’t toy with my feelings like that.”
He moved closer toward me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t comprehend. “No, that’s not what I meant, Emma.” He looked deep into my eyes, and I found it more and more difficult to focus on anything but his close proximity to me.
“What did you mean then?” I tried to sound demanding, but it came out soft and pleading.
“I meant, you must be crazy to think that I don’t have feelings for you. Haven’t I been pretty transparent about how I feel?”
“I…I don’t know. I mean, sometimes I thought you were a little flirty, but then you were cold,” I began.
“Emma, that’s what I was trying to avoid. We work together, and I’m your boss, and I’ve been trying really hard to keep things professional. Plus, I have a lot of personal things I’ve been trying to deal with, and I just don’t think I should involve myself with anyone right now, certainly not someone like you.”
His last few works caused me to flinch. The hurt I felt must have shown on my face.
“Emma, please don’t misunderstand. What I meant was that I’m not sure I’m ready to be with anyone serious, so especially not with someone like you, because…quite honestly, you’re trouble.” He chuckled. “When I’m with you, it’s hard to imagine not wanting to spend every waking moment with you. I’m my happiest self when you’re around. And…”
He paused as he violently combed his hands through his hair. “This is just crazy. I barely know you, but”—he closed the distance between us again—“when I think about you, I can see a forever with you.” He looked at me, waiting for me to respond.
But I couldn’t. I’d wanted to hear those words from him for so long, but for some reason, they seemed to be all wrong. He wasn’t saying them as a confession of his love for me; he was saying them as if these were not feelings he wanted to have. I looked away from him so that he wouldn’t see the hurt in my eyes and silently willed him to explain himself further.
As if reading my mind, he slowly tilted my chin up toward his face with his index finger and gently glided his thumb against my lips. “Hey,” he said softly, “you’re gorgeous, charming, and real, and any guy would be a fool to not want you in his life. Please believe me when I say that. Tell me you believe me?”
His eyes were sincere and pleading, and I gently nodded. “You’re not a fool,” I said in a whisper.
He smiled at me warmly. “I try not to be, but I’m far from perfect.”
“I beg to differ,” I retorted.
“Emma,” he began. For a moment, we stood there in silence, and I could tell he was deep in thought. Finally, after an excruciating minute, he broke the silence. “Okay,” he said firmly as he nodded his head once.
“Okay?” I repeated tentatively, ending the word as a question.
“I’m not going to deny that there’s something here—something real.” He paused. “But my life is complicated, and the fact that we work together complicates things further.”
I felt hope rise within me but quickly forced it away. Something inside me told me that he wasn’t going to give me what I wanted.
“So what are you suggesting?” I asked. I kicked myself for feeling so hopeful.
“Let’s just try to get to know each other—as friends—for now.”
I felt my body sag when I heard his words. He waited for me to respond, but I couldn’t speak.
“I want to spend more time with you and get to know you, and I don’t want a romantic relationship to complicate that right now,” he explained.
I looked down at our feet, trying desperately to think of something happy—something unrelated to Brandon—that would stop the tears from forming in my eyes.
“Hey,” Brandon said softly, his hands gently held my arms. “Please look at me, Emma.” Something sad and honest in his voice made me tilt my head up to him.
“Please don’t cry,” he said as he wiped the tears from my cheeks. “What I’m suggesting is by no way a rejection. Trust me, if I had my way, I’d forget about dinner, rip off that dress that has been taunting me all day from your body, and have my way with you in my bedroom.” I saw a flicker of desire light up in his eyes, and images of our night on that canopy bed in Cancun flashed through my thoughts. “But,” he continued, wrenching me away from my memories, “that wouldn’t be fair to you—”
“Why not?” I interrupted.
“Emma, we work together. I’m your boss and the son of the founding partner and CEO of F&M. I don’t want us to rush into things and do something we’d regret. If we were to start a romantic relationship, a number of things will change for you. We’d have to disclose this relationship to our legal department, and you would have to go to another project group because I wouldn’t be allowed to be your direct supervisor.”
“Oh,” I said. I realized that I had never considered the consequences that would result from a relationship with Brandon. When it came to Brandon, it seemed like all forms of rationality evaded me.
“I care about you, Emma. More so than you can imagine—more than I thought possible for a person to care for another—and that scares me.”
“Why?” Again, I interrupted him.
“Because I don’t want my feelings for you to rush you into something that might be a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
Brandon sighed. “What I mean is, I want to take things slow. I want you to get to know me before you make a decision that may change things for you at F&M. I know you worked really hard to get this job, and I don’t want to be the person to take that away from you. I’m not worth it—”
“You are,” I interrupted a third time.
“Emma,” he said softly, “that’s just it. You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me. And…and I want you to get to know me first before you make any decisions. I’ve been selfish in the past and allowed my desires and needs to come first, and I’ve hurt people in the process.” His words trailed off as he looked away from me.
We sat there in silence for what felt like a lifetime. “I would never forgive myself if I acted that way with you, if I allowed my desires to come before you,” he finally said.
“But I want to be with you though,” I tried to reason.
“Emma, please. You don’t know enough about me to make such a decision. Let’s just be friends for now and try to get to know one another,” he pleaded. “Besides, you’re an invaluable member of my team, and I can’t afford to lose you and hurt you at the same time if we jumped into this without thinking it through.”
I knew that everything he had said made sense, and I should be thankful that he was thinking about me, but I could not shake the feeling that there was something else he wasn’t telling me.
“So,” he ventured, “can we focus on getting to know each other for now?” He gave me a dazzling smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Okay,” I finally agreed. I am in a better position now than I thought I was last week, I reasoned with myself. At least now I know he is really interested in me, and it seems like he wants to spend more time with me. That’s enough. That’s enough for now.
He pulled me into him and hugged me tightly. I allowed myself to sink into his embrace and deeply breathed in his intoxicating smell—a mixture of his cologne and his natural scent.
“Now, let’s give my fat pants a run for its money and pick out our next cupcake to try,” he said as he tried to lighten up the mood.
He then turned to me, and in a serious tone, he said, “Now, no funny business from you—or your hands.” He glared at me before breaking into a smile. We laughed as we polished off the second round of cupcakes.
And this time, there was no funny business.
Chapter Thirteen
It was Sunday morning, and I was at the San Francisco International Airport, waiting for my flight. Several weeks had passed since my dinner with Brandon and since then, most of the time we spent together involved work, which revolved around the Imperial
Hotel Project. Brandon and I spent countless late nights at the office going over the research data, numbers, and statistics. Today, Brandon and I would be flying to D.C. to give our pitch to the hotel’s board of directors.
Despite spending so much time together, Brandon hadn’t kissed me again since that night at his place. While part of me was disappointed that he hadn’t tried to make another move on me, I embraced the friendship and closeness we were building without additional complications. Hmm, I guess he was right. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the thought.
“Hey, Emma,” said a familiar voice from behind me.
I jumped in my seat before I turned around and said, “Hey, Brandon.”
“What were you shaking your head for?”
“What?” I said, pretending to not understand him.
“You were just—oh, never mind. It’s not important. Have you been waiting long?” he asked.
“No, not really.”
“Great. Sorry, I ran a bit late. Just got a few last-minute phone calls I had to take care of.” He put his carry-on down and sat down next to me. “Toblerone?” he asked as he held out the open yellow prism-shape chocolate bar toward me.
“Sure,” I said.
He broke off a piece for me. “I never buy these things normally, but for some reason, I always buy a bar of it when I’m at an airport.”
I giggled. “I’ve actually never had one before, but this was really good.”
“Oh? Now looks who’s educating the other one about food,” he teased.
“Yeah, you learn something new every day,” I laughed.
Just then, my phone, which was sitting on the armrest between us, started ringing. I looked down, and to my surprise, it was Mike.
Mike? Why is he calling? I thought. The last time Mike and I had spoken was the night we broke up before I left for Cancun over eight months ago.
“Who’s Mike?” Brandon asked as he saw Mike’s name and photo pop up on my screen.
I fumbled for the button to end the call and send it to voicemail. “Um, just someone I knew in college,” I said quickly.