A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2)

by Fionn Jameson

  “So?” I wiggled my fingers. “Let’s shake on it? Let’s say we’ll respect each other’s privacy, and outside of work hours we won’t bother each other.”

  He glanced at my hand. “What about Julian?”

  “I don’t know,” I said somewhat helplessly. “If he wants to see me again, I’m not going to tell him no, Mr. Miyano.”

  His brows furrowed. “You are aware we’re leaving on Sunday? That’s four days away.”

  I refused to let my chagrin show on my face. I had forgotten my newfound romance with Julian had a very near expiration date. “I am aware.”

  He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner, stroking his lower lip with fingers that would’ve looked great playing a concerto or a tarantella. “I never figured you as the type to engage in a fling.”

  I cleared my throat, my outstretched hand wavering in the air. My arm was starting to ache. “Mr. Miyano, you’re doing it again. Not respecting my privacy. Whether I want to engage in a fling with Julian is none of your business, especially if it does not interfere with my work.” I looked pointedly around us, at the artfully decorated booth. I had always enjoyed interior decorating as a hobby, and with my use of soft fabrics and pretty displays of our books, I thought I had outdone myself. So did the multitude of other trade show attendants who showed their appreciation with low “oohs” and whistles. “Judging by my actions today, would you say that my late night yesterday affected my work in an adverse manner?”

  His lips pursed as though he was sucking on a lemon. It was probably painful for him to admit that I was doing a good job, and I reveled in his discomfort. “No. I believe your work today has been exemplary.”

  A wave of relief almost knocked me right off my feet. “I’m happy to hear that. So how about we shake hands and resolidify our partnership. I’m told it’s bad manners to leave someone hanging like this.”

  His lips twisted sardonically. “I couldn’t bear to leave a lady in such dire straits.”

  He took my hand in his long, slim one, his elegant fingers caressing the underside of my wrist, and I felt a lump in my throat form almost instantly.

  Damn it.

  Just when I thought I had gotten over him, the bastard had to go and do something that made me remember all those vivid dreams that left me sweaty and wet.

  I gave him my best cool smile. “You can let go of my hand now, Mr. Miyano.”

  “Hmm?” His voice was low, like wet velvet, and involuntarily I sucked in a quick breath.

  His widening grin told me he knew what I had done and what had caused it.

  Arrogant jerk.

  “My hand, Mr. Miyano?”

  “You could always let go first, Miss Hasegawa.”

  I glared at him. “What is this, a contest?”

  “I don’t know, is it?”

  I tried to wrest my fingers out from under his, but his slim fingers were deceptively strong and all I did was manage to look like a total weakling.

  Then someone cleared their throat.

  “Um…am I interrupting something?”

  We both turned to the entrance and the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

  Nobuki let go of my hand, which was a shame because I could’ve used the support right about then.

  A slim, almost ethereally built woman with long reddish-brown hair that waved around her shoulders smiled at us, dressed in a casual leather jacket over a red T-shirt and tight jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

  “You’re Heather Jimenez.” I gasped, staggering on legs that felt like Jell-o. “I love your books.”

  I wondered if she would bolt like a frightened deer if I started screaming like a crazy fan girl.

  Which I was.

  Heather Jimenez was one of my favorite authors. Her stories were quite perverse, dark and extremely disturbed. She had been compared to such authors as Clive Barker, Stephen King, and Richard Matheson. I personally found her books more terrifying than Koji Suzuki, who had gained fame through his books Ring and Dark Water.

  What made her books even more shocking to a majority of her readers and critics was her appearance. She had modeled in her teens and even appeared in a few movies before disappearing from the limelight for four years then coming out with her breakout hit. The Empty House had won several prestigious awards and earned her a great deal of money. The book was turned into a Hollywood movie and there were rumors flying around that she had declined the offer to play the lead character.

  And now she was here, smiling brilliantly.

  “I am such a big fan,” I babbled, my mind moving faster than my mouth ever could. “I loved your latest book, Red Shoes. It was the best retelling I have ever seen or read of Anderson’s fairy tale. I idolize you!”

  She gave me a blinding smile that made me want to shy away, like a vampire hiding from the sun.

  “Wow.” She laughed with her perfect mouth. “You must like my books.”

  “I absolutely, positively love them,” I practically crowed. “I recommend them to everyone I know.”

  The two dimples on either side of her lips made deep divots in her cheeks. “Well, thank you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed my books.”

  “I have, so much.” God, why couldn’t I stop talking?

  Her gaze slipped past me and she held up a hesitant hand, the smile wavering. “Hi, Nobu.”

  I blinked.

  Wait, what? I turned around to find my boss standing behind me, smiling at her.

  Smiling at her.

  The bastard was actually smiling at her.

  With his eyes.

  I stared between the pair of them, sensing some kind of connection. “Do you two know each other?”

  He laughed. “Of course. Heather and I know each other very well.”

  She giggled and reached across me to punch him on the shoulder. “Oh, stop, you.”

  I could not believe my eyes or my ears.

  First off, my boss who treated everyone like they were pawns in his chess game was smiling at a woman with not only his mouth but his eyes.

  And second, the woman who had just written a book about a group of mutilated corpses rising up from the ocean and slaughtering the entire Western seaboard giggled like a teenage girl.

  Then again, she was just twenty-four.

  “Seriously? You know Heather Jimenez?” I asked, gaze darting from one to the other while the pair looked at each other almost like lovers. “Why didn’t you say anything, Mr. Miyano? I’m her biggest fan.”

  “How was I supposed to know?” he asked. “More importantly, why should I care?”

  The beautiful writer bit her lip, worrying it between two small pearly teeth. “Nobu, why do you have to be so mean to your assistant?”

  “Because it’s my job.” He moved past me like I wasn’t even there, jostling me into a pile of books that cascaded over a table. “Besides, it’s her job. She can take it. She’s taken worse.”

  My favorite writer put a familiar hand around Nobuki’s waist. And the bastard let her.

  “Shall we?” she asked, looking at him with adoration clear in her sea-colored eyes. “I know I came a little earlier than planned, but I couldn’t stay away.”

  He smiled down at her and I almost threw up from the saccharine sweetness of it all.

  Who the hell was this man?

  “How can I complain when such a beautiful woman wants to see me?”

  She laughed softly, a hand over her mouth. Strangely, I didn’t feel so starstruck around the writer who was most likely to keep me up past my bedtime and leave me with horrifying nightmares for nights on end.

  “You’re embarrassing me.” She slapped him playfully on the chest. “Can we go now?”

  “Go? Go where?” If I sounded annoyed it was because I did not anticipate having to close down the entire booth by myself. “Mr. Miyano, the floor won’t close for another hour.”

  “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.” He grabbed his black blazer off a chair. “You can be quite efficient when you pu
t your mind to it.”

  Heather Jimenez beamed at me and I went soft again. God, she was gorgeous with her delicate features and bone structure. The author pictures in the back of her books did not do her justice.

  “I am so sorry to take him off your hands,” she said. “But I’m sure you can handle everything by yourself, right? After all, it’s just an hour and the floor’s getting pretty empty.”

  “But—”

  Nobuki threw the coat over one shoulder and then pulled Heather against his side, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Just get it done, Miss Hasegawa.”

  And then they were walking toward one of the doors that would lead outside the convention center.

  I paused by the booth entrance, flabbergasted.

  What the hell had just happened?

  She hung onto his arm, talking a mile a minute and he looked down at her, smiling.

  My chest tightened and I sank down on a chair, almost upsetting it as I perched on the edge and made it tip dangerously forward.

  Yes, because that would’ve been perfect. Me lying on the ground under a chair, face buried into the rough carpeting.

  Heather Jimenez wasn’t wrong. The floor was clearing out as it was past four and the show was officially over at five. The only people meandering around were people from other booths who were stretching their legs. As one peeked into our booth, it was the most I could do to give them a weak smile.

  She smiled back and then speed-walked past, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  Jealous thoughts?

  My pulse sped up, my hands curled into fists, and I felt dizzy.

  I was angry.

  But why?

  Was it because my boss decided to ditch out early to hang out with his lady love? Was that something to get angry about? He was the boss, after all. It was his privilege to leave whenever he wanted.

  I concentrated on breathing, fists pressed into the tops of my thighs as I stared holes through the cheap gray carpeting.

  Was I angry because he left work early, and left me with the majority of the cleanup work to do? Honestly, it wasn’t like there was a whole lot to do. I just had to rearrange the books into a more utilitarian pile. Then I’d do some small dusting and pull the tarp up over our booth.

  In fact, there were plenty of booths here with only one promoter.

  I lifted my head and stared at the booths surrounding us. More than half of them were closing up for the night and the distant whine of a vacuum rattled in my head.

  I sighed and stood up.

  I had to face the facts. It wasn’t that I was angry Nobuki decided to check out early. In fact, if he had been anyone else, I might’ve shoved the two together and told them to have a good time.

  But because it was Nobuki and a lady friend…

  I ground the palms of my hands into my eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache start to throb between my eyes.

  “Rika!”

  Julian was coming toward me, looking wonderfully casual in a plain black shirt and a pair of semi-baggy light carpenter pants and some heavy-duty workman boots.

  He shucked up his sunglasses, putting them on top of his golden head as he peered into the booth, his blue eyes wide. “Where’d Nobu go?”

  Deciding it was better if I cleaned up and got ready to close the booth before succumbing to depression, I went to work. “He left early.”

  Julian came to help me, holding twice as many books as we worked together to put them away. “Really? That workaholic?”

  “Yes.” I almost didn’t sound bitter. “He had a guest who decided that she would monopolize him for the rest of the night.”

  He paused, looking at me. “Uh-oh. A woman?”

  I nodded and put the books into the box, trying not to slam them together. Julian didn’t need to know how upset I was over this whole affair. “Yes. Heather Jimenez.”

  He closed the full box and we started on another one. “The horror lady, right? I didn’t know they were acquainted.”

  “Yep. The horror lady. And neither did I,” I said and then stopped. “You know, Julian, I knew she was attractive. I mean, I have all her books at home. But when I saw her in person, I felt like I was looking at a movie star. I was starstruck.”

  He laughed. “Well, she was a model and did end up in some movies, so you’re right there.”

  “If she told me to, I think I would’ve licked her shoes clean.”

  His brows rose. “I didn’t know you were that much of a fan.”

  “I love her books,” I said staunchly. “I love the horror genre, but her books are especially good. When she walked in here, I was tripping over myself because I couldn’t get to her fast enough.”

  He seemed very amused at my description of how tongue-tied I’d been. “Yeah? Did you get her autograph?”

  I slapped a hand to my forehead. “No, I totally forgot.”

  And then I remembered the way she was hanging off Nobuki and my enthusiasm for the horror author fell several notches. “But I’m sure I’ll have more opportunities to do so in the future. She took Mr. Miyano with her and he left me to clean and close up.”

  He tsked. “He ought to know better.”

  I paused in the middle of dusting around a pile of books. “No matter. He’s the boss. I’m the secretary. I don’t know why I’m complaining.”

  He stopped and gave me that sunny smile that made me feel better. “Well, maybe. But now it’s just the two of us.”

  I looked at the other people in the hall, well aware that we were fully visible on three different sides. “I guess so?”

  He laughed at my discomfort, turning back to tidying up. “No need to look like that. I’m not going to molest you.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Not here, anyway.”

  My stomach clenched almost painfully tight. “Julian!”

  He kept laughing, as though I had told the world’s funniest joke. “Don’t play the offended card. I know how you really feel about me.”

  I considered throwing the feather duster at his handsome laughing face, but thought about the different ways he could get his revenge and decided against it.

  We managed to get the booth cleaned up and ready for the next day, and by the time Julian pulled the zipper of the booth closed, everyone else was streaming out. We joined the tail end of the mass migration and when I got out into the main lobby with the massive windows, I winced from the brilliance of the late-afternoon sun.

  “Hungry?”

  I put a hand over my abdomen, trying to remember exactly when and what I’d eaten. “I…think so. I mean, I should be, right?”

  He put a hand around my waist and I let him, mostly because memories of last night trickled through my mind, setting my lips and fingertips ablaze. “Come on. I’m going to take you to South Coast Plaza.”

  On the drive there, we talked about simple, easy things. Neither of us made any mention of what had transpired the night before, a fact I was grateful for. Maybe something like that would’ve been easy to talk about in the dark, but in bright daylight, even with the fading sunlight turning the sky shades of pink and blue, it was enough to make me squirm with embarrassment.

  South Coast Plaza turned out to be a sprawling shopping center, and I gawked at the huge structure while Julian looked for a parking spot. “Wow. This place is huge. Is this one building?”

  “I think there’s another section a little farther down, but yes, it is.”

  Most shopping malls in Japan were boxlike with several stories and nowhere near as large as this building in front of me.

  He found an open spot not too far from the Macy’s entrance and we got out. The balmy air whipped my long hair into my eyes and I took a deep breath, feeling the muscles unknit between my shoulders.

  No wonder people loved California. The warm weather, the good food, even the smell of the air had grown on me. All the open space was mind-boggling, considering how everything in Tokyo was so compacted.

  We wal
ked through a brightly lit shopping area, surrounded by the scents of perfume and cosmetics.

  Julian looked back at me. “Did you want to do some shopping?”

  My stomach rumbled and I hurried after him. “No. Let’s eat. Any suggestions?”

  It seemed so natural to walk next to him, to feel those envious gazes from the women around us, and I fought against the instinctive, primitive urge to preen.

  “There’s this fantastic sandwich place that I know of. The food is to die for.”

  Taking a chance, I linked my arm through his and saw the way his eyes heated. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We didn’t let go until we got to the eatery, sandwiched in between a Waterstones and a J. Crew.

  Called The AF Rowing Club, it was an elegant bistro. The hostess showed us to a table and we went through the menu, both of us concentrating on the choices. The menu was quite diverse and I took a long time trying to decide. Some of the words were unfamiliar, but I managed to muddle through them, my eyes almost crossing from the effort.

  “Want my suggestion?”

  I gave him a blinding smile, relieved for the lifeline. “Yes, please.”

  “The Reuben is good. But I think their roast beef sandwich is also pretty good.”

  I found them on the menu and then gawked at the prices. “Really? Aren’t these just sandwiches?”

  He took a sip of the iced lemon water the server had brought us. “I think they come with a salad or fries. Why?”

  “But…” I forced a smile. “Never mind.”

  I didn’t want to mention prices. I didn’t want Julian to think I was some penny-pinching, miserly woman, but the prices of those sandwiches seemed outrageous considering I was getting a few slices of meat between two pieces of bread. It seemed like I should’ve gotten a steak for the price.

  But then again, I did have the company card and I could just put the receipt on the per diem, which was more than enough to pay for anything I wanted to get, and even pay for Julian’s. I decided that after last night and the fact that he paid for me, I would do the same. Besides, I always enjoyed throwing the stereotype on its head, the fact that women always let the men treat them. It was so prevalent in Japan that when I offered to pay for myself a few years ago on a date, the guy was so offended he never called me back.