“Hey!” a familiar voice called, startling Sayler from her reveries. She stopped her progression across the courtyard as he called, “Candy stripper!”
Trying to ignore the raised eyebrows of the women sitting on the nearby benches, Sayler inhaled deeply, held her breath, and turned around.
His smile was stunning as he looked her up and down, obviously pleased to see her.
“Hello, Mr. Booker,” Sayler greeted, forcing a smile.
“You remember me,” he said, as if he were astonished by the fact.
“Of course,” Sayler said, surprised by his surprise.
“Who’s this, Bo?” the other man asked.
“This is Sayler,” Bo said, nodding at her as he continued to smile. “She was my personal candy stripper when I was in physical therapy after that car accident.”
“Really?” the man chuckled.
“Candy striper, actually,” Sayler said, blushing.
“Dave Phelps,” he said, offering his hand to her.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Phelps,” Sayler said as the man took her hand in greeting.
“Dave’s a big shot at the firm,” Bo explained. “So,” he began, still smiling and studying her from head to toe once more, “What brings you downtown? Are you working around here somewhere?”
“Um…no,” Sayler stammered. “Actually, I…I…I’m not working right now.”
“Really?” he asked. “Still going to the U?”
“Yeah, but I’m off right now. You know, between semesters,” she said.
“Oh, I see,” he said. Then he chuckled, his smile broadening, and added, “You look good!”
“So do you,” Sayler said, feeling the pink rise to her cheeks.
“Are you looking for a job right now?” he asked. “I mean, since you’re between semesters?”
Sayler’s smile broadened, and she nodded. “Actually, I am.”
“Pounding the old pavement, eh?” Dave said, a sympathetic grin on his face.
“Pretty much,” Sayler confirmed.
“Well, why haven’t you come to me yet?” Bo asked, smiling and frowning at the same time. “I told you if you ever needed a job to come to me.”
“I-I know,” Sayler stammered. “Actually…I was just up in your building, and they said you were out.”
Bo chuckled, reached out, and gripped Sayler’s hand in a firm handshake. His touch was sensational, and Sayler held her breath for a moment, attempting to remain calm.
“You’re hired,” he said.
“But I—” she began.
“You’re hired,” he repeated. “We can always use a good candy stripper at Booker, can’t we, Dave?”
“Always,” Dave agreed.
“Mr. Booker, I…” Sayler began. She suddenly felt completely ridiculous.
“Oh, you’re right,” he said, frowning and biting his lip. “I guess I’ll have to lay off the candy stripper jokes now. Sort of inappropriate, hmmm?”
Sayler couldn’t stop the giggle. It escaped her throat before she knew it was there.
“That’s not it,” she told him. “It’s just that you can’t possibly be serious about hiring me, résumé unseen, without hearing if I have any experience.”
“But you forget,” he said, still holding her hand. “I’ve witnessed your work before. And on that merit alone, I’d hire you any day.”
Sayler almost sighed. He remembered her! Not only remembered her but thought well of her.
“But…to do what?” she asked.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Bo said, releasing her hand. “We’re swamped. Constantly.” He looked at his watch. “Tell you what,” he began, “Me and Dave have a business lunch with a client in like five minutes. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow and we’ll finalize the details?”
“Of course,” she told him. “But I feel pretty ridiculous even coming to you about—”
“I offered you a job three years ago, Sayler. Remember?” he asked. “I can’t help it if it took you all that time to take me up on it.”
“Is it really all right?” she asked him. He grinned at her, his eyes narrowing a bit.
“I wouldn’t have offered a job to you if I hadn’t really meant it, Sayler,” he said.
“All right. I’ll try to believe you,” she said.
“Good,” he chuckled. “Now there’s a little place across the street. Do you see it?” he asked, pointing to a small café on the other side of the street.
“Winkel’s?” she asked, reading the neon sign above the establishment.
“Yep. Can you meet me there at one tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes,” she said. His eyes were mesmerizing, and somehow simply gazing at his face caused her mouth to water.
“Okay, then, Sayler the candy stripper,” he said, shaking her hand again. “See you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Booker,” she said, thrilling to the tips of her toes when he nodded and winked at her.
“Any time,” he said.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Sayler,” Dave said, shaking her hand as well. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at the office.”
“Thanks,” Sayler said.
The two men walked on, and Sayler watched them go. She smiled and bit her lip, delighted when Bo looked back once, winking at her again.
Bo Booker felt overheated. He reached up, loosening his tie’s noose a bit. He wasn’t sure he was awake, thought he might be dreaming when he had first seen Sayler walking across the courtyard. She was hot! Hotter even than she had been as a teenager three years before. He smiled, thinking of her walking toward him. His thoughts seemed to be replaying in slow motion. Her little fawn-colored suit jacket and short skirt really showed off the length and shape of her legs. Her brown, highlighted hair was long and free, its tapered cut framing her face perfectly. He had never seen her with her hair down. She’d always worn a ponytail when she had visited him at the Center.
“Candy striper, huh?” Dave chuckled. “More like eye candy if you ask me.”
“No kidding,” Bo breathed, yanking his thoughts to the present in time to avoid stumbling into a bench.
“And the way you hired her on the spot,” Dave began, smiling, “I’d say she made quite an impression on you at some point during your physical therapy.”
“She was my therapy,” Bo said, as a vision of Sayler as a sweet, perky candy striper flashed in his mind. “But she was too young then to really…to really…”
“Have?” Dave finished.
“Yeah,” Bo chuckled. “To tell you the truth, every summer since I’ve waited for her to show up at the office…hoped she would take me up on the job offer.”
“Well, Mr. Booker,” Dave began, mimicking a woman’s voice, “I’d say she’s all grown-up now.”
“I’d say so,” Bo agreed, glancing back once more. Sayler was still walking across the courtyard. She was something else! His eyebrows raised, and he loosened his tie a bit more. “Ooh baby, baby,” he mumbled under his breath. He smiled and shook his head, still astonished she had agreed to work for him.
“Baby, baby is right,” Dave agreed. “Whew! It’ll be interesting to watch you try and keep your hands off her.”
“Well, you just be sure you keep your hands off her, you hear?” he added, nudging his friend in the ribs with one elbow.
“Not to worry,” Dave said. “I can see you staked your claim a long time ago.”
“That’s right,” Bo chuckled.
He’d been waiting for a long time—hoping Sayler would show up on his doorstep one day. Several times he’d thought about looking her up himself over the years. But somehow, he’d always chickened out, convincing himself she wouldn’t be interested.
He smiled, completely pumped about meeting her for lunch the next day. He had her in his clutches, so to speak. Anything was possible. Wasn’t it?
Sayler was completely overwhelmed—ecstatic! She had to be dreaming. Surely Bo Booker didn’t just hire her. And he was beautiful! Mor
e so than he’d been three years before.
Sayler walked toward the fountain and sat down on one of the empty benches. She put her hands to her cheeks to cool her blush, inhaled and exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow her excited breath. She was trembling! Every inch of her was trembling.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she knew at that moment what a terrible mistake she may have made. She’d found a job, yes. But could she endure working for Bo? Could she see him, be near him every day, and not fall in love with him the way she had three years before? But she was an adult now, she rationalized. Surely she was old enough, mature enough to base herself in reality. Surely she knew daydreams were simply fantasies. Didn’t she?
Yet, as she started her car and pulled out of the covered parking area and onto Maple, her anxiety increased. Could she avoid falling in love with Bo Booker again? Most definitely not, she thought. The truth was she had never fallen out of love with him. He had lived in her dreams, traveled through her mind, and lingered in her heart for three years. She would have to find a way to face what she hadn’t faced for three years: he was real—a real, living epitome of masculine perfection. Dreams were one thing, reality another, and she would have to find a way to remain level-headed.
No doubt every woman working at Booker Architecture and Contracting dreamed of Bo Booker. No doubt every woman had learned to see him as an intangible treat. If they had all learned to do it, so could she.
In an effort to distract herself, she pressed the radio button. She laughed out loud, rolled her eyes, and couldn’t believe it as Linda Ronstadt sang “Ooh Baby Baby” via 98.1 FM.
“Get a grip, Sayler,” she breathed. Still, she smiled and sang along with the music, remembering one dreamy night three years before—a night when, for a brief and beloved moment, a daydream came true.
CHAPTER TWO
Sayler sat in the waiting area of Winkel’s café, anxious, trembling, and sick to her stomach. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before. All she had been able to think about was Bo Booker. How could she possibly have thought she could remain calm while working for him?
She looked at the clock on the wall. Two minutes to one. Would he be late? Glancing out the window to the courtyard across the street, she saw him. Instantly, she was breathless and felt tears springing to her eyes. He wore navy blue suit pants, a pink dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and a blue tie. She watched him cross the street, loosening his tie as he approached.
He entered the café, and she fairly leaped to her feet. He seemed to notice her at once.
“Hey,” he said, smiling and offering his hand to her.
“Hello,” Sayler said, shaking his hand.
“Two, Mr. Booker?” the hostess asked. She smiled at him, the kind of smile a woman has when she’s delighted to see someone.
“Yes, Paula,” Bo said. “Please.”
“This way,” Paula said, gathering up two menus from the hostess desk.
Sayler stiffened when she felt Bo place one hand at the small of her back as a gesture she should proceed him in following the hostess.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his hand still at her back as they walked.
“Kind of,” Sayler managed. It was a surreal situation—having lunch at a quaint café with her soon-to-be, gorgeous young boss. It was unbelievable.
“Here you go, Mr. Booker,” Paula said, placing the menus on a table for two in one secluded corner.
“Perfect! Thanks, Paula,” Bo said, as he pulled a chair out from the table. He nodded to Sayler and pushed the chair under her as she sat down.
Bo sat down across from her. Smiling at her, he said, “So? Are you totally stoked?”
Sayler wasn’t certain to what he referred. “Um…yes,” she began, “I hear this is a good place.”
His smile broadened, and he chuckled. “It is. But I meant about working for me. Are you excited?”
“I’m terrified,” she admitted, picking up the small menu, feigning interest.
“Why? You know me,” he said. Sayler imagined his frown; his expression almost read like she had offended him.
“But I don’t know your business,” she explained. “I’ve been a rose de-thorner at a florist, a candy striper, and a receptionist at a moving company. That’s it. I’ve never worked in a real business or anything.”
“Those all sound like real businesses to me,” he said. His expression softened, and she knew he understood. “I can’t imagine this will be much different.”
“Much different than reading Dr. Seuss stories to coma patients?” she said.
Bo laughed and picked up his own menu. “That was great!” he said. “It really was. I’ll never forget the look on your face when I woke up.” He laughed again, and his delight spilled over onto Sayler. She put a hand to her mouth to muffle her amused giggle. “Those two wenches still working there?” he asked.
Sayler nodded. “Amazingly, yes. They straightened up a bit after a while. My grandpa is retiring and turning the Center over to my uncle in a couple of months. We’ll see if my uncle is as patient with those two as my grandpa was.”
“Are you ready to order, Mr. Booker?” a young, attractive waitress asked, coming to stand next to the table.
“Give us another minute, okay, Leslie?” he said. “But I could use some water. What do you want, Sayler?”
“Just water,” Sayler told the waitress. “But no lemon, please.”
She looked up to see Bo’s approving smile, and the waitress said, “Okay, then. Two waters with no lemon.”
“I prefer my water straight too,” he said. He sighed and returned his attention to his menu. “What are you going to have?”
Bo looked up from his menu. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Sayler. She was too adorable! She wore another suit—navy blue jacket, matching short skirt, and pink shirt. Her hair was down again, perfectly styled, and he shook his head, astounded at how grown-up and beautiful she was.
He wondered for a moment if he should’ve offered to hire her. She would no doubt be very distracting if he allowed it. As it was, he didn’t want to go back to the office—just wanted to sit with her all afternoon in the café.
“I don’t know,” she said in answer to his question. “I’ve never been here before.”
“Really?” he asked. “Well, I usually get the French dip. It’s really good. Filling too.” He paused, and Sayler smiled. He seemed so serious as he studied the menu, as if what to order was a very important decision. “The chicken salad on the crescent is good too.”
“I’ll try that,” Sayler said, setting her menu aside.
“Sounds good,” Bo said as the waitress appeared with perfect timing. “I’ll have the French dip, Leslie,” he said. “And the lady will have the chicken salad crescent.”
“Okay, Mr. Booker,” Leslie said. “Did you want chips and salsa today?”
“Leslie,” Bo said. “What are you thinking?”
Leslie giggled and scribbled on her order pad. “Chips and salsa it will be. Ronny will be right out with your water.”
“Thanks,” Bo said. Leslie left. Ronny instantly arrived, sat two glasses of water on the table, and left as well. “Okay, Sayler,” Bo began, smiling at her, “when can you start?”
“When can I start doing what?” she asked in return. Surely he had a plan for her. Surely he wouldn’t just hire her for the sake of hiring her, and she was anxious about what she would be doing. Would she be capable?
Yet as she looked at him, studied his lethally attractive countenance, she determined she would do anything. She’d be the office maintenance maid, an errand runner, whatever she could do to work near him, to have the chance to see him.
“Office work, mostly,” he said, taking a drink of his water. “Answering e-mail, running plans, invoicing—you know, office stuff I need you to do.”
“You mean…you mean…you really need me?” she asked. He seemed sincere. Perhaps she could be useful to him.
�
��Oh, yeah. I need you,” he said with a wink and a nod. He paused and smiled at her, and Sayler imagined for a moment he was being insinuative, flirtatious. “I think I’ll have you start in my own office,” he continued. “My desk is a mess. Joey says he’s amazed I can find anything at all. I have some plans that need to be delivered, and as of this morning, I had 247 e-mails to answer. So can you start now?”
“Now?” she asked. He couldn’t be serious.
“Well, right after lunch, I mean. You could come up to the office with me, and I could get you started. If you want to wait until tomorrow or something, I could still show you some things to do.” He nodded a greeting and smiled at two men in business suits who passed the table.
“I-I don’t see why I couldn’t,” Sayler stammered.
“Great!” he said. “Liz can get your paperwork done too. You know, get that out of the way. When are you going back to school?”
“Fall semester,” Sayler told him. She was already depressed about it. The thought went through her mind that perhaps she could just skip the rest of college and work for Bo forever.
“Will you be able to work part-time after that? Or did you want to quit?” he asked. “Thanks, Leslie,” he said as the waitress returned, setting a basket of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa on the table.
“You mean, you’d keep me on part-time?” Sayler asked. She was astonished.
“Of course,” he said. He smiled and frowned as if he were puzzled by the question. “What are you going for anyway?”
“Interior design,” she answered.
“No way!” he exclaimed. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No,” Sayler said. She couldn’t help smiling as his smile broadened.
“Joey said just the other day that we needed a good interior designer on our payroll. Maybe it will be you one day,” he said.
“Now I know you’re just being nice,” Sayler said, following his lead and taking a chip from the basket.
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