by Karina Halle
I have to admit, I’m not the most organized person when it comes to my own personal life, but I seem to have it down when it comes to business. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing it for so long, the same damn thing day-in and day-out, that it’s become as natural as breathing.
Today though, has been the first day that’s really thrown me for a loop.
Usually I’m at work about ten minutes early. I like to take my time to look around the office, get a cup of coffee and slowly settle into the day before anyone can bug me about something. The quiet and peacefulness really helps set the tone for the day.
Today I was a few minutes late, having overslept. I don’t think I finally closed my eyes until three in the morning, my brain was just stewing over Emmett and the situation, my heart racing like crazy. So of course when I finally did pass out, I slept through my first alarm.
The moment I walked into the building, I saw Tiffany at reception staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read. It was like she was bursting at the seams to tell me something and having to hold it back made her face red and sweat profusely.
When I went into the main office though, then I got it.
Everyone erupted into applause.
All these years at my job and I barely get a thank you from some colleagues.
But become Emmett Hill’s girlfriend and front page news for gossip sites and suddenly that’s something worth congratulating me on.
Needless to say, it was beyond embarrassing and I couldn’t even disappear into my office because now all anyone wants to ask me about is Emmett. To think that all these people were at the wedding on Saturday, not even paying attention to what was really going on, and now they all think they’re part of some clandestine love affair or some start-up they got in on from the ground floor.
Speaking of, I try and look around for Casey but I don’t see him in his office. I need to ask him straight up if it was him that took and sold the pictures. He’d lie, of course, but I’m pretty good at telling when people are lying. And if it was him, I would take great pleasure in whipping his ass with my handbag (and not in some kinky sexual way).
Thankfully, things start quieting down, even though every time someone walks past my office they do this sly kind of head nod or wink. Have we all resorted to being in high school or what? What’s next, someone is going to pass me a note asking if we’ve gotten to second base?
By the time lunch time rolls around, I need someone to talk to. It’s only then that I realize I can’t talk to Tiffany about it. While I did tell Jackie the truth, she can keep a secret. Tiffany cannot. She means well but she’s prone to bursting out the wrong thing at the wrong moment, like the time she told Casey to give me the last donut because I was having an extremely heavy period and therefore deserved it.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Ted just called me into his office.
I take in a deep breath and smooth my flowy blouse over my hips before I go inside. I can only imagine how this is going to go.
“Alyssa,” Ted says to me with a big smile. He’s sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and sipping from a mug that I doubt contains coffee. “Shut the door, have a seat.”
Hmmm. Usually Ted does all business with the door open, unless he’s on a conference call.
I cautiously take my seat, trying to keep cool even though my heart is starting to skip. “Everything okay?” I ask him.
“Yes, of course. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Right as rain. I know you expect me to be crying in my boots because my daughter is gone, perhaps forever, run off with my best friend. That I’m overwhelmed by the bills of the wedding, let alone the fact that there’s going to be another grandchild popping up in eight months or so.” He says this so deadpan that I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine. Business as usual.”
He takes a sip of his coffee and a waft of whisky assaults my nose. Figures.
“Well, you look young for a grandfather,” I say lamely, not sure what to say.
He squints at me. “You know, I do want to talk to you about Emmett. I really, really do. But first, must I remind you that you called this meeting? Last week? Said you wanted to talk to me?”
Oh right. That. Funny how important it all seemed a few days ago and now it’s like everything has changed.
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” I say, not missing a beat. “It was just regarding my job…and my future here.”
Ted gives me an exaggerated frown. “Jesus Murphy. Please don’t tell me you’re quitting. You’re one of a kind and you know it.” He pauses. “And please don’t tell me you want a raise because we just can’t afford it right now, so sorry.”
I exhale but keep the smile pasted on my face. “A raise would be nice. But I know it’s all dependent on Warner Brothers and if they sign the next films to us, so I’m not going to be greedy. I’ve seen our books, I know what goes in and out. It’s just…I would like to be challenged more.”
He cocks a grey brow. “You want more responsibility?”
“I want different responsibility.”
“You mean you don’t want to be an office manager anymore.”
“I just want to know what else is available for me here.”
He nods, sucking on his teeth and looking away. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I can appreciate that. It’s just that things are constantly changing here. Each film is something new.”
“For you,” I point out. “For me it’s always the same. I need to know I’m working toward something.”
“Okay. So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. And that’s a lie. Because what I want has nothing to do with this job whatsoever and never will. But even so, if there’s no place for me to go in this company…what am I doing?
“We could transfer you to marketing, with Casey.”
I scrunch up my nose, wincing internally. “No thank you.” I pause, taking the plunge. “What if you transfer me to the LA office?”
“It would be no different than here.”
“That’s where you would be wrong. It would be LA. Every single thing would be different.”
Oh please, please, please.
If he could transfer me there, then maybe I wouldn’t even have to do this thing with Emmett after all.
But he shakes his head. “Wish I could, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. Will was easy because his ex-wife was American but they’re getting pretty strict these days. You can go and visit, of course, and go to meetings, just like I do, but getting you a permanent position wouldn’t be justifiable when there are so many qualified people there already.”
“You could sponsor me.”
“It’s just not worth it for us, Alyssa.”
Fuck. I’m sure as hell glad I had this conversation now after Emmett’s proposal. Suddenly the deal, and the money, looks like my only way out.
“I’m sorry,” Ted says, reading my face. “How about when Will gets back from his honeymoon, the three of us put our heads together. I’m sure we can find a way for you to feel more challenged at the office.”
I nod politely but the truth is I’m already imagining my escape route.
“Now, onto other business. What in sweet hell is going on with you and Emmett Hill?”
“Why, what does it look like?” I ask innocently.
He points his finger at me. “I warned him to stay away from you.”
“I think that only spurred him on.”
“Alyssa. Are you serious about him? The last two days I’ve been reading about it everywhere. You even went to dinner with him last night. I saw the photos.”
I give him a small smile, finding it easier than I thought it would be to play this part. “A real lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” I get to my feet. “And I’m not about to give you the inside scoop. For all I know, you’re the one who took the pictures at the wedding and sold it to Perez, since you have such a boner for him.”
“I do not have a…” he cries out
and then gives me a stern look. “That is not an appropriate way to talk to your boss.”
“Good thing I don’t have an appropriate boss. Can we drop it now?”
“Fine,” he says in a huff, like a child who hasn’t gotten his way. “But seriously, Alyssa. You’re a bright, smart, pretty young girl. Please don’t expect anything serious with Emmett. I’ve got to know him well enough over the years and while I like him, the man has some serious issues.”
“You can say that again,” I say under my breath as I head to the door.
“I mean it,” Ted says and when I glance at him, he’s morphed into dad mode. “If you expect anything serious from him, you’re just going to get hurt. And I don’t want to have to come into work to find you crying at your desk, day after day. Okay?”
“I’m a big girl, Mr. Phillips,” I tell him and open the door with sassy flourish. “I can take care of myself.”
If only he knew the truth about the two of us. A one-night stand turned into a lie of epic proportions.
I don’t know how I got through the rest of the day but somehow time still passed and placed me back at home, frantically tearing through my closet, looking for something to wear. I mean, now I have to think like a celebrity and I can’t get caught wearing the same outfit twice.
Or maybe I can because I’m just a normal girl and that’s why the media is running with this, because I am the type of person–you know, normal–who would wear a repeat outfit.
Argh. I can’t decide. I’ve literally tried on everything I own and everything comes across as either too revealing or too dowdy. Plus, it’s growing hotter as the day goes on, which is effectively ruining my makeup job, going from looking like I’m not making an effort (but really am) to just looking like I’m not making an effort. There’s a big difference between the glow of a highlighter and an oil slick of sweat.
I can’t even borrow Carla’s clothes because she’s two sizes smaller than me and even after I lost some weight, my hips remain their stubborn size. Stupid bones. Forget child-bearing hips, mine can birth a whole heifer.
In the end, I decide to slip on a red sundress and sandals. The color is flashy but I know it suits me and the neckline is fairly modest. The only dilemma now is whether I should wear my shorts or not. Yes, shorts. Not just for unexpected breezes but to protect against chub rub. My thighs are gapless and if there’s a lot of walking, they can create enough friction to start a fire.
Normally, I wouldn’t wear them on a date, particularly if I was feeling lucky. They don’t seem to have the Bridget Jones’ granny panty effect, wherein wearing them increases my chances of having sex. Instead, they just turn into awkward conversation when you’re trying to get naked. You know, let me take off my sexy bra and also these shorts that I have to wear so that my ample thighs don’t incinerate me on the spot. Yeah, super sexy.
But Emmett is texting me that he’s waiting outside, so I opt to wear them, thinking it will remind me to not have sex with him, no matter what happens.
It isn’t until I’m stepping out into the kitchen that I remember Bridget Jones wore her granny panties for the exact same reason. And look what happened. She slept with sleazy Hugh Grant and her whole life got turned upside down.
I suppose it’s a little too late for that.
“You look hot,” Carla says as she stands by the oven, munching on a cookie. “Hot with a W. Like hawt. Which means really hot. Speaking of hot, it’s really hot today. Or maybe it’s this oven. Hey, want a cookie?”
I eye her and the cookies. I’ve learned my lesson with her baking many times before.
“What kind of cookies are they?” I ask suspiciously.
“Pot cookies,” she says, a few crumbs falling from her mouth. She covers her smile with her hand.
“And how many of them have you had?”
“I’ve only had one before. If you include this, it’s two. But it hasn’t been digested yet, so I’m not sure.”
“It’s okay, I’m good.”
“So you’re actually seeing this guy now, huh.”
I shrug. Carla is another person I can’t quite tell the truth to. I’ve been passing it off like this is just something fun for now and not going into too much detail, which thankfully she hasn’t been pushing with me. I think the fact that she’s stoned most of the time helps.
“I thought I’d give him a chance,” I tell her. “Not everyone gets to go out with Cruiser McGill.”
“I thought it was Bruiser NoChill,” she says. Then she starts laughing. “The Bruiser and the Blonde. Bruiser and Blondie. I like that. Hey, do you think if I call up TMZ and tell them about your nickname, they’ll pay me?”
“You can give it a shot,” I tell her, knowing full well she’ll forget this idea in a minute. “But if you get rich off of it, you owe me.”
“Deal. Have fun, okay?”
“I will,” I lie.
Because honestly, I don’t see how any of this is going to be fun. It’s going to be weird, that’s what it is. And sometimes weird is all fun and good but going on a date with your fake boyfriend whom you find ridiculously attractive and also really dislike at the same time pushes weird to a whole other level.
Maybe I should have grabbed a pot cookie after all. Really shake this shit up.
The sun is still shining and right into my eyes when I step out of the apartment building. I don’t see Emmett’s Audi anywhere but I do see a giant black Suburban with a smartly dressed man, I’m guessing the driver, standing by the back door.
“After you, ma’am,” he says to me as I approach, opening the door for me.
“Uh, thanks, person I don’t know.” I peek inside and see Emmett in a slick suit, sitting in the backseat, grinning at me. “Come on in, beautiful,” he says to me and he says it with so much feeling and sincerity that my stomach does a couple of backflips.
Damn it. That actually felt nice.
Smiling like all kinds of awkward, I slide into the backseat as the driver shuts the door.
I barely have time to settle and take in the scene when Emmett is cupping my face in his broad hands and pulling me into him.
His lips crash against mine, soft and gentle and warm and I’m so shocked at what’s happening, I can’t even move. But then my lips know what to do and my mouth yields to him as I’m sucked into a long, sweet kiss. A current runs through me when his tongue touches mine; I feel it all the way to my toes which I know are curling in my sandals.
Everything inside me is coming alive, not with a cold slap but with a slow, luxurious build, just this kiss that deepens with each second, a long, languid pull that stirs me around inside, sugar dissolving.
I’m barely aware of where we are, what we are, when the driver’s door slams shut, shaking the car.
It’s then that Emmett pulls back and stares at me so intensely that I feel everything inside me light on fire and melt.
“I have missed you so much,” he says to me, his voice low, raspy and completely earnest as he searches my eyes.
My jaw would be on the floor if his strong hands weren’t securely holding my face.
Holy shit.
Does he mean this?
And then…
He winks at me. Subtle, but it’s a wink.
And then reality comes along.
I pull back slightly, trying to catch my breath, to calm my heart. God damn it, I swear I’m throbbing between my legs just from that simple kiss.
And it was all for show.
None of that was real.
That was just for the driver, that was the first performance of our fake relationship.
I had no fucking idea he was that good of an actor. No wonder he sleeps with his co-workers, how can they tell the difference between acting and reality?
I should be impressed but actually I’m a little ashamed of myself for falling for it for a split second. I’m going to need to keep my guard up.
“Did you miss me?” he asks in deliberation, coaxing me to respond.
Right. That. “Uh yeah. I missed you,” I tell him. Damn it, I don’t sound convincing at all. “Like, real bad. Baby.”
Emmett is trying not to laugh at how absolutely lame I sound. He manages to cover it up. “Alyssa, I’d like you to meet our driver, Alfonso. He’ll be taking us to dinner tonight.”
I straighten in my seat and glance at the rearview mirror to see Alfonso staring back at me and nodding.
I guess there really is no privacy for him. If people in restaurants are spies, who is to say that private drivers aren’t either. Which makes me realize, unless we’re completely alone somewhere, we’ll always have to be on.
On the plus side, that means I’ll be kissed like that more often.
Negative side, it means I’ll be kissed like that more often.
You can only be kissed like that, looked at like that, talked to like that, so many times before you either, A) screw him silly or B) start believing it.
God, I hope there’s an option C.
I manage to momentarily get myself together as we pull away from the curb, inching away from Emmett and trying to smooth out my dress over my thighs so my shorts aren’t showing, all while trying to calm my heart.
But Emmett isn’t having any of it. He keeps close to me, his hand goes right on my thigh while his other arm goes around my shoulder. I can feel the heat transfer from his clothes to my skin, smell the product he used in his hair, the scent of his cologne. I have to close my eyes briefly, caught between wanting to revel in the feel of him like this, and trying to push it away.
In the end, I can’t win. Everything about him is overpowering, overwhelming. I can’t stop feeling his palm against my thigh, the way he plays with my hair, how his eyes keep skirting over my face and body in awe, like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“How are you?” he asks me, his mouth close to my ear, blowing hot air over me. I can’t help but shiver in response and he grins at that, which only worsens the problem. “Cold?”
“I’m good,” I say in a small voice. “A bit tired, I think.”
“Tough day at work?”