by Ellie Hall
Whereas, I was their workhorse.
Workhorse status meant they’d never recognized my potential as a creative contributor—yet. This meeting on the seventh floor could open doors for me, creatively.
“What’s the fire to get upstairs, Starkey? You think your hairy-footed true love is waiting for you up there?” His breath feathered past my cheek.
I closed my eyes to shut out the intensity of Calvin’s gaze. “Let’s leave the hobbits out of this. What did they ever do to you?”
“Oh, lots. By being plastered to your cubicle wall, they kept your attention off me, for instance.”
“Does every woman have to fall at your feet for you to be happy? Is that it?” A Tolkien quote about potatoes came to mind, but I applied it to Calvin: boil ’im, mash ’im, stick ’im in a stew. “All the girls on the third floor have been through your revolving door. Isn’t that enough?”
A frown flickered across his face. “Not all the girls on the third floor.” He inched his face a little closer to mine.
I swallowed hard. Why was my body chemistry reacting to this … play-actor? I would’ve moved out of his path but I was guarding the panel.
Bessemer clunked to a halt. “Finally. I’m getting off here.”
“Between floors four and five?”
What? I jerked my head upward, and the dial pointed—sure enough—between the two floors. “This is your fault.” I whipped my face back toward Calvin, who still stood over me, when—“Ouch.” Something tugged mightily at my ponytail.
“I think you’re stuck.” Calvin moved his arm, which pulled my hair even harder.
“Don’t you mean we’re stuck? Between floors?”
“Yep, and your—whatever that thing is in your hair—horsefly swatter?”
“My ponytail?” Ouch. It stung when yanked.
“Whatever. It’s stuck on the buttons of my jacket.” He edged into my personal space and put his other arm around my neck, working his wrist near the back of my head.
I’d never been this close to Calvin Turner. Never wanted to be. Unless that recurring dream counted—the one where he got too close to me and I woke up in a cold sweat. But my conscious self had never wanted Calvin this near to me.
“It’s really stuck.” He pulled me closer, his hands moving behind me slowly, almost a caress. “Hang on there, Mandy.”
“Uh-huh,” I said in a reflexive swoon. Apparently, my hormones were on board with Dream-life Amanda, instead of Conscious Daytime Amanda. Chances were, after a long winter’s nap they were buzzing to life with his nearness. The clean shave, the ridge of his jaw line, the dark lashes fringing his blue eyes all were near enough to kiss collectively and individually.
Kiss? No! I would not be kissing any portion of Calvin Turner.
Bessemer lurched upward. I thrust my arms around Calvin’s torso for balance. “Whoa, Bessemer!”
“Whoa, Amanda.” His smolder deepened into glowing embers.
Great. I was now embracing Calvin Turner, consummate player, and chewing out an elevator at the same time.
My life had come to this.
Calvin’s phone chimed a text. He left off working on my hair and reached into his jacket pocket.
It’s not that I’m sneaky, it’s that he held it where I couldn’t help but see.
Are you bringing a Serious Girlfriend to my wedding, or are you losing our bet?
2
Calvin
Amanda Starkey was a glacier. Normally, having a gorgeous, leggy blonde in my arms would’ve been the ideal way to spend an afternoon. But Amanda despised me, and I had no idea why.
Okay, maybe it had something to do with my relentless mockery of her fandom. But what sane woman pined for short, troll-like men?
The woman was crazytown—even if she worked harder and accomplished more than almost anyone else on the third floor of SolutionX—or any other floor.
Nose ever to the grindstone, she never gave me the time of day. Wasn’t I good-looking enough for her? Not witty or charming enough?
Nah, I would’ve bet my favorite Rhinos t-shirt it was that I wasn’t hairy enough. Or short enough. And my feet weren’t longer than my legs.
See? Crazytown.
But the way her perfume was circling my brain, I could’ve been Mayor of Crazytown. The chemistry between us could’ve singed the periodic table of the elements.
“Your eyes,” I muttered. “They’re the color of emeralds.” Their liquid depths and the fullness of her mouth were beyond tempting. Yeah, I could’ve freed her hair from my coat button a lot faster if I’d tried.
I didn’t try.
A text from Parley came in. Are you bringing a Serious Girlfriend to my wedding, or are you losing our bet?
Ugh. Speaking of Rhinos-related bets! That was one I never should’ve taken. I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
“Serious girlfriend, huh?”
“You saw that?”
A hint of mockery adorned her brow. “Sounds like a problem. For you, I mean.”
A poison-tipped arrow, those words. “I can get any girl I want.” It’s that I didn’t want any of the ones I’d met. Not seriously, anyway. I’m too much like Dad. “What about you? Where’s your boyfriend? Oh, right. Getting the hair on top of his feet groomed. Manscaped? Troll-scaped?”
I knew they were hobbits she loved. I reveled in watching her neck turn red. And it did. Very prettily right before my eyes. Red paired with her glittering green eyes like Christmas colors, a gift just for me.
Close enough to kiss.
“Sounds like you’re losing that bet.”
Probably, though it killed me to admit it. I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”
She arched a brow. “How much do you pay when you lose?”
Ouch. I winced at the image of my doom. She could’ve never appreciated the depth of Parley’s penalty, since she probably didn’t give a rip about the greatest team in the history of professional hockey. “Has to do with season tickets to the Rhinos.” And being forced to wear a Vancouver Vikings helmet with horns to every single home game.
The Rhinos fans would trample me and rend me with their nose-horns.
“Rhinos.” Amanda rolled her pretty eyes at me, as if the Rhinos were insects on her picnic lunch.
“Don’t belittle our town’s biggest economic boon.”
“What exactly makes your fandom amazing and mine nerdy?”
“The fact that your fandom is nerdy?” I leaned a little closer to her face—at first to be a little intimidating, but when her gaze locked with mine, I was the one shrinking.
Amanda Starkey did that to me.
Every time.
“Could you finish extracting your coat from my hair, please? Or at least take off your coat?”
“I would, Mandy, but I’ve been working out. My bulging muscles don’t quite fit inside the sleeves anymore, and it takes three people to remove it from my shoulders and biceps.” Some of that was true.
“You’re ridiculous.” She looked away and the electric current between us cut out.
“Serious girls always say that to me, but they still want to kiss me.”
I watched her throat. Yep, it tightened, and she licked her lips. I had her.
When, her hands snaked up into her hair and she tugged out an elastic band, freeing herself, her blonde hair splayed out in a tousled, mussed-by-a-man tumble. It was gorgeous. If only I’d achieved that effect by different means.
Yet another page came over the SolutionX PA system calling for Amanda to come to the seventh floor. She was definitely a key player around there.
“I’m calling the super.” She went for the elevator’s phone.
“It’s out of order.” Yet another reason the Blanik Building was being sold and SolutionX was moving offices, allowing every regular employee a week off. “I’ll call with my phone.”
Another text came in from Parley.
In the next five minutes, I’m buying you and your Serious Girlfriend each a tick
et to Queenstown. Give me her name to complete the transaction. Either that, or you, my groomsman, are wearing the Viking horns.
“Queenstown?” All derision left Amanda’s text-eavesdropping face. “As in, Queenstown, New Zealand?” Her eyes widened, her irises the color of the Lethbridge Leprechauns’ hockey uniforms.
“Sure. How would you know that?” Then it hit me. Ah, yes. A thousand dominoes toppled into a perfect picture in my brain. Her obsession’s movies were filmed right near where Parley had his startup business’s southern hemisphere headquarters. I rubbed my palms together. Heh-heh-heh.
“Who are you taking with you?” She was earnest, her eyes glistening, eager.
“Not sure.” Seriously, though, I’d broken up with five different women already this calendar year. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. It was that none of them held my attention. I was looking for something none of them had. Unfortunately, that left few women in my contact list who didn’t hate me right now. “Why, do you have someone in mind? Someone whose office is going through a week-long closure due to moving to a new building? Someone who loves New Zealand?”
Everything about Amanda sparkled. “I just might.” Then the shimmer in her eyes faded. “Never mind.” She frowned. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Oh, but it might be.”
“Even though I desperately need a vacation, the Amzaz project assignments are coming up. They could happen during the break, and I want to be on hand.”
“Amzaz, huh?” We execs were making team assignments for upcoming ad clients in our next executive meeting. “Amzaz.” I drummed my fingers on the wall above her head as more dominoes fell into place. “Is Amzaz your favorite product? Do you eat their candy, or something? It’s for kids.”
“I ate it as a kid. Everyone in Reedsville did.” Her defenses lowered, as did her voice. “Come on.” Her lower lip formed a pretty pout. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’ve been working so hard for.”
No pretense required. Like everyone else at SolutionX, I regarded Amanda Starkey as the gorgeous blonde version of the quiet, hardworking muscle of the formatting and layout team. Like the human heart, no one saw it, but it did all the work.
“Perhaps I could put a word in for you.” Georgia Grimes, the CEO, adored me. Almost everyone adored me—except Amanda. The woman gave me frostbite, she iced me so fast every time I attempted to chat her up. “Which team?”
She narrowed her eyes, as if to figure out whether I was taunting her. “Creative team, of course.”
Ah, a design spot. Surprise, surprise. “Already have ideas in mind? For Amzaz?”
A little cute spluttering ensued. “No, but I could totally have them ready for the pitch meeting. Would you really help me get that spot?”
I couldn’t go around promising things. I wasn’t exactly a seasoned exec. “Let’s back up and talk about my problem instead. You want to go to New Zealand.”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s springtime there. And the landscapes!” She sizzled back to life. A bloom came to her cheek and lips.
“Landscapes where hole-dwelling friends live? They’re not real, you know.”
“Jokes about my interests are getting stale, dude. Pick something new.” She smelled like the florist shop section of the grocery store on Ninth Avenue. I inhaled deeply.
“If you want, I’ll take you. And I’ll float your name in the executive meeting today for the Amzaz account.”
“Calvin!” Her eyes lit on fire. “Thank you for picking this moment to stop being a hedonistic jerkface.”
“Was that a compliment?” I’d take it as one, even though my dating habits didn’t constitute hedonism. One and done, in most cases. I barely got kisses goodnight at that rate. “No guarantees, though. I don’t make final decisions.”
“Hold on.” Amanda held up a palm. “I know you. What’s the catch?”
“One thing.” A not-so-minor detail. “You have to convince Parley and the rest of the people at the pre-wedding festivities that you’re my Serious Girlfriend.”
Her glower darkened. “I’m not sleeping with you, Calvin. Forget it.”
I hadn’t even let myself wish that far. Yet. “Of course not. You’re not that kind of girl.”
“No, I’m not.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not even close to that type.”
Her mussed-up hair contradicted her statement. I didn’t mention it.
“Are you the kiss-of-affection type? Because that would be required. At least to be convincing as my Serious Girlfriend.”
She thought a moment, her gaze getting smoky. “For a chance at the creative team, I can be very convincing.”
My stomach dropped into my knees. Had the icy Amanda flirted with me? Had to be a mistake.
I pasted on a grave mask for our solemn business transaction. “Hand-holding, and some hugging as well.” I could almost feel her curves against me now.
She bit her lips together.
I held my breath.
“Fine.”
Yes!
“But no wandering hands.” Her hand strayed to her ribcage and slid slowly downward to her hip. Interesting. Amanda Starkey had an imagination—and it might include visions of me.
Or, more likely, one of those Halfling things. “Fine. Hands will be in check. We’re set, then?”
“Hold up. Will the wedding festivities take up every minute? I need a vacation, too. Promise to take me to check out tourist sites.”
“As in, to see hobbits?” Ha. No way. Not even for her. “You do realize they’re fictional. You’re on your own, my Mandy-girl.” Now I was nicknaming her?
“I’m not your Mandy-girl. And what will your friend say if you send me off to experience my hobby alone?”
Blast. She had a point. “Fine. On one condition—you convince them we’re together, and if one of them mentions how good we are together, you earn another nerd day trip.”
“If!” Her stance went defensive. “Hey, I starred in three high school drama productions, dude, and newspaper reviewed me as best stage kiss of the decade.”
My heart rate tripled and I stepped closer to her. “Any chance I could get a preview?”
She tilted her head. “No free samples, dude. This isn’t Costco. All displays of affection will take place in New Zealand territory—and in front of other people.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Oh, you’ll see it—and I’ll earn those day trips. Believe me.”
As long as I remembered not to get convinced by them myself. This was only for show. “Then we have a deal.”
Bessie lurched to life, as if she’d stopped just long enough for this little scenario to play out. We clanked our way up to the seventh floor.
As the doors rattled open, I pointed out Amanda’s ponytail elastic. “You might want to …” I waved at her hair.
The doors flung wide. Standing on the other side was Georgia Grimes, company CEO. “You two were in there long enough.” She aimed an accusing eyebrow at me. “Your suit is suspiciously rumpled, Calvin.”
Uh, whoops?
Her gaze shot to Amanda, who was redder than Georgia’s severe lipstick. “You’re being paged incessantly, you know. And of all the women in this office, Amanda.” She tsked and shook her head. “I thought you’d be the holdout.”
What was that supposed to mean?
Grimes eyed me. “In future, please leave SolutionX employees better than you found them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” We exited the elevator, and Ms. Grimes stepped on, Bessie whisking her away.
Amanda turned to me, her pretty blush subsiding. “Tell your pal Parley I’m coming.” She stalked away, her stilettos clicking on the terrazzo floor. “And that I’m bringing my elf costumes.”
Wait. What?
3
Amanda
After sleeping for most of the flight, now I was all pent-up energy. The plane touched down on Queenstown soil, and I couldn’t stop bouncing in my seat. Out the window was the
green, lush world of springtime in the southern hemisphere.
Too bad I’d have to share it with the likes of Calvin Turner, carousing lecher. Never mind that I’d slept on his shoulder—make that drooled on his shoulder—most of the way across the Pacific.
Or that I’d had another one of those illicit dreams about kissing him. This time we were in the mist from the waterfall at the palace in Rivendell, and he was decked out in a long, flowing robe of iridescent blue, the same color as his eyes—until my boss Georgia Grimes stepped in with a disapproving grin saying, You’ll never get a creative team assignment if you make out with show ponies. At which point Calvin had morphed into a pony and I woke up with a jerk.
Calvin being the jerk.
Sort of. He’d been pretty nice by carrying my luggage earlier. And by taking me on this desperately needed vacation. Otherwise, during the Blanik Building move, I would’ve ended up sitting at home, staring at my popcorn ceiling worrying about whether they’d select me for the creative team or whether I’d be overlooked again.
“You can go on ahead of me.” I shooed Calvin toward the aisle. “I’m stopping off in the restroom.”
“Wouldn’t you rather use the restroom in the airport? Plane bathrooms are tiny.”
No way was I setting foot on the soil of Middle Earth without having everything perfect. Just for Calvin. “I’ll be right there with a surprise. You be waiting for me, sweetie.”
A goofy grin lifted one side of his mouth. He did have a fetching smile—even if he was a serial dater.
“I hope it’s a good surprise.” The grin turned wolfish.
Blast him. He could ruin any moment. “Get out of here.”
I wedged myself and my tote bag into the inhumanly small room. With serious effort, and one small jab in my eye, I managed to don not only the full-length silver dress with the bell sleeves but also my multi-pointed crown. Ah, drama club memories. In the stainless-steel mirror, I arranged my hair into long, queenly waves around my shoulders.