How To Be the Perfect Girlfriend. HEATHER MACALLISTER
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how to approach men of his type. And, honey, you did describe his type.”
Had she? Had she described a man so out of her league as her ideal man? This was not looking good. “Do you really think I should practice on him?”
Hayden and Missy both nodded. At least they didn’t laugh.
“How am I supposed to approach him, anyway? He’s a vice president. It’s not like I’m going to run across him at Happy Hour or that he’ll have a sudden urge to get coffee from the twenty-fourth floor.”
“No, but there’s always the photocopier. You’ve set a precedent.”
“Won’t he catch on?”
“I hope not.” Hayden fanned herself.
“I am going to have to go to the twenty-sixth floor and copy something,” Missy said.
“You’re engaged,” Sara reminded her, not happy with the idea of Missy in Simon’s line of vision.
“So it’s settled,” Hayden said.
Sara didn’t feel settled at all. “If he’s uninterested, then how am I supposed to judge his reaction?”
“You’ll know,” Missy said. “He may not choose to act, but you’ll still know.”
Hayden smiled. “Just watch for the gleam in his eye.”
Okay, sure. She’d just watch for the old gleam in his eye. Had she ever seen a gleam in a man’s eye? Sara wondered when she was back at her desk. Men must look at Hayden differently than they looked at her. Even Missy had known about the gleam. Sara must be in worse shape than she thought.
She was sitting at her desk stuffing pay envelopes when there was a discreet knock on her cubicle wall. To her complete astonishment, she looked up and saw Simon Northrup.
That rotten Hayden must have said something to him. How mortifying.
“Hello.” Once more Simon’s accent—what little of it that could be squeezed into one word—washed over her.
That wasn’t the only thing washing over her. A gigantic blush began in her chest and bloomed upward.
He’d gotten better-looking in the last few hours. “Sara, isn’t it?”
Holy cow. Sara, tongue paralyzed, nodded. Do not think about cows. Flirt with Simon Northrup. Engage him in conversation. Oh, she was doing so well.
“I found this in the photocopier.” He held up a piece of paper.
And just as quickly as she’d blushed, she felt the heat drain away.
The paper Simon held was an original of one of the employee evaluations she’d been copying before lunch. The ultimate confidential material. And she’d apparently left it lying in the copier for anyone to see.
Such a mistake could cost her her job. Instant dismissal. No second chances. Simon had to have known and yet, rather than returning the paper to personnel and prompting an inquiry, he’d brought it to her.
She took the paper noting that the edges trembled. “This shouldn’t have happened. I feel terrible.”
He gazed down at her, his brown eyes—sans glasses—slightly warmer than polite, but definitely without a gleam. Not that she should be looking for a gleam right now. Or even thinking gleaming thoughts.
“No harm done. I discovered it sitting there on the glass, so I don’t think anyone else used the machine after you did.”
Sara exhaled, sagging with relief. Still dealing with the enormity of her confidentiality breach, she could only nod.
She never made mistakes like this. Never. She’d been in a hurry and she’d been thinking about Simon, or certain parts of him, and look what had happened.
Now she should say something, but it didn’t seem like the time to flirt.
Still, couldn’t she come up with something witty? She stared at the paper in her hands as though there would be something witty to share about Charles Lufkin, who, according to his evaluation, arrived at work promptly and left just as promptly and who performed with satisfactory adequacy.
A real firecracker, that Charles. Nothing like a reality check of the males currently out there to make her appreciate the one standing in front of her. She scoured her uncooperative—and certainly inadequate—brain for something to say. At this point, she’d abandoned any thoughts of wittiness.
She drew a breath and prepared to meet Simon’s eyes.
He was gone.
Oh, great. Fabulous. She almost started after him to thank him, but knew she’d better wait until she calmed down and thought up something to say to him.
Sara put Charles Lufkin’s evaluation on the stack she had yet to file. Imagine that: Simon Northrup, the legendary by-the-book Simon Northrup, had saved her job. He’d taken the time to hand deliver the paper. He hadn’t called her supervisor in the payroll department to come and get it. He hadn’t called her to come and get it.
He’d brought it to her, himself.
How incredibly kind.
Sara heard a faint mental “ding” and realized that kindness was a trait she’d ascribed to her ideal man. And he’d been kind to her twice today.
If she weren’t careful, she’d find herself with a big, fat crush on Simon. Today had certainly put him in a different, and much more attractive, light. How could she ever have thought him intimidating and stuck-up? Stuck-up people didn’t fix paper jams—real or manufactured—for others and they sure didn’t cover for an underling’s mistake the way he had.
By the end of the day, Sara was not surprised to recognize crush symptoms, which meant that flirting with Simon for practice was now out of the question. Practice flirting only worked when emotions weren’t involved. So, no flirting. At least for practice—no, no, no. No flirting at all. She’d have to find another man of that type for practice. With Simon, it was professional contact only. And maybe a lot of paper jams.
Since she hadn’t properly thanked him, Sara screwed up her courage and climbed up to the twenty-sixth floor to stop by his office and basically say, “I owe you.” Like he’d ever collect. Still, it was the professional thing to do.
The twenty-sixth floor was definitely more plush than hers, Sara thought when she stepped off the elevator. The carpet was thicker, the colors more modern and the furniture trendier. Client photographs and media stills lined the elevator bays. The receptionist appeared to have already left for the day. Sara knew where Hayden’s office was, but she wasn’t sure about Simon’s. He probably had an office with windows, which meant if she stuck to the outer perimeter, sooner or later she’d eventually stumble across it.
It was sooner rather than later and there was no stumbling involved.
She heard him talking on the phone and stopped to listen for a moment and gather her thoughts. There weren’t a lot of thoughts to gather, considering she’d had all day to think about what to say to him. “Thank you” was heartfelt and sincere, but once it was said and he responded politely, there wouldn’t be a whole lot left to say.
She heard him return the phone to its cradle and stepped into the doorway. “Mr. Northrup?”
He was standing behind his desk and there was a flash in his eyes. A flash, not a gleam, and it only meant he recognized her. “Sara.”
“I, uh…” Don’t say “uh.” “I—”
The phone buzzed. He frowned, let two buzzes go by then held up a finger indicating that Sara should stay.
She hated that, hated waiting around while someone was on the phone, pretending that she couldn’t hear, when of course she could. Even worse was when the conversation took an unexpected turn and she had to decide if she’d continue to pretend to be oblivious,