Expecting the Boss's Baby / Twins Under His Tree. Karen Rose Smith
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for grammar and punctuation. She said she would be happy to and tried not to let him see how ridiculously pleased and honored she felt.
She took the piece home with her and read it eagerly over take-out pot stickers and fried rice, red pencil within reach. It was really good. But then, his Spotlights always were. He had a master’s in Journalism from Yale. More than that, though, he was a fine writer. He wrote with authority, but in an easy conversational style. He made you feel like you were there, with him, no matter how distant or exotic the locale.
In the morning, she emailed him back the manuscript. As she was leaving him after the usual huddle, she told him the Aussie holiday Spotlight was excellent.
He arched a brow. “No changes?”
She gave him a slow smile. They both knew the question was a test. He hadn’t asked her to do an edit. “Three or four typos. I corrected them.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Do you realize that it’s been over two weeks since you started and we’ve yet to get to that review?”
She shrugged. “It’s been a busy time.”
He agreed. “It’s always busy around here.”
She suggested, “Maybe … next week?”
“How about right now?”
Her stomach lurched, which was absurd. He was happy with her work. He’d made that abundantly clear. She had nothing to worry about.
“All right.” She settled back down into the club chair. Her palms were actually sweating. She had to resist the need to rub them on her skirt. What was her problem? They both knew he was going to offer her a permanent job.
Didn’t they?
He said, dark eyes knowing, “Zoe, are you nervous?”
She considered lying. She’d made up a fiancé, for heaven’s sake. To lie about being anxious should be nothing next to that. But then, in the end, she told the truth. “Yeah.” She let out a careful breath. “Whew. It’s crazy, because I know I’m doing a terrific job for you. But I am nervous.”
“Why?” He was looking at her so steadily. With real interest. Maybe more interest than he ought to have in his assistant—his engaged assistant. She wished he would stop looking at her that way.
But he didn’t.
And perversely, she loved that he didn’t.
Her nervousness turned to something else. Something a lot like excitement.
She told the truth again. “I love this job. I’ve finally found something that suits me. There’s never a dull moment. I can handle this job, but it doesn’t bore me.
There’s always something new, something to challenge me. I wake up in the morning and I look forward to going to work. Until Great Escapes, I never felt that way about anything—at least not for more than ten minutes or so.”
“You want to stay.”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“You did. And I’m glad you did.” He stared at her some more. Her cheeks felt warm. She had this … glowing sensation, kind of fizzy and happy and so very lovely. “Now is the time I should tell you where your work falls short.”
She wanted to be the best, which meant she had to be open to criticism, to ways she could improve. “Yes. Good idea.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“Uh.” Alarm jangled through her. What was he trying to say? “You are?”
“Because your work doesn’t fall short.”
Her alarm turned to satisfaction. Was she grinning like an idiot? Probably. But so what? She worked damned hard and it was good to hear how he appreciated that.
He said, “You’re a self-starter, but you have no problem asking for help when you need it. You take criticism well, and you make use of it. So far, I only have to tell you once when I want you to change something you’re doing.”
The fizzy, bright feeling was back. And getting stronger. He kept on looking at her. Admiringly. Almost hopefully. She stared at his mouth and wondered what his lips would feel like touching hers. She thought about how she really would like, someday, to find out.
And then the phone rang.
Dax didn’t answer it. In fact, he had the thoroughly unreasonable urge to pick the damn thing up, rip the cord free of the jack and throw it hard against the wall.
For a minute there, he’d almost thought Zoe was about to make a move on him. And being human and male, he’d wanted her to. A lot.
Which made him pretty damn stupid now, didn’t it? If the phone hadn’t rung, if she had made a move on him, he would very likely have taken her up on it.
And then, one way or another, he would have ended up losing the best assistant he’d ever had—even better than Lin.
The phone rang a second time. And a third.
When Zoe started to rise, he said low, “Don’t. The front desk can take a message.”
She sank back into the chair, a slightly stunned look on her face, those very kissable lips of hers parted, breathless. She knew exactly what had almost happened.
Did she regret that it hadn’t? He couldn’t help but hope so.
The phone jangled once more. And then it was quiet.
Neither of them said a word. He was aware that the tension between them was dissipating, that the dangerous moment had passed. They would not become lovers. And he would not have to try to find someone to replace her.
He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved.
Or furious.
Zoe started to lick her lips, caught herself doing it and made herself stop. Her heart was suddenly going a hundred miles an hour, just galloping away in her chest, like wild mustangs on steroids.
That had been close.
Too close. Lucky for her, the phone had rung. If not, she might have …
She cut that thought dead.
No. She wouldn’t have. She had her priorities in order. The job was what counted. Yes, she had a thing for the boss. A minor thing, a totally get-overable thing, just like every other woman on the planet.
She would get past it. Over time, the attraction would fade by itself. And when it did, she would still be working at Great Escapes.
Dax started discussing her salary.
She had the sense of having passed some important test, of having chosen the job she loved over the man everybody loved. She knew she had made the best choice.
And yet, she still couldn’t completely deny a certain sadness, a touch of tender melancholy. She caught her left hand with her right and turned the big, fake diamond idly back and forth as she and Dax discussed his expectations of her—and hers, of the job.
She knew what she wanted and she had it in her grasp: her dream career. And it—this, now—was only the beginning. She was going to go far. She knew it. She was absolutely certain of it. She could go to Sunday dinner at Bravo Ridge for the rest of her life and not care what thoughtless remarks her dad might toss off at her. The free spirit of the family was all grown up now, taking on a professional woman’s responsibilities and loving every minute of it.
Uh-uh. She was not sad. Not sad in the least. She would never know what it would feel like to kiss Dax Girard. And that was fine. It was right.
She had made her choice and she was at peace with it.
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