We’ve barely inched into December and by Tuesday, the office is already in full holiday mode. Holly is draped over the tops of… Every. Single. Cubicle. Bright red poinsettias and fully dressed wreaths are strategically placed around the doors and edges of the open space. A cheery playlist of exactly one hundred of the most silver-jingle-bells-joy-to-the-Tannenbaum-chestnuts-roasting holiday songs is playing on a loop. And just off the entrance to Spencer James’ glassed-in office is a gigantic ten-foot tree with a shiny star at the top.
It’s pretty safe to say we’re feeling the holiday spirit at Lovestruck, but I can’t exactly adopt the cheer just yet.
I slap my hand down on my knee to stop the bouncing and look up just as Jessica Faulkner leaves Spencer’s office. My eyes dart from her pink newswoman dress to the large coffee and muffin on Spencer’s desk then back to her easy stride as she flashes me a quick smile.
Bah humbug to you, Jessica.
“She’s not going to get it even if she buys him a whole coffee shop and a bakery.” Nina’s head pops up over the top of my cubicle wall. “Go. Now.”
I heave a heavy sigh and nod, wishing I’d stopped for good coffee instead of the crappy lunchroom stuff. “You’re right. I’m just going to go in there and tell him why I’m a good candidate for the position.”
“Breathe. All this garland and merriment, he’s probably in the best mood.”
Dipping my hand in my locs, I scratch my scalp and blow out a breath.
“You got this. ‘You are smart. You are kind. You are important,’” Nina says, mimicking The Help and making me laugh.
It’s enough to get me on my feet. I grab my portfolio and march toward my goal. My future is just like the star on that tree—bright and at the top for a reason.
When I reach Spencer’s office, I lightly tap on the glass, and he waves me in.
“Ah, Riley. This is a pleasure,” he says, his voice cracking reassuringly.
This is the same guy who hired you. He knows what you’re capable of and how hard you work. You’re ready for this opportunity. And you’re ethical, dammit.
“Thank you, Mr. James. I—”
“Spencer, please.”
I swallow. “Oh. Okay. Thanks, Spencer. If you have a few minutes, I know you haven’t stated when you plan to replace Eric Voorhees, or if you will at all, but I’d like to officially express my interest in the position when and if you decide to. I’ve only been here three and half years. I know that’s not as long as—”
“Slow down. It’s okay. I’m just another co-worker. No need to be nervous around me.”
I breathe a sigh and give him a small smile.
He gestures to the two sleek metal armchairs facing his plexiglass desk. “Please, join me.”
Through the door, I hear Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas playing over the loudspeaker—the Ella Fitzgerald version from all my favorite holiday movies. The light tinkling sound and the harmony of her silvery voice soothes my nerves just a little.
Spencer leans back against his chair and folds his arms. “So, tell me, have you made plans for the holiday? Started shopping for gifts yet?”
The questions catch me off guard. I sort of got the impression he was a straight-down-to-business guy.
“Yeah. My family’s here in Vegas. They live over in Green Valley. We usually celebrate Christmas Eve. We open gifts right at midnight, then laze around on Christmas day. I’m pretty bad about shopping, though. I usually put it off until the very last minute,” I say with a laugh.
“That sounds nice, actually.”
For what feels like two full minutes, we say nothing. Just sit there in awkward silence. But then, he sits upright and clasps his large hands on the edge of the desk. His brow creases as he slowly blinks a dozen or so times.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but…is there a reason you don’t have pictures on your desk? Personal items? There’s just a desk organizer and a calendar.” His full lips purse as he lifts his chin to pin me with a stare. “Is it that you don’t feel safe or comfortable displaying your private life, or is there something else?”
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.
Somehow, my actual explanation of being a neat freak and maintaining a professional space feels underwhelming and, pretty pathetic. I don’t actually have anyone’s picture to tack to the wall. I love my parents, but I don’t need them watching me at work all day.
The memory of the day Spencer announced the party comes flooding back to me like a tsunami, pulling everything up by the roots.
All I can think about is Jessica’s contention that he only promotes people in relationships, or with kids and mortgages. Maybe he changed the subject from the position to the holiday and family life because I’m not his ideal candidate. I’m single—no kids, no pet, no mortgage. I’m renting a super-cute chic little house in the northwest. I have the lowest tenure here. As far as he’s seen, I’m basically the billboard for a flight risk.
“No, it’s not that. I’m uh…”
I clear my throat and turn toward the glass at my right. There is Chase Campbell with a sweet smile, taking careful steps to avoid spilling the well-meaning crappy coffees he’s carrying in each hand—one for him and likely one for a member of his all-female fan club in marketing.
And that’s when the lightbulb goes off in my head.
“I’m in a serious relationship,” I blurt out.
“Oh, well. Good for you.” Spencer’s face lights up and his chin lifts like the news of my fake relationship has infused him with a newfound interest in me. “I’m happy to hear it. Thank you for sharing.”
A wave of adrenaline washes over me and I sit up, nodding. “It’s just that he works here too—not in the same department though,” I add, quickly. “So, I didn’t think it was such a good idea to put his picture up on my desk.”
Slow it down. Take a breath.
Under the clear desk, my knee starts bouncing again because I’m nervous, and also, I’m a big fat liar. But it’s too late to take it back now.
I press my hand down hard on my knee to still it, and flash him a closed-mouth smile.
This is not one of those times when you can just say, JK. I was just seeing how you’d react. No take-backs. My heart pounds against my chest.
Boy, I have really done it this time.
My phone pings back immediately.
Todd 9:43 am
So, what happened? Have you seen her since?
My brother, Todd, and I had been texting back and forth when I made the mistake of mentioning I’d been on a speed date. Now, despite having the perfect marriage, a kid on the way, and a dream job running a local all sci-fi bookstore, for some reason he feels the need to live vicariously through my love life.
I’m about to respond with some vague dismissal of the subject when I lift my chin and catch a sight of Nina’s wide-eyed nervous expression. I follow her line of vision.
From back here in web development, I have the perfect view of Spencer James’s office, so the glare off his swinging glass door as Riley Mills comes out speed-walking immediately snags my attention.
Shit.
I toss my phone aside and shoot Riley a thumbs up in question, thinking she’s going to veer off to her cubicle, but she does not detour. Todd can wait. Her eyes are wide. Her neck is stretched tall. The further down the aisle she gets, the panic on her face comes in clear and in technicolor.
Then I realize she’s on a straight path for me.
The fact she passes her own desk and beelines toward the back catches everyone’s attention. Heads begin popping up over the walls. Apparently, they’re all watching her too. Naturally, she gets the side-eye from Jessica who’s put two and two together to figure out Riley is the “diamond in the rough.”
When Riley reaches me, I flash her a hopeful smile. “How’d it go?”
She flits a glance at the coffee cup on my desk then at the one I left on Evelyn’s from marketing—to return the favor—before grabbing my hand and dragging me to the exit where all the smokers take their breaks every fifteen minutes. As soon as we’re outside, she gives the two people chilling along the wall her famous, and effective, death stare.
Warned, they quickly put out their cigarettes and duck back inside.
“What? It went that bad?” I ask once we’re alone.
Riley starts fanning her hands and taking gulps of air. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Shit. I’m totally freaking out right now.”
“Relax. You were in there for like twenty minutes. I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” I say, gently touching her arm.
Apparently, touching her is what it takes to calm her down because she stops with the flailing hands, and her whole body tenses.
“Sorry,” I say instinctively.
“It’s okay. I just…I told Spencer James we’ve been in a serious relationship for almost four years.”
My mouth falls open. Then all the air in my chest vacuums out of me. “Why?” I scrub both hands over my face and drag them through my hair. “Why would you tell him that?”
I cannot close my mouth.
“It started off fine. I went in there and said I was interested in the position. But then he changed the subject to family and holiday shopping and why I didn’t have pictures on my desk. I couldn’t get Jessica’s words out of my mind, so I figured, if he only promotes sticky people, I’d say I was in a serious relationship.”
“Okay, I’m still not following where I come in.”
“Not only do I want this in this worst way, but I also don’t want Jessica to get the position. Can you imagine working for her?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, but when did you throw me into the mix?”
“Right. So, you walked by, and I got an idea. It seemed innocent enough to say I didn’t have pictures because I was dating someone at Lovestruck in a different department. But then he asked who…”
“And you couldn’t have said anyone else. What about Darrell or Caleb?”
I heave a sigh and start pacing the side of the building, but when I pivot to her again, it’s back. The death stare.
“What?”
“Why Darrell or Caleb? Because they’re black too?” She juts her chin out. Her tone is all vinegar, no honey. “I guess you and Renee or Charlotte are matches made in ginger heaven, then.”
My stride is easy as I erase the distance between us. “It wasn’t like that. I just meant, I know you’re friends with those guys. I always see you talking and laughing with them. Let’s be real here, the first time you’ve said more than two words to me was at the speed date event. Let’s not act like we owe each other favors.”
She takes a deep breath, which I’m guessing is her way of acknowledging my point. “Sorry. It wasn’t fair to just lump you in with Renee and Charlotte. You’re pretty cute for a gingy.”
Every muscle in my body softens against her words—well, almost every muscle. “Cute, huh?”
“Anyway.” She rolls her eyes playfully and her lashes sweep up in a flutter as she laughs. “You should’ve seen how Spencer lit up when I told him it was you.”
“Really?” Hmm.
Riley arches a brow and the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “Yes. He said he wants me to bring you to the holiday party, and he’ll keep me in mind for the position.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan then? How are we going to do this?”
She shoots me a megawatt smile. “So we are doing this?”
I nod even though I must be out of my mind. Everything can go wrong, but I’m helpless against those eyes…and those lips.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t know if you’d agree, so I told Spencer we were keeping it low-key and professional for work purposes. All we have to do is shoot each other sweet smiles every once in a while, until the party when he announces his decision. I won’t sneer at you. And you can bat your long lashes at me and make the marketing girls all jealous.”
Riley peeks her tongue out to lick her lips and I’d pretty much say yes to anything she asks.
“Then,” she starts, and I think it’s going one way, but she says, “when the time is right, we’ll stage a breakup.”
It surprises me how my shoulders sag. What did I think she was going to say, we’ll take things slowly? What things? We barely know each other. Still, she’s got the ending figured out before we’ve even begun.
I’m going to need more time to downshift.
“You know, that’s the second time you’ve brought up the marketing girls…” I say, buying myself some time.
Riley sinks her teeth into her full lower lip, a move that hasn’t failed to make my dick twitch yet. She lifts her brows and smiles. “I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”
I dare you to tell me you haven’t been watching me, too.
I take another step closer until there’s only inches between us. In heels, Riley’s top lip is aligned with my lower. If I wanted to, I could eliminate the whisper of a distance between us and taste her sweet heat. I could pull a deliciously sexy moan from her mouth and see what she’d think about playing with this fire between us then.
She’s breathless. Her chest rises and falls to a quick staccato daring me to finish what she started.
Instead, I slide my hand to her waist and dip my hand in her jacket pocket where she stashes her phone. Then, as much as I hate being away from her heat, I step back. “Why don’t we work on that picture for your desk?”
This is going to be fun.