Charming Co-Worker: Holiday RomCom Standalone

by Lauren Runow

  Charming Co-Worker

  Falling for a Sagittarius

  Jeannine Colette

  Lauren Runow

  Contents

  Falling for the Stars

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2020 by Jeannine Colette and Lauren Runow

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photo credit: Shutterstock: kiuikson

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Beta read by Indie Solutions, www.murphyrae.net.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Falling for the Stars

  A zodiac-themed romance series that celebrates the unique qualities of men based on their zodiac sign. Each book features a distinctive trope, a kick-ass heroine, and a love written in the stars!

  This book’s hero is the SAGITTARIUS.

  Optimistic, Honest, Generous, Passionate, Complimentary, Independent, Pushy, Energetic, Inquisitive, Spontaneous.

  Chapter One

  “A toast to the best company in the world!” Branson Ford raises his champagne flute as he stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the top of Time Warner Center. “May your joys be seen through rose-colored glasses, and may all your pain”—he pauses and gives the crowd his pristine smile—“be cham-pain!”

  The room erupts in laughter as Branson tips his flute toward the room of Empire Media employees dressed in their finest holiday garb.

  “Cheers!” He takes a sip of Dom Pérignon, and the room reciprocates as I stand here and let out a wishful, yearning sigh.

  All I want for Christmas is Branson Ford.

  With his jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the face of a Disney prince, he is the catnip to my kitty; he’s the most handsome man in New York and the one I’ve been prowling after for two long years. Well, prowling might be too strong a word. I’ve more sat quietly at my desk, waiting for my boss and man I desire to pay the slightest bit of attention to me.

  But that ends tonight.

  Right here, right now, I think I’m finally going to pounce. How exactly is up in the air.

  “Looks like someone has their rose-colored glasses on,” a deep baritone says from behind me.

  I’d know that smooth-talking voice anywhere.

  Hunter Johnstone—a producer at our fine media company, the office flirt, and most importantly, my friend—is standing a few feet away, holding two drinks in his hands.

  “I don’t wear glasses,” I muse as I turn to face him fully.

  He walks forward and raises a brow. “You’re worrying that pretty lip. What’s going on in that head of yours, Katie McGee?”

  I hadn’t realized I was gnawing, like he so nicely pointed out. I release it and raise my chin while pushing my shoulders back. “Just admiring Branson’s toast. It was very witty.”

  Hunter gives me a disbelieving smile as he holds out a glass of whiskey to me.

  I take the offered glass and drop my shoulders. “How did you know I needed whiskey?”

  “I notice things,” he states with a devilish grin as he raises his drink to his lips.

  I don’t miss the way women in the room look at Hunter standing here with me. He’s quite the eligible bachelor around the office—one that many try to gain the attention of and succeed.

  He’s good-looking, I admit, with his masculine jaw that always has a bit of scruff. Six feet tall with brown hair, caramel eyes, and the fine black tapered suit he’s wearing shows off his body perfectly. Hunter is what Janice from Accounting refers to as a panty-dropper.

  His hair is slightly unkempt, and his tie is already loosened with the top button of his shirt undone, giving him a devilish look, like he just made out with someone in the coat closet.

  Actually, knowing Hunter, maybe he did.

  He’s brawnier and more roguish than most men. But his inability to commit to any woman is a huge turn-off to me. Not that I’ve ever considered. I’m taken by another man. In my mind at least.

  I look back at Branson as he gives his dashing grin to a woman who’s come over to say hello to him. He’s wearing his charcoal-brown houndstooth suit that makes him look even more like the gentleman that he is. I let out a long exhale.

  “So, what’s the plan to seduce the prince tonight?”

  Hunter’s words have me spinning to him with wide eyes. “There is no plan,” I scoff in a whisper-yell, looking around to make sure no one heard his comment.

  A waitress comes by with a tray of puff pastries. I refuse while Hunter takes one and pops it into his mouth before winking at her as she walks away with a smile.

  His eyes are back on me with a wry expression. “When are you going to admit that you want to sleep with your boss?”

  I balk at the inappropriate conversation. Not that we haven’t had many in the past. As a senior producer on one of Empire Media’s most-watched programs, Hunter is in my office every day for a meeting with Branson. While he waits for Branson, he always takes a seat at the chair nearest my desk and tells me stories about projects he’s working on, weekend trips he jetted off to, or some anecdote about a woman he’s dating. There have been many in the months since we’ve met.

  Over the years, he’s become a bright spot in my day and someone I look forward to seeing at his regularly scheduled eleven o’clock meeting. Even if he has zero filters.

  “He’d be blind not to notice you tonight. You look good, kid.”

  His eyes twinkle as he takes in what I spent hours on getting ready when I normally spend minutes. My blonde hair is pinned up in a chignon, and I have on more makeup than I usually wear. His eyebrows rise slightly at the sight of my party dress.

  “It’s okay to say you’ve got a thing for the boss.”

  I deny it every time, but if I’m going to take that leap to try to get Branson to cross the line in our relationship, then I might as well start fessing up.

  I drop my head to my chest. “Okay, fine. I have the tiniest of crushes on Branson.” I raise my eyes to him and scrunch my nose. “Is that crazy?”

  “You’re out of his league,” Hunter states, and I instantly want to punch him in his square jaw.

  “Excuse me? I’m out of his league?”

  “It’s the truth.” He takes a sip of whiskey, like he just told me the sky was blue instead of shattering my dreams.

  I lift my chin and stare straight into his eyes. I lift a finger and point it directly at his face. “For your information, I’m a catch. I’m funny and cute, and people say I bake a raspberry cheesecake that’s better than sex.” Hunter nearly chokes on his whiskey, bu
t I pay no attention and continue, “I’m organized, and I have a rescue cat. Plus, I’m the best damn assistant Branson has ever had. He’s told me that himself.”

  Hunter clears his throat as he adjusts the tie around his neck. “Sorry. You could have stopped at sex. I’m sold.”

  I groan in frustration and give him an eye roll.

  Apparently, my reaction is comical to him because he lets out a deep laugh. “You’re cute as hell when you act like this; I’ll give you that. But most men don’t want cute.”

  As if on cue, Janice comes sauntering over. She has on a silver fringe dress that’s cut low, making her boobs bounce out the top. Her fingers flutter over Hunter’s shoulder as she slides around to the front of him. “There you are, handsome.”

  He takes her hand off his shoulder and holds it in his as he walks her a step back and looks over at me. “Janice, did you say hello to Katie?”

  She turns to face me, giving me a closed-mouth smile. “Hey,” Janice says and turns her attention back to Hunter. “Look what I have.” She lifts a bunch of plastic mistletoe in her hand and holds it up in the air. “It’s bad luck to refuse a kiss to someone.”

  In that cavalier style of his, Hunter grins, showing off his dimples, and then he leans forward and gives Janice a kiss on the cheek.

  Her eyes flutter with a blush. “So PC for the office.” She giggles. “I’m just teasing. I actually came over here to grab you. The Accounting team is waiting to do a shot with you.”

  Never the one to turn down a drink, he nods his head and then holds his arm out to me. “Would you like to join us?”

  Janice shoots him a glare as I place my hand up in refusal. “I’m good.”

  His head tilts with a concerned rise of his brow for just a second before he puffs his chest and gives his arm to Janice. She takes it and pulls him toward the bar, where I can see a group from the Accounting department waiting with glasses in hands.

  “What do you say you and I get out of here early tonight?” I hear Janice tell Hunter in a sultry, hushed tone as they walk away.

  It’s a bold statement, but maybe that’s what I need to do. I should be forward, confident, and available.

  I take a drink of my whiskey, the burn feeling like liquid courage as I stare back at Branson and muster up the girl balls to go over to him and … what?

  Maybe Hunter’s right. Men want women like Janice, not a Suzy Homemaker like me. I need a plan.

  With a serious gulp, I finish my drink in one swig and place the glass on a nearby table. I pat down the pleats of the emerald-green dress I purchased for tonight’s holiday party. It was more than my budget could afford, but when Branson had told me last week that I had pretty green eyes, my heart had gone pitter-patter, and I haven’t been able to stop smiling at the thought.

  I should have worn the practical black wrap dress I have in my closet, but when I saw this one in the store, I knew he’d love it. At least, I hope he does.

  Knowing it’s now or never, I inhale a deep breath and make my way toward him.

  Hey, Branson.

  What do you say you and I …

  I was thinking we should …

  Wait. What am I going to say to him?

  “Katherine!” Branson sings as I approach. His smile beams from ear to ear, showing those glistening, pearly whites. “I’ve been looking for you, love.”

  Did I mention he has a British accent? Yeah, add that to the list of things that make me melt on a daily basis.

  My eyes widen as I smash my lips with a smile. “You needed me?”

  He lays a hand on my arm and pulls me toward a group of people he’s conversing with, singling out one man in particular. “I want to introduce you to Mr. Vargas. He’s the chief of operations at corporate, and he’s been asking about my very apt assistant.”

  Mr. Vargas extends a hand, and I take it, shaking it as he cups our joined hands with his other. “I was telling Branson what a wonderful job you do, keeping him on schedule. His last two assistants didn’t manage so well. And you’re always so pleasant on the phone.”

  Mr. Vargas’s compliment makes me stand up taller.

  Branson drops his hand from my arm yet keeps his place beside me. “I’m chuffed with this one. She’s been compiling the data from the Nielsen research we accumulated and is going to put on quite the presentation for us,” Branson boasts, and I feel like leaping out of my cherry-red heels. “She’s going places in this company.”

  “A compliment from Branson Ford is as good as any. You stick by him, and you’ll be at the top for sure,” Mr. Vargas says.

  I take a step closer to Branson and look up at him with a dreamy smile. “I have a great teacher and am taking notes every day.”

  When his piercing gaze meets mine, I know this is it. Those sapphires are sparkling as they look back at me, and I feel the zing down in my toes. Tonight’s the night I’ll tell him how I feel. I’m going to do it. I’m going to put it all on the table and tell the man I’ve longed for from just twenty feet away for over twenty-four long months that he’s the man of my dreams.

  “Ahem,” Mr. Vargas lets out a cough, getting our attention. As we look to him, he bows away. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go grab another glass of champagne.”

  He leaves, and it’s just Branson and me standing in front of the windows. The view is magnificent with a straight shot of Columbus Circle, overlooking the foot of Central Park and down Fifty-Ninth Street, decorated in holiday lights as the snow flurries from the sky.

  I don’t look out the window though. Because the man standing right here is more magnificent, and I can’t take my eyes off him.

  “Branson,” I say as he says at the same time, “Katherine.”

  I giggle like a schoolgirl for no reason and shake my head. “Sorry, you go,” I apologize for interrupting him.

  He grins, and it has me pushing up on my toes. “No, ladies first,” he says.

  My heart is beating wildly in my chest as my nerves race through my body. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I want to say so many things, and yet I can’t think of one.

  A comment I heard just a few minutes ago rings in my ears as my mouth opens again, and I utter, “What do you say you and I get out of here early tonight?”

  My eyes widen, and my stomach drops as I realize I just said that to my boss. I want to die. I gasp and cover my mouth in mortification of what just spilled out, but to my surprise, he doesn’t seem offended.

  In fact, he’s smiling. His eyes gleam as he looks straight at me with an expression of relief. His mouth quirks up to the side as he says, “I was going to say the same thing.”

  My heart is now in my stomach, my belly in a twist as butterflies flutter about. “Really?”

  “Katherine,” he starts as I swallow in nervous anticipation.

  This is it.

  This is the moment he’s going to tell me he wants me to get in his car and go somewhere romantic. Maybe we’ll go to a restaurant or for a cocktail. Cocktails will lead to kisses and kisses to more. We’ll be under the sheets and making love, and …

  “Can you ring for a car to pick me up in twenty minutes? This party is post, but if I’m being honest, I have a date waiting for me at the Blue Ribbon. If you could help me escape without anyone knowing where I’m going, it would be a real treat. Can you do that for me, love?”

  My heart, the one that was pounding amorously moments ago, has now stopped.

  He has a date.

  Waiting for him.

  And he wants me, the ever-faithful assistant, to help him get to her.

  “You have a … date?” I try to sound unaffected.

  “And you can get out of here too. Hang with your friends. Go home and bake one of those wonderful cakes you like to make for the office.”

  I glance down at my green dress, realizing now how stupid I was for wasting the money, and mumble a curse. “You stupid, day-dreaming idiot.”

  “I’m sorry. I missed that,” he state
s in his fine accent, leaning in like he’s truly concerned.

  If he only knew.

  “Nothing.” I swallow my hurt and blink up at him with eyes that feel like they want to cry, but I won’t let them. I hold my chin up as I speak, “I can arrange that. I’ll have the car meet you in the garage, so no one sees you leave. The party’s large, and they’ll all be five glasses deep in no time. I’ll text you the details.”

  Branson grabs my shoulders and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I close my eyes at the brief contact. It’s the first time he’s kissed me. I’ve dreamed of having his lips on my skin, but this is all so different than what I imagined.

  “I can’t live without you.” His mouth says the words I’ve longed to hear, but his face says it’s because he’s happy with only my job performance, not me as a woman or his love interest.

  “Oh!” He reaches into his fine Italian suit jacket and procures an envelope. “This is for you. For all your hard work.”

  I take the envelope from him and search inside. It’s a gift certificate for a salon and spa on Fifth Avenue. It’s a place I can’t afford to go on my own, but he’s treating me to a full day of pampering and beautification.

  I turn away, trying to regroup. It’s silly to think this polished and powerful man, who looks like a prince and speaks like a king, would ever see me the way I hoped he would. Like his queen.

  “Thank you,” I say, holding up the envelope. “I’ll get glossed and glammed!” My joke makes him laugh.