Temp Girl

by Haley Oliver

  "I have no idea, ma'am." He shrugs. "You could try looking on the check."

  I do try, but I don't find anything. The donation has been made completely anonymously.

  But anonymous or not. I know whom it's from.

  * * *

  Later that evening, back at my apartment, I sit down to write.

  Owen,

  You want to know how I unwind in my free time? I hang out in the park. I have a dog, Lucy. She's a rescue, and I take her to the dog park every day before work and most evenings after.

  I had a family dog, Rex, growing up, but Lucy is my first true companion. I love dogs. They're remarkable in a way that humans aren't. They never disappoint, backstab, or make you feel less than what you are. They don't care how you've fixed your makeup or how much money you have in the bank. They express loyalty and love in a way that brings out the sincerest qualities in their owners—at least that's what I've observed at the dog park.

  I reach down to stroke Lucy's head beneath the table. Her tail thumps happily. "You know I'm talking about you," I say as I grin down at her.

  I have a specific bench near the duck pond that's my favorite where I sit and make up stories about the people I see while Lucy chases birds. It's a favorite pastime of mine.

  Then, because I can't help myself, I add:

  Your donation is appreciated. More than you know. You surprise me, Owen Ridgemont.

  I am still trying to understand him. He flat out refused the donation to Nicole, yet I know the huge donation tonight was from him. I read his bio. Owen Ridgemont knows what it's like to be without. He wasn't born rich. He made his own fortune and, from what I read, he is not opposed to parting with some of it for worthy causes. So, why did he tell Nicole no?

  Regardless, let everyone else go on believing that Owen Ridgemont is the cold-hearted, cutthroat consultant he pretends to be. I know otherwise. He's a person worth knowing.

  * * *

  Owen

  "Amanda?" I pull on my suit coat as I exit my office. Amanda is in the midst of typing a report.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Cancel my first afternoon meeting. I'm going to go out for a bit."

  "Okay." I watch her give me a quizzical look.

  I know this is not my normal routine, but something had been triggered in me by Nicole's last letter and I'm uncertain whether I'm trying to catch her in deceit, or if I'm simply trying to "catch" her. Either way, my feet are directing themselves out of the building.

  Amanda's quizzical expression is multiplied when I return later that afternoon. "Shall I order your protein shake, Mr. Ridgemont?"

  "No, thank you." I enter my office and sit at my desk with a pen and memo pad.

  Nicole,

  You should have seen my secretary's face when I left today at lunch without a word. She knows my schedule backward and forward.

  I confess, I was on a mission to find the bench you wrote about. Tell me if I'm wrong. It's the one beneath the weeping willow tree on the south end of the park near the small footbridge? I tried every bench and that one was, hands down, the best.

  And, as I sat, I was also charmed by the smell of Italian food wafting on the breeze from somewhere nearby.

  My stomach grumbles at the memory. "Lodge your complaint with my secretary," I mutter to it, grinning despite myself. I can't remember the last time I actually left the building, let alone my office, for something as mundane as a stroll through the park.

  The bench was easy enough to figure out. I just looked for a place nearby with both a pond and a dog park and started walking. I still remember the uncanny peace that came over me the moment I stepped off the city pavement. I had once thought, mistakenly, that my personal happiness was fueled by adrenaline and that nature had no effect over me.

  I might not have ever found out otherwise if the beautiful puzzle working on the fifth floor hadn't prompted me.

  Nicole, you're full of surprises.

  Maybe I am, too.

  Amanda

  So that's where he disappeared to!

  I shake my head in disbelief, sealing my lips tight against a smile that threatens to break out across my face.

  Mr. Ridgemont, you're full of surprises.

  What I let break instead is my cardinal rule of corresponding with Owen: never write back in the workplace.

  But I can't help it. Heart thumping, nerves vibrating, I paste a sticky note on my desk and sneak off to the ladies' room, purse clutched in my hands, heart on my sleeve, pen tucked at the ready behind my ear.

  Yes, that's the one! I'm surprised you found it, but then, I'm not surprised you tried every bench in the park.

  The aroma of Italian food comes from a little mom-and-pop place nearby. In my opinion, it's the best in the city. The ambiance is charming, the food is delicious, and the owners are tons of fun. And they have the best almond paste cookies I've ever tasted.

  I also love that you can smell the lilies from that bench. They're my favorite flower.

  Maybe you'll stick around Sway International long enough to visit the bench when they're in bloom.

  Chapter Seven

  Amanda

  The deception is getting more difficult all the way around. I'm having a hard time staying distant, and my conscience is tearing me to shreds. I never ever should have started this thing. I hate lying to him.

  When have I ever rifled through office trash? That's really when this all started. And, okay, maybe I do go bin diving daily now that I work directly for a man who has a habit of throwing out paperwork consequential to his secretary...but that's beside the point.

  The point is I released my lie out into the world like a dandelion seed—harmless, fluffy, barely substantial. And now a garden of lies has sprung up virtually overnight all around me.

  I see the way Owen looks at her now. Nicole. In the beginning, I had almost suspected his interest in her was superficial, if not completely artificial. When he directed me to deliver those first memos, it was almost like he was checking an item off on his to-do list. Now, the way he looks at her is almost...

  My stomach twists, and I stare down at my lunch. I'm not sure I'm able to finish it, but I might be hungering with the wrong organ. I have no idea anymore. My insides are a mess, my head doubly so. I'm a jangle of nerves. It's like being around Owen calms me as much as it invigorates me.

  There is always a notable difference in Owen after he receives a note from Nicole, but what is worse is the way I feel when I, I mean Nicole, receives a memo from Owen. I have to face facts. I'm falling for my boss. And if that distant, unfocused look in his eyes is any indication, he's falling for Nicole.

  "Uh-oh," Jane remarks suddenly on my left. "I know that look."

  "Huh?" I glance up and grope quickly for my sandwich to use as a shield. I need a shield. "What look?" I take a big bite and chew with gusto, eyes wide. I must look like a spooked horse. Careful, Mandy, don't give yourself away now. No thinking about Owen during working hours...as much as you can help not thinking about your boss.

  Jane just levels a knowing look at me and punctuates it with a wink.

  No. She can't know. Besides, I think as I step into the elevator, there's nothing to know.

  "Hold the door please!" a voice hollers.

  I thrust my hand out quickly and the sliding doors retreat again. What appears to be a walking bouquet of enormous lilies hustles quickly into the elevator and comes to a stop beside me. I blink once, then notice the delivery man smiling at me from behind two parted leaves. "Er, what floor?" I shake off my surprise and poise my finger over the panel. I'm grinning now, too, despite myself. Apparently, romance is in the air at Sway International.

  "Fifth, please."

  I stab for the button and miss completely. Hold up…

  Fifth floor? Lilies?

  Panic rises like a wave that threatens to overwhelm me. "Fifth?" I repeat like I'm Sway International's echo-in-residence. "Actually, I work on that floor. That delivery wouldn't happen to be for Nicole Pres
ton, would it?"

  He glances at the delivery card. "Yes, ma'am, it is."

  I need to think fast on my feet, so I cover my mouth and give him a small, faux squeal of excitement. "They're for me? Oh, my goodness."

  He smiles wider. "I guess so, if you're Ms. Preston?"

  Instead of answering him, I nod. "I bet that card says office 515, right?"

  He glances again. "Yes."

  I shrug. "Well, that's it then. 515, Nicole Preston. I'm actually not in the office yet, as you can see, but I'll be glad to sign for it now and save you a trip." I smile politely and reached for the clipboard.

  "Would you mind?" I can hear the immediate relief in his voice. "I'm running so behind schedule. I've gotta get across town in the next half hour."

  "I...don't mind at all!" I open my arms, and the delivery man thrusts the bouquet of lilies into them.

  "Oh yeah, don't forget the card!" He slips it inside the conical wrapping paper with a grin. "See you later!" He waves to me as he steps back out into the lobby.

  "Have a nice day," I call and wave as the doors slide closed. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty. I have to get the things out of here before anyone sees me with them.

  I lift the lilies to my nose and inhale their lovely aroma. Owen is sweet, too sweet. Too bad I can't keep them. What am I saying? They're not even for me! Not technically. Technically, they're for Nicole. Or, are they technically for me and just addressed to Nicole? I'm not even sure how that goes.

  By the time the doors open again, I'm sweating bullets. My eyes dart down the hallway. Thankfully, there's no one in sight...at least no one I can immediately see from behind this ginormous bouquet. I glance at the door to the stairwell a few offices away. If I'm quick, I'll make it. I sprint to the stairs chanting, "No one come out, please," repeatedly and shove the door open viciously with my hip. Once my feet hit the stairs and the fire door latches closed behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief. Now all I need to do is make it down five flights of stairs to the back entrance of Sway without being seen. I continue my run, perilously leaping multiple steps at a time with my vision partially obstructed. My heart thunders so loudly in my ears that I keep imagining it's footsteps coming up to meet me, or down after me. Owen doesn't take the stairs, does he...?

  When I finally exit the building out onto the back loading docks, lean over from the platform and use the last of my strength to lift the lid of the dumpster, I'm overcome with a wave of sadness. The flowers are so beautiful and the scent divine. I stick my nose into the bouquet and take one last big inhale before I chuck the bouquet into the dumpster. "Two dozen lilies gave up their lives for nothing today," I mumble as I close the dumpster lid and a loud bang echoes through the loading docks.

  As I slowly climb back to the fifth floor, my face is burning with shame. I know I have to do something soon. This has gone too far and I know it. The only question is, how do I bail off this Crazy Train when I'm the conductor?

  I am facing two choices, both equally as distasteful. One, crush Owen with complete and total rejection from Nicole, or two, reveal my charade.

  * * *

  "Amanda, what are you doing tomorrow evening?"

  I gasp and bolt upright in my chair. It's not like I was anywhere close to falling asleep at my desk, but Owen Ridgemont has a habit of taking me by surprise at the most inopportune moments. I had just been about to sneak a peek at the card he sent along with Nicole's flowers.

  "Tomorrow...evening?" I repeat, unsure if I heard him right. "Why, do you need me to work late?"

  "Something like that." Owen's fingers drum a nervous rhythm on my desk. I can't tell if the man himself is anxious. I've certainly never seen him that way. I narrow my eyes to try and sharpen this picture into better detail, but he won't look at me. He appears distracted.

  "Something like work?" I prompt him.

  "I'll pay you, of course."

  "You'll pay me to...?"

  Owen sighs and withdraws his hand. He slips it back into his pocket and looks down at me. "I need an escort."

  "An escort?" I repeat. "You need a...paid escort."

  My shock must be showing because Owen quickly withdraws his hands from his pockets and his posture falters a little. He looks like he's caught between wanting to reassure me and watching to catch me in case I fall out of my chair. "No, no. Not like that! Definitely not like that. Darn, I should have just asked in a memo."

  "Please, no more memos," I mutter.

  "Sorry?"

  "Nothing. Okay, sir, please do me a favor and...start again at the beginning." I straighten out my shoulders and raise my chin, just in case the situation is going to require my defiance. I'm not used to saying no to my employer, but I figure this situation, above all others, is as good a time as any. What does he take me for?

  "Certainly." Owen quickly pulls up a chair and sits down beside me. His knee moves, brushing mine. I'm afraid pulling away will be too indiscreet, so I hold still and try not to blush every time his pant leg slides against me. "I have a black-tie fundraiser tomorrow."

  "Yes, I know."

  "Of course, you do." He flashes me one of his broad smiles with gleaming white teeth, and any suspicious feelings I have are tossed like the world's most beautiful bouquet into a back alley dumpster. I have a strong suspicion I'd do anything for him. I don't think he shares this same suspicion...yet. "Anyway, the wife of an important client is throwing this function. Optics can be just as important at this sort of parties as the amount of money you're willing to donate."

  "I can imagine." Actually, I can't, but it sounds like Owen knows from experience so I'll take his word for it. "So where do I come in?"

  "I'd like you to go with me." He puts up his hands, and his eyes are suddenly serious. "Not as an actual date, of course. Nothing like that."

  "O-of course!" I flap a hand of my own to let him know there's no mistaking that, but it feels like he just stabbed an hors d'oeuvres skewer through my heart with that little addendum—of course. Am I really so far out of the realms of dateability that he has to establish this up front? I can't deny it stings.

  Owen catches my hand, and his smile hitches up the right side of his face just a bit higher. "Of course, you'll go?"

  I stare back at him, dumbstruck, and don't even think to recapture my hand. All I can do is nod.

  "Great!" Owen stands suddenly, dragging me to my feet. I'm pretty sure he's forgotten his grip on me. "You're a stellar assistant, Amanda. Best I've ever had. "

  "Can I get that in writing?"

  He laughs, but I want to kick myself for saying it out loud. No part of me should want Owen to associate me with "writing." I'm the dutiful secretary, here to serve his every whim. I'll be the glittering, feminine arm candy he needs to complete his image and seal a future deal.

  "Tomorrow, then." Owen glances down, and notices he's still holding my hand. He steps back and gives it an awkward shake, which I return.

  "Tomorrow," I agree.

  At this point, I'm surprised Owen Ridgemont has even noticed I'm a woman.

  Chapter Eight

  Owen

  "What's taking them so long?" I mutter. I check my watch again, shifting my weight impatiently from one leg to the other. I hate being kept waiting, and something about waiting on Amanda King has me especially antsy. What in the world is Jane Fox doing to her in that bathroom?

  Gabe sees me standing alone in the lobby and raises an eyebrow at my impatience. "Owen, when's the last time you've been out with a woman? They take their sweet time getting ready."

  "Not Amanda." I know my secretary, and I'm confident that I'm right. Amanda...isn't like other women. At least not the women I'm used to socializing with. She's always prompt, with everything. Out of respect for my time, she would never consciously run behind schedule.

  "Amanda, huh?" Gabe tucks his briefcase beneath one bicep and crosses his arms. "You guys on a first-name basis already, Ridgemont?"

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "My defi
nition of ridiculous might differ from yours," he deadpans. "For instance, I would consider forcing my secretary to pose as my date to a black-tie function ridiculous."

  "I'm not forcing her. I'm paying her," I say sulkily.

  "Ha!" Gabe laughs and claps me on the back. "I don't even know where to start with that one!"

  "Give me a break, Gabe," I mutter as I adjust my cuffs. "Let's just say I've got something in the works, but it's taking longer than I expected."

  "Something in the works...or someone you're hoping to work that good ol' Ridgemont charm on?" Gabe asks me. I shake his hand off my back and sigh. I realize that Nicole's first instinct about workplace dating may have been right, and out of respect for her I've been proceeding with caution around here. Nobody knows about our private correspondence, save for Amanda, and I trust my secretary has never actually read the messages we exchange. No, not Amanda. She's perfectly professional, and perfectly uninterested in my personal life. Of that I'm sure.

  "You might be surprised by how much charm I can muster," I say.

  "I'm sure I… would… be…." What remains of Gabe's next scathing comment ends abruptly, and I turn to follow his gaze. "Evidently, you're not the only one capable of mustering charm," he murmurs. He claps me on the back a final time and departs through the revolving glass door, leaving me alone, gaping at the vision of loveliness gliding toward me.

  Amanda?

  I don't know why her name hits me so hard, but it feels like a blow between the eyes when it comes. Amanda. The dark-haired beauty approaches me, smiling with complete, unadulterated enthusiasm. It's the familiar smile that makes me know I'm not mistaken. I realize how much I've enjoyed her positive, warm reassurance throughout the workday. She's certainly a bright spot.