by Melissa West
“Not is, presently, but yeah, certainly did. A lot. That’s why there’s been such turnover. They couldn’t get a female on staff below the age of thirty to stay away from him, so the partners issued a strict no-fraternizing policy, and Aidan hasn’t touched a Sanderson-Lowe employee since. Not that I could blame the girls.”
Just then Gayle walked in, and I had to fight to rein in my crazy beating heart. The last thing I wanted was for Gayle to hear us talking about Aidan like that. “Good, Cameron, I was looking for you. Are you ready? The meeting’s about to begin, and I wanted to introduce you to the staff before it gets started.”
“Of course,” I said, a little too loudly, but Gayle was already leaving the lounge, me following quickly behind her.
I peeked through the glass to the group already seated around the long rectangular table. There was a mix of men and women; each dressed so differently it was impossible to know what was appropriate. Hell, one guy was even wearing a T-shirt. Gayle stood behind a pair of open chairs, and suddenly all eyes were on me. “Everyone, this is Cameron Lawson, our newest account manager. She’ll be assisting on all my accounts.”
We sat down and one by one the people around the table introduced themselves. I tried to follow their names, but I’d always been a faces person, the names disappearing into the cracks of my memory.
I reached across for a notepad and pen in the middle of the table, and a man sitting just in front of it—Brody?—pushed the stack my way to make it easier for me to grab. “Thanks,” I said, smiling.
“You’re welcome.”
The table sectioned out into different conversations. The men discussed the game from the night before. (I had no idea which game they meant.) The ladies at the opposite side from Gayle and me were talking about some preservative that caused cancer. I opened my mouth to say that everything but bananas and water seemed to cause cancer these days, but closed it back, sure I’d sound like a know-it-all, which wasn’t a stretch of the truth. Still, today was an observation day. Learn the team, pay attention, try not to piss anyone off.
Gayle turned to me then, clearly sensing my unease. “They’re all nice. Don’t worry.”
“They seem great.”
“And Aidan is brilliant. You’ll learn a lot from him.”
“I didn’t think I would actually work with him much.” Dammit. Why didn’t I research Aidan Truitt?
“You won’t really, but he likes to be very involved with our team. He leads all the meetings. Likes to have a hand in everything. Some say he micromanages, but I think he just wants us to know that we’re not in the thick of it alone. Plus, he’s really young for the job and I think a part of him misses the creative side.” Her gaze shifted to the door. “And speaking of…”
I turned just as the door opened. A man stood inside the doorframe, his head facing away from us as he said something to Alexa. He wore an impeccably tailored navy suit, his dirty-blond hair styled back with a hint of gel. I could see why Alexa said he was hot, even from behind. She nodded to him, then he stepped into the room, and suddenly my world turned on its axis, like I’d entered some alternate reality.
My heart jumped into my throat, my pulse speeding up as my stomach flipped. A memory hit of warm breath on my neck, and I jolted back, my hand colliding with my coffee cup and sending its contents across the table. “Shit.” I leaped up at the same time as everyone else, one of the guys grabbing a pack of paper towels and blotting the mess. The women smiled encouragingly at me like they’d all been here before. But they had no freaking idea.
And that’s when his gaze landed on me. He froze just as he was setting down his iPad, his eyes wide, his mouth slack. Another traitorous memory slipped through, that mouth on mine, his teeth biting my bottom lip just before his tongue—
“You.”
I drew a breath, ignoring my shaky hands and wobbly knees. “Me.”
Gayle was at my side in a second. “I’m sorry,” she said in an attempt to save me. “It’s Cameron’s first day. I’m sure she’s a little nervous.”
If only that were the problem.
Collecting himself, he straightened, licking his lips once, his eyes on me. “Easy mistake. Could happen to anyone.” He grinned, a hint of amusement crossing his face at the double meaning. My teeth ground together as I fought to rein in my emotions.
“Well, introduce me to our newest team member,” he said to Gayle.
Gayle smiled at me. “This is Cameron Lawson, our newest account manager. She will be helping on all my accounts, including Blast, which was why I requested she attend our meeting today. Cameron, meet Aidan Truitt. Our chief creative director.”
I lifted my eyes to his, my heart now wallowing on the ground, never to emerge again. Aidan Truitt. My boss. My boss’s boss.
Aka—UT Guy.
Chapter Five
“Welcome to the team, Cameron.” He held out his hand for me to shake, and I started to place mine in his, though every part of me wanted to back away, to disappear—to run. But this was adulthood. No running allowed.
I placed my hand in his, our eyes locked, and for a moment, we were back there. At the bar, laughing, fingers interlaced, electricity moving between us. The man before me wasn’t UT Guy, yet somewhere in his gaze I saw the guy I’d met, felt the spark, understood why he’d made it back to my apartment.
My father used to say only a few people would ever fully connect with you. See you for who you are and stay there anyway. He said you knew it when you met them, felt the change in the air, the calm in your belly. The person could be a friend, a relative—a lover. But forever, that person would be a match. Years could pass and conversation would still feel easy, like no time had passed at all.
Since I was little, I would watch for these people. Listen to their voices, hear their stories, look into their eyes. And yet after thousands of occurrences and introductions, I’d felt that match with only two people—my stepdad, Eric, which always made me feel a tiny bit guilty, and Lauren. I loved Grace, but Grace was an acquired taste, like beer or wine or coffee. You grew to appreciate her the more time you spent around her, but our connection wasn’t instantaneous. Not like Eric. Or Lauren.
Or Aidan.
The realization that I’d met a third connection and that he was my boss was enough to unnerve me even more than the fact that we’d hooked up. Sex complicated things, but this was different—more.
I smiled a little at the memory of our time at the bar, the easy conversation, and he smiled back, the expression soft, before we remembered that all eyes were on us, and he cleared his throat and took the seat at the end of the table. The seat directly beside me. Clearly the gods viewed this day as one of the great tests of my lifetime. Here you go, Cammie, survive this and you’ll earn a random act of kindness. Congratulations!
Taking my seat, I concentrated on the notepad in front of me, jotting down today’s date in the top right corner like I always did. Somehow I still preferred to take notes on paper, like the page pulled out my thoughts better than one of my devices. I set my pen down beside the notepad, vertical as always, and accidentally marked the page. It took every ounce of my control not to flip the sheet and begin again.
Aidan settled in his seat, and then as though someone flipped a switch, he was all business, not at all the same carefree man from the bar. He eyed each of us. “Okay, where are we? Gayle, go.” It was as though he had two personalities. Or maybe I’d just been that drunk.
“Right,” she said, launching into the details of the campaign while the rest of us took notes, some on the notepads, others in their phones or iPads. Aidan simply listened, but something in the way his eyes had transformed from that hint of humor before to complete seriousness now told me he was retaining and processing more than the rest of us ever could.
Blast Water wanted a campaign focused on college football, in an effort to sway some of the teams from Gatorade. They wanted to speak to the fans of the schools, push that their product could help teams succeed. In sho
rt, there couldn’t be a better campaign for me to work on. I knew college football. I’d been around it my whole life.
“Okay,” Aidan said after Gayle had finished. “Am I safe in assuming that everyone in this room has attended a college football game?” The table went quiet.
He placed his elbows on the table and locked his hands together in front of him. “Seriously?”
“I have,” Brody said. “I went to Notre Dame. There’s no program like Notre Dame’s.”
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “Right.”
Aidan’s gaze snapped over to me. “Did you want to add something, Cameron?”
I focused on the table. God. Keep your mouth shut, Cameron. There was no reason to get into this. Let the fight go. And then before I could help it, my know-it-all mouth was speaking too fast for my brain to keep up. “Nothing. It’s just Alabama would crush them. In fact, most SEC schools would crush them.”
I folded my hands in front of me, completely mortified at my outburst, but I couldn’t help it. Though I’d chosen NYU, my roots were still in Birmingham, where I grew up, and as loyal as ever to the University of Alabama, where my parents went to college. My gaze drifted up to Aidan, curious if he would agree with me. After all, UT was also in the SEC, but he didn’t meet my stare.
Instead, amusement spread across his face again, and I wondered if he viewed me as some circus act. Check out the new entertainment for Sanderson-Lowe. He glanced over at Brody, who was clearly fuming, but refused to argue with me in front of Aidan. “Okay, then. So we have a few who know the game. Great. Now, think about the rush of the first home game. The intensity of the crowd. The excitement on the field. How can we convey that in a short thirty- or sixty-second ad?”
Everyone spoke at once, throwing out ideas and arguing and generally making no sense at all. I wondered if every meeting ran this way. Finally Aidan’s gaze fell back on me, the new kid, and I knew I was about to be placed on the spot.
“What about you?”
My eyes shot to Gayle and she nodded reassuringly. “Well,” I said, “I was thinking we should focus on an IMC approach, which takes a look at the whole marketing picture instead of a single piece. I.e. television. I was thinking—” Laughter erupted around the table before I could continue. “What?” I asked, my voice much smaller than before.
Brody opened his mouth, but it was Aidan who spoke. “This isn’t a classroom. I don’t want a textbook definition of what’s good. I want originality. I want inspiration. Your job isn’t to recite to me what you learned over the last four years. It’s to use your brain to come up with something new.” He turned away from me and never glanced my way again. His voice wasn’t hateful, but there was no care in his words. Straight and to the point—exactly how he should treat anyone else in that room.
So why did I feel like he should treat me differently? He shouldn’t, couldn’t. That would be the definition of inappropriate. Regardless of what happened between us, Aidan ran my division. He was just doing his job. Unlike me.
I wanted to sink into my chair. Originality. Right. My first meeting at my first job, and I had failed.
…
I didn’t speak again for the rest of the meeting. I listened, I observed, but I never spoke, wishing I had just kept to my original plan. Gayle came over to me once it was over. “Don’t let them rattle you. Everyone shoots off textbook definitions on their first day. It’s all we know. Aidan just…” She shook her head, her gaze locking on Aidan’s office across the room. He was already inside, walking around, his cell to his ear. The wall facing us was all glass, even the door. His title and name were etched into the door, visible only if you stood right in front of it. He had blinds ready to close off the rest of us from his world, but Gayle said he rarely used them.
“Aidan’s hard,” she continued, her tone kind. “But it’s because he’s good. He just wants you to be that good, too. Shake it off, okay? I have some calls to make. Think you could do some research for me?” She passed me a list, all pertaining to Blast and Gatorade. I nodded to her, and she showed me to my cube before setting off for her office.
I started up my email so I would see if Gayle sent something my way, and immediately locked in on an email in my in-box. But it wasn’t from Gayle—it was from Aidan.
Clicking the email, I cycled through possible scenarios. I hated the unknown. I had to work out every side of a situation, so I would know how to handle it. So I could avoid failure. Getting hired at Sanderson-Lowe had proved to me that all my hard work had paid off. And now, in one drunken moment of weakness, it could all slip away.
My attention fell on the email, my heart speeding up as I read the words:
Can you come to my office please?
And there it was, the big I’m sorry, you’re fired. Or you’ll have to transfer to a different department. But surely he couldn’t fire me. We hadn’t known. Just like he’d said, it could happen to anyone. And I didn’t want to move to a different department. I adored Gayle already and knew she and I would work well together. One mistake shouldn’t change anything.
I wouldn’t let it.
Our floor sat quiet except for the clicking of computer keys and the occasional phone conversation, making the walk to Aidan’s office feel almost painful. A nice older lady smiled up at me from the desk outside his office.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here to see A—Mr. Truitt.”
“Of course.” She reached for her phone to let him know, just as he glanced up from his desk and called for me to come on in.
Closing the door behind me, I glanced around, trying to reconcile UT Guy with Aidan. There was a University of Tennessee diploma on the right-hand wall, and just below it an MBA from Columbia. Most would put the advanced degree above the undergrad, especially considering it was Ivy League, but then something told me Aidan wasn’t like most people.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I sat in one of the yellow chairs in front of his desk. Clearly, whoever decorated Sanderson-Lowe’s floor had a thing for yellow.
Aidan leaned forward, his forearms resting on his desk, and as I looked up and into his eyes I wondered if I would have kissed this version of him. Would I have laughed like I did? Would I have asked him back to my apartment? Likely not.
He seemed to read my mind. “I like to relax when I’m not here, shake off the business week. So you’ll usually find me in jeans and that UT hat. I’ve had it for years and I…” He trailed off. “Sorry. Anyway, I’m sure you realize how complicated this is?”
I nodded.
“I asked for your number before, but that’s not really appropriate now.” He grinned, the smile almost boyish. God, he was handsome. Not just hot or sexy. He was handsome. Rough, yet polished. It was a beautiful combination.
“Right…” My turn to trail off.
“As a rule, I don’t date women at the office.” He laughed. “Actually, I don’t date at all.”
My eyes flashed up, anger sparking inside me. Let it go. Just let it go. But I was never one to let anything go. “A little presumptuous, don’t you think? I never asked you for a date. I never asked for your number. And I didn’t offer you mine.”
He smiled again, a real, full smile, and for a second, my anger slipped, my heartbeat speeding up. I wasn’t sure if he was laughing at me or not, but I wanted to tell him to put that weapon away if he wanted me to get any work done. Silence grew between us, tension and attraction igniting. My body warmed under his stare, and I wondered if he was thinking about Saturday night, if it had been as good for him as it had been for me. Then cursing myself for even thinking about it, I pushed to standing.
“So, was that all?” I asked, eager to get out of there so I could breathe again.
Aidan considered me. “Yes.”
“Good. Then while we’re discussing appropriate, I’d like to make a few requests.”
“I’m listening.”
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “No
ne of those half-laughing smiles.” The corners of his mouth twitched, and I pointed at him. “See, that. That right there. None of those.”
With obvious effort, he relaxed his face. “All right. Anything else?”
I stared back at him, watching as his eyes traveled over me quickly before returning to my face, like he couldn’t control himself. Fresh rage burned in my chest. Damn if I was going to come to work every day and stand here while he imagined all my parts. “Just one.” Drawing a breath, I leaned over his desk, inches from his face, “No picturing me naked. Not even a little. To you, I’m forever clothed. Got it?” Then I turned and bolted out of his office, sure I could hear his laughter long after the door closed behind me.
Chapter Six
Lunch consisted of a dry turkey sandwich from downstairs at my desk so I could continue my research for Gayle, and before long the office had grown quiet, the day coming to a close. I quickly texted Lauren to meet me at the Irish pub just down from my office, knowing she wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Stuffing my phone back into my bag, I peeked slowly over the top of my cube, hoping Aidan had gone home for the day, but his office was lit. He sat at his desk, focused on his Mac, working away as though it were midday instead of night.
I tried not to watch him as he worked. The way his hair fell into his eyes after a while and how he left it that way for several seconds before sweeping it out of his face. Like he was too focused on what he was doing to care. He sat in perfect posture, and every few minutes he would stare at the wall across from him before diving back into whatever he worked on. I wondered what was on that wall, if there was a photo there or a painting or maybe his favorite magazine ad. He picked up his phone a few times, but he never took a call, like he wanted to reach out to someone or maybe he hoped the person would reach out to him. And then finally, it was past seven, and I signed off, packed up my laptop, and went for the door. My gaze landed on Aidan again before I left. I couldn’t help it. Something about him kept me coming back.
