“She’s smart,” I answer honestly.
Stevie glances over her shoulder at me. “Smart is good. What else?”
“Maren is kind,” I offer. “She’s taking care of Dudley.”
“I need to meet her.” Stevie places a small mason jar filled with something that looks slimy on the counter. “I want to see Duds.”
I watch as my niece unscrews the lid of the jar before she plops a spoon into the mess inside.
“Are you going to eat that?” I lean back on my stool.
With a nod, she shoves a spoonful into her mouth. “Daddy makes the best overnight oats ever.”
Berk tosses me a look. “You should try them sometime, Keats.”
I push back to stand. “Hard pass.”
“Are you going to work dressed like that?” Stevie takes in my jeans and hooded sweatshirt.
I lift my chin. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“If you were in my class, I’d say nothing, but you’re an adult.”
I spin in a circle. “I’m the boss. I can wear what I want.”
That earns me an eye roll. “Wear your dark blue suit with the pink silk tie. And those brown shoes that are on the second shelf in your closet.”
“I’m supposed to take fashion advice from an eight-year-old?” I laugh.
She drops her spoon and heads toward me with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Trust me, Keats. It’s your best look.”
I don’t know why, but I trust the kid. I plan on showering and putting on the suit when I get home.
“What color shirt?” I ask.
She purses her lips together. “Go with white. That way the tie will pop.”
“Done.” I lean forward to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “Learn something new today.”
“You too.” She smiles.
“Smart…as a whip,” I quip.
She throws her head back in laughter. “Yes, I am.”
Berk takes a step forward. “We’ll talk more later?”
He’s curious about Maren. I don’t blame him. I haven’t talked to my brother about a woman in a hell of a long time. “You bet.”
“I want to meet Maren, “ Stevie says as she marches back to her jar of oats. “I miss Dudley.”
“I’ll make that happen.” I toss her a wave. “I think you’ll like her.”
Stevie scoops up a spoonful of her breakfast. “If you do, I know I will.”
Chapter 20
Maren
I spent most of today handling clerical duties for Keats. I saw him briefly this morning when he arrived at the office. I was hoping we’d get a few moments alone to talk about what happened last night, but Everett demanded a meeting with him.
That lasted almost an hour, and by then, it was time for Keats to head across town to speak with a scout who has been keeping tabs on two players on a high school basketball team.
As he was leaving, he stopped at my desk and promised that he’d be back early this afternoon.
It’s quarter after three now, and if he doesn’t stroll off that elevator soon, I’m going to send out a search party to find him. I’ve tried texting him twice and called once, but I’ve gotten no response from him.
I realize that he likely silenced his phone during his meeting, but part of me wonders if he’s ignoring it because he’s focused on something other than business.
I broke down mid-day and searched for my boss’s name online.
I did that after spending over an hour learning everything I could about the Newman family. My time working at Knott Public Relations taught me that there’s value in understanding the people you do business with.
There’s no way I can know the Newmans well just by studying their social media accounts, but I think I have more insight into who they are than I did last night.
I have more insight into Keats too.
My online treasure hunt resulted in learning a few new things about my boss. He’s been photographed at restaurants and clubs in Manhattan with some of his famous clients. In almost every picture, a different woman was hanging onto Keats.
In one of the images, a leggy brunette had her arms wrapped around his neck as they danced. In another, a blonde was straddled on his lap as he sat on a bench in a club. The image that caused me to close my computer’s browser was of Keats on top of a bar kissing a woman with black hair as people around them raised their fists in the air.
Earl Newman had a point when he questioned Keats’s reputation.
I turn to look when I hear the ding that signals the elevator’s arrival. Relief washes over me when I realize that Keats is finally back.
He’s dressed in the same dark blue suit and pink tie he had on when he left this morning. His clothing isn’t wrinkled. His hair is still in place.
“Maren!” he calls out my name. “The countdown is on.”
I stand as he approaches my desk. He stops mid-step as he takes in the pencil skirt and blouse I’m wearing.
Earlier, our brief exchange happened when I was seated, so he didn’t get the full impact of Arietta’s fashion advice and makeup magic.
“Can I get a minute?” he asks with a perch of one brow.
I nod.
He waits for me to lead the way. I wonder for half of a second, whether that’s because he wants to get a glimpse of my ass.
I shake my head trying to chase that away because we’ve already crossed so many lines that I’m dizzy with confusion.
Once he closes his office door, he rakes a hand through his hair. “The Newmans are set to arrive soon.”
I almost make a comment about stating the obvious, but instead, I concur. “We don’t have much time to get our stories straight. What are we going to tell them?”
His hand drops to his chin. “What do you mean?”
Did he completely forget what happened last night? The Newmans are under the impression that Keats and I share more than a boss and assistant connection. There has to be a way to explain that away without losing Fletcher as a potential client.
“Let’s tell them we broke up last night,” I spit out.
The corners of his lips curve up. “We’re not telling them that.”
I close my eyes briefly. “They think we’re in a relationship, Keats. We’re not.”
“I know,” he blurts out. “But you showed them another side of me.”
I didn’t. All I did was go along with the lie. If anything, that shows a side of me I don’t want to exist.
I drop my hands to my hips. “What do you suggest we do?”
Keats’s gaze follows my movements. He stares at my skirt. “We won’t confirm or deny it today. They’re coming to meet the team. We’ll bring them in here for a quick hello, you’ll say you have an important meeting to get to, and I’ll take the reins from there.”
Hypothetically, that could work, but the lie will still be in play. “When do you plan on telling them that I’m your assistant, and not your…”
“Lover?” Keats fills in the blank I left when my voice trails off. “I’ll sign Fletcher and then down the road, I’ll mention that we decided we’re better as colleagues.”
It can’t be that easy.
“Maren,” Keats whispers my name as he steps closer to me. “You did me a tremendous favor last night by not correcting Earl’s assumption about us. It gave me a fighting chance. Without you there, the meeting would have ended before it started.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you giving me this job, Keats.” I feel my skin heat. “But, I’m not sure I should have been at that meeting. My presence complicated things.”
His arms cross over his chest. “I needed you there.”
“Not really.” I half-laugh. “I know virtually nothing about sports. I just started working for you, and my job description clearly states that I’m your executive assistant. The list of responsibilities on the contract I signed is all about tasks within this office.”
A smile ghosts his mouth. “You didn�
�t read the contract.”
I’d take offense at that, but I can’t because he’s right. I skimmed it over quickly before I signed because I felt the building pressure of my parents breathing down my neck.
That’s not exactly what happened. But my dad was trying to reach me the morning the contract was delivered. Once I got here, and spoke to Keats, I signed the contract in front of Everett after I gave the first two pages a glance.
“You attend social functions at my request.” He brushes past me to head to his desk. “That includes dinner meetings, lunches, parties, and travel.”
My stomach knots at that last word. “Travel? I have to go away with you?”
He glances at me as he places his phone and keys on his desk. “If need be.”
“Where to?” I don’t care where we’d go. I’m stuck on the fact that I agreed to all of this without realizing it.
Feelings can develop when people who work side-by-side spend time together outside of the office. It happened to me once and it didn’t end well. I’m attracted to Keats, but he’s my boss.
He straightens. “That’s to be determined. We’re staying in New York for the time being.”
I exhale. “Good.”
“You’re not afraid of flying, are you?” He perks a brow.
I shake my head. “No.”
A knock at the office door spins me around. “Should I get that?”
“Please,” Keats says from behind me.
I take shaky steps to the door as I try to absorb the fact that my boss and I will be spending a lot more time together than I expected.
When I swing open the door, I’m greeted with a pair of arms wrapped in a pink cardigan. A woman with graying brown hair pulls me toward her. “You must be Maren. I’m Patrika Newman. It’s so good to meet you two lovebirds.”
Chapter 21
Keats
I stand just out of reach of Patrika Newman’s grabby hands. Maren is taking one for the team, and I’m grateful.
I wave a hand in greeting to Earl and his son even though they are thirty minutes early. I suspect that was planned. Earl strikes me as the type of man who does a hell of a lot of testing on those around him.
From where I’m standing, this unexpected early arrival couldn’t have gone any better. I doubt Maren would agree since she’s getting the life hugged out of her.
“Your office is cool, Keats,” Fletcher says, looking around. “You can see the Empire State Building from here.”
I glance toward the window. “It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”
“You’re a beautiful sight,” Patrika Newman practically screams at me. “I knew you were hot as a griddle, but wow.”
That’s a compliment, so I smile. “It’s good to meet you.”
I wait for her to take a run at me, but she hangs onto Maren. “Earl told me that you all had the best time last night. I’m sorry I missed it.”
Maren takes a step back, and by some miracle, Patrika loosens the death grip she has on her.
Earl finally steps into my office. “We’re early, but we knew you wouldn’t mind.”
I flash a grin. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
Maren skims her hands down her sides to straighten her blouse. “Can I get anyone a beverage? We have coffee, green tea, an assortment of juices, and sodas.”
Like hell we do.
The break room is stocked with coffee and some brand of tea that my first assistant loved. If anyone wants something else, there’s water out of the tap and a bodega is a block from here.
“I’d love a green tea.” Patrika grins from ear-to-ear. “You wouldn’t happen to have honey, would you, honey?”
Maren laughs along at her joke. “We have honey.”
Since when and where the fuck did it come from?
“If there’s a bottle of orange juice, I’ll take that,” Earl says. “Fletcher, do you want a soda?”
“I’ve been craving one.” He takes another look at the window.
“I’ll grab those for you,” Maren says before she shoots me a glance over her shoulder. “Anything for you, Keats?”
I shake my head because I’m too stunned to say anything.
She has to be the one who is responsible for this. Who knew assorted beverages could make people this happy?
I rarely meet clients here, so the extent of my offerings is slim. I’m glad she thought far enough ahead to anticipate this.
“I do have to leave shortly.” Maren sighs, and goddammit, even I believe her disappointment is legitimate. “I’m glad I had the chance to meet you, Patrika.”
Patrika’s lips fall into a frown. “Why are you leaving?”
“It’s a work matter,” I interject. “Maren is needed elsewhere.”
“We need here her.” Patrika tugs at Maren’s arm. “I thought we’d have more time to get to know each other.”
This isn’t a goddamn blind date.
“Maybe another time,” Maren says politely as she inches toward my office door.
Patrika glares at Earl. I know that look. I saw my mother direct it my father’s way enough times when I was a kid. Patrika has an idea she thinks is brilliant, and she wants her husband on board.
Earl locks eyes with his wife and silently mouths something to her. I read every word that leaves his lips.
Do you want them at our anniversary party? Go ahead. Invite them.
I plaster on my best poker face because I’m about to land an invite to a family function. This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s the third. I was invited to the wedding of the sister of a basketball player. He signed on with me a week later, and the tennis player who offered an invite to a birthday party agreed that I’d represent him before the night was over.
I fucking hope Finn Remsen won’t be at this party.
“I’ll be right back.” Maren shares a smile with the room.
“Hurry back,” Patrika calls after her. “I have a surprise waiting for you and your sweetheart.”
Maren stops mid-step but then continues without a glance back.
This wasn’t how I envisioned getting Fletcher Newman on my client list, but I do what needs to be done. If that means Maren and I have to play sweethearts in public, I’ll do it.
I hope to hell, my assistant is up for it too.
***
Maren comes back to my office, carrying a tray with two tall glasses. One is filled with orange juice, and the other with a dark-colored soda. Next to them is a mug with a teabag string hanging over the rim. A small glass container marked honey sits beside that.
I don’t recognize any of it. She put some serious effort into this, and I’m impressed.
Placing the tray down on the table that sits in the corner of my office, she turns to face all four of us. With a forced grin, she eyes me. “I should be going. I don’t want to be late.”
If she thinks she’s getting out of here that easily, she’s wrong. There’s no way Patrika is going to let Maren exit my office without announcing her surprise.
“Give me just a moment.” Patrika’s index finger springs into the air. “I have an invitation I think you’re going to like.”
Maren’s gaze lands on my face before she forces it back to Patrika. “An invitation?”
Patrika nods, causing a strand of her hair to fall from the bun on the top of her head. “We’d love it if you and Keats would join us to celebrate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary a week from Saturday. It’s going to be on the terrace at Howerton House.”
Maren knots her hands together behind her back. I watch as she kneads her fingers. Not a sound comes out of her mouth.
I step in by clearing my throat. “We’ll be there.”
Maren’s head drops. I know I should have told the Newmans that we needed time to check our schedules, or we had plans but want a rain check. Both of those would open the door for Finn Remsen to steal Fletcher away from me.
“Earl will text you all the details.” Patrika claps her hands together
. “You’re going to be the best looking couple next to us, of course.”
“We can’t wait,” I say with a wide ass grin.
Maren taps a finger on the face of her watch. “I better run, so I’m not late.”
Patrika goes in for another hug. This one is just as aggressive as the first. Earl looks like he’s about to join in, so I take a step closer to the women. “I’ll walk you out, Maren.”
“What a fine man you are.” Patrika wiggles her eyebrows. “We’re going to have a mess of fun at the party.”
Maren sighs. “It was lovely to see you all.”
I’m on her heel the second she starts toward the door. I follow her silently to her desk as she opens the bottom drawer to grab her purse and phone.
By the time we’re at the elevator, I’m wondering if I’ll ever see her again, so I board it after her once the doors open on our floor.
As soon as they glide shut, she turns to me. “What are you doing? You can’t just leave the Newmans like that.”
I press the button to take us to the lobby. “They’ll be fine.”
She locks her gaze on the elevator doors. “Are we going to their anniversary party?”
Shoving both hands in the front pockets of my pants, I nod. “We are.”
Still staring straight ahead, she whispers. “They think we’re a couple, Keats. They’re celebrating something very special, and we’re deceiving them. It feels wrong.”
“It’s one evening. This could put me on the fast track to representing Fletcher.”
“Once you sign him, we’ll tell the Newmans we…”
I finish the sentence for her. “Broke up. I’ll tell them you dumped me.”
I watch as she cracks a smile. “We’ll think of something to tell them.”
“This isn’t ideal, Maren.” I lower my voice. “I know that. I fucking hate lying.”
She turns to face me, just as the elevator reaches its destination. “That’s a hundred dollars to the fund, Keats. They seem like nice people. I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
I motion for her to exit first as the doors open. “That party is another chance for me to show them that I’m the agent who will fight tooth and nail to get their son what he deserves.”
Catch Page 8
