One Night with her Boss

by Noelle Adams

  “Okay then,” he muttered, dropping his arms and stepping back.

  “Okay.” She was almost shaking, her body primed and ready for something to happen. When clearly nothing was going to happen.

  Not at nine o’clock in the morning in the file room of the office, when all Jake would ever be to her was her boss.

  He turned abruptly and walked out, and Anne leaned back against the file cabinet and tried to pull herself together.

  Could she be any more foolish?

  She’d never thought she was weak and spineless, but maybe she really was.

  Spending two years of her life wanting a man she could never have.

  When she returned to her desk, Jake’s office door was closed. He closed his door when he was having a private conversation—either on the phone or in person—or when he was in a bad mood. He never closed it at any other time.

  She wondered what he was doing in there.

  She sat down in front of her computer and tried to make herself finish reviewing the marketing proposal.

  No reason to think about Jake. He was nothing but her boss.

  An hour later, her personal phone rang.

  She’d gotten her dream job with that marketing firm.

  Two

  Later that day, Anne was running late for lunch with Meg and Ranie, her two best friends and roommates.

  Jake had emerged from his office a couple of hours ago with half a dozen projects that needed to be completed today, so she’d been too busy to think much about the job offer or what she was going to do about it.

  She also ended up fifteen minutes late for lunch.

  “You look gorgeous,” Ranie said, when Anne finally collapsed in a chair at their favorite lunch bistro. “If Jake didn’t want to rip your clothes off in that skirt, then I don’t know what’s wrong with the man.”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “He didn’t want to rip my clothes off.”

  “How do you know? Maybe he was manfully hiding his raging desire.”

  Anne couldn’t help but laugh at Ranie’s wry tone. “There was no sign of raging desire. I’ve pretty much given up on that, you know.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Meg put in. “No use to lie to us.”

  “Maybe not. But I should have. A long time ago.” She smiled at the server who came over with a glass of water for her, and then she ordered a Greek salad.

  “Well, you have that date tonight. He sounded promising.” Ranie was pretty, blonde, and tiny. And the loudest person Anne had ever met. “Maybe he’ll sweep you off your feet so you forget all about Jake.”

  “Well, he might not be sweeping me off my feet tonight. I might have to go to San Diego.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You weren’t supposed to go out of town again until next week.” That was Ranie again, sounding outraged, although Meg was frowning at the news too.

  “I know. But something came up, and we may have to go. It should just be for the night, but I’d have to reschedule the date. Anyway, that’s not even my biggest news.” She tried to sound excited rather than confused and overwhelmed, which was how she felt.

  She obviously didn’t fool her friends. They looked at each other. Then Ranie asked slowly, “Is it bad news?”

  “No. Good news. I got the job.”

  “The marketing one?”

  “Yeah. It sounds great, and the salary is good.”

  Meg was giving her a narrow look. “Then why don’t you look happy about it?”

  “I am happy.” Anne sighed. “I guess I have no reason not to take it.”

  “Why wouldn’t you take it?” Ranie asked.

  “I would. I’m going to.” As she said the words, she realized they were right. Of course, she needed to take the job. It would be absolutely ridiculous to not take the job she really wanted because she didn’t want to leave Jake.

  “You can’t put your life on hold for him,” Meg murmured. “You never have before. The job was good for you before—with your mother and everything. But, if you don’t take this job now, then you’ll be putting your life on hold for him.”

  “I know. I’m not going to do that. I’m going to take the job.” She straightened up, trying again to feel excited. “It’s just…it’s going to be hard to leave him.”

  “Yeah, but maybe it will be the kick in the ass he needs to get his balls together.”

  Anne shook her head at Ranie’s choice of words. “I think there’s some sort of mixed metaphor in there. But, really, he doesn’t need a kick in the ass. He’s a great boss. And there’s no reason he has to feel for me the way I feel for him.”

  “But he does feel the same way. He just hasn’t done anything about it.”

  Anne tried very hard not to let her friends give her unjustified hope with their loyalty to her, so she took Ranie’s comment with a very large grain of salt. “He really doesn’t.”

  “Did I or did I not see him at our Christmas party last year?” Ranie demanded.

  Anne sighed. “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. Did I or did I not see how he couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night? And did I or did I not see how I could barely drag him away from you when the party was over?”

  Last Christmas had given Anne similar thoughts. They’d invited everyone from her office to the party, but she’d been surprised when Jake actually showed up. He always took the staff to lunch for Christmas and gave them all very nice bonuses—which was the extent of his holiday spirit. But he’d showed up after all, and then he’d spent the evening talking and laughing with her. She’d felt pretty, desirable, almost giddy from the look she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes that evening.

  It had fed her hope too much, so she’d been crushed even more than ever when the New Year came and he acted exactly the way he always had with her.

  Like her boss.

  “That was just a…” Anne trailed off, dropping her head briefly. “He was just in a good mood that night. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “It did mean something. I saw his expression when he looked at you. He’s crazy about you. I still think he’s just holding back because he’s your boss. Maybe this job is what he’s waiting for. When you’re not working for him, he’ll finally make his move.” Raney looked characteristically enthusiastic about this idea.

  “Maybe he is,” Meg added, before Anne could argue. “But you should take the job because you want it and not because you’re hoping it will be the catalyst for getting together with Jake.”

  “I know. I do want the job. And I have no delusions about Jake waking up and suddenly wanting me once I’m gone.”

  “But maybe he will,” Raney chimed in, irrepressibly.

  “And maybe he won’t. It’s not about him. It’s about Anne. And, if this is what she wants, then it’s good no matter what Jake does.” Meg gave Raney a stern look. Then turned the same look back onto Anne.

  “Right.” Anne nodded, feeling better and determined now to give notice this afternoon, to make it real, to get it over with. “It’s about me. And a great job. And finding a guy who actually wants me.”

  “Or who’s willing to actually take what he wants.” Raney grinned. “Because we all know that Jake is secretly crazy about you.”

  Anne smothered a groan and just shook her head instead.

  Sometimes she wondered if Raney exaggerated the optimism to show Anne exactly how silly it was to be holding out hope for Jake to ever return her feelings.

  Because it was simply stupid. Jake had had seven years to make a move on her, and he hadn’t ever, not once, made a single move.

  Only an idiot would keep holding onto hope.

  ***

  As soon as she returned to the office after lunch, she went to stand in Jake’s doorway, determined to tell him before she lost the nerve.

  He was scrawling something out on a yellow pad.

  He liked to brainstorm with pen and paper, so he was probably just working out some ideas that she would later have to translate into legible form.


  His thick hair was rumpled, and his tie was askew. He must be feeling stressed, since those were the first signs she looked for.

  He glanced up and saw her, immediately straightening up. “Hey. Can you print out all the emails between me and Marshall Long since June?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do it now. Then do you have a minute to talk?”

  His eyes widened in obvious surprise. “Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She went to her desk, found the emails he wanted, and set them to print. More trees had to die because Jake liked to hold paper in his hand rather than read from a screen.

  She was about to walk over to the printer when she noticed for the first time a wrapped present on the corner of her desk.

  It was wrapped in solid blue paper with a pink bow stuck on the top. She knew who it was from.

  Jake must have bought a huge bag of those pink bows at some point, because he always stuck them on his presents.

  She also knew what the present was. Some sort of book on surfing.

  He gave them to her on birthdays, at Christmas, on Secretary’s Day—or whatever they called it now—and sometimes he gave them to her just because. When she first started working for him, she’d admitted that she’d never surfed before and had never even wanted to. He’d teased her about how she needed to learn, and he’d bought her a book on surfing as some sort of light-hearted encouragement.

  Since then, he kept giving her books on surfing. It was their thing. Some were expensive coffee table books with beautiful, glossy photos. Some were cheaper paperbacks. A few were novels. One was a children’s book. The single unifying characteristic was that surfing was somehow featured in the book.

  Today, she felt a familiar ache of affection in her chest as she slid her fingers down the fold to disconnect the tape. The book she unwrapped was old—very old with thick, aging pages and a faded cover.

  She opened the cover and saw it had been published in 1942. It was the real-life story of a group of surfers on the California coast.

  She flipped the pages, amazed and delighted by the formal language and the antique feel of the book. Where the hell had he even found this old thing?

  After looking at it for a few minutes, she laid it on the low bookcase behind her desk that held the rest of the books he’d given her.

  Then she made herself put aside her soft feelings and stand up. It was time. She needed to tell him about the job offer. She needed to give him two-weeks’ notice.

  And a sweet gift wasn’t going to change it.

  She was going to have to leave him. She could barely imagine life without him, which should be a clear sign that she was in too deep here and it just wasn’t good for her.

  She grabbed the stack of pages from the printer on her way back to his office. He was back at his scribbles and didn’t look up as she came in.

  She set the printouts on his desk and then sat down in a side chair and waited.

  After a moment, he looked up, evidently realizing that she was waiting for him. “Oh,” he said, “You wanted to talk about something.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the book, by the way. Where did you find it?”

  He gave a shrug. “Some old bookstore.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “What else would I do with a book on surfing?”

  “Put it in one of your shops,” she suggested. Jake’s surf shops had been so successful because he’d designed them for people to spend time in rather than just buy surf equipment and get surf lessons. They sold snacks and beverages, offered clothes of all kinds, had large book sections with comfortable chairs, and a variety of charming gifts. The one in Malibu even had an art gallery above the shop. “Maybe you could add a section of rare books to—”

  “It was for you.” For some reason, he looked a little grumpy. He frowned at her.

  “Okay. Anyway. Thank you.”

  “You had something to talk about?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I need to tell you something.”

  He must have heard something in her tone because he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, watching her closely.

  She tried to start talking, but no words left her throat when she opened her mouth.

  After a moment, he said, “What did you have to say?”

  “I got a job offer.”

  He stiffened visibly. “What?”

  “I got a job offer. A good one. A marketing job.”

  “What are you they offering you?”

  It wasn’t the reaction she’d been hoping for. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was hoping for—maybe for him to suddenly see what he was about to lose and fall on his knees to propose to her—but it wasn’t this. He sounded matter-of-fact. Business-like.

  “More than I’m making here, but that’s not really the—”

  “I’ll match it,” he said, without hesitation.

  “Jake, I’m really not—”

  “I’ll go five-thousand over whatever they’re offering.”

  Again, he sounded like he was making a deal. Not losing something he cared deeply about.

  Of course, he wasn’t. That wasn’t who she was to him.

  She took a slow breath. “It’s not about the salary. You’ve always been generous in that regard.”

  He had, although living in this area was so expensive that she still didn’t have much money to spare.

  “You’re not even going to give me a chance to give you a counter offer?” He was still stiff, although his voice now had a rasp to it.

  “There’s no counter offer to make here. It’s a marketing job. That’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve liked being your assistant, but I don’t want to spend my entire career in this position.”

  He stared at her for a few moments with gray eyes that looked strangely urgent. Then he said, “I’ve given you more responsibilities. You have the ability to advance here. I hadn’t realized you’d wanted to—”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to keep giving me new job titles. You don’t seem to understand what the issue is. It’s not that you haven’t treated me well. It’s that this is not the job I want.”

  For a moment, he stared at the empty air just past her head. “You don’t…want it.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be in marketing. You know that.”

  “I can give you marketing—”

  “To do in my spare time?” She was starting to get annoyed because he didn’t seem to be hearing her and was thus making this conversation harder than it had to be. “Let’s be serious. Even if you changed my position, I’d still end up doing the marketing job on top of the assistant’s job. I know exactly what would happen. You’d try. We’d try. But you’re used to relying on me, so you’d still ask me to do most of what I’m already doing, so I’d have two jobs instead of one. It would never work. I need to move somewhere else.”

  “Marketing is not more important work than what you’re doing now. If I’m willing to match your salary, then why—”

  She made a frustrated sound. “I already said it’s not about the money. It’s that I want a job that will be more…more…”

  “More what?” He leaned forward, looking like he might want to reach out and grab her shoulders or shake her or something.

  “More fulfilling.”

  The words had a visible impact. He jerked slightly and leaned back.

  She groaned and rubbed her face. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know this is hard. But try to think about it from my perspective.”

  “I am trying to think about it. I just didn’t realize you weren’t happy here.” He wasn’t looking at her now. He was staring down at his desk. And she realized he was really bothered by this idea.

  “I have been happy. It’s been a good job. But most people don’t stay in the same job all their lives. What’s good at one point in your life might not be good at another point.”

  “So you’re just going to quit?”

  “Two weeks’ notice. I can h
elp you try to find a replacement—”

  She broke off when he made a strange sound in his throat.

  For a moment, she was bombarded with a wave of grief and guilt, but as she processed the feeling, she was suddenly angry.

  There was no reason for her to feel guilty about this. She was doing what was right for her. She’d been perfectly loyal to Jake for seven years. He should think for a few minutes about what might be best for her. Maybe he could even be happy for her.

  She stood up. “I realize this has taken you by surprise, so I’m sorry to just spring it on you. But it’s going to happen. I can help you find my replacement if you want, or you can do it after I’m gone. It’s up to you.”

  She started walking for the door, but he followed her, stopping her with a hand against the wall next to her shoulder the way he had with the file cabinets earlier in the day. “Why are you doing this, when I’ve just offered you anything you want?”

  He hadn’t offered her everything she wanted. He was never going to offer her that. She could see it so clearly now that it made her want to cry—like she was mourning something she’d never had.

  But she didn’t cry. She met his eyes and said, “I know what you offered. You can give me more money and change my title and responsibilities, but nothing about this job is going to change for me. You can’t argue me out of this.”

  “And what am I supposed to do without you?”

  She almost choked at the urgent question, at the fiery look in his eyes. “Find someone else,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

  “There is no one else.”

  “I’m an assistant. You can find someone else to keep your files in order and answer your phones.”

  “You do more than—”

  “I know. But you can train someone else to do everything I do. I’m not irreplaceable.”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  It was exactly what she’d always wanted to hear, but she couldn’t stand it now. Because he only wanted her because she made his life easier.

  He didn’t want her for her.

  “It’s not your choice to make. I’m giving you two-weeks’ notice. I’ll have an official letter for you in a few minutes.”

  “I don’t accept it.”