Page 23 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

I look back up at his face, his blue eyes staring into mine. “Can I take your bag for you?”

Pulling my hand away, I take a step back.

“I just needed to update Sarah on someone I’m expecting to meet with later today,” I explain.

He walks toward the elevator, and I fall in step beside him.

“It’s been a couple of weeks since I asked you to meet with the editorial team. You should have met with them by now. Have you?”

“Yes, I met with them yesterday and was going to update you today. We made changes to one of the completed interviews already and prepared a fresh set of questions for the next interview.”

“Changes?” He presses the elevator button, and it immediately opens.

I trot in behind him. “Yes.”

“You altered the interviewee’s words?”

“Not exactly. We only generalized a few comments and left other quotes raw and unfiltered for emphasis.”

The elevator door closes, and I’m trapped inside with only him and his cologne. Against his stiff and rigid expression, he smells intoxicating. The spicy notes in his cologne make me want to bury my nose in his neck.

What am I thinking? Stop it, Chloe.

The door opens, and we step onto our floor. “I’ve got a meeting with a few guys at the Diamond Club later today, so I’ll be out by noon. Call Nexus to see if you can squeeze in a follow-up meeting to discuss any developments we should be aware of and reschedule all other meetings after twelve today.”

“Will do.”

“Also,” he adds as he approaches his office door. “I’m contemplating withdrawing our Prestige Pulse magazine from production.”

“Really?” My eyes widen.

“Yes. Is something wrong with that?”

He pushes the door open, and I follow behind. I drop my purse on the chair and pull out my tablet. Prestige Pulse is my favorite magazine from all of Daniel’s written media productions. Taking it out feels like ripping a band aid off.

“It’s a local favorite. Why do we? I’m sorry… why do you want to shut it down?”

“It’s our lowest earning and oldest magazine. We need fresh ideas. It’s stale.”

“I think we can bring it back to life.”

“So, you’re implying that I haven’t thought this through?”

“Not at all,” she continues. “Change its name to something like LuxeLife or…Anyway, inform our current readers of the upcoming enhancements and the exciting things we plan to cover, and then market it to both existing and new readers. If we price it right, it’ll attract new consumers, I’m sure.”

He side-eyes me. No bravo, brilliant idea, fantastic. He gives me a once-over and huffs.

“If you’re that passionate about it, then that’s your new assignment. Send me your ideas by the end of this week.”

He’s such a Debbie-Downer, but I won’t let him get to me. I’m going on a date with a real gentleman, I think, and nothing can ruin my day.

“Sure, Mr. Andrews. Anything else?” I ask.

“Coffee.”

Shoot. Can I just get that part right one time? “Coming right up.”

I gather my belongings and return to my office. I sprawl the items on my desk and race to pour him a cup of his favorite coffee.

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