Page 42 of Loving London

Kate is the first to venture off the couch. She extends her hand, and I take it. “Then, we’ll order takeout and veg for the rest of the day.” She helps me up.

“Do you want to startHow I Met Your Mothertoday?” I ask her.

We finished ourFriendsmarathon a couple of weeks ago. I told her we should startHow I Met Your Mothernext. Although it’s notFriends, it’s a really close second.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Kate agrees.

I enter Brad’s office for our daily meeting.

“Please shut the door.” He motions toward the open doorway.

I comply with his request before sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Good morning,” I say to him, my tone overly sweet.

He closes the laptop in front of himself and gives me his full attention. “Did you have a good weekend?” he asks with his dreamy smile.

“Very good. Thank you,” I say shortly.

Our conversations are usually much more friendly, but this morning, I’m pissed.

“Is everything all right, London?”

“Not really, Brad. You see, apparently, the entire staff here thinks that our daily private meetings are booty calls.” I hold back a smile when his eyes widen. I continue in my business tone, “It has come to my attention that I’m the only one on your staff who you meet with daily, and I’d like to inquire as to why that is.”

Brad presses a finger to his lips where a small smile is present. He assesses me before answering, “Well, you’re one of the newer writers, and I wanted to make sure you were getting all your questions answered to ensure your success with the paper. We don’t have an official mentoring program, so I’ve seen our meetings as such.”

“As mentoring opportunities?” I question with a quirk of my eyebrow.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Interesting. Well, I spoke with Scott, the writer inSportswho started two weeks ago, and he tells me that you haven’t requested one meeting with him. Does he not deserve these mentor meetings?”

“London, what is this really about?” Brad asks with a sigh.

“I want to know why you have been treating me differently? Apparently, the office thinks I’m easy, and you’re to blame.” I glare toward him.

“No one thinks that,” he says with a shake of his head and a slight smile.

“They might as well. They think we’re doing it.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

Brad leans forward, resting his arms on his desk. “So what if they do? Who cares?”

“Oh my goodness…I care, Brad.” I try to contain the high-pitched squeal of my voice.

“All right, fine.” He pauses. “I hold meetings with you every day because I like seeing you.”

“Okay?” I question, the word coming out slowly.

Brad stands and walks around his desk. He reaches out his hand toward me, palm up, in an open invitation. I hesitantly take it and allow him to pull me up from the chair. He stands mere inches in front of me, still holding my hand.

Having him so close in proximity, I can’t help but take in his scent. I can’t put my finger on the type of cologne he’s wearing, but I can guarantee that it doesn’t smell half as intoxicating on anyone else as it does on him.

I can feel my heart beating rapidly within my chest. My stomach flips, like butterflies are competing in their own version of gymnastics. I loathe the way my body reacts to him. It’s strictly visceral, not something I plan or even want. Yet the attraction’s there, and he knows it.

“London…” he whispers in my ear, leaning down and still holding my hand.

My eyes clamp shut with his closeness, and goose bumps explode over my skin, causing a quick shiver to shoot through my body.

“I like you. And I know you like me. Let’s stop playing games.”

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