Page 37 of A Billion Dollar Romance
I nodded, turning back to my computer screen, reading through the pages for the smallest error.
Margaret was right: I wasn’t getting any benefits. None at all. I’d spent all week doing proofs, and since the kiss at the gala, James had been… distant, perhaps.
Professional.
Wow, it’s almost like this is a professional arrangement, Edie, with lawyers, and NDAs, and contracts.
I’d sat across from him at lunch twice this week, each time our conversation limited to light work chatter only: the ghostwriter’s progress, the catering mistake at the board meeting, the funny typo I found in the self-help book I’d been proofing.
Each time, my mind circling back again and again to the kiss at the gala.
He’d been embarrassed, maybe, after the fact. For having kissed me when we were only supposed to be pretending? Or maybe… I wasn’t sure. Had I embarrassed him by buying the first editions?
It wasn’t like I’d been expecting him to take me home with him, but he hadn’t even seen me back to my apartment: the ride home in his private car had been lonely, with just me and the chauffeur, who’d murmured a greeting and then left me to my thoughts.
He’d been cold after the auction winners announcement, leaving me tomy other James Martins,as he’d said.
But before…
The kiss we shared had been molten hot.
He’d been hard against my thigh, had pulled me closer, had deepened the kiss, had pinned me against the wall and widened my legs as I moved shamelessly against his thigh, trying to keep my voice down in the quiet room.
He had sighed my name–Edie–the way I wanted him to that first night, when I’d been forced to endurePenelope, Penelopewhispered against my skin. I’d cursed myself every time for picking the name, so far from my own. Why hadn’t I picked Emma, or Emily, anything closer–
I sat up straighter in my chair.
He’d called me Penelope that night, but he’d known who I was when I entered the office. Miss Taylor, he’d said.
He’d called me Penelope that night, but he’d known my name the next morning.
He’d known who I was.
I’d been so busy being mortified when I’d realized he was going to be my boss, that I hadn’t recognized what, exactly that meant: that he’d remembered, when he’d taken me home with him, exactly who I was.
Hemusthave.
I slumped down again–it wasstillmortifying, even now–but then… He’d known who I was when I approached him at the bar. He’d recognized me, despite the embarrassing fake name and the cheesy come-ons.Miss Taylor,he’d called me the day after, in the office, unprompted. My heart raced.He’d known who I was.
And he’d still taken me home.
He’d still wanted me, notPenelope, an easy one-night stand he met at a bar, butme.Miss Taylor.
Why hadn’t I realized before? I’d been humiliated to see him at work the morning after, but him… He must have been embarrassed, too, beyond the simple embarrassment of seeing a fling at his workplace, but…
His student.
I stood up, letting my feet take me to the staff room, where I mechanically poured myself a cup of coffee, my brain cataloging every time I’d ever caught him looking at me during his lectures. I’d been swept up in the fantasy, then, had wished desperately for it to be true with the surety that it nevercouldbe. But maybe…
* * *
I stepped off the elevator at the fourteenth floor having left my stomach somewhere around the fifth and my heart somewhere around floor eight.
“Hello, Edie,” Alice greeted me with a smile. “He’s right inside, go on in,” she said, pressing a button on her elaborate phone display.
I took a deep breath before unlatching the door, letting myself into his office quietly.
He was frowning at something on his desktop, his hair tousled. I recognized it was from running his hands through it: I’d seen him do it a thousand times at the front of the classroom. His jacket hung off the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up casually to show strong forearms. He had a pen in one hand–
