Page 51 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
“You look absolutely delightful today, Miss Waverley,” she gushes, placing her hands on my upper arms.
“That’s rich coming from you. Not many women can pull off white, but you’re radiant in it.”
“A summery dress would certainly flatter you too. Are you changing?” she asks.
“Yes, I brought a dress, but I’ll change there.”
“Hair down? You absolutely must. You should have some fun today. After all, you’ve endured three hard years.” She laughs, then turns to her son. “Well, aren’t you going to say hello?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Alexander replies, giving her a brief hug.
“What do you think? Doesn’t your mother look chic?” She laughs and spins once. Her skin-tight white dress has a square neckline with wide sleeves. It falls to her knees and accentuates her firm ass. She doesn’t look anywhere near fifty-two. The matching hat—also white, of course—pairs perfectly with her clutch and earrings.
“Of course.”
“Aloof as always.” She rolls her eyes, then turns back to me. “He’s still in his office?” I nod. “You’re a psychic.”
I can’t help smiling.
“In five minutes, he’ll be out of there, or I’ll drag him across the floor.”
“If you need help…” I glance at Alex. “Your son’s pretty strong.”
“I can still handle him myself.” She laughs and clicks away on her heels, leaving me alone with Alex again. He stares at me in surprise.
“How did you pull that off?”
“What do you mean?”
“That my mother is so friendly with you.” He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Who are you?”
“I’m the mother-whisperer,” I joke with a wink. Then I step closer, lowering my voice into a playfully threatening tone. “And you wanted to fire me? What do you think would’ve happened if I’d told your mother about that?”
“Looks like someone’s got an ace up her sleeve?”
“Yeah, I’d say so!”
I reach for his tie and straighten it, tugging it a little tighter, which Alexander allows. “So be nice to me. You never know what a woman’s next move will be.”
“You seem to be full of secrets,” he replies with a slight smile.
“A secret is what makes a woman a real woman.”
“So, there’s only one to figure out?”
“Countless. New ones every day. That’s what makes talking to us exciting. We’re completely different from you men.” I adjust his suit, though there’s hardly anything to fix. “You can be read like an open book.”
“And what does mine say?” he asks, and his smile widens.
“Just because I know doesn’t mean I have to tell you.”
“But I am me. So, I know what’s written there.”
“But you don’t know how I interpret it.”
“Aren’t you curious?” he asks.
“That’s the real question.”
