Gillian looked skeptical. “You guys have always been way closer than the average boss-executive assistant relationship requires,” she said. “All those late nights. The close proximity. I mean the man is a walking GQ ad. You really never let yourself wonder what would happen if you just slid a little closer to him on the sofa one night?”
Wonder, maybe. But she knew damn well she was not the type of woman Darian normally consorted with. And losing the working relationship they had wasn’t worth some fleeting pleasure.
Or worse, face the crushing embarrassment when he turns me down. Listening to him list all the reasons I’m not his type sounds about as fun as swimming through shark-infested waters.
“I’m not the kind of woman who sleeps with her boss.”
Gillian snorted. “Really? Because you must be the only one on the floor with that sort of moral high ground.”
A pang of annoyance zipped through her. She was well aware Darian was in demand. Not that his women ever seemed to hang around for more than a handful of weeks. She’d stopped trying to tell the endless rotation of modelesque blondes apart a long time ago.
“He’s just a man.”
“A hot, ridiculously wealthy, charming man with the power to control a huge, influential company? You’re right. Nothing at all to dream about there.”
“Not my type.”
I like having more than a snowball’s chance in hell when I pursue men ridiculously out of my league.
“Liar.” The redhead leaned over on the desk. “He’s exactly your type.”
Allison ground her teeth in annoyance. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. I want to leave because my job description here has gone from ridiculous to impossible. My shoulders are so knotted no masseuse in the world can help me, and my stress levels are starting to give me white hairs. I’m not leaving because I’m secretly in love with a man I can’t have. I’m leaving because I need to find a way to both work and be happy.”
Gillian held up her hands in the universal don’t-kill-me-for-saying-that symbol. “Fine. Then while we’re on the subject, I’ve got a friend to introduce you to. Handsome. Smart. Funny. He’d be perfect for you.”
“You don’t know what’s perfect for me,” she replied, turning to her computer.
“Because you never date. Time to switch it up.”
“It’s really not a great time. My workload just doubled. I’ll be busy enough this month as it is.”
“Okay.” Gillian pushed away from the desk. “You’re allowed to cry work this time. But think about it. He could be your date to the wedding.”
“I’ll consider it. Now, out with you. I’ve got research to do.”
“All work and no play makes Allison…” She paused. “Well, exactly as she is right now.”
Allison pointed toward the door with her pen. “Out.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Gillian said as she left the room.
Leaning back in her chair, Allison drummed her fingers on the desk. She shouldn’t let Gillian get to her. The woman saw romance around every corner. She was seeing zebras when there were only horses. Allison’s desire to leave had nothing to do with her feelings for Darian. They had a professional relationship. Nothing more.
He wasn’t why she was dragging her feet. It was simply the logistics of the situation.
Glancing at the computer, she saw the document icon that contained her resignation letter. One month. That’s all she had to get through. Hell, maybe she’d ask him to let her out of her contract at the wedding, when he was filled with brotherly pride and, hopefully, more than a little tipsy. It was a solid plan.
One that would put an end to her late nights with a man too charming for his own good.
Not my type, she told herself. Even if she had nursed a little crush during her first few months, who could blame her? She’d grown out of it, of course. Darian was not the man for her.
“Ali.”
She jerked upright in her chair, wondering if her musing had somehow conjured the man out of her thoughts.
Darian stood at her door, one hand against each doorjamb. “Grab your purse.”
“Why?”
“We’re going out.”
She shook her head. “I make your schedule, remember? You’ve got a million things to do today.”
“We can take an hour. But I need you. Hurry, I’ve got a car waiting.”
He disappeared from sight without further explanation.
Logging out of her computer, she reached for her purse. One more month of following him around and this would all be a distant memory.
“I can’t believe you got an appointment,” she said for the tenth time as they walked into the bustling building and made a beeline for the elevators “This is the top wedding planner in the city.”
“I’m that good,” he said, throwing her earlier words back at her.
“More like your wallet is that persuasive.”
“That, too.” He pressed the call button, and the elevator doors slid open soundlessly. Darian gestured for her to move forward before following into the small space.
“This will be the answer to our problem,” she said as the floors began to rise. “Molly Moreau is the best, according to my research. She’ll take this all off our hands. We might not even have to see her again before the wedding date if you play your cards right.”
He said nothing, staring at the numbers above the door.
“Darian?” She frowned at his profile. “That’s the plan, right?”
“Right.” He turned her way. “We don’t know the first thing about planning a wedding.”
“Exactly.”
“We need someone to do this for us.”
“My thoughts precisely. Glad we’re on the same page.”
He glanced down at her and the space in the elevator constricted. “We’re always on the same page,” he said, a smile in his voice. “You know me better than I know myself.”
“I’m a good assistant,” she said, her gaze locked on his.
“The very best,” he agreed, the warmth in his voice bringing an answering heat to her cheeks.
Breathe. Don’t let Gillian get in your head. He’s just a man.
Just a man like any other.
The doors opened, freeing her as Darian looked up at the doors. Together they stepped out into a bright, bustling lobby.
“Christ,” Darian muttered.
Allison surveyed the room, unsure if she should be horrified or awestruck. “If there’s ever a glitter shortage in the city we’ll know who to blame.”
The world around them was a mixture of sparkle and pale pink. From the show dresses in the corners to the faux cakes on display, the lobby looked like something right out of a bridal magazine. Not necessarily a classy magazine, she mused. To her mind, this office was an affront to good taste.
But Molly was in high demand. Obviously her clients liked what she had to offer.
Rolling back her shoulders, she walked up to the reception desk. “We have an appointment to speak with Ms. Moreau. It should be under King.”
The receptionist greeted her with a smile. “Yes, she’s very excited to meet you. Please, follow me. She’s expecting you.”