Dating You / Hating You
Page 21

I feel a little sick for him, knowing how I’d feel if I lost Jess, especially right now.
“On a brighter note,” he adds, “looks like I’ll finally be meeting the illustrious Brad Kingman.”
A metaphorical trapdoor has just opened under my feet. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Brad Kingman.”
“He heads up my department—Features, not TV-Literary.”
“I know,” Carter says, and I can hear the shrug in his voice. “But that’s what it said when they told me where to go this morning. My meeting is with Brad.”
Chapter eight
evie
At five to ten, my desk phone rings. I keep my eyes on the monitor in front of me and exhale in relief when, after a second ring, it goes silent. Good, I think, finishing an email. I don’t want to talk to anyone today anyway.
There’s a knock less than a minute later, and I look up to see Jess standing in the doorway.
She nods toward the unanswered phone. “Despite the dark window”—she motions to the pane of glass next to my door—“I knew you were in here.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her guiltily. “Would you think less of me if I told you I was scared?”
She laughs as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. “Now that we have computer access, most people are on LinkedIn or Googling How to Survive a Merger.”
I press send before looking back up. “Though I don’t know what we’re all hiding for. Nobody’s even seen Brad, and yesterday was such a confusing shit show, I should feel confident that today can’t top it.”
Jess clears her throat and I narrow my eyes at her, wary.
“What?”
“Well, the reason I called . . .” She winces a little. The gold studs in her ears twinkle back at me beneath the fluorescent lights as she grips the back of the chair she’s leaning on. “He’s here. When you didn’t answer he called me. He wants to see you.”
“Brad?”
“Brad.”
I slump in my chair. “Well, fudge.”
“He’s been calling people in all morning and it looks like it’s your turn. Or you know, ‘Up to bat!’ as he would say.”
I groan. So he is staying.
• • •
Everyone looks up as I walk past on my way to Brad’s office. If he’s been calling people in all morning, who knows what they’ve seen? Relief? Tantrums? Tears? Anything is possible.
I rarely question my appearance anymore—a gift that seems to have arrived with the transition into my thirties—but with all eyes on me, I feel like an awkward model on a catwalk. I really should have worn my padded bra.
In my peripheral vision, a few heads turn, their attention lingering on something at the other end of the hall. I follow their gaze.
Carter.
His suit is charcoal gray and looks like it was made for him by magical tailor elves. It hugs his shoulders, tapers at his waist, frames his body perfectly. I tug at the hem of my shift dress, suddenly feeling frumpy.
His long legs close the distance between us in just a few strides. “Hey.”
I try to keep my gaze in the safe zone: on his tie. It’s blue with tiny green flecks and I already know that if I look up, I’ll see the way it brings out the color in his eyes.
Yup . . . it does.
“Hi.” I am hyperaware of all eyes on us. I mean, why wouldn’t they be watching this train wreck? I would. Not that they know I had his penis in my hand a few days ago, and now we apparently work together, but it’s probably written all over my face—
Or maybe they aren’t watching because of me at all. Maybe they’re watching us because Carter is a new, gorgeous guy in the department.
I feel an odd mix of possessiveness and unease.
“I’m just on my way to Brad’s office.” I’m eager to put some space between us and the office full of onlookers. “How did it go with you?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “Our eight a.m. was delayed. I’m on my way there now. Kylie was just taking me.”
And it’s only now that I notice Brad’s assistant, Kylie, standing a few paces away, nonchalantly checking out Carter’s ass. When she catches my eye, she steps closer. Carter smiles down at her. She smiles back, a hint of pink blooming on her neck and cheeks.
A direct hit. An eerie sense of foreboding prods at my brain.
Kylie clears her throat and walks ahead of us, stopping outside the door to Brad’s corner office.
“You can go on in.” She gives Carter a smile that lingers just past too long and verges on weird. Or maybe it’s only weird because I’m here, staring like she’s committing some grave offense by looking at him. “He’s expecting you both.”
“I’m sorry, Kylie,” I say, “did you say he’s expecting us both? As in . . . together?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know why?” My brain cycles back to the image of my hands in Carter’s pants. His come on my—
I shake my head. Brad would have no way of knowing any of that, but it’s the only connection I can make.
“Nope.” She looks at each of us in turn. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem at all.” Carter motions for me to lead the way. “Thanks, Kylie.”
“Any time.” She offers him an encouraging thumbs-up before whispering, “You’ll do great!”
You have got to be kidding me.
With an awkward cough, Carter glances down to the floor as I pass, and we both step into Brad’s office.
Brad Kingman has that air about him—you know the one, where it’s clear he thinks he’s a little better, a lot smarter, and leagues more connected in this town than you are. He also does that thing all the best intimidating people do where he stares directly at you when he’s speaking. When you talk—if you’re important enough for him to actually listen—he’ll make you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. But be ready: If you call, you’d better know what you want to say. If you come to his office, get it out—and quickly. He doesn’t do polite small talk and doesn’t schmooze.
But when Carter steps through the door, it’s like a Brad Kingman I’ve never seen before stands to greet him.
“Carter,” he says, grinning widely. He rounds the desk, reaching out to offer a hand. “It’s good to meet you, son.”
Son?
Carter’s posture tweaks initially as he’s taken aback, but he recovers quickly. “It’s good to meet you, too,” he says, shoulders straight, chin up, and grip strong as he shakes Brad’s proffered hand. He looks calm.
Good, he’s done his homework.
Brad claps him on the back and motions for him to take a seat before turning his attention to me. “Evie. It’s been quite a madhouse around here, hasn’t it?”
He pulls out a chair for me and I give him a smile in return. “It sure has.”
Circling back around his expansive walnut desk, Brad takes a moment to look at each of us in turn. “Have you met?”
I glance at Carter, offering a wan smile. “Yeah, we know each other.”
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Brad says, “this is a team. Carter, I want you to know that Evie here has become my right-hand kid. Any questions you have, anything you need, Evie is the girl to talk to. Understand?”