of her cage shoe.
When she came out twenty-eight minutes later, there was no mistaking the glow to her cheeks and the swollen, red, very-much-kissed look about her full lips. The dark brown hair was a bit mussed. And the Grecian-inspired top draped a little differently than when she’d gone in.
She blew a tender kiss in through the open doorway. “Tomorrow night?”
“I can’t wait,” came Dax’s deep, smooth voice from inside the office.
With one last knowing glance in Zoe’s general direction, Faye strutted into the elevator. The doors slowly closed. Zoe shifted her gaze back to her computer screen. She stared blindly at a proposal titled, “Pack It Lite: Never Check a Bag Again,” and tried to figure out exactly what she was feeling.
It couldn’t be jealousy, could it?
It couldn’t be that she could actually picture herself coming out of Dax’s office with her shirt on crooked and her hair all wild?
No. Absolutely not. She wanted this job. She liked this job. And nothing—especially not a burning desire to get down with the boss—was going to mess this up for her.
Friday, when she came in after lunch, Dax called her in for an afternoon huddle.
They had a lot to do and a short time to do it in. He would be gone from the office after next Wednesday. Thursday morning, he and a photographer and Lulu Grimes, one of the associate editors, were off to Melbourne for the December Spotlight, “Aussie Holiday.”
He would be gone a full week. He wanted to be sure she had his travel arrangements under control. Also, he needed to make the most of the time he had in the office next week. Scheduling had to be flawless. And he had to have everything that would need doing while he was in Australia effectively delegated.
Twice during that meeting, she caught him looking at her legs. This was not good—especially since she found she liked to have him looking at her legs.
Something definitely had to be done.
Saturday morning, she took action. She found a dingy little shop in a part of SA where she would never run into anyone she knew. The brawny, heavily tattooed guy behind the desk offered a nice range of cubic zirconia engagement and wedding rings. She chose a fat emerald-cut solitaire in a faux-platinum setting. It looked impressive—and real—on her finger, the price was right and the fake stone was really, really big and sparkly.
She took the ring home. Monday, before she went to the office, she slipped it onto her ring finger.
An hour and ten minutes later, when the elevator doors slid wide and Dax stepped off, the art assistant, two associate editors and Lin were gathered in an admiring circle around Zoe’s desk.
Dax wore dark glasses. And even though Zoe couldn’t see his eyes, he looked at least as tired and cranky as he had the Monday before. Had he been with Faye all weekend? If so, the woman must be insatiable. He looked drained of energy—and probably bodily fluids, as well.
“What’s going on?” he groused. “Why aren’t you people working? There’s a planning meeting at ten in the conference room downstairs.”
“Dax.” Lin answered for all of them. “We know. We actually do get your memos. And after we get them, we read them.”
He made a growly sort of sound low in his throat. “I’ll expect at least five solid ideas from each of you. And Zoe, where’s my coffee?”
Lin gave her a big smile. “Zoe, it’s so beautiful. Seriously, I’m beyond happy for you.” She winked so fast that only Zoe could have seen it and added archly, “On more than one level.” She turned to go. The others dispersed with her.
Zoe grabbed the coffee she’d picked up on the way in and held it out to him. “Venti, bold and black. Good morning, Dax.”
He took the coffee. “What’s beautiful? Why is Lin happy for you?”
She held up her other hand and wiggled her fingers. The fake diamond glittered in a satisfyingly blinding fashion. “Johnny proposed,” she announced on a happy sigh. “And I told him yes.”
He took the lid off his coffee and stared down into it. Even though the sunglasses obscured his eyes, she assumed he was checking to make sure she hadn’t slipped a little half and half in there or something. He sniffed at the contents and then demanded darkly, “Who’s Johnny?”
She arranged her expression into a thoughtful frown. “Didn’t I tell you about Johnny?”
“Not one word.”
“Oh, I can’t believe I never mentioned Johnny.” She released another gusty sigh. “What can I say about Johnny?” She waved the hand with the ring on it. Flashes of refracted light bounced off the acoustical tile ceiling. “I met him at Stanford. Years ago. He’s from a really old and important California family. He moved to San Antonio last fall. We’ve been dating— both seriously and exclusively. Saturday, he asked me to be his wife.”
Dax winced as he took off the sunglasses. “Well, give Johnny my congratulations. He’s a fortunate man.” He squinted at her. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that they weren’t ever having sex after all. Or if he just had a really bad hangover.
She beamed. “Yes, he’s a lucky man. And I’m a happy, happy woman.” She tried to look deeply in love as well as sexually sated.
His brow crinkled. “So does this mean you’ll be giving me notice?”
She blinked. “Notice? Of course not. I intend to work for you for years and years.”
He reminded her drily, “That is, if you pass your two-week review.”
She brushed a curl of red hair back over her shoulder. “You know I will. Already, after one week, you can’t function without me. And Johnny knows I love my new job. He would never ask me to quit.”
“Johnny sounds like a real prize,” he remarked with absolutely no inflection.
“Oh, he is, he is.”
“In fact, he almost sounds too good to be true.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “He does, doesn’t he? But he is very real. A man of flesh and blood, of—”
“Zoe?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t overplay it.” He gave her one of those looks, both patient and all-knowing. Was he on to her little deception—already, when she’d barely begun it?
Surely not.
She smiled at him, a sweet smile. Angelic, even.
“All right, Dax. I’ll do my best to keep my unbounded, ecstatic happiness to myself.”
“Excellent. We need to prep for the meeting.”
“The caterers from the bakery should be here by nine-thirty.”
“Good. Give me ten minutes to pull myself together. We’ll do a quick once-over of what has to be covered before we go down.”
“I’m ready.”
He shook his head. “Are you always so eager on a Monday morning?”
She beamed. “I’m young, I’m in love and I’ve got a great job.”
“Ugh.” He put his dark glasses back on. “That does it. I absolutely forbid you to smile again until at least 11 a.m.”
“I live to serve.” She mugged an exaggerated frown.
“There. That’s more like it.”
During the first three days of that week, Zoe made up a lot of stuff about Johnny—most of it on the spot when someone would ask her a question about him and she would have to produce an answer. Later, at home alone in the evening, she would open her “Johnny”