Chapter 3
Chapter 3
I FLOATED INTO THE office the following morning in my wonderful, Parker-filled dream world.
Mr. and Mrs. Parker Hamilton. No, too old-fashioned . Mrs. Cassandra Hamilton. Hmm, I like the sound of that . Mrs. Cassandra Dunhill-Hamilton. Ooh, fancy .
“You look happy.”
It was that annoying Will, smirking at me from behind his desk. Well, he won’t bother me today. I had officially moved up to Cloud Nine, and I fully expected to buy a spot up there and stay. Permanently.
“Good morning, Will,” I replied in what I hoped was a superior, school ma’am tone as I walked past him toward my desk.
To my irritation, he jumped up and followed me. “So, how was the big date with . . . what’s his name? Prince Charming?”
I tried to stop myself blushing at the thought of Parker dressed as Prince Charming. Swoon . He would look a-mazing.
I reached my cubicle and placed my laptop bag on my desk. “Actually, Will, I have some work to do. So, if you wouldn’t mind?”
He sat himself down on my desk, blocking my progress.
“Excuse me!” I protested. I gestured with my hands in the internationally recognized sign of get-your-sorry-butt-off-my-desk-this-minute.
He peered at my face. “Whoa! What happened to you?”
“What? Nothing.” I darted my hand self-consciously to my nose. I had to put my makeup on this morning with extreme care. It was still swollen, but, thankfully, only sore to the touch. Small progress, but at least it no longer throbbed like a bass guitar at a rock concert the way it had last night.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he replied, sizing up my face. “In fact, I would say it looks like something .” He frowned. “What happened?”
“It was an accident. Last night. It’s fine, really.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Last night? On the big date?”
I nodded, willing this conversation to be over. Now.
A cloud passed over his features. “He didn’t hurt you, this guy?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. He’s a total gentleman. I kind of . . . hit my nose by accident getting my dress unstuck.”
Will leaned back on my desk and roared with laughter. “Now, that I’d like to have seen.”
I colored. Why had I bothered telling him? “Anyway, I’ve got some work to do.”
To my immense frustration, he stayed firmly put, smirking at me. “So?”
I let out an exasperated breath. “So, what?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me about your big date? Or did this,” he waved his hand at my nose, “mess it up for you?”
I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. He was not going to get up and leave until I gave him something . I went for generic. “It was lovely, thank you. Parker and I had a very nice time together.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “And?”
I shrugged. “And nothing.”
He scrunched his nose. “You struck out, huh?”
“No!”
“Ha! So, you got lucky! Cassandra Dunhill, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Annoyed I had fallen into his trap, I pushed my auburn hair behind my ear, willing my deepening blush to somehow magically disappear. It didn’t.
“It wasn’t like that. We . . . He . . . It was all very chaste.”
He sucked in air. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“Well, not chaste exactly. We kissed—” Why am I telling him this?
“Did you, now?” His eyebrows did a Mexican wave.
I ignored him and instead shook my head. “Anyway, why is my love life of any interest to you?”
He picked a paperweight up off my desk, turning it in his hand. “It’s not. I’m just making conversation, that’s all. Dunny, what the heck is this?”
“It’s a curled-up fern.”
“It looks like a dog turd.”
I stretched my hand out. “Nice.”
He handed the paperweight back to me, and I returned it to its rightful position on my desk. He was right; it did look like a dog turd. Damn him! “Oh, before I forget. You owe me twenty bucks. Parker doesn’t have a nickname.” I shot him a defiant grin, stretching my hand out once more, this time for the money.
Will raised his eyebrows at me. “Is that so?” He stood up and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “You know, I would be pretty suspicious of any guy who doesn’t have a nickname.”
“You would.” I pushed my hand closer to him. “Pay up.”
He handed me a fresh, crisp twenty-dollar bill.
“Thank you.” I slipped it into my wallet.
“Hey, have you had the chance to present ‘The Sheldon’ to Nettco?” he asked, changing the subject. Much to my annoyance, he remained perched on my desk. When was this guy going to leave?
“Actually, that’s what I need to work on today. So, if you don’t mind . . . ?” I gestured for him to leave.
“When’s your next meeting with them?”
“This afternoon.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and peered at his screen. “I can make that.”
I guffawed. “You want to come to my meeting?”
He stood up. “Sure. Some of us have already made our targets for the quarter, you know.”
I gave him a steely glare. “So you said.”
“Right then, it’s a date.” He smiled at me.
“No, Will. It’s a meeting .” I shooed him out of my cubicle. “And I suppose you can come if you want to,” I added begrudgingly.
He grinned at me, placing his hand over his heart. “Thanks for the warm invitation. It means a lot.”
I ignored his jibe. “It’s at two o’clock over at the Nettco head office. We’ll need to leave here at one thirty.”
He typed into his phone, then looked back up at me with a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “I’ll look forward to our non-date, then.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure, whatever.”
We heard a sound like a muffled animal whine nearby. We both watched as Shelby, Richard’s assistant, hurried past, holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes red. The door to the ladies’ banged behind her as she bustled through.
“You women. So emotional,” Will commented, looking back at me, his eyes teasing.
“Your compassion knows no bounds, Will Jordan. I wonder what’s wrong with her.”
“Who knows?” He shrugged, clearly not caring. “See you later, Dunny.” He turned to leave.
I searched my brain, trying to come up with an equally insulting nickname for him. “Yeah, well, see you later . . . ‘Poop Boy’.”
“Poop Boy”? How old am I? Seven?
He stopped, turned, and looked at me. He raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together to suppress a grin. “‘Poop Boy’?”
I cringed. It might not be my best work, but I was committed now. I squared my shoulders. “You call me Dunny, that makes you ‘Poop Boy’.”
His face broke into a wide grin. “Fair call.” He wandered off, chuckling, muttering “Poop Boy” to himself.
With Will gone— finally —I settled into work. Well, work and fantasizing about my future as Mrs. Cassandra Dunhill-Hamilton, that is. I called Nettco Electricity to inform them Will “Poop Boy” Jordan would be accompanying me to our meeting today and that we had a solution we thought should fit their needs. Then, I settled into work.
After about half an hour, I decided to go and find Paige and Marissa to give them the down low on the rest of my date last night. I knew they’d be dying to hear all about it, and it was strange they hadn’t come to see me already today. They must be caught up in meetings or something.
I poked my head over the wall of my cubicle and scanned the room. I noticed the office was quiet, without the usual conversation and Richard calling out to one or other of us. Strange. I spotted Marissa and Paige with a salesperson from my team over by Richard’s office. They appeared to be talking in hushed tones. Paige noticed me and waved me over.
“What’s going on?” I asked when I joined them.
“Haven’t you heard?” the other sales rep, Sally Saunders, asked.
“Heard what?” I asked, confused. I glanced at their serious faces. “By the looks of you all, someone died.”
“Kind of,” Sally said grimly. “Hey, what happened to your nose?”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “Nothing. Just a bump. So, what’s going on?”
“Richard’s been fired,” Marissa stated, her tone low and tense.
“What? When?” My mind spun. Richard? Richard, my boss, has been fired ?
“It happened last night, apparently. We’re all in shock.” Paige’s bottom lip trembled.
I regarded her for a moment. Paige was not even in the sales team, she worked in Marketing. Why would she know about this before me? I looked around the group. Everyone seemed completely shaken up.
“Why was he fired?” I asked when no one offered any further information.
“I think it’s because of his affair with Shelby,” Paige offered.
I blinked at her. Richard and Shelby, his sweet, plump assistant, were having an affair? Well, I guessed that explained her tearful rush to the ladies’ earlier. But an affair ? I peered through the window into Richard’s office, noticing the pictures gone from the walls, his desk bare. I swallowed.
“No, as I said, there has to be another reason. You don’t lose a job over an affair,” Sally replied, thoroughly French in her attitude.
“Depends who it’s with,” Marissa scoffed.
“Oh, his poor wife,” Paige commented, shaking her head. “And poor Shelby. She must be so upset.”
“What’s going to happen now, do you think?” Sally asked.
Marissa shrugged. “I guess they’ll have to find a replacement.”
All eyes turned to me. As one of two Senior Account Directors in the team, I would be a logical choice to take Richard’s recently-vacated job.
I put my hand to my chest. “Me?” Would I want it? Could I even do it? Richard always said I had leadership potential. Perhaps now was my big chance to step up to the plate?
“Do you think you’d want it, Cassie?” Marissa asked. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I . . . ah . . . I’ve never thought about it,” I replied truthfully.
“I would if I were you.” Marissa looked off into the distance, her eyes glazing over. “Nice office, great pay, everyone having to do what you tell them.” She let out a sigh. “Total heaven.”
I giggled. All three shot me an angry look.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Inappropriate.”
“Well, it’ll either be you or Will.” Sally crossed her arms, nodding. “One of you two would be the logical choice.”
Before I had the chance to process Sally’s comment, I heard someone behind me say, “Hello, ladies. Catching up on some gossip, are we?”
We all turned to see Laura Carmichael, Richard’s boss—well, former boss now—standing beside us.
“Sorry, Laura. We’re all just a bit shocked,” I replied.
She nodded, looking bleak. “That’s totally understandable. There’s a meeting in the conference room at nine thirty. I’ll see you all there.”
A couple of minutes and much speculation later and we’re all packed into the conference room like a maxi tin of sardines. Laura was standing at the front of the room, and I noticed Will lurking near her. Marissa, Paige, Sally, and I managed to get seats at the back. We sat down, all of us anxious to know what was going to happen next.
Everyone was murmuring. It was hot and stuffy and someone near me was in dire need of a shower or deodorant. Preferably both. I scrunched my nose. It hurt.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Laura said. The chatter dropped to silence.
“As many of you already know, we had to let Richard Ackerman go yesterday.” She paused.
No one said a word; everyone already knew that . Even me.
“I’m not at liberty to say why we had to do this. There’s a legal situation pending, and we would appreciate you keeping as much of this within these walls as possible.”
There was a general murmur as people took in this information. “A legal situation” didn’t sound good. And it sounded a lot more than a clichéd affair with his secretary.
Marissa turned to me. “What do you think that means?”
“He was up to no good, that’s what.”
Laura continued, “Richard is not at liberty to discuss any of this with current employees, so we would discourage you from contacting him directly.”
I glanced across the room and spotted Shelby, her face pink and puffy, as she tried in vain to appear normal. Poor girl—and stupid girl. Getting involved with a married man is never a good idea.
“In the meantime, we’re not going to leave Richard’s team without a leader.” Laura smiled. “We’re lucky to have had someone step forward to act as Interim Manager while we find a more permanent replacement.”
There was more murmuring. I looked at Marissa, and mouthed, “Who?” She shook her head, shrugging.
“Will Jordan has offered to step up. Will?”
My jaw dropped open. I watched, wide-eyed as “Poop Boy” himself stepped toward Laura and shook her hand. He had his I-mean-business look on his face, exuding confidence and leadership, looking every bit the person for the job. Damn him .
My rather enjoyable residence on Cloud Nine appeared to be at an end.
“I’m honored you chose me, Laura, and thankful I took that call during my game of pool last night.” He turned to face us. “It’ll be business as usual as we head into the last month of the quarter. I know I have some big shoes to fill—and not just because Richard had feet a Hobbit would be proud of.”
There was general laughter. Next to me, Paige giggled. I nudged her and shot her a look.
“At times like these, I firmly believe we need to pull together and face . . .”
I rolled my eyes and stopped listening to him babble on. My mind raced. Will not only knew Richard had left when we talked this morning, he also knew he was going to be Interim Manager. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Was it because he knew I would have wanted the job, too?
Will droned on. I flipped my phone over and checked my call history. One missed call from Laura Carmichael yesterday evening at eight seventeen. That would have been about the time Parker was waggling his crab at me—and yes, I knew that sounded a lot worse than it actually was.
I surreptitiously dialed my voicemail and listened to my calls. The first message was from Laura, asking me to call her, her voice crisp and efficient. I bit my lip. I wondered whether she had called Will first or me?
I looked back at him, droning on about teamwork, blah de blah blah blah. I narrowed my eyes at him. If I hadn’t been on such a crucial date last night, it could have been me standing up there right now.
“I want to meet with you all individually to find out where you’re at this quarter. I’ll schedule something in your calendars,” Will continued.
So that must be why he insisted on coming to my Nettco meeting this afternoon. He was coming as my boss, not my colleague. The slime ball.
“Right now, I’d like to end by saying, although it’s under difficult circumstances for us all, I’m eager to do the best job I can for you.”
To my surprise, the room erupted into spontaneous applause. People stood up and approached Will, shaking his hand and congratulating him. You’d have thought he’d just won an Oscar or a Nobel Prize, not stolen a job rightfully mine.
Paige bobbed up next to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, glaring at her.
“I’m going to congratulate Will.” She was innocence itself.
“If you have to, I guess.” I knew I sounded hurt.
She paused. Marissa and she shared a look.
Marissa stood up and put her hand out. “Come on, you.” I took it, and she pulled me up. “Let’s go to the Cozy Cottage for a debrief. The cake is on me this morning.”
Before you could say “sugar addiction,” Paige, Marissa, and I were sitting at our regular table in the window of one of our favorite places in the world, the Cozy Cottage Café, our cups of coffee and slices of cake ordered. My choice was always the mouth-watering-ly good flourless raspberry chocolate cake, Marissa’s was the orange and almond syrup cake, and Paige’s choice was the carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.
Even though it wasn’t the closest café to our office, the Cozy Cottage was our absolute regular hangout of choice. It was the sort of place you felt instantly at home when you walked through the door. It was a charming oasis in the heart of the concrete jungle: relaxing, inviting, like being at home.
All three of us loved this place. It could lift you up if you were feeling blue; it could make the happiness sparkle. It was also most definitely a guy-free zone. That’s not to say there weren’t any men in the café, just none of us ever brought one here. It was our place. Special to us three.
Auckland doesn’t get very cold, even in winter, but we do have some chilly mornings, and today was one of those days. The moment we walked through the door, we were hit by the tempting aroma of coffee, hot chocolate, and gingerbread. Just what I needed today.
Marissa was holding court. “He’s only Interim Manager, Cassie. Who knows? He might mess it up royally, and then you can swan in and snaffle the job from under his big, fat nose.”
“Will Jordan does not have a big, fat nose,” Paige sniffed.
“It’s an expression, Paige,” Marissa responded.
I bit my lip. “Maybe. But I can’t kick the feeling it should have been me. I’ve been at the company the longest, and I’m the only other Senior Account Director. What’s more, Laura called me last night, probably before she called ‘Poop Boy’.”
“‘Poop Boy’?” Marissa smiled, her eyes wide.
I brushed her off. There were more important fish to fry right now. “Look, it doesn’t matter. The point is, when Laura called me I was on my date with Parker, so I’d turned my phone off.” This whole work drama had completely eclipsed last night. I was beyond irritated.
Paige’s face lit up. “Oh, I almost forgot! How did the rest of the date go?”
Despite my irritation at the day’s events, my face broke into a smile as my belly did a little flip-flop at the thought of Parker. “Good. Really good.”
Paige clapped her hands together. “I knew it!”
“By the smile on your face I would say it was not just good but great,” Marissa added.
“Yeah, okay, it was great,” I conceded.
“Tell us everything.”
The café owner, Bailey, delivered our coffee and sweet treats, her habitual smile on her face.
“Thanks, Bailey,” we all said in unison.
“You’re more than welcome, ladies. You know you’re my favorite customers.”
“We know,” I replied. Being Bailey’s favorites simply added to the charm of the place.
“Cassie’s been on her first date with that new guy,” Paige told Bailey. “She’s about to tell us all about it.”
“Oh, my gosh. Really?” Bailey squeaked. “This is big. Huge.”
Bailey knew all about our One Last First Date pact.
“It is,” Marissa confirmed.
Bailey wiped her hands on her red polka dot apron and looked around the room. “It’s too busy right now to stop, but you have to fill me in on all the juicy details. Promise?”
“Promise.” I smiled up at her. Bailey had bought the café with a business partner about a year ago, and under her expert guidance, it had become the homey, welcoming place it was today. She was lovely, about our age, give or take, single, and I secretly suspected, wished she’d been in on the pact with us.
“Have fun, chickadees.” Bailey headed back to the counter.
“Now. Don’t leave out any details,” Marissa instructed, plunging her fork into the yummy, syrupy cake. She slipped some into her mouth. “Oh, my, this is good.”
Paige and I glanced at one another and laughed as we watched her.
“What?” she asked, cake stuck to her teeth.
“You look like you’re having a cake orgasm,” I replied. “A really, really good one.”
She licked the cake from her lips. “Tell me when you last had an orgasm that wasn’t really, really good.”
“Fair point.” I shrugged. “Anyway, my date was fantastic. He was sweet and funny, and he’s so intelligent. We had the best time.”
“He was so nice looking after you the way he did with that ice pack and things,” Paige said, a dreamy look in her eyes.
My hand went to my face, lightly touching my nose. “He was, wasn’t he? You know, I now look at what happened as an opportunity for us to get closer last night.”
Marissa took a break from her cake orgasm. “Not a humiliating disaster, then?”
“No!” I protested. I took a bite of my own cake. “Oh, yes. So good. After that whole punching myself in the face incident, we had the best dinner.”
“And?” Paige asked leadingly, an eager look on her pretty face.
I paused for dramatic effect as they both looked at me impatiently. “And he’s a good kisser.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Marissa said. “Ryan said he would be.”
I regarded her with alarm. “How would your brother know Parker would be a good kisser?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A weird man-friend thing, I guess. I didn’t ask.”
“It’s love, isn’t it?’ Paige asked. “It is, I can tell. Or at least it will be. The pact has begun to weave its magic. You’ll be married before the year’s out, mark my words.”
Married. My tummy warmed at the thought.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that Cassie researched this guy, stalked him even. If they do get married, it’ll be as a result of rational analysis and compatibility, not some beach pact thing.”
“Rational analysis and compatibility? There is no romance in your soul, Marissa Jones. Eat your cake.” Paige turned to me. “Well, Cassie, I for one am ecstatic for you. When are you seeing him again?”
“We haven’t made any specific plans as such, but he did ask if he could see me again at the end of the date. Of course, I said yes.”
As if by some cosmic coincidence—and Paige would swear it was the Goddess of the Beach doing her thang —my phone rang. I glanced at it as it vibrated on the table next to my latte.
“It’s him.”
“Pick it up, pick it up!” Paige insisted, her eyes shining.
I flicked my hair and cleared my throat before I pressed “answer.” I put on my best sexy Scarlett Johansson voice. “Hello, Parker.”
“Hi, is that Cassie?” He sounded uncertain.
“Yes, it is, Parker. Hello, there,” I replied.
“Do you have a cold coming on? Your voice sounds a little . . . odd.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”
“Well, that’s a relief. It’s almost flu season, you know, and you can’t be too careful.”
I smiled. Parker cared about me already. “I’m fine, really.”
“I wanted to call and let you know I had a really great time last night.”
I blushed, my eyes darting between my friends faces, both of whom were watching me closely. “Me, too.” I turned away from them, trying to gain at least a small modicum of privacy.
“How’s your nose?”
“Fine, fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Great. Cassie, I . . . I know I’m meant to wait for at least three days before calling you . . .”
“You are?”
“Yes. That’s one of the guy dating rules. Three days or they’ll think you’re keen.”
“Huh. I never knew that. What are the others?”
“What’s he saying?” Paige stage-whispered.
I put my index finger to my mouth. “Shhh.”
He chuckled. “I could tell you, but I’d have to give you a frontal lobotomy. Sorry, doctor joke there.”
I laughed. I could totally get on board with medical jokes from my doctor husband.
“The thing is, I didn’t want to wait three days.”
I blushed again as I gripped my phone closer to my ear. “Me neither.”
“So, do you want to go out again?”
“I’d love to. How about tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night sounds great. Shall I pick you up from your place?”
We arranged the details. All the while, Marissa and Paige watched my every move, grinning knowingly.
“Say what you like, Marissa. The pact is working,” Paige said as I turned back to face them.
Eventually, after much Parker discussion, we finished our coffee and cake and headed back to the office. I couldn’t help but float right back up to Cloud Nine, knowing I had a one last second date with the man I was made for tomorrow night.