Christmas Secrets Collection. Laura Iding

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       Chapter Two

      Zoe took that whole week to make up her mind.

      Really, it was a wild idea. Not to mention a total lie. She didn’t want to get involved in an elaborate fiction if she could avoid it. It could be dangerous. There was always the possibility she would get caught, and not only by tripping herself up. What if Dax ran into her mother or father or someone in the family and happened to mention that Zoe had a fiancé?

      That could be embarrassing.

      But, then, as far as tripping up, she could make notes, create her own personal hero from the ground up, so that he became the next thing to real for her. Then she would be unlikely to contradict herself when she spoke of him.

      And as far as her family, well, how much chance was there that they would blow the whistle on her? It wasn’t as though Dax knew her family well, or hung around with them or anything. Even if he ran into her mother somewhere, it would only be Hello, how are you? And have a nice day.

      True, her mom might ask how Zoe was doing on the job. He would say how great she was—well, he’d better say how great she was, because she intended to be even better at the job than Lin had been—and that would be that.

      No reason a fiancé even had to come up.

      And she wouldn’t have to tell the lie forever. Eventually, when she was certain that Dax had stopped worrying she might try to seduce him, when everyone in the office quit waiting for her to drag him into the supply closet and ravish him, she could end it with her imaginary groom-to-be. Because, well, sadly, sometimes even the most perfect relationships don’t last.

      Yeah. It was workable. Totally workable.

      Still, she hesitated. Maybe if she just held tight, the issue would resolve itself. Dax and everyone else at the office would see she wasn’t the least interested in him and that would be that.

      She wished.

      Unfortunately, as that first week went by, it was becoming painfully clear that the issue was not resolving itself, that she had to do something.

      Because Dax really was very attractive. He was so smart and funny. So yummy to look at. And he always smelled wonderful—fresh and clean, a little minty. And way too manly.

      And now and then, she’d catch him watching her in a speculative way. As though he was attracted to her, too. As if he saw the inevitable approaching and wasn’t dreading it all that much, that she was bound to make a pass at him and he was bound to take her up on it.

      And then he would have to tell her that she wasn’t working out. She’d be out of a job and her father would give her a hard time about it, once more making Sunday dinner at the ranch an experience she only wanted to avoid.

      Thursday, as she was trying to make some headway organizing Dax’s bottomless pile of slush submissions, the elevator doors rolled wide and a tall brunette in four-inch cage heels and satin cargoes stepped off. She smoothed her Grecian-style chiffon top, which had a plunging neckline that lovingly revealed a lot of ripe, tanned cleavage.

      “Dax, please.” She ordered him up like a cocktail, in a husky voice, batting her big Bambi eyes.

      “Have a seat. I’ll just buzz him and see if he’s—”

      “Oh, he’ll see me.” The woman breezed right on by.

      “Wait. You can’t …”

      But apparently, she could. She already had his door open and was lounging seductively against the door frame. “Dax.”

      “Faye,” he said from within. “What a surprise.”

      Zoe jumped up. “Uh, Faye, if you’ll only wait a minute, I’ll just—”

      Dax cut her off. “It’s all right, Zoe.” Did he sound annoyed—with her, for not stopping the woman in time? Or with Faye, for popping up out of nowhere to lounge against his office door? Zoe couldn’t tell. And she couldn’t read his expression, as Faye was blocking her view. “Hold my calls,” he instructed.

      “Uh. Sure.”

      Faye sent a triumphant smile over her shoulder as she went in and shoved the door shut with the tall heel 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 СКАЧАТЬ