The walkway was packed with people now, everyone shuffling forward. Phillip from accounting asked, “Who is it?”
One of the college interns answered, “I don't know. Some old guy wearing sunglasses.”
The previous squealing was still going on, there was only more of it, now accompanied by the flash of camera phones. I squeezed past Phillip and that's when I saw what was going on. Eamon was here, signing autographs and posing for photos. Several of my female coworkers were practically hanging on him, taking selfies.
“Everyone, back to your desks!” Miles shouted above the din.
Nobody listened.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you have business here?” Miles asked Eamon.
Eamon propped his sunglasses up on his forehead and there was an audible gasp from the women working reception. “I’m here to see Katherine.”
Miles whipped around and narrowed his beady eyes on me. “Ms. Fuller, it seems you have a guest.”
I slinked ahead, giving Miles a wide berth and walking around several people to get directly to Eamon. “Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were writing.”
He took my hand and smiled, then pressed a kiss to my cheek, which prompted more gasping from the peanut gallery. You'd have thought he was Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show. I wasn't exactly upset about it. I was aware of how spectacular a prize he was. “I thought I'd take you to lunch.”
I glanced up at the clock above reception. It was already past one. Lunch was a reasonable request. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” The crowd had dissipated, but I could feel Miles's looming presence behind me.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Eamon reached past me and held out his hand. “Hello there. Eamon MacWard. You must be Miles.” Eamon slyly slid me a wink. Hehadbeen paying attention all those times I'd bitched about Miles.
Miles obliged the handshake, but his spine was stiff as a board. “I’m Mr. Ashby. You'll have to excuse me if I don't know why our staff is so enamored of you.”
“Ah, well, I'm a musician.”
“Unless you play Chopin, I'm afraid I've never heard of you.” Miles chuckled dismissively and I truly wanted to punch him.
“Eamon just finished a sold-out U.S. Tour.” I had to stick up for my guy.
“The New York show was amazing.” Janice from HR chimed in as she walked past, stealing a head-to-toe eyeful of Eamon.
Miles huffed. “Ms. Fuller, I wasn't aware you had a so-called famous husband.”
“I don’t.” I was then stuck with the task of slapping a label on Eamon when we'd discussed nothing of the sort. “Eamon is my…” I winced, but took the leap anyway. “Boyfriend.”
The smile on his face was my reward for bravery. “That's right. Old flames. Reunited.”
“I see. Well, Ms. Fuller, I'm sure you're aware that this is a place of business and not social hour. Spouses are welcome for a moment or two if they are not a disruption. Otherwise, this is highly unusual.”
It took every ounce of self-control I had not to stomp on Miles's wingtips and tell him he was an asshole. “I’m sorry.”
“Don't let it happen again." He straightened his tie. “Mr. MacWard. Good day.” With that, he stalked off.
I stepped closer to Eamon. “I’m so sorry.”
“Weren’t kidding when you said he was a jerk.”
“He’s such a pain in the butt,” I whispered. “Everyone else who works here is so nice.”
“So? Lunch? You game?”
I hesitated, knowing Miles would use any excuse right now to rake me over the coals. Still, I wasn't sure I cared. “Yes. I'd love it. Come to my office and I'll grab my purse and coat.”
Eamon followed me to my modest work abode. “This is where the magic happens?” He gestured to the stacks of files on my desk, mostly projects that needed a final pass from me before they moved forward. “Looks like you have a lot of magic to do.”
Miles strolled by and cleared his throat.
