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Something Just Like This

Page 12

by Jennifer Probst

She nodded, buttoned up her coat, and headed for the door.

“Alyssa?”

Her hand stilled on the knob. Sensual tension cranked between them. “Yes?”

“Make sure you come in late tomorrow morning. Ten a.m., no earlier. I kept you out too late tonight for work. Okay?”

He heard her draw in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Then she was gone.

five

Dinner with the mayor.

Her boss.

Her secret crush.

This was insanity.

The thoughts whirled in her head with every step through the hallway, snapping automatically into work-mode. She’d come in at 9:30 a.m. the next morning, expecting him to explain he’d had too much to drink and had decided it was best for both of them to keep their relationship platonic.

Instead, he’d scolded her for the half-hour, snapped into mayoral-mode, and later on, she’d found their dinner date on his calendar marked in bold.

Guess he was still serious. And today was D-day. She’d spent a ridiculous amount of time wondering what she should wear before deciding on her work clothes since they’d probably leave straight from the office. Not that she had any sexy date clothes, anyway. They were all black, conservative, classic. And boring.

Oh, well. She liked them, and one date didn’t warrant her tossing out her stuff in order to match his type. Alyssa knew well the women Jonathan tended to date. His late wife fit the standard: dynamic, passionate, and beautiful. The media loved to attach him to numerous women and speculate on romantic trysts—he was pretty much the darling of reporters and gossip rags. Even more so because he’d been so careful not to get involved with anyone, though actresses, models, and lawyers desperately tried. He’d actually been linked to a famous tennis star who killed it at Wimbledon.

But they all fizzled out into friendships then faded to nothing.

Yet, here she was, ready to go on a date he’d asked for. Her belly swam with fluttering butterflies, especially when she remembered the way he’d uttered those amazing words, his ocean-blue eyes locked on hers.

I like you, Alyssa. I like you a lot.

Shakespeare could do no better.

The hours flew by, crammed with endless meetings, mini-disasters, and the frenzy that came with dealing with the public. Slowly, people left to run home to families or dates or commitments, and she found herself alone at her desk, working on some email responses. It was almost nine p.m. when Jonathan finally strode out, saying goodbye to the small team of suits that advised him in various facets.

Her palms sweated as he leaned over. The ocean scent of his cologne always hit her hard, a precursor to the powerful male energy that swarmed around her. His thick, dark hair looked mussed, and lines of weariness bracketed his eyes. She noticed his red tie a bit askew, and the top button of his crisp, white shirt loosened. Yep, his meeting with the educators had not gone well. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said in a low voice. His gaze flicked over her work clothes. “Do you need to go home and change first?”

She fought the trickle of doubt at her appearance, deciding he’d better learn early on that she didn’t intend to dazzle with her wardrobe or makeup skills. Her black, raw silk jacket, pants, and tank were standard fare. “No. But are you sure you want to go? You look tired. We can cancel.”

His jaw firmed, but his eyes gentled as he smiled. “It was the only thing I was looking forward to all day,” he said simply. “Thank you for waiting. Tim’s out front.”

Alyssa hesitated. Her inner voice screamed that this was her chance to back out of the whole thing, but her feet automatically moved as she locked up her desk and followed him out. His hand guided her from the small of her back, and the intimate gesture made goosebumps prickle over her skin. They’d walked down the hallways hundreds of times before, but this time, she felt like a woman.

Not his assistant.

“Where are we going?” she asked, settling into the comfortable back seat.

“Italian good? I’m craving some comfort food.”

“Sure. I just think it would be best if the restaurant wasn’t…” She trailed off, not yet comfortable expressing how she felt about the evening.

“Close?” She nodded slowly. “I understand, Alyssa. I figured Felice has good food, but it’s not too far out of the way, and no one should bother us there.”

“Thanks.” Silence settled around them, but she felt no pressure to make casual conversation. She looked out the window and watched the city whiz by, the roads emptier at the later hour. Trying to get anywhere during rush hour in Manhattan was impossible, and they’d both rather walk if possible, rather than sit in a car for an hour not moving. “I’m sorry Andrew gave you a hard time with the push to stifle vaping.”