The Official Guide to Marrying Your Boss Read online

Gold hoops hung from my ears and the small gold chain I had on was barely visible, but I didn’t think that the charm was. It was a bunny, and I never took it off, so I really hoped she wasn’t going to tell me that we couldn’t wear jewelry.

  “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  “You look like a tart,” she said, only solidifying in my mind the image of her as an old schoolhouse teacher. “You are here to work, not…show off.” She flapped her hand at me as if to encompass all of the things wrong with me.

  “Show off?” I frowned. If she thought that this was showing off, then my outfit for tomorrow was going to be out of the question. I made a mental note to put the cute pink and silver sweater dress back in Tiffany’s closet when I got home.

  “Just try to dress appropriately tomorrow in case you do run into Dr. Marshall. We don’t want him getting the wrong idea about you.” The look she gave me told me very clearly that any idea he had about me when I was dressed the way I was wasn’t going to be a good one.

  “I will.”

  “Good. Come to me if you have problems.”

  “I will.”

  I won’t. I’d rather suffer through figuring everything out on my own if the only other option was to turn to Linda for assistance.

  One more quick nod and she swept out of the room, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, I realized that I’d been holding my breath, and I let it out, sinking down to the hard metal chair and flipping open the top notebook.

  The details for Friday’s event were on a stapled packet right inside the cover and took up three pages, all single-spaced, and I immediately flipped the notebook shut again.

  This wasn’t a mistake, right?

  Man, I needed someone to tell me that this wasn’t a mistake.

  Chapter 3

  It’s not a mistake.

  Tiffany’s text made me relax, just a bit. I’d completely ignored the question that she’d sent me, wondering how the first day was going and jumped right into whether or not she thought that I’d royally messed up.

  I mean, sure, her opinion may have been colored slightly by the fact I’d been sleeping on her sofa for the past three months, making it really difficult for her to have a love life.

  Nothing screamed sexy like a bum of a roommate who promised to leave after three weeks but was still hanging out. My grandmother had a saying about people like me. It involved fish and how they and houseguests stink after a few days.

  I had to make this job work.

  I just don’t know if I fit in, that’s all. You should have met the receptionist.

  Her typing bubbles appeared and disappeared, only raising my anxiety. Finally, they came back.

  They learn how to be grumpy in receptionist school. I have no doubt that you’ve got this completely under control.

  I shot her back a smiley and put my phone on my desk while I turned on my computer. Even though my office was a bleak beige cube, the computer was fast and sleek, and it powered up immediately, barely even putting off a soft hum like mine at home.

  Okay, honestly, my computer roared more than hummed, and that was probably because the last time I dropped it I had to duct tape the back panel on to keep the battery from popping out.

  It wasn’t just functional, but since I used plaid duct tape, it was also a fashion statement. Or, at least, that’s what I’d told Tiffany.

  Yeah, a new computer was on my shopping list, right after a place to live on my own, some new clothes, and some margaritas.

  Scratch that. Margaritas were at the top of the list.

  I tapped away at the keyboard, looking for local caterers. There weren’t that many that pulled up, which was one of the problems with living in a city this size.

  We weren’t big enough to compete with places like NYC and have dozens of options, and the ones that did rise to the top tended to be really expensive and really busy.

  No offense to Dottie’s Daily Diner and Catering, but I had a feeling that if Dottie showed up with her little polka dot apron on serving homemade cobbler and sandwiches to Dr. Marshall, Linda would literally pick me up and toss me outside.

  It wouldn’t matter that she had made the mayo herself and ground the seeds for her mustard in between working on a quilt. It was quaint, cute, and didn’t scream money, which was what I figured that Dr. Marshall wanted.

  Three hours later, after looking at countless catering websites and making notes about where I’d want to eat for lunch when I got a chance, I’d decided. If Nu Wave Catering could work us in on this Friday, then they were who I was going to go with. Everyone else was too expensive for the budget I’d been given, too small to make a big impression, or, according to their online calendars, was booked through the new years.

  Who in the word plans for a caterer that far in advance?

  Mentally, I gave myself a gold star for getting this far in the day without another cup of coffee besides the one I’d gulped down before running out the front door this morning. I hadn’t seen or smelled any since arriving this in the clinical office, but it was getting close to lunch, and I figured that there had to be a break room around here somewhere.

  I decided to make it at least look like I was going to work through lunch, and grabbed the top notebook from the stack, a pen, which I tucked behind my ear, and my phone, then headed out to see Linda.

  It felt a little strange walking down the quiet hall, and I had to stop myself from knocking on any of the doors as I headed to see Linda. Were they offices? A break room? Storage?

  I paused outside the one closest to mine and leaned over, lightly pressing my ear up against the cool wood. Nothing. No movement, no talking.

  She put me on a storage hall, didn’t she?

  Technically, it wasn’t any of my business, but I was still curious.

  Call it a personality fault.

  Linda was sitting at her desk staring at something on her computer when I pushed open the hall door and walked up to her. She glanced over at me, her eyebrow raised, but when her gaze fell on the notebook in my hands, she just pursed her lips.

  “Hi, Linda,” I said brightly, forcing a smile onto my face.

  Kill them with kindness.

  “I just didn’t know if there was break room around here, if there was coffee, or if I should leave to eat each day.”

  “Did you bring your lunch?”

  She’d seen me walk in holding nothing but my raincoat, so unless she thought that I had a squashed sandwich hidden in my boobs, she had to be joking.

  “Um, no. Because I wasn’t sure what protocol was here, so I didn’t want to do anything wrong.”

  The look she gave me told me quite clearly that she thought I’d already done plenty wrong, but she didn’t say that. Instead, she gave me a tight grin and opened her mouth to answer, but before she could say anything, there was movement behind her desk.

  Not only that, but sound, too, which was shocking in such a quiet space. Another person was walking towards us, his phone pressed up to his ear.

  His suit was a charcoal gray and perfectly tailored, fitting to his body like it had been designed just to show off his muscles. My jaw dropped open a bit and I slammed it shut, praying that he hadn’t seen the look on my face.

  I couldn’t help the fact that I tended to have an expressive face, especially when looking at what had to be the hottest man in the city.

  It had to be Dr. Marshall. No man in their right mind would want someone this hot, this devastatingly attractive, working for them. He was the top of the food chain here, everyone else, including me, was just chum in the water.

  Even from across the lobby, I could tell that his eyes were a steely blue, sharp and smart, and his gorgeous face was completed by full lips. They were a bit pouty, like someone needed to kiss them and turn his frown into a smile and I felt myself start to raise my hand to volunteer.

  In a twist of unfairness, his skin didn’t have the same sallow cast as Linda’s and mine under the light. No, rather than looking close
to death, he seemed to glow. He swept up to the desk where I stood and dropped the phone from his ear, holding his hand over it to block out any sound.

  “I’m going out for lunch,” he said, “hold my calls.”

  As he spoke, I leaned forward, taking a deep sniff to try to tell what cologne he had on. Tiffany would have been able to tell right away — her nose was better than mine, but all I could tell was that it smelled like money.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. It smelled like curling up next to a cowboy after a long day of riding horses across an open plain and then drinking beer with him until you fall asleep in his arms, your face turned to the sky, the moon casting shadows all around you, making him fall in love with you while you slept.

  It smelled like that. And like money.

  “Katie.” Linda’s voice was sharp and pulled me away from my daydream in which, coincidentally, Dr. Marshall looked just as sexy in chaps as he did in a three-piece suit.

  “Yes, hi.” I said, my face burning. Suddenly, I was grateful for my cowl neck sweater, because at least it would prevent the two of them from seeing that when I blush, I blush all the way down to my chest.

  It’s not cute.

  “This is Dr. Marshall,” she said, totally unnecessarily. It was like I hadn’t figured out that this god among us was the very grumpy, very antisocial doctor whose image I was supposed to improve.

  “Katie,” I said, sticking out my hand. Unfortunately, I misjudged how close I was actually standing to him since I’d leaned forward so I could be enveloped in his heavenly scent, and I rammed my fingers straight into his chest.

  Right into a wall of muscle.

  My stomach clenched and I pulled my hand back, tears smarting at the corners of my eyes in embarrassment as I looked up at him.

  He had one perfect eyebrow raised, looking for all the world like a Gucci model on break, then looked me up and down before giving his head a little shake, slamming his phone back to his ear, and turning away from me.

  I could hear him talking as he walked away, but I was so caught up in how delicious his voice sounded that I couldn’t have made out any words if I’d tried.

  Like melted honey. Was that a thing? Did most men sound that way or was it just because God had smiled on Dr. Marshall and given him every possible charm ever to make women useless against how sexy he was?

  “Well, that was a disaster.”

  Linda’s voice brought me back to reality, when in my mind, I was looping my arm through Dr. Marshall’s and wowing him with my sense of humor. He’d probably be so grateful for the fact that I was working for him now that he’d double not only the budget I had for Friday’s event but also my salary.

  Goodbye, sofa. Hello, apartment.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Shaking my head a little, I focused on her, and immediately wished that I hadn’t.

  She had her arms crossed over her chest and a glare that turned her eyes into slits. If her mouth had ever turned up in a smile — and that was a big if — it certainly wasn’t now.

  “You. Heaven knows what he thinks of you. The man is stressed out enough to have to deal with a new employee coming in here looking like you do.” She patted her hair like the stress I was putting through was more than enough to make it fall out of place. Secretly, I had a feeling that she’d used enough hairspray this morning to make a new hole in the ozone layer, and nothing I could do would shake it out of place.

  “I don’t think he thought anything of me.”

  I wanted him to, though. I did. I wanted to be running through that man’s thoughts all day long, even though, in real life, I refused to run. For him, though, I would.

  I’d do a lot of things for him.

  “Oh, I’m sure that I’ll be getting an earful later about what you were wearing.” She wrung her hands, which was something that I thought overstressed women only did in the movies, and I thought about offering her some smelling salts, but didn’t think that she’d find me funny.

  “Well, I’ll just get out of your hair then,” I told her, inching away from the desk. “I’ll be back in an hour after lunch, okay?”

  That got her attention and she pinned me in place with her gaze. “No fish.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “At lunch. No fish. Nothing that will make the entire place stink when you get back.”

  “Ooo-kay.” I drew the word out as long as possible while thinking fast. She obviously had more secret rules here that I hadn’t discovered. “Anything else I need to know about?”

  “No drinking.”

  Did I look like a lush? Sure, I wanted a margarita later, but I’d wait until I was off the clock, thank you very much.

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  She gave a little sniff like she didn’t believe me, but didn’t argue. I waited a moment to see if there were any other rules that she wanted to share with me, but when she turned back to her computer, I whipped around and headed to the front door.

  It wasn’t that I was racing to see if I could tell where Dr. Marshall went, but I certainly wouldn’t have minded catching a glimpse of him.

  As I stepped outside, a cold bank of air stopped me in my tracks as I walked outside and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself to try to warm up.

  I wasn’t sure where he’d gone off to, but that really wasn’t my concern. I needed something to eat, and soon, if I was going to be able to start calling around about catering.

  There was a hot dog stand just packing up from lunch on the corner outside the building, but I skipped it, heading instead down to the street to sit in a real restaurant.

  I had a real job now, and if I wanted to eat someplace that handed out napkins, I would. Besides, I didn’t want to give Linda the joy of seeing me with mustard all down my shirt.

  Chapter 4

  Tiffany slid into the seat across from me, pulling her bright yellow hat off of her head and putting it next to her on the booth before planting her elbows on the table, nestling her chin in her hands, and looking right at me.

  “Spill.”

  I’d sent her a desperate text as I walked down the street to McGrady’s, my favorite little dive bar for when I was in the mood for wings, a burger, or a beer. Right now, I wanted all of those things, but I’d limited myself to buying a dozen wings for us to share and ordering us burgers with pimento cheese and jalapeños.

  Even though it wasn’t fish, I had no doubt in my mind that Linda would find something to say about how the hot peppers made my breath smell, but I needed something to take the edge off. It obviously wasn’t going to be a beer, so it was going to have to be spicy food.

  McGrady’s only hired cooks who used too many jalapeños on everything, including nachos, burgers, and even ice cream that one time, which was why it was my favorite place in town.

  Not only that, but instead of tacky bar decor like most every other dive in the world, the walls were absolutely covered with decorated one dollar bills. It was a point of pride of mine to have some of the most colorful bills on the wall, and usually I brought a stash of markers with me to decorate.

  Once a year, right at Christmas, the owners came through and pulled all the money down to donate it to charity.

  Even though I was sure that Tiffany was getting a little tired of all the togetherness that she and I were enjoying, I still appreciated that she’d bailed out of work to join me for lunch. Not like anyone could tell her no — when you run your own real estate office, you get to do whatever you want.

  Or so she made it seem.

  “I just don’t know if this was a bad idea,” I said, tucking a large napkin into my sweater to try to keep the wing sauce from dripping. “I’ve only met two people, and one obviously hates me while the other doesn’t seem to really believe that I exist.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Tiffany said, leaning back so our waitress could put the plate of wings in front of us. As soon as she was gone, Tiffany grabbed a drumette, but I pulled it from her fingers.

  �
�Those are mine,” I reminded her. “You get the flats.” The flats were easily the worst part of the chicken wing, and normally I’d share, but I wasn’t in the mood to mess around with my food.

  “Do you have any idea how weird you are about your wings? Seriously, it’s no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.” She picked up a flat and took a huge bite of it, waving it in my face. “I bet, with your new job, if you lose your neurosis about the drumettes, you could find someone to date.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to get up my drumettes for the off chance of finding someone to date. Besides, I have too much excitement in my life right now.”

  “Like I said. Spill. How was the first day? Have you met the curmudgeonly Dr. Marshall? Is he as nightmarish as everyone around town makes him out to be?”

  Closing my eyes for just a second, I imagined him standing in front of me — before I’d rammed my fingers into his chest, of course. Was he nightmarish? Definitely not.

  He was handsome. And had a great jaw. His gorgeous eyes were ones that I wanted to get lost in.

  Did I say those things out loud?

  A quick look at Tiffany’s face reassured me that I hadn’t.

  “He hates me. Apparently, I dress like a tart.” I made air quotes around the word. “Linda’s words, not his,” I said when she raised an eyebrow. “And Linda thinks that I’m a mistake.”

  Tiffany dropped her bones to the plate and sucked in a breath. “Did she say those words?”

  “Not exactly, but it was pretty clear that she doesn’t have any use for me. And I’m in an office without a window and I’m not allowed any personal belongings in there to spice it up.”

  “Ridiculous.” She shook her head and grabbed another flat, pushing the plate off to the side as the waitress brought our burgers. “And if you’re all by yourself, how would they even know?”

  Linda struck me as the type of woman who could feel any disturbance in the force, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to test her. “I think she’s a Jedi, only evil.”

  “You mean a stormtrooper? They’re not very bright, you know, and they can’t shoot for shit.” She had a point, although I didn’t want to admit that to her. Tiffany was great, but she loved being right, even more than I loved curling up with tea and a good book.