Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(31)

A-hole. “No.” For once, I wished I had the superpower to lie without my face giving it away—or, really, I wished I had plans. Real plans. Why couldn’t I have plans?

I followed him back into his office, preparing for another argument.

“Well then.” He sat behind his desk, leaving me an annoyed and a confused mess.

“Don’t you have a suit? Any suit will do.”

And why did I have to go with him? I wasn’t his mom. I didn’t need to approve his choice of clothing. We weren’t a real couple, and I was not choosing his tie.

His fingers steepled by his lips. “This is a special occasion. I won’t be wearing one of my work suits to a wedding.”

“Okay …” I didn’t see what the big deal was. Buying another suit seemed like a waste of money. “I don’t care. You can wear that suit.” I gestured to his attire. “The one you’re wearing. It’s perfectly tailored, and I’m sure it’s a very expensive suit.” I’d seen the tag before I took it in to be dry-cleaned. And it wasn’t cheap.

“What are you going to wear?” he continued as though I hadn’t said a thing.

“A dress I’ve probably worn before.” I knew I’d have to dress up to look decent next to Brad, but I wasn’t worried about my clothing as much as I had been stressing about finding a date. And, now, I had one. Who needed a fancy dress when I would have the hottest guy on my arm?

He snorted loudly and then dropped his head back into his computer screen. “Seven o’clock. Downstairs. Can you order us some dinner beforehand?”

I simply stared at him. “I haven’t even picked up your lunch yet.” Is this guy serious?

Not caring, I slammed the door behind me.

Then, I grumbled around the office the rest of the day.

At six fifty-five p.m., I picked up Brad, and we rode the elevator down together. He’d been so busy that he’d eaten dinner at his desk.

“Great,” I muttered, noting the thunderstorm pouring down tsunami-style outside the doors.

The rain pelted against the windows, and thunderous clouds roared above us. Of all the days not to have an umbrella. The forecast hadn’t called for rain. Damn weatherman.

The scent of rain reminded me of the summers when I was younger, how the rain would wet my hair, making it frizzy when it dried. How the other kids would make fun of me and call me Medusa when my hair stuck out at all ends. Yeah, I hated rain.

When we walked outside, Brad opened his oversize umbrella. At least he had his. The rain trailed down the bottom of my long skirt, and beads of water soaked the gym shoes that I had changed into.

Brad tilted inward and lifted the umbrella over my head, shielding me from the downpour. “You should keep an umbrella with you.”

“Thanks for the enlightening advice.” This man. I wanted to stick his sarcasm and his umbrella where the sun didn’t shine.

I could have, at a minimum, brought a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt if I’d known we were going to go shopping, and I was going spend the rest of the night sitting and watching him walk the catwalk in an array of suits that’d probably all look the same.

The rain, wet feet, and cold air caused my teeth to chatter. “Why can’t we drive somewhere? Where’s your car?”

“That’s not how this works. Not how my personal shopper does things. It’s a full-service experience.”

“Getting wet and cold is part of this full service? Will they towel-dry us off?” I hugged my middle to get some warmth back into my body.

He angled closer and wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing me against him and the umbrella directly above me to shield the rain. “There. Better?”

Heat spread down my arm, where we touched, and I reeled away. “Boundaries, hello? Are you purposely trying to make me uncomfortable?”

Brad being Brad did the opposite and leaned in even closer until we were flushed hip to hip. “Boundaries? Next weekend, I’m supposed to pretend like I’ve been balls deep in you, and you want to talk about boundaries?”

I jerked my head and stuck my finger in my mouth, pretending to vomit.

Brad shook his head, amused.

He did have a point though. I had to get over this closeness, but how could I when he was my boss?

“You need to get used to my hands on you.”

His hands circled my waist, and I shoved a finger into his shoulder.

“Do you even realize you’re flirting, or is it just natural for you?”

A long stretch limo stopped in front of us, and before he had a chance to respond, I opened the door and brushed inside to get in and out of the rain.

“Mr. Brisken. Miss Vanducci.” The driver stepped out in the rain to hold the door open.

“Hello, hello,” Brad responded as the driver took his oversize umbrella from him.

I scooted farther into the vehicle, down the wraparound leather seat. The leather stuck to my wet skirt, and I rubbed my hands over my arms. The chill cut through my bones.

LED track lighting created a light-yellow glow at the ceiling, and an ice bucket with drinks chilled on the side.

“Champagne?” Brad reached for two glasses in the drink holder.

Maybe some champagne would warm me, so I grabbed my glass, and he poured. The fizz bubbled to the top and almost spilled over, so I brought the glass to my lips.