Something to Talk About(11)

“No, of course not, Ms. Jones,” she said. “I—”

“You what, Ms. Kaplan?”

“Jo.” Emma swallowed. “You’re an amazing woman. I’m just—I’m not used to being in the spotlight.”

Jo was the level of famous that people tended to tell her whatever she wanted to hear. It was probably worse with her employees, but for some reason she couldn’t help but believe Emma when she complimented her. Emma seemed genuine with everyone, but especially with Jo. It was ridiculous. She was probably just good at her job, at making her boss happy. Jo didn’t let herself dwell on the thought.

“You’ll be fine,” Jo said. “They’ll forget about it within a week if we don’t comment.” She finally looked at the article on her computer and sucked in a breath at the photo. “Well. They certainly got a good picture, didn’t they?”

Emma came around Jo’s desk to look at it with her. It was a completely normal action, and yet it set Jo on edge. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“Yeah,” Emma said quietly. “It’s quite the photo. Must have been when you called me an Amazon.”

It wasn’t the moment Jo called Emma an Amazon so much as the moment after it, when they were laughing together. Jo’s fingers were wrapped tightly around Emma’s wrist, and Emma leaned toward her slightly, looking right at her instead of at any of the cameras. Emma’s nose scrunched up with her smile, and Jo was grinning, too, staring right back at her. They looked like there was no one else in the world. Jo remembered it all happening, but hadn’t realized they had looked quite so . . . well. She understood why this rumor got off the ground so quickly.

“Wearing matching jewelry didn’t exactly help,” Jo said.

Emma took a step back. “We wore matching jewelry?”

“Your bracelet and my necklace were part of a set, but I thought it was too much to wear both.”

Emma paced to the other side of Jo’s desk. She blinked a few times, then looked at Jo. “Why’d you let me wear it?”

Jo considered. “You looked nice.”

Emma looked at the floor, her cheeks flushing. It was the truth—she had looked beautiful. But Jo also knew Emma wasn’t exactly comfortable with the whole thing. She hadn’t wanted to exacerbate that by making her change the jewelry she’d picked.

“Perhaps you should make your social media private,” Jo said.

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Already done.”

“Right. Well.” Jo closed the tab and Emma straightened up. “I’ll be writing all morning. No calls unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, boss,” Emma said. She headed for her own desk. “Door closed?” she asked over her shoulder.

Jo hesitated. “Yes, please.”

She always wrote with the door closed. No distractions. She didn’t know what made her hesitate today. Emma didn’t need Jo watching over her. The rumors were meaningless; they weren’t going to affect Emma’s workday. Even if they did, Emma could handle it. She’d handled everything that came with the job, thus far. Jo didn’t need to worry about her.

The door closed behind Emma. Jo knew she should get to writing, but she opened her browser again anyway. She wouldn’t normally read the gossip columns, but for some reason, she was interested.

She and Emma were apparently dating, which was all Amir let her know that morning. None of the sites reporting on it seemed to be able to decide when they’d moved beyond the boss-assistant relationship. Some claimed they’d been dating from the start. Many had collected pictures of the two of them, on set or at studio events, as though Emma standing near Jo was evidence of a relationship. The red-carpet picture was the most prominent, though, no matter what site Jo visited. She understood why. Looking at it, even she was almost convinced there was something there.

She allowed herself ten minutes of perusing the internet before closing it all and opening her script document. She was almost finished with the first draft of the finale. She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms in front of her, palms out. Time to get to work.



* * *



—

Jo was beginning to get into the groove of writing when her cell phone rang. The caller ID made her roll her eyes affectionately. She should have expected this.

“Hello?”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nice to talk to you, too, Ev.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Oh, don’t pretend like you bother with niceties when you call me.”

True. Jo had a tendency to start phone calls with her best friend with you won’t believe what this fucking idiot did—Evelyn had always been her favorite person to complain to.

“Nothing is going on,” Jo said, leaning back in her chair.

“Nothing is going on? But you took someone to an awards show? And that someone happened to be your assistant? And not the frumpy assistant I expected—she fit in just fine on the red carpet.”

“Yes, well, I bought the dress for her, didn’t I?”

“Are you serious?”

Jo almost paused at the incredulity in Evelyn’s voice, but better not to give an inch. “Of course,” she said. “You think I was going to trust her to find one herself? Or make her buy a dress she’ll likely only wear once?”