Becca stroked Otto’s head absently, wondering what she should wear to eat lunch in an office cafeteria. She sincerely hoped the food and atmosphere was better than the school cafeterias she’d eaten in.

Did she have time to go to the salon and get her hair treated? Straightened?

She shook her head. Andrew had already seen her with the frizzy mass of curls, with no makeup on her face, and in those jeans….

But she’d definitely need a new wardrobe to be a press secretary. She made a mental note to ask him for the budget for new clothes during their lunch. Then it was a working lunch and not a date. Right?

Honestly, she really needed a classification for it, because she’d slept about four hours last night trying to put labels on everything that had happened that day.

She left the big window overlooking the backyard and went into her closet. She had a black pencil skirt she wore to church, and she threw that on the bed. She could wear the sandals, though a press secretary should wear heels. She also owned a pale pink blouse her mother had sent her for her last birthday, and it looked professional with a simple gold chain around her neck and a bit of smoothing gel in her hair.

The curls still seemed out of control to her, but she embraced them, swished a bit of mascara on her eyelashes and left with just enough time to arrive at Springside by noon.

This time, she didn’t sit in the car and let her worry eat at her. She got out and strode toward the building she’d only been inside once.

Stephanie, a lovely brunette probably a decade older than her, smiled and lifted onto her feet. “Becca. I wasn’t expecting you until later.” She picked up the phone. “Let me call up to Mister Whittaker’s office.

“He’s supposed—”

“I’m here,” Andrew said, entering the lobby from one of the hallways. He wore a navy blue suit that looked like it had been made especially for his frame. Nothing pulled too tight. Nothing was too loose. Not a strand of his hair sat out of place, and those delicious eyes devoured her as he walked closer.

“Oh, Mister Whittaker.” Stephanie replaced the phone in its cradle.

“She’s taking a tour,” he told her. “Carla’s got the paperwork almost finished.” Andrew leaned against the reception counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she’d be coming early.” He switched his gaze back to Becca, and heat traveled through her whole body. “You ready?” He swept his arm around the lobby as if that was the whole tour.

Becca didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded, smiled at Stephanie, and let Andrew lead her away from the other woman.

“I’m taking a tour?” she whispered to him when they were out of earshot.

“Mm,” he said noncommittally—and which annoyed her greatly. He opened a door to a room with a window at the back of the lobby. “Can we talk in here for a minute?” He looked casual and cool, but there was something in the undercurrent of his voice.

“Sure,” she said brightly and entered the room first. This room was four times as large as the one she’d waited in yesterday, with a long, oval table surrounded by cushioned office chairs.

She didn’t sit but turned to face Andrew as he followed her inside and closed the door behind her. He wouldn’t look straight at her, another huge red flag.

“What’s going on?” she asked, maybe a little too demanding.

He cleared his throat, and it was actually refreshing to see that he wasn’t infallible. “Okay, I’m just going to say this.”

“All right.”

But he said nothing. He shifted his feet. Adjusted his tie like it was choking him. He made her nervous too.

“Just say it,” she said, fearing he’d offered her the job prematurely and was now going to take it back. Thus, he’d invented a tour so he could get her into this sterile room and break the bad news in person. At least he was enough of a gentleman to do that.

But she’d literally never seen him shift or appear uncomfortable, ever. And she’d seen plenty of interviews and pictures of the man.

“I’d like to ask you to dinner tonight.” His words rushed out of his mouth. “As a date. A date, with you and me. Me and you on a date.” He clamped his mouth shut as redness crept from under his collar and settled in his cheeks.

Pure joy filled Becca. All kinds of spluttering things filled her head too, but she managed to say, “I’d like that,” without making herself into a fool.

That beautiful grin exploded across Andrew’s face. “Okay, great. We really can take a tour, if you’d like. Or we can go check the lines in the cafeteria.” He flinched toward her like he’d touch her, maybe hold her hand as they sauntered through the Springside Energy building.

“Is lunch a date too?” she asked, desperate for those labels.

Andrew took a long moment to shake his head. “No, so we probably should talk about a couple of things.”

“What things?” Maybe Becca should’ve taken a seat, but she hadn’t known this would be a long, serious conversation.

“My brother thinks it might come off as…inappropriate if it’s public knowledge that we’re, uh….” He cleared his throat. “Dating.”

Understanding hit Becca. “Because you’re my boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” he said.

“You’re everyone’s boss.” She grinned at him. “Right?”

“I’m Andrew.” He patted his chest a couple of times. “Not Graham. Graham’s the boss.”

“Which is why our relationship has to be secret.” She cocked her hip, enjoying this a little too much. Just the possibility of a relationship was thrilling to Becca. She’d all but given up on finding someone who could appreciate her intelligence, her quirkiness, and her less-than-Hollywood appearance.

“It was Graham’s idea, yes.” Andrew leaned against the edge of the conference table. “But to be clear, I think he’s right. We don’t want anyone to accuse Springside of anything unethical.”

“Is it unethical for us to, you know. Date.” She could barely say the word, and sudden appreciation for how hard Andrew had worked hit her.

“No,” he said. “We don’t have any company policies against co-workers dating. Besides, you don’t even work here yet.”

“Oh, so you asked me out before I signed the paperwork, is that it?”

Andrew’s smile reached all the way into those beautiful eyes. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“No,” she said. “And don’t forget that.”

“I’m actually counting on it,” he said, reaching for the door. “So while we’re at work, or anywhere people can see us, we’ll be co-workers. Not…together. So lunch today is a work meeting.”

“Good,” she said, though she wished it were a date. “Because I have more questions.”

“Okay,” Andrew said, completely unruffled. “And I was right about the French dip. They’re also serving a Cobb salad today, if you’d prefer that.”

Becca said, “I’ll decide when we get there,” and let him lead her out of the conference room. She did love a Cobb salad, but she was feeling particularly like beef today, and she was only slightly ashamed to admit that it was because of the tall, strong man beside her.

She let her hand brush his, and he pulled away and put a step of distance between them. Humiliation dove through her, and she regretted her actions. He’d literally just said that they would be purely professional at work.

Becca liked the professional Andrew, but she really wanted to see what he looked like with a cowboy hat on, maybe his jeans a little dirty. Heck, she’d take just seeing him in anything but a suit.

She smelled the French dip before the cafeteria came into view, and her taste buds made the decision for her.

“So,” he said as they joined the line, which wasn’t too terribly long. “What questions did you come up with?”

“It’s about my clothes,” she said, indicating the pale pink blouse. “This is literally the nicest thing I own. Unless you want me behind a microphone in a Greenpeace T-shirt, I’m going to need a new wardrobe.” She took the tray he handed to her. “I’m wondering if there’s a budget for that.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can get you a card today. Or we have accounts at both department stores in town.”

“And I what? Saunter in and say, ‘Put this on Andrew Whittaker’s account.’” She looked at him and found him blinking back at her. “Oh, wow. That is what I would do.”

“If I’ve called and authorized you to purchase clothes, yes. Otherwise, they’d call me while someone brought you a bottle of water.”

Becca shook her head, charmed and yet annoyed at how efficient everything within Springside was. And she knew who to attribute that to—the man right beside her.

She fought against the strong tether pulling her toward him. It seemed ridiculous in the first place. She’d literally spent years disliking this company, what they did and what they stood for, and every man who ran it. How had Andrew charmed her so completely in less than twenty-four hours?

She thought of a sermon she’d often reflected on. One from many years ago, when she was fresh out of college and just starting her adult life. The pastor had warned against making quick judgments, for they almost always proved to be wrong in some way.

Could she have been wrong about Springside and the Whittakers all this time? If so, maybe she and Andrew really did have a chance at a relationship.

But if not…Becca didn’t want to consider the consequences of risking her livelihood, her future, and her heart to Andrew, even if he was the most handsome and perfectly polished man on the planet.

The next day, Becca twisted and turned in front of three full-length mirrors, Raven smashed into the fitting room with her. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s too bright,” Raven said immediately. “You’ve never looked good in yellow. Makes your skin look washed out and it competes with your hair.”

At least Raven was honest. Becca valued that above almost anything, and she nodded. “You’re right.”

“You look better in cool colors like blues, purples, and greens. Pink too.”

“But the slacks are nice, right?” She turned and lifted the bottom of the shirt to see her rear end.

“Very nice. You should get those.”

They were a simple pair of black slacks, but the material felt twice as thick as anything Becca currently owned, and the price tag made her gasp.

“You’re not paying,” Raven said, wiggling her fingers for Becca to step out of the pants and hand them to her.

Becca complied and took the skirt Raven handed to her next. “This one’s too lacy.”

“Just try it with the sweater.”

Becca didn’t want to think about a time when she’d need a sweater, as the heat wave that had hit Wyoming was determined to stay for a few more days. But she shimmied into the dark, eggplant-colored pencil skirt that had thick white lace all over it.

It fit great, and made her feel very feminine. She didn’t normally dress in skirts except for Sundays, but her new job would require it whenever she stepped foot outside the house. She wasn’t fussy enough for this job, but she was determined to do the best she could. And if that meant wearing a lacy pencil skirt, she’d do it.

She slipped her arms through the pale blue tank top and covered it with a matching cardigan before turning to the mirror.

Her breath stuck in her chest. She barely recognized herself in these clothes. And with makeup and heels and her hair hanging in loose waves around her face? She’d absolutely be the press secretary Andrew needed.

“See?” Raven said, standing to pull on the sweater in the back. “This is my favorite thing you’ve put on. Is it heavy?”

“The skirt is a bit. But it could be cold in October.”

“And you’ll still have the job in January, right?” Raven’s eyes met Becca’s in the mirror. Becca wanted to spill everything about her dinner date with Andrew the night before, but she’d agreed to keep the relationship a secret, and that meant from best friends too.

“Right,” she said. “So what else?”

“The black dress with gold flowers.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I get one thing for free.” Raven grinned as she picked up the silky dress and took it carefully off the hanger. “Just put it on, and then decide.”

“Fine.” Becca complied, but the bust fell in all the wrong ways. “It’s too big.”

“Yep. Not good. Take it off and then let’s go get lunch.” Raven reached for the handle and slipped out of the dressing room.

Becca shook her head and changed back into her own clothes. She’d gotten quite a few things in the few hours they’d been in the store, and she spoke briefly with the saleswoman about coming back to get them after lunch. The woman was all smiles and yes ma’ams, and Becca decided she could really get used to being treated like a princess.

At the same time, her stomach soured. She’d never been motivated by money, though she could admit having it made life easier.

“So,” Raven said, hooking her arm through Becca’s as they walked past the makeup counter. “Something’s going on you haven’t told me.”

“No,” Becca said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.

“You sure?” Raven asked.

“It’s just the new job,” Becca said. “It’s stressful. He wants me to be perfect. Look perfect. Talk perfectly. I might only last a week there.”

“Have you learned anything about this big project they’re unveiling?”

“Not yet.” Andrew hadn’t even brought it up once, and Becca had forgotten about it as well.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Raven steered them toward a fast casual restaurant with the best fried chicken in four states, and Becca replaced her worry over what the energy company could have up their sleeve—as well as how she could hide a relationship from Raven—with honey mustard and seasoned potato wedges.

It actually worked for the first few bites too. Then the reality of going to work at Springside Energy on Monday morning hit her with the strength of an avalanche.