Holy shit.

That’s all that keeps going through my head.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Followed by, is this a dream?

And what the hell is going on?

I spend the majority of the morning attempting to work and not getting anywhere, because all I can do is think about Will and what he just did for me.

I need a second opinion.

I need to talk someone who isn’t Will.

And fast.

At lunchtime I show up at Alyssa’s office, poking my head in.

“Hey, do you want to do drinks? I mean lunch? Now?”

Alyssa is already getting up, grabbing her purse. “You said the magic words.”

Minutes later we’re sitting on the patio at the Yaletown Brewing Company and I’m slamming back my amber ale like there’s no tomorrow.

Alyssa watches me keenly as the glass empties. “So, want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What makes you think there’s anything going on?” I ask her, wiping my lips.

She ticks off her fingers, her jeweled nails catching the sunshine. “For one, you never ask me out for lunch, I’m always bugging you. For two, you’ve been a space cadet all morning. For three, you finished that beer in literally five seconds.”

“I need another one too,” I mutter, looking for the waiter.

“So spill,” she says. “What has you all flustered like a dog in heat?”

“A dog in heat?”

She shrugs with one shoulder. “First thing that popped in my head.”

“I don’t know,” I tell her, studying her face. Her eyes are wide and inquisitive and I know she has a penchant for gossip, but I’m hoping she can keep this all a secret. “I just have something on my mind and I want to talk about it. But I need it to stay between you and me.”

“You got it.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” she says, brushing her bangs off her face, even though they just fall right back in her eyes. “You tell me not to tell a soul and I won’t. I’m good for promises, trust me.”

I exhale forcefully. “Okay. So, there’s a gala tonight.”

She nods. “Yup. The industry gala. Hotel Vancouver.”

“You’re going?”

“No. But I’ve been. I went with Ted one year when Diane couldn’t go.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling slightly deflated. “So it’s totally normal for someone from work to go with one of the higher ups?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular thing,” she says. “Why, are you going?”

I nod. “With Will. I’m not sure I have much of a choice.”

She lets out a low whistle. “He asked you?”

“Yeah. Well. No. He told me I’m going with him.”

“And you have a problem with that? Because if you have a problem with that, I will certainly take that problem off your hands.” She rests her chin on her hand and stares off with a dreamy expression on her face. “He is going to look so beautiful in a tux.”

Damn. I hadn’t even thought about that. Another reason why tonight is going to be a night to remember.

“The thing is,” I tell her carefully, “it’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just that I’m surprised he asked me.”

“Why?” she asks after a few beats, her attention coming back to me as whatever daydream she had in her head shuts down. “You’re his assistant. You guys are together all the time.”

“At work.”

“Outside of work too,” she says. “I notice when he takes you out for lunch. I notice a lot of things.”

“Like what?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat.

Her bright pink lips quirk up into a wry smile. “Well, you certainly seem interested.”

“I’m not. Never mind.”

“Mmmhmm,” she says, sipping her Caesar. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to me about? That he’s bringing you to the gala?”

“I just wanted to know if it was normal.”

“It’s normal. Will bringing you to the gala is the most normal thing I’ve ever heard. What are you going to wear?”

“That’s the thing, he bought me a dress already. And shoes. And he’s got some hair and makeup people coming to his apartment after work to doll me up.”

Her eyes bug out. “Say what?”

“That’s weird, right?”

“That depends,” she says slowly. “He actually bought you everything?”

“Yeah. Without me knowing. He asked my mother to take care of Ty and then got my dress and shoe size.”

She makes an O with her mouth. “That is . . . forward.”

“Right?”

Now she’s grinning.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re fucking lucky,” she says. “That’s what.”

“But what do you think it means? Anything?”

She seems to think that over. “I don’t know Will enough to tell you. But it does make sense with all I’ve noticed.”

Now I have to know.

“Tell me.”

“Well, some people are obvious. Take Casey for example. Though I’ve noticed he’s bugging you less, maybe because you give the guy nothing. But he’s out there. Will is a subtle man.”

“Until he isn’t.”

“Apparently.” She pauses. “Will gives you the eyes, you know.”

“What eyes? The rolling of the eyes?”

“No, he gives those to Tiffany. You know, the eyes. He stares at you. I’m not sure if you notice.”

“Well obviously I don’t. How does he stare at me?”

“It’s hard to describe. But it’s definitely not how Ted stares at Patty. It’s like a mix of total adoration and need. Like when you’ve been wanting something for so long and you finally get it and you don’t know how you got to be so lucky or what to do next. Does that make sense?”

I swallow. My heart has been beating louder and louder with each passing second. “Are you sure that can’t be attributed to me being an amazing assistant and him realizing how badly he’s needed one?”

“No,” she says, grinning. “Because then lust wouldn’t come into the equation.”

Lust? I’m dumbfounded. And there’s a whole pack of butterflies being held back at the gates, waiting to swarm my stomach.

“He doesn’t stare at me with lust . . .” I say, praying she’s about to say something that proves me wrong.

She cocks her head. “You know, when you said you weren’t looking to date or get involved with anyone, you weren’t kidding. You don’t even see the signs when they’re in front of you.”

Oh god. Oh, I fucking hate how giddy this is making me feel. It takes all my strength to push it all down, to try and keep my heart rate steady, to keep the smile off my face. But I’m smiling inside. A big fat grin.

“You said the signs were subtle,” I remind her.

“They are. Will is restrained, but sometimes I catch this burning look in his eyes, like he’s never wanted something so badly in his life.”

I shake my head. “You must be mistaken.”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty good at picking up on vibes. You, on the other hand, are not.”

“Because he’s my boss.”

“So?”

“So!” I exclaim. “So everything. I can’t think of my boss that way.”

“But you do.”

“Do not.”

Now she’s rolling her eyes. “Jackie, it’s okay. You know how we all feel about Will. You can’t possibly tell me you don’t find him attractive, you’ve said so much on more than one occasion.”

“Being attracted is one thing . . . I’m not thinking about dating my boss.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

“You just did.”

“You don’t have to get into a relationship with him. Hell, I wouldn’t. He probably has enough baggage because of Sasha. But there’s nothing wrong with having some action on the side.”

“Again, Alyssa, he is my boss. And my father’s business partner. And best friend. And, like, sixteen years older than me. And, I mean, even just one of those things should be enough to hold up a big ‘hell no’ sign. You don’t mix business with pleasure, you don’t mix pleasure with any of those things. Nothing good could come out of it, believe me. It would jeopardize my job, my relationship with my father, my relationship with Will . . .”

“So, what? You’re just going to go on this date with him tonight and nothing is going to happen? Jackie, he bought you a dress, shoes. You’re fucking Cinderella for crying out loud.” She pauses, staring at me with determination, like I’m an endless challenge. “The man knows what he wants and he wants you. So let him have you.”

I twist in my seat, looking around wildly for the waiter again and flag him down. I put in an order for another beer, while Alyssa throws in the towel and gets herself another drink too, as well as an order of nachos for us to pick at.

Honestly, I don’t feel like eating at all now. I’m a whirlwind of nerves, all twisting up inside me. Lust. I’d never seen Will stare at me with lust.

Or maybe I have. Maybe when he’s staring at me so intensely that it nearly knocks me off balance, when he gives me a look that takes my breath away. I’ve just been training myself to not read into anything, to not look for any signs.

Fuck. What if Alyssa is right?

What if Will is attracted to me?

What if he wants me?

What then?

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight,” I tell her quietly.

“Why?” she exclaims, looking horrified. “Why would you do that to him?”

“Well, it’s not like he asked me.”

“Jackie, listen. Will might be giving you the eyes and he most likely thinks of you more than just an assistant. Maybe just his assistant he wants to bone, that wouldn’t be a stretch. But we both know he’s not the type to try anything with you. Got it? You have all your excuses and he has a million more. You’re his assistant, you’re the daughter of his friend. He’s not going to risk anything unless you let him. He’s a gentleman, remember? Cary Grant wouldn’t just go feeling some girl up.”

“I’m pretty sure Cary Grant was gay.”

“Whatever. The point is, he was a gentleman. An old-school man of class and manners, just like Will. They don’t come around very often. You have nothing to worry about. You’re in control here. You want him? Then you should know that you can probably have him.”

“Probably?”

She sucks back her cocktail through a straw and then shrugs. “I could be wrong about everything.”

I shake my head at her and finish the rest of my beer.

* * *

“Ready to go?” Will asks me.

I literally jump a mile in my chair. I turn and look at him, hoping my heart doesn’t burst out of my chest.

He’s standing beside my desk, shoe box under one arm, the garment bag draped over his shoulder. I can’t even imagine how good he’s going to look in a tux when he looks this stunning in a simple grey linen suit.

And then he smiles.

And I smile back.

It’s always been impossible not to.

I manage to pull myself away from his gaze and look at the clock. A few minutes before four.

“I figured we might as well leave early,” he explains. “That way we don’t have to rush. Maybe even get a bite to eat, order in. There will be finger food at the event, but that’s never enough to fill you up, especially with all the free-flowing champagne.”

“Okay,” I tell him, feeling nearly dizzy at it all. I’m leaving the safety and security of the office and heading off for a strange new world.

“Have fun,” Alyssa says to me as she walks past us, giving me a wink as she goes. I quickly look to Will to see if he noticed, but he’s just staring at me.

Don’t read too much into it, I remind myself.

But, god, how can I not? Ever since lunch it’s all I’ve been thinking about, dreaming about.

And I can’t pretend I’m not scared.

I’m full of pins and needles as I follow Will’s tall, broad-shouldered frame out of the office, my dress draped over his back, my shoes under his arm. All for me, all this for me.

Normally it’s extremely easy to converse with Will, but as we head down Richards Street toward his place, I’m finding the words hard to come by. Will talks, as usual. He touches on the wonderful weather, about team-building events for the office, about plans for the summer. He asks me if I like sailing and my mind is so frazzled I don’t even question why he’s asking me (I’ve actually never been), nor do I ask if he has a boat (pretty sure he doesn’t but you never know).

My case of nerves gets even worse as we head up to his apartment. The elevator just sings with sexual tension and I’m so focused of every single breath he takes, how close his body is to mine, the amount of times his eyes glide over me.

“Want a drink?” he asks me after we’ve stepped into his apartment, Sprocket and Joanie dancing around us excitedly.

“Yes, please,” I tell him, hoping I don’t sound as desperate as I feel. “Anything will do.”

He brings a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and pours me a glass.

“What about you?” I ask him.

“I’ll make myself an old-fashioned when I get back up. I just want to take the dogs out for a moment.”

An old-fashioned. Figures.

The moment he leaves the apartment with his rescue pups in tow, I let out a sigh of relief. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath this whole entire day.

I drink half the glass, waiting for it to wash over my nerves, then start examining the dress and shoes.

I kick off my flats and carefully slip the Louboutins on, praying that they fit.

They do. They’re a bit snug, and the back of the heel digs in a little bit, but at least they won’t slip off or cause too much pain, and I can walk in them—which is a bonus. Maybe not very well—I wobble a bit going from one end of the apartment to the other, and the bottoms are slippery on the white tile floor—but it will do for a night.

Plus, they’re gorgeous as hell— who cares what they feel like. I never in a million years dreamed I’d get to wear shoes like this, shoes I’d only ogled while I flipped through all those fashion and beauty mags during downtime at my old job.

That’s already feeling like a second life. I can’t forget what Jeff did or the life I struggled to have, but during these last few weeks especially, I feel like I’ve been reborn. And tonight, tonight feels like the beginning of the fairy-tale.

I can’t even tell myself not to get my hopes up. There’s no point. I can only swim in this feeling, swim until I’m drowning in it.

I sit back into his couch and lift my legs up in the air, staring at the shoes with glee. So fucking pretty.

The front door opens, making me sit straight up, legs pressed together.

Will peers around the corner at me. “What are you doing?”

Joanie and Sprocket come running over, distracting me for a second.

“Trying on the shoes,” I tell him.

He hangs up their leashes and then proceeds to take off his blazer so he’s just in a white shirt and tie. One of my favorite looks on him. I have had many fantasies of undoing that tie and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, or just watching him do it himself.

“How do they feel? Do they fit?” he asks, striding over to me. He holds out his hand for me and then pulls me up to my feet. I wobble for a moment, leaning forward so I’m right up against him.

We’re close. So close. And I’m frozen. A statue that’s hiding a wildly beating heart. I keep my eyes focused downward on the tops of my shoes, staring at the sight of them across from his almond-toed dress shoes. “They feel good,” I manage to say, aware that he’s still holding onto my hand, my breath hitching in my throat.

“You won’t fall over if I let go?” he asks.

Don’t let go, I think, bringing my gaze up to look him in his eyes.

He swallows thickly as he stares down at me. I can feel the color of his eyes in my bones. Rich green-blue. Like an emerald at dusk, a tropical lagoon in the early morning. A lush pool shaded by palm trees.

How easy it would be to kiss him. To reach up and grab the back of his head, feel his thick hair in my hands. Bring his mouth to mine. Sink in the warmth of his mouth. God, I bet he’s a fantastic kisser. Soft at first, then rougher as he gets going.

I close my eyes, breaking the spell, a spell that needed to be broken. I swear my head was moving up toward his, like a magnet, and I might have done something really stupid.

“I hope you’ll be able to dance in them,” he says to me, voice low, stepping back an inch and letting go of my hand. I already feel a rush of cold air in the space between us. But I need it, it braces me, bringing me back to reality.

Only this reality right now could go in any direction.

“I’ll manage,” I tell him. “Wait, what kind of dancing?”

He walks over to the bar-cart in the corner and starts making himself a drink, while Sprocket and Joanie fight over a spot to sit on the dog bed by the window. “Oh, it’s tradition to do some line-dancing just before the awards are given out. Don’t worry though, you’ll pick it up right away.”

“Are you serious?”

He covers his mouth with his glass but his eyes are dancing. “Of course.”

“You dick,” I tell him. “You should know better than to joke about something like that.”

“You do know how to slow dance, right?” he asks, going back to mixing his drink and smiling impishly.

“That I can handle.” I sigh, trying to get the jitters out of me and eye the dress. “I suppose I should go try this on just in case it doesn’t fit.”

“Then you’d have to go naked. A real shame.”

I glance at him and he doesn’t seem even the least apologetic about that comment. Okay. Good to know that as we go into the night, the cards are slowly being laid on the table.

I busy myself by grabbing the dress and then step into the guest bedroom to try it on.

It’s sparsely decorated; just a bed, a dresser, and more dog beds in the corner absolutely covered in their hair, as well as a hamper stuffed with their toys. I smile at the sight, thinking of Will coming here after work. Relaxing on his sofa with a drink, perhaps throwing the toys around for Sprocket and Joanie.

I wonder if he gets lonely. He never talks much about Sasha, but I wonder if he ever looks back with regret. If he misses having her around.

The thoughts pinch my heart with jealousy so I push them out of the way and get started on the dress.

I only glanced at the tag earlier, so other than the brand and the fact that it’s black, I don’t know what it looks like. I fear it’s either too revealing or two dowdy.

But when I pull it out of the bag, it’s neither.

In a way, it’s just a simple black cocktail dress, but it’s also one of the sexiest dresses I’ve ever seen. It’s fitted, made of a jersey-crepe material with off the shoulder sleeves, a ruched bodice, and fluted hem that must reach my shins. The material is sturdy and stretchy and I think I can get away without a bra for once.

I strip down to nothing and then slip it on. It’s a bit of a struggle—a size ten in Dolce and Gabbana is more like an eight—but I still manage to zip it up.

I turn and look in the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

Holy crap.

I don’t even have my proper hair and makeup done, and I already look like someone else.

Someone beautiful.

Someone better.

The dress is extremely flattering. The ruching around the stomach hides all my fluffy bits, nipping in at the waist, accentuating the curve of my ass, while the sweetheart neckline shows off the girls, pushing them up and together. I slip my new heels back on and I look like a million dollars. Cinderella eat your heart out.

“How is it?” Will asks from outside the door.

“Great!” I answer.

“Can I see?”

“Well I don’t have my hair and makeup done yet.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

I take in a deep breath and open the door.

Will is standing in the middle of the living room, his drink in hand.

The moment he sees me his gaze goes from shocked to something more... primal.

I have to admit, as on-the-spot as I feel right now, I’m absolutely enjoying his eyes on me, the expression on his face. Maybe Alyssa was right. He looks like he’s wanted me for ages and finally has me. Or maybe that’s what I’m feeling right now. Either way, I never want him to stop looking at me like that.

I stop a few feet away and playfully push my hips out to the side. “So what do you think?”

It takes him a moment to tear his eyes off my chest and bring them to my face. “What?” He sounds dumbfounded.

“You better not be calling me kid tonight,” I joke, my skin starting to heat up, “because I think I look like the opposite of that.”

He shakes his head, licking his lips as he looks me over again. “No,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll call you Dream Girl. Because that’s what you are to me.”

Dream Girl.

Damn.

We stare at each other for a few moments as the air around us seems to crackle with life, brewing up all those unsaid words and stolen glances. Everything is rising to the surface now, everything, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive the night. I’m not even sure how I’ll survive this moment, standing in his apartment while the space between us hums with want and need and a million beautiful things.

And yet it’s not too late to pull it all back. We haven’t crossed any line. Glances can be misinterpreted, words can be explained away. He may have just called me his dream girl and I might be clinging to that like a life raft, but nothing can stop us from going back to normal. Back to boss and employee. Like nothing has happened.

Because nothing has happened.

God, how badly I want that to change.

Will clears his throat, stands up a bit straighter. “Need help getting out of that?”

I raise my brow, trying not to smile. “Getting out of it? No, I think I’ll keep it on. Especially if hair and makeup people are coming, it’s easier if I’m already dressed.”

He looks me over and brings out his phone. “You don’t even need them, you know that. You should go just like this.”

“I appreciate it. But I’ve never had my hair and makeup done before. It will be fun.”

“All right. Well, I’ll order in some food. How about sushi?”

“As long as you don’t make me eat octopus and fish eggs again, that sounds great.”

He grins at me and makes a phone call.

Soon the sushi is delivered.

Soon after that the makeup and hair girl, Theresa, shows up—young, pretty, and bubbly—armed with an arsenal of beauty kits. And, like most women do when they meet Will, she can’t help but ogle him either.

While I sit outside on the terrace, enjoying the breeze from twenty-five stories up, sipping wine, she talks to me about this and that. She was actually going to the film gala too until her date, her ex, messed things up. She tells me all about him, this actor, and how toxic their relationship was and how she still wants him back after everything he did to her. The guy sounds like a real cad, but not even close to someone like Jeff.

“How long have you been with your man?” she asks as she slicks red liquid lipstick on me.

I give her a look since I’m unable to speak when she’s doing my lips.

“Oh, he’s not... you’re not together?” she asks, glancing inside the apartment where I’m sure Will is putting on his tuxedo.

“No,” I say when she’s finished. “He’s my boss. We’re just going together to the event.”

“Oh,” she says. “Then can I say, damn. You’ve got a pretty sweet job having to look at him all day. He is fucking gorgeous. You don’t see men like him anymore, especially not in this city.”

“I know,” I tell her, unable to keep from smiling. “Not just that, but he’s pretty amazing too. I have a son and he’s so good with him.”

Theresa gets the same dreamy eyes that Alyssa had at lunch. I’m starting to wonder if that’s how I look most of the time.

“Well if you don’t mind me saying, the two of you would make a stunning couple. You’ve got such wonderful skin, I barely had to put any foundation on you. You’re just glowing.”

The funny thing is, I feel like I’m glowing. Inside and out.

And every time I think of Will, that glow intensifies.

It’s starting to blind me.

Luckily it doesn’t take long for Theresa to do her job, putting false eye lashes on my eyes and then pilling my hair up into a soft up-do. The only thing missing from the whole thing are earrings—Will hadn’t thought of jewelry—but Theresa fishes out a pair of faux diamond studs from her bag of tricks and insists I keep them.

“They’ll bring you good luck,” she tells me with a wink, and I don’t have to guess what she means by that.

When she’s finished and heads out, Will is in his bedroom.

“Almost ready to go?” I hear Will ask.

I spin around to see Will, who’s come out of his bedroom dressed in his tux, and my jaw is on the motherfucking floor.

And actually, so is his. He stops in his tracks and he gawks at me just as I do the same.

“You look beautiful,” he says to me, his voice low and soft as it sweeps over me.

“So do you,” I blurt out, unable to help myself.

Because he does.

His hair is off his face, black as sin with just a sprinkling of salt at his temples, showcasing every gorgeous angle of his face, from the arch of his dark brows, to his cheekbones, to his sharp jawline and wide strong jaw. He hasn’t shaved, so there’s just a hint of sexy stubble, roughing up the elegance of the black tuxedo.

He really is James Bond. Batman. He’s everything sexy and mysterious wrapped up into one. And at this moment, he’s no longer my boss. He’s just Will McAlister, my date for the evening.

“I feel like I should call you Mr. McAlister,” I admit as I slowly walk over to him.

“I’ll keep on calling you Dream Girl,” he says, trying to straighten his bowtie. “Tell me it’s not crooked.”

“It’s not,” I tell him. “And I think you should wear a tux to work now.”

“Only if you’ll wear that,” he says, and I feel the heat of his gaze as it burns over my breasts. “Though I can promise I’ll get even less work done around you. Someone should have warned me how hazardous it is to have my dream girl as my assistant.”

I blush, even though I hate that we’re talking about work again and our roles, as much as the line is blurring between them. For a night I just want to pretend that he really is my Prince Charming and there’s a chance I might not come home from this ball.

“Shall we?” he asks, flashing me a smile that I feel everywhere.

“We shall.”