Damn.

I was not prepared for that.

Not the fact that Elsi, my dog-walker, cancelled, because she’s done that at least twice now; usually on Monday mornings when I know she goes dancing Sunday nights. I should probably get another dog-walker, but I’m new to the city and she was recommended by someone in my building. Someone that doesn’t have a dog, mind you, so maybe that should have been my first warning.

Besides, it’s not a bother to have the pups at work, since Ted kept yammering on and on about the Vancouver office being dog-friendly, hip, and whatever the fuck, as if I would really care, as if it would make the whole move any better.

No. What I wasn’t prepared for was the fact that Ted’s daughter, Jackie, is no longer the petulant teen with big eyes and a bad attitude. That’s what I remember her as, and I have to be honest, I never gave her much thought beyond that. Why would I?

But now . . . now . . .

She does look like her mother, that wasn’t a lie. Her mother is a beautiful lady. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to see how absolutely stunning their daughter turned out to be. Those big eyes are still the same, but her lips are fuller, as is every other part of her in ways that are entirely inappropriate for me to think about.

I guess I was still expecting that teenager with her dyed jet-black hair and nose ring to be my assistant. My mind just latched onto the girl that I remembered, the one who seemed bored out of her mind every time Sasha and I were over for dinner. She couldn’t wait to leave the table so she could hang out with who knows who. I know she gave Ted an ulcer most days.

That girl is gone. Jackie Phillips is one absolutely gorgeous woman, looking as lost and adrift as I did my first day here. As I’m sure I still look sometimes.

Luckily, I’m pretty good at pushing beautiful woman out of my head, even ones I’m supposed to work with every day. Couldn’t Ted have hired some long lost aunt of his instead?

I sit back in my chair and look at Joanie and Sprocket, who have flopped down in the dog bed I have by the couch. I know they’re pleased to be spending the day with me again, but if they get to be a pain in the ass, at least now I can get Jackie to take them for a walk.

I’ve only been back in Vancouver for about a month, but I don’t feel close to having settled in, and it’s kind of strange to have an assistant. In the LA office, Sasha and I shared Megan, who was the office manager, but I still did most things on my own. Booking travel arrangements, filing expense reports—the no-brainer stuff that I could easily do myself.

The moment I came up here though, Ted was insistent that I get an executive assistant of my own. I don’t know if it’s because the workload up here is heavier, especially with the animation side of things really taking off, or he just wants me to be comfortable. I suspect it’s a little of both. Ted is still handling me with kid gloves, as if the divorce has rendered me fragile and completely incompetent.

I’m definitely not fragile. Incompetent is something that remains to be seen. Sasha officially moved out of our house two years ago to be with Ansel, but the divorce was messy and only final four months ago. I tried to stick it out in LA, tried to show her that what she did to me didn’t destroy me, that I could be the bigger person here, but sometimes you know when to pack up and leave.

My alarm beeps, reminding me of a conference call with Ted. Again, it’s strange to do these things in reverse. It used to be me down in LA, calling him up here.

But Ted is Ted, and always gets right to the point with these calls. Half an hour later, after Ted has assured me that everything is on track, he asks, “So how is she doing?”

“I assume you mean your daughter.”

“How does she look? Is she presentable?”

I smile into the phone. “She’s more than presentable, Ted. You never told me she’d grown up to be quite the beautiful young lady.”

“Easy now, Will. Don’t be getting any wrong ideas.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. I’m just saying, she looks. . .very sweet. I’ll be meeting with her in a bit to go over everything, and I’ll have more of an idea then.” I pause. “Are you sure I need an assistant?”

“Who the hell is going to tie your shoes?”

“Right. But I did just fine in LA without one.”

“Because you had Sasha.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh. “Sasha only looked out for number one. And that was the company.”

Ted gives a long sigh. “Look, you know Jackie and I aren’t exactly close. To be honest, I’m not even sure how to talk to her anymore. When she was up north. . . well, I’m overjoyed she’s back here. Diane is too, but I don’t know what to expect. I just know that she needs this job and you could use the help, and why not help the two most important people to me?”

“Sentimental? At this hour of the morning?”

“I haven’t had my medication yet,” he says dryly. “Don’t get used to it. I better go, we have another meeting here with the new VFX production coordinator. You know, you have a nice crew down here. How did you manage to leave them?”

“I wonder that myself.”

“It was your choice, Will.”

I exhale slowly through my nose. “Yes. It was.”

“No regrets?”

“We’ll see.”

I’m about to hang up when I hear him say, “Take it easy on my girl. She’s had it rough lately.”

“I promise not to ride her too hard.” I smirk.

“Will . . .”

“Ted.”

He sighs and hangs up.

I wait a few moments, getting my bearings, before I stand up and head to the door, the dogs watching my every move. I open the door and poke my head out.

The office is bustling, though not as frantically as one would think. That’s the difference I’ve found so far between the animators here and the visual effects crew in LA. The animators are lazy as fuck, half of them looking stoned at all hours of the day. They get the work done, but not as quick as I, or Warner Brothers, would like, and unfortunately I’m the one who hears about it.

Jackie is sitting across from me at her desk, her side to me, frowning at the desktop computer and repeatedly clicking on the mouse.

“Never used a Mac before?” I ask her, leaning against the doorway.

She looks over at me, her lips twisting together sheepishly. “How can you tell?”

“Just a guess. How was the tour? Alyssa being good to you?”

She nods. “It was informative.”

“Did she tell you the astrological signs of everyone, their salary, and how much they weigh?”

She smiles, close-lipped. Damn. Her cheeks are something else. “Pretty much. She may have told me how often they use the bathroom too.”

I stare at her for a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” she says quickly, going a shade of red. “I should probably avoid toilet humor first day on the job. I keep forgetting you’re my boss.”

“If it makes you feel better, I keep forgetting you’re my assistant.”

I meant it as a joke but I can see the lines appearing on her smooth forehead. What Ted said runs through my mind. The last thing I want is for her to feel insecure here.

“Well,” I go one quickly, “since you’ve had the grand tour, how about we go over the job. I have to admit, I’m not used to having an assistant so I’m not really sure if I’m doing the right thing or not, what that even is. So, with that in mind, how about I get you up to speed . . . while we walk the dogs.”

Her eyes brighten. “Sure. Whatever you like.” She gets up and I glance down at her shoes, grey kitten heels that only add an inch to her height, making her five-four at most.

“Are you going to be okay to walk in those?” Granted, Sasha used to wear ones that would put her at six-two—my height—with complete ease. She would have slept in them if she could have. All the better for jabbing me in the middle of the night, preferably near the heart.

She shrugs. “I’m more at home in a pair of boots, but I can handle it.” While she grabs her jacket, I get the dogs on their leashes, making sure I grab an umbrella from reception on the way out.

Tiffany, the receptionist, gives me one of her patented withering looks as I do so, and I open the door for Jackie as we step out onto the street.

“What was with that look?” Jackie asks me as I hand her Sprocket’s leash. She takes it without second thought. Good girl.

“She finds it amusing that I grab an umbrella every time I step outside.”

She glances up at the sky, wrinkles her nose. “It could rain at any minute.”

“She would give me the look even if it were a torrential downpour. A true Vancouverite doesn’t use an umbrella. They’re like ducks. The water just rolls right off them.”

“But you used to live here,” she says to me as we start walking down the street, Sprocket pulling her slightly ahead of me and Joanie. “Right?”

“Technically I was born on Vancouver Island, grew up in Victoria,” I tell her, realizing that just because she’s Ted’s daughter doesn’t mean she knows jack shit about me. That’s probably for the best. “But being in LA changes you. Did you know that back when The X-Files were filmed here, David Duchovny made production pack up and move to LA because of the rain? After eight seasons he just couldn’t handle it. Honestly, now that I’ve lived in LA, I don’t blame him. It’s nice to know what you’re going to get every day.”

“Well I think it’s pretty obvious what we get every day here,” she says, stopping as Sprocket sniffs along a bike rack. “Rain.”

“Look at us,” I tell her, feeling strangely pleased. “We’re standing here, talking about the weather. It’s like we never left Vancouver to begin with.”

She gives me a small smile and looks off. I probably sound like a tool.

“Anyway,” I continue smoothly, “I have to say I prefer the sunshine to the doom and gloom.”

“So why did you move?”

I eye her carefully. Surely Alyssa told her, probably along with my social insurance number.

But she’s staring at me with an open expression, sucking her lower lip in such a manner that a thread of heat works its way into my chest. I wish she wouldn’t do that, and yet I can’t seem to look away.

I clear my throat. “Sasha and I, I’m not sure if you remember her, we got divorced. I tried to tough it out but, you know we worked together and it was either she went or I went. And she wasn’t going anywhere.”

She nods. “So you’re not really here by choice.”

“No,” I say slowly, pulling Joanie’s head away from a pile of shit on the sidewalk. “It was my choice. Not necessarily one I wanted to make . . .”

Fuck. What am I doing? This sort of personal business probably shouldn’t be discussed with my assistant. What we should be discussing is just what the hell she’s supposed to do for me.

I can think of a few things.

The thought flashes across my mind and I wince internally, hating myself for thinking it. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

I need to behave.

Luckily I have the gentleman thing down pat.

I clear my throat again. She probably thinks I’ve got a cold at this point.

“So, I think the best place for us to start is to find out what your father told you about the job. What you know about Mad Men Studios. What we do.”

She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and I didn’t realize until now that my fingers were itching to do it for her. “Well, honestly, I don’t know much. My father and I weren’t exactly close over the last seven years or so. When I moved up north, I, uh, it’s complicated.”

I can see that it is. And the last thing I want to do is pry.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to explain. Let me just start from the top then. As you know, I joined your father about ten years ago. Before that he had Phillips Films. When I came on board it turned into Mad Men Studios. Because I had a background in animation, or at least a pipe dream.” Her eyes spark at this but I keep going, least I dwell too much on said pipe dream. “Sasha, my ex, she’s American and it was her idea to expand down in LA. She became the general manager there. Fast forward over the next ten years and we decide to make the Vancouver office the animation one, LA concentrating on visual effects. That’s why there’s some growing pains over here right now. A lot of turnover as we change.”

“And that’s where I come in,” she says. Her eyes look impossibly bright in this dull, grey light. “I’m here to help with your growing pains.”

“Right. Well the truth is, it’s been a bit of an adjustment for me here. The office runs a lot differently from the LA one.”

“Bunch of stoners?”

I grin at her. “You’ve got that right. But that’s on par with animation.”

“And you used to do animation?” She pauses, a devilish look coming over her. “I called them cartoons earlier and I thought Alyssa was going to have my head.”

Now I’m laughing. “Oh god. Yeah. Cartoons. They won’t let you forget that one. But honestly, it’s sometimes what I think of them. I quit drawing back in my early twenties. Went to Vancouver Film School, but just didn’t have what it took. So I stuck to being a production assistant and it’s eventually where I met your father, on set.”

She watches me carefully, like she’s inspecting every line on my face. It’s almost unnerving. “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” I fire back. Can’t help myself.

“I’m twenty-five.”

“I am not twenty-five.”

She stares at me expectantly.

“Forty-one,” I tell her, and I immediately hate how old I sound. Honestly, I know forty-one isn’t old at all and I have to say I’ve never felt old, except when I’m playing ice hockey these days on the pick-up team.

“That’s a good age,” she says. “Gregory Peck was forty-one when he made On the Beach.”

I cock my brow. This one is full of surprises. “Kid, I’m not sure if I should be flattered that you’ve compared me to Mr. Peck, or concerned considering that’s one of the most depressing and scary films you’ll ever see.”

“How about you don’t call me kid. It’s just Jackie.”

“All right, Just Jackie.”

If she was annoyed at all about the kid comment, it’s melted away into something softer. “I’ll keep calling you Mr. McAlister.”

I shrug, pretending not to care. “Fine with me kid, it gives me an air of authority that’s sorely needed around here.”

She sighs and starts walking off with Sprocket. I pull on Joanie’s leash and hurry up alongside her, waiting at the light to cross the street.

It’s then that I notice the top button on her blouse has popped open, showcasing some gorgeous cleavage. Fuck. Her skin looks like cream.

She looks up at me and I avert my eyes just in the nick of time.

“I guess I shouldn’t complain,” she says.

“About what?” Don’t look down her shirt, Will. Don’t be that boss.

“I’ll take whatever name I can get. I’ve been just mom for so long. Not that I’m complaining at all, but it just feels like I’m two people. There’s mom. Or Ty’s mother. And then there’s Jackie. Or Just Jackie, or kid, or whatever else people want to call me. It’s just weird to be split like that sometimes.” She pauses giving me a quick smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be unloading this on you.”

Are you kidding me? I think. I want nothing more than for her to keep talking about herself. Unload all of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as we start crossing the busy street, navigating around the pedestrians. “The more I know about you, the better we’ll work together. We’re a team, you got that? You’re a fish out of water, so am I. That’s probably why your father put us together. We’ll both figure it out at the same time.”

She starts laughing, so fucking adorable.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. It’s just I was reminded of the first day of school, you know, or camp, where you get assigned a buddy.”

“That can work,” I tell her, coming to a stop by a bush that I know Joanie and Sprocket love to spend hours sniffing. It’s the dog equivalent of the water cooler.

I hold out my hand. “Buddies?”

She chews on her pink lower lip for a second, almost shyly, before sticking her hand out. “Buddies.”

I grasp her hand, giving it a good shake, knowing I should let go sooner rather than later. But, no, of course I’m holding on a bit longer than I should.

“Just don’t forget I can fire you,” I quickly add, letting go of her hand.

“I’ll try not to,” she says, flashing those dimples my way again.

I wait until she’s turned and walking away with Sprocket before I breathe in deep through my nose and try to compose myself.

Having an assistant might be a lot harder than I thought.