Friday came simultaneously slowly and quickly; anticipation makes time unsteady, the pacing hard to grasp. That morning, I voluntarily woke up early—a rarity in any new parent’s life—to prepare myself for set. Hollywood folks always looked perfect, right? I reasoned that I had to act the part, if only for Levi’s benefit.

I used the extra time to do something nice to my hair and apply careful makeup, making sure I didn’t forget mascara on one eye this time, and even dabbing on some red lip tint.

“Okay,” I said to my reflection, surveying myself with approval. “That’ll do.” Then, with a small smirk, I whispered to the girl in the mirror, “Mama’s still got it.”

But what to wear? I dressed more business-like than most people in the office; I preferred pencil skirts and button-downs to T-shirts and jeans. Should I try for that casual Cool-Girl vibe, and throw on a loose top and tight jeans, maybe a pair of booties? No, all of my “casual” clothes were in the hamper or left over from my maternity wear collection.

And, okay, part of the motive for the revamped routine was, maybe, Ashton. Ashton, based on his own office wear, preferred business attire, so if I was going by those predilections—which I definitely wasn’t, mostly—then I should be wearing my usual professional attire. Perhaps I’d pop open an extra button, just for fun.

I threw on a shimmery blouse made of a thin, turquoise fabric suited only to San Bravado’s beautiful weather and stepped into a gray pencil skirt that I used to wear to college business mixers, because what better place to find a man? Though, obviously, you’ve heard about Kyle—clearly that plan backfired.

It had been a while since I’d donned the Magic Butt-Lifting Skirt, and I was shocked and delighted to find that it still fit. Now…what shoes?

I gazed into my tiny closet, then crouched and reached a hand into the very back. I landed on a pair of patent leather black heels. They had a four-inch heel, but it was a chunky one, so I figured I’d be able to handle it.

Wait, what if I the shoes hurt like hell and I had to ask for a seat, or audibly complain? Not hot. Plus, I’d have to carry Levi in them, at least briefly. Sighing lightly, I resigned myself to a pair of practical nude flats which elongated my legs; the heels would have to be for another time.

Then, it was time to make Levi look his best. I brushed his light blond hair back on his head, dressed him in his nicest onesie…and that was pretty much the entirety of his “getting ready” routine. Lucky kid.

I fed and diapered him, made myself a smoothie, then gathered our stuff. The morning was turning out to be much more relaxing than the last time I’d taken him into work. Oh, what a difference an extra hour can make!

Soon enough, we’d loaded into the car, arrived at work, and traveled the thirty floors up to my office. Sure enough, heads turned when they saw Levi again; one particularly unsubtle intern even turned to look at David to clock his reaction. David didn’t give the intern the delight of a meltdown, though. Instead, he merely looked at me, quirked his upper lip in disgust, then strode off to his office.

With Levi in tow, I set my stuff down at my desk, then pulled out my phone and checked my reflection. Yup, still looked decent—good, even.

We made our way through a veritable warren of offices and hallways, twisting and turning and climbing and descending in our search for the studio. I knew where it was, but damn, was it a trek to get there. Moreover, the journey made me wonder…how ever did Ashton come from shooting on set and randomly stumble into the HR department, which was practically miles away?

At last, nearly out of breath—in my case at least—Levi and I arrived.

A red light that indicated whether or not the cameras were rolling hung over the entrance door, and seeing that it was off, I pushed my way in.

I found a hub of activity—stagehands running around frantically, the director framing a shot, cameramen grumbling about lighting. Logically, I’d understood that Swann had a real set, but having never seen it in action, I’d assumed it would be a much smaller affair. But no, this was a tiny, teeming village of people, all working to record the perfect commercial. The perfect commercial…featuring my son.

My breath caught in my throat as I suddenly understood just how many people were reliant on Levi being on his best behavior. Could he handle this, truly? I bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead, which reassured me more than him.

That’s when I saw Ashton striding towards us. A light powered on overhead just as I caught sight of him, such that he looked like Zeus activating a lightning bolt.

Rein it in, Harley, I thought fiercely. Stay cool. I shook my head at that last thought—I was never cool.

“Hey Ashton,” I said by way of greeting as he closed the gap between us. “How’s it going?”

“Better, now that you’re here.” I blushed, and as if remembering formality, he added, “You, and Levi, that is.”

“Right, of course.”

His brown hair, coiffed in the way that only confident men can style it, bobbed up and down as he nodded. I took the break in conversation to note that his eyebrows were thick but tamed, and arched smoothly at my every word. How annoyingly hot.

“So,” he said, interrupting my consideration of his various features. “Are you ready to begin?”

My breath hitched, but I managed to reply, “Yes.”

He grinned. “Excellent. In that case, ah, may I?” Ashton gestured to Levi.

Confused, I asked, “What?”

“The shots we’re doing today. I’m holding a baby—or, rather, your baby—for them.”

“Oh…I hadn’t understood that.”

“Is it a problem?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. After all, how do you say to your boss, “You seem decent, and you’re obviously gorgeous, but I’m not sure I really want you holding my baby for that long.” Then, I reconsidered. For one, I’d already agreed to this, and shame on me for not asking what it entailed. But, also, I’d already seen him successfully hold Levi without either of them having any glaring issues. That would have to be a strong enough reassurance.

At last, I replied, “No, it’s not a problem.”

With that, I unwrapped Levi from the carrier and gently, tentatively passed him over to Ashton. My boss took Levi with all the tenderness in the world, and my heart skipped a beat seeing how strong Ashton’s arms looked, wrapped around my child. They were the arms of a protector, a defender. They were arms that I wanted wrapped around me.

What can I say? Men who are good with kids are a turn-on. The daddy instinct is like catnip.

“Follow me,” Ashton instructed—and, as he had my baby in his arms, I couldn’t really say no.

Not that I would have, mind you; a worryingly strong part of me suspected I would follow Ashton wherever he asked me to follow him. Were my hormones getting a chokehold on me? Had it just been so long since I’d had sex that all men hiked up my blood pressure? Or, was it just Ashton, with his perfect hair and strong arms and dazzling smile?

“How old?” he asked as we at last arrived at the filming area itself, which was a clean white backdrop, a grid of overhead lights, and a single mounted camera.

“You’re not supposed to ask a woman her age,” I blushed. “But I’m twenty-five.”

“Actually…I meant your son,” he responded, and I could hear the amusement in his tone. “But twenty-five? My, that’s young.”

“What, did you think I was older?” I retorted, then immediately regretted it.

“No, not at all. You just seem more grounded than other women your age.”

“Oh. Thank you, I think.”

“It’s a compliment, Harley; take it.” His eyes lit up playfully, and their warm, brown depths seemed to see through me as if I were thinner than a sheet in the summer air.

“How old are you?” I was hoping to deflect attention from just how obviously off-balance his presence made me.

“Twenty-nine. But you already knew that.”

He was right; I did. All the papers covered the Business Boy Wonder with a borderline cult-like zeal. I couldn’t blame the press, though—it was fairly amusing that a 24-year-old without a child or partner had decided to found a baby-tech company. While other men his age had been starting video gaming franchises, or trying to make themselves social media stars, Ashton had been getting venture capital funding to launch Swann Innovations. And, here he was, only five years later, a billionaire.

“So, what now?” I inquired.

“Now, we shoot.”

With that, Ashton carried Levi over to the woman apparently running the show, exchanged a few words with her, then stepped in front of the white backdrop and faced the camera. I stared at my son, willing him fiercely via mother-son telepathy to be a good boy.

The director called, “Lights. Rolling. And…action!”

What transpired over the next hour was a picture-perfect shoot. Levi gurgled happily in Ashton’s arms, and Ashton in turn seemed delighted by Levi’s approval. The man and baby worked in easy harmony, and I could tell from the atmosphere around me that this was a vast change from the other day’s attempt. The crew even seemed to be sending grateful looks in my direction.

But I didn’t respond to their meaningful gazes; I was too busy enjoying Levi’s giddiness. Usually, by the time I got home from work and thanked my parents for watching him, it was almost Levi’s bedtime. Our hours together were limited and precious, so I was thrilled to watch him bubble with joy on set. The money from filming was nice, sure, but watching his face light up was priceless.

The shoot consisted of Ashton talking to the camera about Swann Innovation’s new stroller, explaining its features, why it excelled compared to its competitors, and finally, turning to my son and asking him what he thought of it. At this point, Levi would reliably offer a peal of laughter or some equally charming noise. It was all the other observers on set could do to not emit a chorus of “aww” at the close of every shot.

My baby was a star!

Ashton asked Levi one more time, “What do you think of it?”

Levi giggled, and his little hands grabbed for Ashton’s nose. Ashton allowed him to take the nose in his small fist, and grinned at my son.

My heart was on the verge of melting when the director called, “Cut! That’s a wrap, everyone!”

Merciful timing. Ashton’s fatherly demeanor was almost getting to be too much to handle.

The crew dispersed to pack up their various portions of the set as Ashton made his way through the crowd and over to me, carrying Levi and grinning.

“This kid is a natural!” he crowed.

“You guys got on well,” I replied with a smile.

“Well? Come on, those shots were phenomenal. I’ve never worked so wonderfully with a baby.”

His last observation raised a red flag within my chest, reminding me that Ashton’s reputation was less than glowing. Sure, he’d succeeded with Levi today, but all those stories had to have come from somewhere. Was I only seeing the charismatic, business-savvy side of Ashton that knew how to win an audience?

“Let me take you out to dinner,” he added, pulling me out of my thoughts. “To say thank you.”

My last considerations—of Ashton’s widely-known reputation as a total jackass with a temper problem—raced through my mind. I hesitated a beat too long, and the conversation became steeped in awkwardness.

“Um…” I began, then trailed off. By the look on his face, he’d already deduced the cause of my pause.

“What have you heard about me?” he asked. “No, wait, let me guess. Bad boy with a big mouth, impossible to work with, a terror to his board of directors, an absolute maelstrom of anger and impatience. Is that about the long and short of it?”

I swallowed. “Uh, you’re my boss, so I can’t really say—”

“Say it.”

I relented. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve heard.”

“From who?”

“From everyone.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I probably should have figured that.”

Ashton jammed his hands in his pockets, and I could tell that he was trying to hide his disappointment. Who knew that the formidable Ashton Swann could be remorseful over his reputation? Or was I just reading on his face what I wanted to find there? Jeez, it was frustrating, trying to get a grip on who he really was.

“Listen,” he continued. “You’re absolutely under no pressure to go to dinner with me. Obviously there won’t be any repercussions if you decline. I’d just like you to consider that maybe I’m more than the stories people tell about me.”

His dark, deep-set eyes burned above his cheeks, and I wondered if perhaps people had mistaken his intimidating features for a mask of rage. I knew that I couldn’t reach a fair conclusion on Ashton without spending some time with him. And, after all, if Levi liked him, that wasn’t a bad sign.

“Okay,” I said, the words surprising even me. “Dinner sounds good.”

Ashton’s eyebrows shot up with incredulity. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” I blushed, and added, “I’d like to meet the man behind the reputation.”

A smile broke across Ashton’s face, like a sun dawning. “I think you’ll like him,” he said.