Owen laughed every time he looked at her. The swelling had reached its height by
Sunday morning, and by the afternoon the red and purple weren't colors she was
going to cover with foundation. Wearing dark sunglasses when it was raining
stood out just as much as a bruised face.
"It's not funny."
"One look at you and Stranded Car Guy is gonna run the other direction."
"Men aren't that shallow."
"Yes, they are. Lida had a massive zit right on the tip of her nose, and Lionel
didn't ask her to the winter formal."
"Zits don't last forever."
"It was huge. Not as big as that thing you're growing on your head, but close."
He started laughing again.
"It will be better by Wednesday."
"You keep telling yourself that."
Rachel laughed. "Your mom used to say that all the time." They both stopped
talking, locked in a memory.
"I miss her," Owen said quietly.
"I do, too."
Sure enough, Monday morning was met with a massive headache and her right eye
swollen and bluish purple. Her rainy commute added to her stress, especially
when she barely made it to her office chair before she was officially late. She
and Julie had planned to arrive a half an hour early to go over their PowerPoint
one more time before they presented it to the owners of the company.
"What happened to you?" Julie exclaimed.
"I had a fight with my kitchen door. The door won."
"You're not kidding. Should you even be here?"
"Today is a big day." Otherwise she would have called in. Her headache alone was
hitting migraine level. "I might try and cut out early."
"I'm sure no one would complain."
From the looks she'd received walking in, Rachel knew no one would.
Julie pushed away from her desk. "Let's get everything set up in the conference
room."
Their meeting was set for eight thirty
sharp. Gerald arrived a few minutes early, took one look at Rachel, and scowled.
"What the…?"
"Don't ask," Rachel said.
Julie laughed. "Her kitchen door beat her up."
"What?"
"It's a long story." It wasn't, but she didn't want to go into it.
"We can postpone this," Gerald offered.
"As bad as this looks"—she pointed to her face—"postponing is worse. Besides,
maybe the owners will see that I'm willing to take one for the team."
"Whatever you say."
Gerald took his seat when three members of the advertising team walked in. Julie
ran interference by telling everyone about her door punch.
Rachel ignored the giggling and willed her stomach to settle. She'd really
wanted to go into this meeting poised and confident. As much as she knew her
presentation was exactly what the company needed, delivering the message and
selling it to the CEO and CFO didn't need the distraction of a bruised face
getting in the way.
There were only two chairs left that needed filling, and it was eight
thirty-five.
When she heard voices behind the closed conference door, she turned around to
gather her strength. Public speaking was easy for her, she knew her material …
but damn, her head hurt, messing with her psyche.
A chorus of good mornings spread around the room.
Rachel sucked in a breath, blew it out slowly.
"You remember Julie Kim," Gerald said.
Rachel painted on a smile and turned.
"And this is our newest member of the team. Rach—"
"Rachel?"
Maybe the hit to her head was harder than she thought. "Jason?"
"What happened to your face?"
"What are you doing here?"
Jason stood beside another man, close in stature, their power suits perfectly
pressed, not a hair out of place. He was just as easy to look at as she'd
remembered.
"You two have already met?" Two giant steps and Jason was at her side, his hand
reaching up to brush her hair back. The gesture and concern on his face would
have wooed her if he wasn't standing in the middle of her office doing it.
"She had a fight with a door," Julie said from the side.
"Have you had this looked at?" Jason asked.
Rachel shook him off. "No. What … what are you doing here?"
The room was perfectly silent, and the seed of doubt spread in her gut. She
glanced around. The man Jason had walked in with had his hands tucked in his
pockets as he rocked back on his heels, a mischievous grin on his face. The
advertising team was exchanging glances. Julie looked at her and shook her head;
the hidden message she was attempting to send was lost on Rachel.
She felt sick.
Gerald was the only one who found his voice. "Rachel, this is Jason Fairchild."
"Fairchild." She blinked several times, trying to register everything coming in
at one time. Stranded Car Guy. Her Wednesday night tree trimming date …
was her boss.
No one drives in New York City. Everyone knows that, including California
transplant Rachel Price. But that doesn't stop her from driving into the city.
From Connecticut. Every single morning. Rain or shine…or snow.
When she runs the charismatic and good-looking Jason Fairchild off the road,
their immediate spark is met with bad timing. There is also one tiny little
detail: Jason is her boss. And a woman as intelligent and dedicated to her
career as Rachel knows not to date her boss.
As CEO of a private jet company, Jason Fairchild is more used to flying than
driving. But if he hadn't chosen to drive home one night, he wouldn't have met
the slowest—and most irresistible—driver in the entire metro area. Jason has
never had time for love. Or dating. Or really anything that doesn't involve
work. But when he finds out that Rachel is the newest superstar in his marketing
department, he can't help wondering if fate has other plans…
Romance Contemporary
[Montlake Romance, On Sale: March 6, 2018, Trade
Size / e-Book, ISBN: 9781503951730 / ]
When Catherine Bybee fell in love with the first romance novel she ever read,
she promised herself she would one day become a published author. Now she's
written twenty-seven books that have collectively sold more than four million
copies and have been translated into more than eighteen languages. Along with
her popular Not Quite series, she has also penned the Weekday Brides series, the
Most Likely To series, and the First Wives series.
Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in hopes of
becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to
school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban
emergency rooms. Catherine now writes full-time.
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