07

I’d been repeatedly asking myself what the hell I was doing in the last ten minutes since I got into Luke Hedenby’s town car.

I still wasn’t sure.

I had stopped by my desk to grab my purse the same time Jillian messaged me, prompting me about our usual lunch routine.

Jillian Dane : What do you mean you’re going out for lunch with Mr. H ?

Maxine Moss : Informal engagement interview. I just happen to be available for lunch when he needed to do it.

Jillian Dane : Hmm.. Wasn’t born yesterday. Anything I should know ?

Maxine Moss : If there is, I don’t know it myself. I’m sure it’s nothing.

Jillian Dane : You’re obviously not getting fired if he’s taking you out for lunch. Is he into you ? He’s kind of a player, you know ?

Maxine Moss : His rep shouldn’t be relevant to me. And we shouldn’t discuss him like this. What if IT tracks this chat ?

Jillian Dane : I am IT. Duh. OK, go. We’ll talk later. Order the priciest dish. =P

Jillian’s probing made me change my mind right then and there and I started telling myself I was only going out to meet him at his car to tell him that this wasn’t a good idea. The moment he smiled at me though when I slipped into the backseat next to him, I faltered.

Yes.

Maxine-Made-Of-Stone-Moss faltered in the very attractive face of a decidedly heart-stopping grin from an unrepentant ladies’ man.

This should’ve really warned me.

The fact that I was stepping over my usual boundaries—the same ones that saved me every time in my entire twenty-three years of my life—should’ve clued me in.

“So we can go to Pepe’s for lunch,” he said as his driver, whom he introduced as Terrence, took a sharp right turn that had me bumping against Luke. He instinctively put a hand on the small of my back to steady me, his hand’s imprint burning a patch straight down to my skin. Luke didn’t seem to notice as he lifted his hands away as soon as I was upright.

“They make the best fresh pizza in town and then we can grab some eclairs for Peggy,” he added.

I could only nod. “That sounds good.”

“Terrence loves their sausage and mushroom calzone, don’t you, Terr ?” he asked his driver who nodded vigorously before glancing over his shoulder at us.

“The. Best. Ever. Hands down,” the young man said before turning back to the road.

I smiled and glanced at Luke who was grinning as well. “I’ll make sure to order that now.”

“I always order two so you can split the second with me if you like, Ms. Moss,” the driver continued. “You might want to try the puttanesca, too. That’s Luke’s favorite.”

“Don’t worry, I already ordered a bunch of different things for us,” Luke said as we pulled up in front of a sophisticated restaurant with red and gold-striped awnings, a front patio already packed with lunches and the name Pepe’s embossed in black and gold script above the door.

He stepped out of the car and walked over to my side to open the door for me even though I was already about to let myself out on my own.

“Here’s so you don’t feel so self-conscious about your outfit,” Luke said as he slipped off his suit’s dark gray jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

I opened my mouth to say I couldn’t possibly let him but my fingers automatically curled on the lapels as I pulled the jacket tighter around me. It was warm and smelled of his light, clean scent.

“Now, come on, you two,” he said, his hand resting on what seemed to be its favorite spot on the small of my back. Terrence locked the car and followed right behind us.

I was surprised when one of the servers seated us into a booth somewhere in the back and Terrence settled in easily to my left, carrying a small pile of spring-bound handbooks.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks and the bruschetta,” the server wearing a tag that said Janine told us with a broad smile before walking away.

“So, Terr, what’s this week’s report on ?” Luke said as Terrence took out a notepad and a pen from his jacket.

“1984 by George Orwell,” Terrence replied. “We’re experimenting with the dystopian future theme. It’s all about imagination because there’s no real experience to base it on. I need to write a short story of a purely imagined dystopian society and the goal is to still be able to bridge that future with the current reality. How do we make it such a different world but also relatable and possible from the perspective of someone who lives in a time thirty-fifty years before this future ?”

Eyes wide and immensely curious, I watched the exchange between Luke and his driver.

The two were discussing a contemporary lit classic like they were college buddies.

When Luke caught my eye, he smiled. “What do you think of Big Brother, Max ?”

I wrinkled my nose as he and Terrence both looked at me. “I think he’s a nosy son of a bitch but that’s just my opinion.”

The two men laughed and Terrence scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Terrrence is taking creating writing classes in the evening and on weekends,” Luke explained just as Janine came back with our drinks and appetizers. “He wants to become a novelist. I’ve read some of his stuff. It’s pretty good. His writing career looks bright.”

I grinned and looked up at Terrence who was smiling proudly while also trying to keep his expression modest. “Really, Terrence ? Wow, that’s awesome. Have you finished a book ? Can I read it ?”

He blushed. “I have a manuscript or two. I’ll give you a copy to read if you don’t mind wasting your time on it. It’s still a bit amateurish.”

“He’s his biggest critic,” Luke said as he popped a piece of bread into his mouth. “It’s good. He started a series about an assassin priest. He’s on book four now and I’ve read all of them but he doesn’t want me to help him publish it. He said he’ll only do it when a lit agency offers him solely for it solely on its merit.”

The half hour we spent on lunch was filled with a huge array of Pepe’s famed dishes where Luke and Terrence both campaigned for their own personal favorites with me. We talked about Terrence’s novels and our own all-time favorite books. The entire time we were sitting there talking like old friends, I secretly marvelled at the boss and driver treating each other like brothers, making jabs at each other but also getting along quite well. It was as unexpected as finding out Peggy was Luke’s secretary.

I reminded him of his promise to tell me about her and Terrence just looked at him and chortled which Luke responded to with a roll of his eyes.

“Peggy’s mom was our housekeeper,” he explained. “They lived with us and to save up some money for college, Peggy worked as my nanny when she was only fifteen. Apparently, she was the only one who could keep me from throwing a tantrum. Ask her and she’ll tell you all about it. Anyway, she stayed as my nanny until I was about seven. My Dad got her a job in the company and she still saw me every weekend, especially after my Mom died when I was ten. I stole her from my Dad’s admin team when I started working for the company. He’s still pissed off about it but he either had to let her do it or she would’ve resigned. Neither of us can live without her so he let me keep her.”