He backed away from her with his hands raised in defeat. He pulled a “tire sale” flyer from his pocket and slipped it to me before disappearing.

“I’m sorry about your car—again.” I waited for her to look at me. “I didn’t know that they—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just remember not to park my car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone from now on. Are you going to prevent me from calling a cab this time too?”

“Why don’t you drive my car home? I’ll have yours taken to a body shop and have it back at corporate for you tomorrow.”

“What?” She looked confused. “You’re offering to let me drive your—” She looked over at my car and shrugged. “What type of car is that?”

I smiled. “It’s a Bugatti.”

“Right. And you’re taking my car to a body shop? What’s the catch? You think doing that will make me go out with you?”

“No catch. I think you’ve suffered enough disappointment for one day. That’s all.”

She studied me for a minute, looking into my eyes as if she were contemplating my offer. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything because of this...I’ll just call one of my friends to come get me. I’m sure—”

“There’s no catch, Claire. I’m just trying to be nice to you. Can you let me be nice to you?”

She still looked unsure, but she nodded.

“Good. Park it in lot eight tomorrow morning and leave the keys inside. I’ll park yours in lot nine and leave your keys with security.”

She grabbed a few things from her car and handed me the keys. “You sure you’re okay with letting me drive your car? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to drive me home?”

“As much as I would like to take you home, Claire...” I smiled. “I’m sure you probably think that would be inappropriate.”

She blushed. “You’re exactly right.” She slipped inside the driver’s seat, locking her eyes on mine for a few seconds before finally driving off.

I pulled out my phone. “Greg? Yes. I’m at 3465 Jefferson Street. I need a tow truck and a town car...And could you get Mr. Lane from Parking Security to call me within five minutes? I need to make an immediate change to the employee parking policy.”

I watched my Bugatti ease onto the interstate ramp from afar and sighed.

I’ve never let anyone drive that car...

Chapter 5

Claire

I woke up on my fortieth birthday feeling no different than the day before. There was no “aha-moment,” no feeling of dread, no sense of uneasiness. Nothing.

I rushed to the mirror to make sure Mother Nature hadn’t decided to throw wrinkles and creases on my face all at once—to make sure she wasn’t trying to play some cruel joke on me.

She didn’t, and she wasn’t.

I prepared for work like I always did, trying my best not to think about how sexy Jonathan Statham was or about his sleek black Bugatti that was parked right outside.

I slipped into my favorite white dress and matching blazer; I’d always admired how the ruffles flattered my curves and made my waist look two sizes smaller.

I read the birthday cards my daughters left on the kitchen table and rejoiced at the fact that they’d bought a cake from the store instead of attempting to bake one.

I was sure I would never get the chance to drive a Bugatti again, so I took the long way to work. I coasted through the residential neighborhoods, cruised past a few parks, and circled around corporate five times before pulling into the executive lot.

“Miss Gracen?” My assistant Rita met me as soon as I walked inside the doors.

“Yes?”

“First off, Happy Birthday! Second off, the Klein brothers specifically requested you to lead the ad project for their new eco-tablets. Should I tell them you’ll be available to do that?”

“Yes. That’s fine.”

“Great.” She scribbled a few things on her pad and struggled to keep up with my walking pace. “Mr. Barnes is out sick today; his wife called from the hospital. That leaves you to work with the beta script team this afternoon.”

Perfect...

“Anything else?” I pushed the door to my office open.

She and I both gasped. My office was filled with bouquets of calla lilies and roses, with white and pink balloons that completely covered my wall of windows.

Wow...

“I’m not sure when all this got here...” She scratched her head. “Anyway, I need your notes on this year’s proposed budget as soon as possible, and Mr. Statham booked a thirty minute meeting with you at eleven o’ clock.”

“What? What was that last thing you said?”

“Mr. Statham wants to meet with you at eleven o’ clock—in his office.”

About what?

“Is that all?”

“No,” she said. She pulled a small pink card off her clipboard. “Happy Birthday again, Miss Gracen. You’re way better than the last director I worked for. I really mean that.”

“Thank you, Rita.”

I moved a vase of lilies from my chair and flipped open the silver card that sat on top.

Claire,

I hope you’re enjoying your birthday. I’m looking forward to spending part of it with you tonight.

—Your completely immoral and highly inappropriate Boss,

PS: You’ve looked stunning every day this week...

I was flattered but I didn’t have time to wonder about why he’d sent so many flowers, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to meet with him; I had too much work to do.

From eight o’ clock to nine o’clock, I made sure everyone in the department was on task and supervised the interns’ brainstorming meeting. I even managed to spare a few extra minutes to get ahead on some of Mr. Barnes’ past due assignments.

From nine o’clock to ten o’ clock, I conferred with the art directors about “sPhone blue” visuals, sat in on a conference call with the national marketing committee, and started reading the proposed expense reports for our eco-tablet campaign.

At ten fifty five, my phone rang.

“Claire Gracen. Who am I speaking with?”

“Miss Gracen, this is Angela, Mr. Statham’s secretary. I’m looking at his schedule and I see that he requested a meeting with you today. Are you on your way up?”

I have two hundred pages to read...

“No, Angela.” I flipped over a sheet of paper. “I am not. Could you please inform Mr. Statham that while I do accept last minute appointments from clients, all internal personnel—even my own superiors, have to schedule their appointments at least twenty four hours in advance. That’s company policy as of sixty days ago. He’s the one who sent out the memo, so he should know that.”

The line went silent. I was sure not too many people rejected a meeting with the CEO.

“I um...” She coughed. “I will let him know that, Miss Gracen. Have a great day.”

“You too.” I hung up.

I continued looking over the expense reports, making small notes here or there. I was halfway done when I heard a knock at my door.

“I don’t want anything for lunch, Rita! Thank you though!”

The door opened and in walked Jonathan.

He smiled as he shut the door. “Good morning, Miss Gracen.”

“Hello, Mr. Statham...” My mouth went dry and my body tensed at the sight of him. He really was a pure example of what a perfect man should look like. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit with a white button-down shirt, and shiny silver cufflinks that gleamed against the light.

His eyes were regarding me intensely, and I knew that he was slightly running his tongue across his lips on purpose.

He sat down in the seat across from my desk and smiled even wider. “How are you today?”

“I’m quite fine, and yourself?”

“Pretty good. You know, I don’t normally get scolded by an employee, but it’s refreshing to know that there are other policies that need to be changed.”