Branson nods with an all-business grin on his face. “We appreciate your continued support of our efforts.”
Jim turns and smiles in my direction, and Branson finally speaks up, “Oh, Jim, I’d like to introduce you to my date, Katie.”
The man reaches out to shake my hand. “Katie, so nice to meet you.”
My blush extends down to my toes. This is James Bradley, president of the top-rated National Cable News Network. People kill to have him open an email from them, let alone shake his hand.
The two men talk, and within minutes, I’m introduced to correspondents and reporters, heads of marketing and executive producers. Branson walks me around the room, and as he talks, I stand idly by, soaking in every word he says. With him, everything is a learning experience. I don’t take it for granted. I smile and nod, attempting to be as witty as possible while keeping all corny jokes to myself.
And yet …
Something feels off. We have dinner and share a dance. It’s a glamorous event, and I’m more than grateful to be here, yet as the clock ticks down and I see it’s getting closer to midnight, I have this odd feeling in my gut. I step outside into the lobby and look out a giant window facing the Empire State Building.
“Katherine,” Branson says from behind me when he finds me here moments later. “Is everything okay?”
I turn to him with a smile and notice how his eyes roam over my décolletage a second longer than a gentleman should. “I just needed a minute.”
“If you want to leave early, I’d be happy to escort you home.” With a purposeful step forward, he removes his hands from his pockets and says, “Or you could come back to my place for a nightcap.”
My heart stops beating for a breath. The invitation is unlike any of the others. There is no misconstruing his intentions. Branson Ford is asking me to go back to his home as more than a boss and an assistant, as more than friends. He’s a man asking to be alone with a woman.
“I had no idea you felt that way about me,” I state nervously.
His hand runs over his mouth as he grins. “Honestly, I didn’t until recently.”
“Hunter,” I declare, knowing why Branson suddenly finds me more attractive.
“Does that make me a cad?”
I laugh. “It makes you honest. And if I’m being honest, I’ve thought of you the same way. For a very long time.”
His prince-like charm ignites that smile, and it takes my breath away. “That’s very good to hear. Soon, you won’t be my assistant, so we can explore a relationship.”
“A relationship? Not just a fling?”
“Perhaps we can start with a kiss.”
Branson places a hand on my waist and pulls me in. That invigorating scent of peppermint overwhelms me as my chest becomes flush with his. His head leans closer, his mouth just inches away. His lips are about to close on mine. The moment I craved for so long is about to be here, and yet I turn my cheek. His lips land on my skin.
The scowl of his mouth shows how confused he is by my decline of advancement.
“I’m sorry, Branson, but I’m in love with Hunter.”
His eyes narrow, and his lips purse. He steps back, and his hands are quickly in his pockets. “That’s a shame. The man won’t commit for long, you know.”
“I’d like to give it a chance.”
He takes a deep breath, and it makes his nostrils flare a bit. “You know, I brought you here to get you connections. Hunter can never help you in that way.”
“That’s not me. I want it because of the work I’ve done, and I have shown my worth to deserve to move up in the company. Not because of who I’m dating.”
“Being on my arm will open doors to you that no one else has access to.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And what if I’m not on your arm?”
“Katherine, love, what I’m saying is, I’m the man who can give you a future. Extravagant parties and powerful friends. I know you’re attracted to me. You said so yourself.”
“That was before I opened my eyes,” I state.
“Opened your eyes to what? What do you see?”
I look down and smile. “That you’re a prince and this”—I wave my arm around—“is part of the fairy tale. But you see, I don’t want the fairy tale anymore. I want real life. I want whiskey at a bar and walks in the park on a cold December afternoon. I want dinner at home, on the floor, and cheesy games where you roll dice for a pair of socks. A man who will volunteer at a men’s shelter to be near me and because, deep down, he cares about others just as much as I do. I want someone who will take care of me when I’m ill, someone I will give up anything to support when they are at their lowest.”
I bite my lip and think of Hunter. My spontaneous and playful Hunter. He’s idealistic and curious, and he knows how to pick you up when you’re having a bad day. On the surface, he appears like nothing can touch him—a rogue wanderer on the prowl for the next romance or adventure. Then, I sat with him and found that he’s the type of man willing to stay.
What he shows the world is his outward charm, but if you’re one of the lucky ones, he’ll let you into his deepest hurts. That’s the thing about a Sagittarius; when things start to get heavy, they take off in a flash. In time though, he’ll prove to be the sincerest, most compassionate partner. A man sensitive to your deepest needs and darkest desires.
He’s also observant. Hunter knew Branson only invited me because I was taken by another man. Where he was wrong is, I don’t want Branson anymore. I don’t even know if I ever really wanted him. It was the idea of him. Now that I know what it feels like to be held by a real man, I don’t want anything less.
“I want a man who is all those things and more,” I breathe.
“And you think you’ve found that?” he asks.
I step forward and take his hands in mine. “I know I have.” With a kiss to his cheek, I whisper in his ear, “Happy New Year, Branson.”
I grab my coat and head to the elevator.
In the lobby, I open the door to the outside, which is bustling with people. New Year’s Eve is the most chaotic night in New York City with many filtering over from Times Square.
A breeze picks up, and I wrap my arms around myself. I should have known better than to think I could catch a taxi, but I’m not in the right state of mind. I’m standing under the tree at Rockefeller Center, realizing I can go downstairs and catch the subway.
I turn around to go back through the revolving doors when I hear my name being called.
“Katie!”
Tingles crawl up my spine as my insides warm, and I turn to see Hunter rushing through the crowds of tourists, making his way to the base of the tree, where I’m standing. His hair is brushed back, like he’s been raking his hands through it all day, and his jaw is ripe with the scruff I adore. He’s charging toward me like a man on a mission.
A determined—and sexy—look is in his caramel eyes.
“Where are you going?” he asks with bated breath as I ask at the same time, “Why are you here?”
He grabs my hand in his. “I need to speak to you.”
My eyes tear up as I say, “Me too. You were right. This. Him—”