Page 26 of My Sexy Boss
Chapter Eleven
Cierra
Icouldn’t getTrace out of my head. It was that simple. The man was an enigma. The depiction of him in the tabloids and from Kels just didn’t add up to the man I was beginning to know. And the TraceIknew so far was a compassionate, smart, and hard-working man. Did that mean he’d be a good boyfriend? I wanted to think so. I mean, someone who cared about the plight of the poor couldn’t be a callous dick, could he?
I shook my head. There were definitely layers to him that he kept hidden from the rest of the world, and I liked that. He didn’t make it known that he built Mission Street Kitchen, or that he helped out in the kitchen. He didn’t want or need the accolades; he did it because he cared.
I chewed the eraser on the pencil in my hand. I had to stop thinking about him and get back to work.
Lindsey had returned the day before, and I was sketching out a design for another product that had just landed on my desk. Trace seemed to be busy enticing new clients, because our workload in my department went up tenfold.
“Are you busy?” Sofie asked as she came in and plopped in one of the leather office chairs.
I set the pencil down. “Not really. What’s up?”
“Colin hasn’t called me for two days. Should I call him?”
I sniggered. “You’re asking me for dating advice? I’m about as clueless as they come.”
“Aren’t you still going out with Cory tonight?”
“As far as I know. He said he’ll meet me at seven thirty.”
“See, he called. Why hasn’t Colin? I mean, send me a damn text or something.”
“Why don’t you send him a quick text to see how he is? A friend would do that. It’s not demanding or creepy. Just try.”
Without commenting, Sofie whipped out her phone and texted him. She leaned against the back of the chair and smiled tightly at me. “There. Done.”
“Now you can obsess if he doesn’t respond,” I said.
“No. Please don’t say that. Please don’t.”
Watching the color drain out of her lips, I said, “I was only joking.”
“He’s just so perfect, you know?”
“I know.” I didn’t remind her that she’d told me the same thing about the two English guys she’d dated in the past six months. It probably wasn’t the appropriate time. I hoped Colin would call and put a smile back on her face.
When Sofie’s phone pinged, I cheered along with her. I really wanted this to work out for her. She was such a caring and wonderful person, and she deserved a nice man.
“He said he’s been sick with the flu and sleeping for the past two days.” The color was back in her lips.
“So that’s the reason you didn’t hear from him,” I replied as I watched her fingers fly. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’d bring over a pot of chicken soup. I think I’m going to leave at lunch so I can buy the stuff and make it.” She rose from the chair and walked out.
I picked up my pencil and started sketching again. I was excited to work on a new line of makeup we’d just picked up from a new client, Absolute Glam. I received a large bag full of eyeliners, lip glosses, powders, eye shadows, and mascaras. I was in makeup heaven. This was going to be such a fun campaign.
When the clock hit five, I was surprised how fast the day had flown by. I packed up my sketching pads, thinking I may look at them again after dinner with Cory, and headed to the elevators. A mass of people were waiting, so I went back to my office to answer a few e-mails I’d neglected. I’d wait until everyone cleared out before attempting the elevators again. I hated waiting in lines. It wasn’t that I was an impatient person; it was just that I thought it was an enormous waste of time to stand around. It was one of my quirks. To hear my parents tell it, I’d always been that way.
Hunched over my keyboard, I tapped away, responding to numerous e-mails. I lost track of the time and probably would’ve been there until it turned dark if Trace hadn’t come into my office. I looked over my computer glasses at him as he walked in and sat down.
“Staying late again?” he asked.
“Killing time. I hate waiting in line for the elevators, and then being squished inside like a sardine in a can. Plus, I needed to respond to all the e-mails.” I looked back at my screen, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want to chat.
“I hate being in a crowded elevator too. It makes me feel vulnerable.”
