Disclaimer- this does not, regrettably, belong to me. All characters belong to their rightful owners.

Prologue~

Margaret Tate was not in a good mood. She was a highly achieved woman, and had always considered herself independent. She didn't need anyone. Except that today she was proved wrong.

Falling out of a boat hadn't been one of her most gracious moments, but it was because of that jackass that she had fallen out in the first place. It was actually because of the same absolute moron that she was in this mess in the first place. When she had hired him she had known that he was smart. He was good enough for the job; the only thing she had to do was keep him down. He was too good to be an assistant really, but she didn't want to lose him. He was always at her beck and call and although she knew he hated her he seemed to keep that at bay and try his best to keep her happy. Of course his best wasn't good enough for her but it was damn closer than all the others she'd had. She bossed him around, blackmailed him into everything from midnight tampon runs to this whole mess in Alaska.

Margaret was going to be deported and she, panicking, had gone with the first solution that ran through her mind. Marrying Andrew would give her enough of a connection the New York for her not to return to Canada and she forced him to lie to everyone. Which was what led her to be in Alaska. They had announced that they were engaged and off they went to meet his family. It had been her plan to stay completely detached and to stay focused on work- actually becoming emotionally involved with that spineless moron and his family hadn't even crossed her mind. Yet, a day or two into the weekend she had found herself telling him everything about herself. About the tattoo, her family, the fact she hadn't slept with a man in a year (and yes, that's all he got out of everything she said) and actually caring about what he thought, Then there was the next morning, when he was poking into her from behind after his parents knocked on the door so he had to jump up from the floor and climb in bedside her. His only explanation for that was "its morning" and she had to repress a shiver as she realised exactly what it was.

So maybe now she loved him. Just the tiniest, tiniest bit of her cared, which was why she had given up the game and told his family about the whole scam. Here she was, after being practically seduced by him, packing up her office for Canada.

Yes, the emotionless bitch of New York had let her feelings get in the way of what she wanted. She was being deported because she cared about how she was making Andrew feel and how it would hurt his family, so she left.

As she was explaining to- she had forgotten his name… some guy what to do with her boxes he pointed behind her.

"Yes. What, What?" she had no patience for anyone today, let alone this man, but she turned around anyway and saw…

Andrew?

"Andrew…" she glanced around self-consciously before her eyes flickered back to him. Everyone that was staring ducked back, away from her gaze. "Why are...why are you panting?" safe option. Emotionless bitches preferred to talk about other people's breathing patterns rather than emotions right? Right. She thought so.

"Because I've been running." He ambled forwards, around all the computers and desks. Towards her.

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "From Alaska?" She was still incredibly aware of all the gawking eyes on them.

"I need to talk to you."

"Yeah? Well, I don't have time to talk. I need to catch a 5.45 to Toronto." She turned back and handed the box to the guy. She really needed to make sure those got there- maybe she should write it all down for him-

"Margaret." She blocked out Andrew. Who could make an emotionless bitch talk to some moron anyway?

The moron she loved. Damn, that was hard to get used to.

"I need the boxes to go out today." She swallowed and carried on. "I want to make sure everything is-"

"Margaret! Stop talking!" Wow. Spineless Andrew actually had a spine. She flinched. Never the less Andrews little outburst made her turn around to face him. "Gotta say something."

"OK." She folded her arms across her chest and faced him, letting him have her full attention.

"This will just take a sec."

"Fine. What?" She was impatient. It wasn't that long until her flight and he was taking so long to say whatever it was he wanted to. She avoided anyone's eyes- especially his- and stared away from anything in particular.

"Three days ago, I loathed you." Wow that was an opening. She really didn't have time for this if he was just going to stress how much he hated her. "I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab. Or poisoned."

"Oh, that's nice." She said sarcastically.

"I told you to stop talking." He took another step. "Then we had our little adventure up in Alaska and things started to change. Things changed when we kissed." Her eyes flickered to up to his. Maybe he felt it too, maybe, just maybe he- no. no. no one could love her. "And when you told me about your tattoo. Even when you checked me out when we were naked." Following the last statement, the office was filled with low murmurs and Margaret cursed him. Did he have to say that? Her career was already in tatters. She averted her eyes again and a sharp look at the onlookers shut them up.

"Well, I didn't see anything..." She said, observing the onlookers. At least they were still scared of her.

"Yeah, you did." He said quickly before carrying on. "But I didn't realise any of this until I was standing alone. In a barn... wife-less. Now, you can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the woman I love"- did he just say love? Suddenly her eyes were fixed on his. Love? "-is about to be kicked out of the country.

"So, Margaret. Marry me. Because I'd like to date you." The way he said it was so sweet, the honest open look on his face made her want to melt- but not as much as all the others in this room, considering all the gasps and ahhs- but she found herself shaking her head.

"Trust me." Margaret whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear, scanning the group of onlookers. "You don't really want to be with me." Her eyes landed on his again.

"Yes, I do."

"See, the thing is, there is a reason why I've been alone all this time." She gave a little shrug. "I'm comfortable that way. And I think it would just be a lot easier if we forgot everything that happened and I just left." She couldn't believe she was saying this.

"You're right." He took a couple of steps forwards, face serious. "That would be easier." Nodding, he agreed. But she could see in his eyes he wouldn't just let her leave. Had to make it harder on her, but suddenly she was scared.

She couldn't do this; she couldn't just forget everything she was for Andrew of all people. She was being deported and that was that. Nothing he said could change that and did she really want to marry to him? He had hated her all these months so she had no reason to believe that this would change. Who would want her? She was the bitch of the office, and she knew there were more than one polls going round suggesting she was a merciless witch.

He moved closer again and cupped her chin with her hands and brought her lips to his in the gentlest of kisses, a barely there brushing of his lips that sent shivers down her spin and made her heart skip a beat. It was different to the kiss at her pretend engagement party, the quick first peck and then the longer kiss that was egged on by Andrews family. That had been soft and full of surprise at the feelings she at least got in that moment. This kiss encouraged her to throw her arms around his neck and pull him closer, completely forgetting in that moment that they had a full crowded audience watching them.

Andrews tongue gently parted her lips, asking permission to her mouth and it was at that moment, as his tongue brushed hers, that she was shocked into reality. Pulling away and backing off Margaret apologised before turning and leaving, just having the sense to remind the man with her boxes to send them as soon as possible.

Andrew ran his finger along his lips where hers had been moments later and sighed. Margaret Tate was the hardest women to figure out.

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