No Other Silly Girl Need Apply
By Gun Brooke
Part Four
Breakfast the next morning was an anticlimactic, quiet affair. If I had harbored any notion that Miranda would be more attentive or caring, which I didn't, I would have been sorely disappointed. Miranda had her first cup of coffee, which I made using her state-of-the-art espresso machine, which looked like a Star Trek replicator. I was happy I didn't accidentally blow the whole shebang up as there were enough settings to launch a deep space probe.
Miranda was nose deep into the Book and this gave me the chance to observe her surreptitiously as I sipped my own latte. As she had told me the other night to help myself to anything in the kitchen, I made some toast, which she declined only to then steal my second one without even asking. Well, I suppose it was her bread and her marmalade. I calmly made myself a second toast and munched on it as quietly as a person can when it comes to something crisp.
"Time to go, Andrea." Miranda slammed the Book closed and stood, startling me enough to draw a deep breath, which sent the last crumps of toast into my windpipe. I coughed embarrassingly long and had to sip my latte several times before that annoying thing left my larynx.
"Really, Andrea." Miranda smirked and stood. "You really must focus. And not suffocate in my kitchen. You'll add to the rumor that I choke my assistants when I'm displeased and hide their bodies in the basement."
This nearly made me choke again, but I used sheer willpower not to. "That's what's good with older houses like this. A huge old furnace to get rid of any evidence," I replied without really thinking.
Miranda blinked and then the smirk turned to a smile. "See? I knew you'd understand." She touched the left side of my jaw, very briefly, with warm fingertips. "Time to go to work. You are up for it, aren't you?" Something tiny and dark flickered across her eyes.
"I'm fine, Miranda. Honestly."
"Well." She grabbed the Book and her purse and headed for the foyer. There, I helped her into her coat and when I reached for my own, she shocked me by taking it out of my hands. "Here. Don't pull on the stitches." She assisted me and I was so bewildered I nearly missed the sleeves before I got a grip and slid into my coat.
"Thank you," I whispered, suddenly choked up again, but this time I couldn't blame the toast.
Miranda touched my face again and then smoothed down my hair. She didn't speak and looking into her eyes, I didn't need her to. For a fleeting, much-to-short moment, everything she didn't say was right there.
x-x-x
The morning was uneventful and I comfortably settled into my routine. I knew this job inside-out and it was a blessing to be able to send Moira on errands. I kind of felt sorry for her as the weather wasn't exactly the best, in fact it was damn cold, but she was only doing what I had done my entire first year at Runway.
Miranda was in rare form. It was quite entertaining to watch the people emerging from her office after each meeting. I started betting myself whether they'd come out looking elated and relieved, or ready to jump out the closest window. When Nigel and Serena stepped out high-fiving each other, I marked my perfect score on my notepad. Five for five.
"How are you doing, Six?" Nigel asked, leaning over my desk as he held my chin with two fingers. "Looking a bit pale around the gills, I think?"
"Just a little tired, Nige. No big deal." I shrugged.
"Not catching enough sleep?" He frowned as I suddenly blushed. "Oh, God. Don't tell me he's back."
"What?" I was not catching on. "Who are you talking about?"
"That Nate fellow. The chef-who-went-to-Boston."
"Nate? Why would he be back?" Nate was not only completely history when I was concerned, he had also moved on and his new girlfriend was pregnant. Lily had found it prudent to tell me this with a look of 'see-what-you-could've-had' on her face a few weeks ago. I hadn't spoken to her since. I didn't care—honestly—about Nate and his girl and their baby, but Lily's way of talking to me had been the last straw. Just the thought of being subjected to her disdain and disapproval made my inside churn.
"He might have realized what a pearl he let go and had a change of heart." Serena added softly, entering the discussion.
"Not a chance. He is together with this chick who works at his restaurant and I hear they are pregnant." I shrugged. "Good for him."
"All right then. Oh, Miranda wants you." Nigel motioned with his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
Nigel's unfortunate choice of words made me blush again, but this time I managed to hide it by grabbing my pad and pen. "See you guys. Say hi to Em for me, Serena."
"Will do." Serena's beautiful eyes were soft and kind. "Let's go out some evening together soon, all right?"
"Sure." I hurried into Miranda's office and stopped instantly several steps from her desk at the stormy expression on her face. "Yes, Miranda?" I tried not to sound like a squeaky rodent.
"Still pining for the cook, Andrea?" she asked, her voice such a low growl, it was barely audible.
"P-pining?" I tried to wrap my brain around what the hell she was on about now. "Wait. You think I pine for Nate? That I want to get back with him? With him?" My voice rose despite my best intentions. "Are you crazy? I haven't given him a second though, except for the time when people keep bringing him up. Which is far too often for my liking." I only now realized I had all but called my boss crazy. I dared to meet Miranda's gaze, trembling and praying I hadn't screwed up too badly.
Oddly enough, Miranda's eyes had gone from stormy gray to calm blue, despite my faux pas. "Well. Good then. He was unworthy of your lo…loyalty."
"That went both ways," I said, in all fairness. "He didn't deserve what I did to him either."
Interested now, I could tell, Miranda leaned back and laced her fingers loosely. "And what was that?"
It really wasn't any of her business, but as I could never deny Miranda anything, I kept talking. "I stopped loving him."
"Why?"
Oh shit. No way in hell I could level with her. Not here, not now. I tried imploring with my eyes, my whole body language as I held up one hand, palm forward. "I just did. Please."
She tilted her head in the way she does, rolling her 24k gold pen over her lips. "Very well." Still she wasn't ready to let it go completely. "Another thing to revisit, Andrea?"
God almighty. "If you insist." I meant to sound a bit acerbic, but instead I'm pretty sure I came off sounding meek and without any personal will.
"Nigel and Serena are about to launch a new project, a series that will be the start of Runway's new sister magazine. A spinoff, you could say. I need you to be the liaison between us. Whatever they come up with, they will forward to you, and you will go through it, sort it and give me the rundown of it all. That way, what they come up with will not have my fingerprints on everything, and I will also know what they're up to in case I need to intervene."
Not her fingerprints? I had to sit down. When didn't Miranda okay every single thing that went into Runway? For some reason this made me deeply concerned and I studied her closely to try and decipher her expression, looking for the almost invisible telltale signs I've discovered over the last two years. She looked calm and even content. Huh. No narrowing of eyes, no fake crocodile grin, and most telling of all, her eyes were bright blue.
"Of course, Miranda," I murmured as I realized she expected a response that I'd understood.
"Are you up for waiting around for the Book tonight?" Miranda pulled her laptop closer and donned her reading glasses.
"Yes."
She glanced over her glasses, a gesture that always took my breath away. "You certain? I can have it delivered electronically."
My belly warmed and the heat flooded my chest. This was so unlike her, but not as surprising as it should've been to most people. Miranda was more considerate than people gave her credit for, but she never let on. I had been sent to do nice things for her staff with the clear indication not to let them know Miranda was behind it. So many times, I had to bite my tongue when they took it for granted or just were stupid enough to realize they shouldn't thank me but her. They should know that nothing went on at Runway that Miranda hadn't thought of or instigated. And here she was, sending Nigel and Serena to the forefront on something that sure looked like the embryo of a new magazine. That combined with her concern about my welfare was rather mind-blowing.
"Have you perhaps overdosed on Tylenol or merely skipped lunch?" Miranda frowned now.
"No. No on both accounts. And I'm fine. I can wait for the Book. Thank you for asking." I smiled meekly, not wanting to ruin her good mood for anything.
Miranda's expression softened again. "I'll make sure they know to bring it to you no later than nine. After all, we have things to discuss, right?"
Holy shit. "Uhm. Yeah. We do." I walked back to my desk, where I spent a few moments wondered if she would insist I sleep in her bed again. If so, I better make sure I had some pajamas that covered absolutely every inch of me. That or I would jump her bones at any given chance, but worse than that, I couldn't see myself in her arms one more time without blabbering out the truth. If Miranda kissed me again and caressed my naked skin, I just knew there was no way I could refrain from telling her how I felt. That would not just be the mistake of a lifetime; it would crush what was left of my heart.
x-x-x
Going back to the townhouse, I knew Miranda would be pissed because I was late. I'd had Roy swing by my apartment to collect a few things that I needed to stay at Miranda's for a couple of weeks. I knew better than to object, even if I felt rather silly to be a house guest due to a few stitches. The thought of the birthmark and the biopsy sample sent to a lab to be examined made me tremble, so perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea. Anyway, I needed some more clothes, my personal computer and a few other items. I blushed at the thought of one special thing, but I needed it to remain sane. If I was going to be around Miranda without going insane from physical desire I needed an outlet. My mind pictured the light blue, carefully wrapped dildo I bought after I came home from my first trip to Paris. Nate had left, I was overloading on my feeling, and my dreams had tormented me to a degree where I was afraid to fall asleep. The dildo did its job efficiently and even if it didn't stop the heated dreams where clear blue eyes hovered above me and, it helped.
"Got everything you need, Andy?" Roy asked as I pushed my duffel bag into the backseat.
"Sure do," I muttered and took my seat in the front next to him. "We better step on it. She expected me fifteen minutes ago."
His eyes grew wide as he had us back in traffic instantly. "So you gonna help her with stuff at the house?" Roy maneuvered the town car efficiently. "As you're staying there, I mean?"
"Yes, something like that." I felt guilty for sounding so stand offish. If there was one employee who never was anything but honest and respectful to Miranda, it was Roy. "I've had a surgical procedure done and I guess Miranda wants to be nice and keep me around as I have no family in New York."
"What about your friends?" Roy's voice was kind. "I remember a guy, rather tall, and that woman who works at an art gallery."
"Doug is in California a few more months. Lily is…Lily isn't my friend anymore. She decided to side with my former boyfriend."
Roy frowned. "Really?" He didn't sound impressed.
"Yup." I shrugged. "C'est la vie."
He sent me a long glance and then he pulled in along the curb. "Let me help you with the dry-cleaning, okay?" He didn't wait for a reply, but jumped out and carried both the dry-cleaning and my duffel bag up the stairs. When he was halfway to the door, it opened from inside revealing Miranda dressed in soft grey slacks and a white off the shoulder cashmere shirt.
"Do I need to deal with the one delivering the Book too late?" she asked darkly.
"No, no. Please." I hurried up the steps. "They were on time. I had Roy drive me to my apartment to grab a few things."
She glowered at my worn bag, but merely nodded. "Hang that in the first closet to the left, please, Roy."
He merely nodded and did as she asked. Afterward, he turned and scrutinized me for a second before he bid us goodnight.
I closed the door behind him and engage the home alarm without having to be prompted. I think I thought if I kept busy, she wouldn't go all ninja on me with questions. That was pathetic wishful thinking as it turned out.
"What was that about, Andrea?" Miranda stood leaning her hip against the sideboard, arms folded over her chest.
"Uhm. What do you mean exactly?" I grabbed my bag. "Should I use the guestroom—"
"Andrea. Do not make me repeat myself. Why was Roy looking at you as if you were literally never going to be seen or heard from again?"
Not sure if I was going to burst into tears or laughter, I let go of my bag and heard it fall to the marble floor with a thud. "I told him the reason I stay here for the moment." Hm. That didn't come out right. "I mean—"
"You told Roy why you're here?" Miranda paled, but kept her relaxed and slightly nonchalant pose.
"Yes. I know he can be trusted so I told him about my surgery and that none of my friends are available. He is a good guy, Miranda."
"I know he is. He could've made a lot of money from the tabloids if he had been the type to do so." Miranda's left hand slipped down to her hip and the other up to rub the back of her neck. "That still doesn't explain why he looked so…protective."
"Perhaps it was because I told him I only have friend left here in New York and he's in California. Rather pitiful, I know."
"And why is that?"
"Why I have only one friend or why it is pitiful?" I shifted back and forth, so utterly uncomfortable now, I wanted to run up the stairs to the guest room and just hide under the covers.
Perhaps some of my thoughts showed on the outside, because Miranda motioned for me to join her in the study. On the table sat two glasses, one with red wine and the other with orange juice. I just stared. Oh, please, I thought, don't let it be time for that talk Miranda was so dead set on having. I was too tired, no, exhausted.
"Sit down, Andrea. You don't have to look so panicked, I'm not about to start interrogating you."
No? "Then what do you want to talk about?" I sat down and took a sip of the orange juice. It tasted amazing and I quickly downed half of it before putting it back on the table.
Miranda sat down next to me, and by that I mean next to me. My leg pressed against hers and her arm stretched out behind me on the backrest. She drank from her wine and then discreetly licked a drop from her lower lip. I began to tremble. No matter how fatigued I was, no matter how much I dreamed of a soft pillow and that wonderful mattress and duvet upstairs, I was instantly aroused by her presence.
"I just think we should relax a bit before you go to bed. You extended yourself by remaining to wait for the Book—"
"The Book!" I nearly knocked the wine glass from Miranda's hand as I tried to stand up only to be yanked back by a firm hand. "Did I leave it in the car? I can't remember…"
"It's on the sideboard for me to peruse later. Calm down, Andrea." Miranda placed her glass on the coaster and then wrapped her arm around my shoulders and shook me lightly. "Just relax." Her voice sank half an octave and became a purr.
I couldn't help it. I half turned and buried my face into her neck. Her soft skin smelled of that signature perfume of hers, warm, slightly spicy and with undertones of bergamot and vanilla. I hummed, I confess, and rubbed the tip of my nose against her. "So tired," I murmured, but it was only half the truth. "You smell so good."
"So you keep telling me."
"Thank you."
Miranda's breath caught. "Whatever for?"
"For this." I furtively slid my arm around her waist and held her closer. She might reject me at some point, I knew only too well, but something told me she wouldn't do that tonight. She would allow me to be close, if only for a little while.
TBC…